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d1stalker · 25 days

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This is Ours [Logan Howlett]

Summary: It's your first time back at your grandparents' farm in years, and while many things are the same, one thing is not: they've hired a new farmhand.

Warnings: fem!reader, SMUT, sexual tension, angst, fluff, lots of feelings WC: 18.8k - MASTERLIST

A/N: apologies for dropping another long fic but i literally could not stop writing the juices were flowing. i really hope you enjoy this! i think its my fave so far :)

----

For as long as you can remember, summers were synonymous with your grandparents' farm. It was a tradition, one you held close to your heart. To you, your time there embodied your entire childhood—days spent under the sun, where the air was thick with the scent of wildflowers and the soothing chorus of cicadas filling the long, golden afternoons.

Mornings began early, with you bounding downstairs to join your grandparents for breakfast. The kitchen was always filled with the comforting aroma of fresh coffee and pancakes. Your grandfather would be at the table, engrossed in his newspaper, while your grandmother hummed softly as she cooked, the sound of the morning radio playing faintly in the background. Your days were spent exploring the fields, helping with the chores and horses, or sitting on the porch with your grandmother, listening to stories from her youth.

It couldn’t get any more perfect than that.

But as the years passed, things changed. After you graduated high school, the summer visits became less frequent. University took up more of your time, and you were always busy—first with classes, then with internships, and finally with starting your career. The farm, once the centre of your world, became a place you could only visit if you were lucky, and even then, it was never for long.

You miss it.

This year, however, things were different. You found yourself in between jobs, with the first real break you’d had in what felt like forever. And when the moment the opportunity arose, you knew exactly where you wanted to go.

—

The drive to your grandparents' farm is a journey into the past. The country road, lined with trees that stretched out like old friends, brings back a flood of memories from your childhood: where you’re sitting in the back of your parent’s car vibrating with excitement. You pass the same fields, still as vast and green as you remember, dotted with flowers swaying gently in the breeze, and the old oak tree where you used to swing as a child stands tall, its branches reaching up to the sky as if welcoming you back.

When you finally pull up to the farmhouse, the sight of it fills you with a deep sense of nostalgia. The white paint is more chipped than you remember, the porch sags a little more in the middle, and you can tell that it’s been a while since the grass was last trimmed.

Stepping out of the car, the screen door squeaks open, and there’s your grandmother, standing on the porch, wiping her hands on her apron. She’s smaller than you remember, more fragile, but the smile on her face is the same—warm, welcoming, and full of love. “There’s my girl,” she calls out, rushing down the steps and into the driveway as fast as she can.

“Grandma!” you exclaim, hurrying toward her to wrap her in a hug.

She pulls back to look at you, her eyes twinkling despite the lines of age etched on her face. “You’ve grown even more beautiful, but you look tired. We’ll fix that with some good meals, won’t we?”

You laugh, nodding. “I missed your cooking.”

“And I missed having someone to cook for,” she replies with a chuckle, patting your cheek. “Come inside. Your grandpa’s been counting down the days until you got here.”

You grab your suitcase from your car and follow her into the house, the familiar scents of fresh bread and old wood enveloping you the minute you step inside. It’s just as you remember—cozy, lived-in, filled with the glow of years worth of love and memories. Your grandfather sits at the kitchen table, a pair of reading glasses perched on the tip of his nose as he reads a book. He looks up as you enter, and the moment he sees you, his face breaks into a wide grin.

“There’s my favourite farmhand,” he jokes, letting out a grunt as he places one hand on the table, slowly pushes out of his chair.

“Grandpa,” you say, meeting him halfway for a hug.

“Got here just in time,” he says with a wink. “Plenty of work to do, you know.”

“I figured,” you reply, playfully nudging him. “I’m ready to get my hands dirty.”

“Good to hear,” he says, leaning back against the table for support. “This old back of mine isn’t what it used to be.”

Your grandmother sets a glass of lemonade in front of you and sits down, her eyes flicking toward the window. “We’ve had to make some changes around here, sweetheart,” she begins gently. “Your grandpa and I… well, we can’t do as much as we used to.”

You hum, listening carefully. Seeing your grandparents grow older is difficult—it's a constant reminder that time is slipping away, and the moments you have together are becoming more precious with each passing day.

“We’ve hired some help,” she continues. “A man named Logan. He’s been a blessing, really, taking care of the heavier work. But he’s… well, he’s not much of a talker.”

“Logan?” you ask, glancing out the window.

That’s when you see him. Tall and broad-shouldered, he is out by the barn, carrying some hay. He’s wearing a worn-down flannel with jeans, and his dark hair is slightly tousled. Even from a distance, you can tell he’s strong—he looks like he knows what he’s doing.

“Yeah, Logan,” your grandfather confirms. “Keeps to himself mostly, but he’s get’s the job done. Don’t mind his gruffness; he’s just not used to people fussing over him.”

“He’s been here since last spring,” your grandmother adds. “We needed the help, and he needed the work. It’s been good for both sides. You should go and introduce yourself after you unpack, dear. Maybe get in some work before we sit for dinner later.”

Nodding, you walk up the stairs in the house and make your way to your room. It looks exactly the same as the last time you saw it. Your old stuffed animals are organized neatly on the shelf above the bed, and the quilt your grandmother made for you, with patches of faded fabric from old dresses and curtains, is spread across the bed the exact same way it’s always been.

The posters on the walls, the little knickknacks on the dresser—everything is a snapshot of your younger self, preserved in this room like a time capsule. It’s comforting, but also a little bittersweet, a reminder of how much time has passed since you had last visited.

After a few moments of reminiscing, you stand up and begin unpacking, carefully placing your clothes in the old wooden dresser. Each drawer creaks as you open it, the sound a part of this room’s charm. You smile as you come across some of the little treasures you left behind—a pressed flower between the pages of an old book, a seashell from a family trip to the coast, and last, a picture of you and your grandparents taken one summer when you were about ten.

You’re standing between them, beaming with a toothy grin, their arms wrapped around you in a warm embrace. The three of you are standing in front of the barn, with the sun setting behind you. You can almost hear your grandmother’s laugh as the camera clicked, your grandfather’s playful grumbling about having to pose for ‘just one more picture.’ The photo captures a moment of pure happiness, a snapshot of a simpler time.

Setting the photo down, you quickly begin to change into your designated farm clothes, and head out to meet the new face around here.

The trek to the barn isn’t very long, just a few minutes away from the main house, and from the outside, you can hear the familiar sounds of work—footsteps crunching on the hay-strewn floor, the creak of wood as something heavy is moved. You pause at the doorway, taking a moment to observe him before stepping inside. He’s focused, his movements efficient as he lifts another bale of hay and stacks it with the others.

You take a deep breath, and step into the barn. “Logan?” you call out softly.

He doesn’t stop what he’s doing, but with a slight pause and glance over his shoulder, his eyes, sharp and intense, meet yours, and there’s a moment where you’re not sure what to say. “I’m—”

“I already know who you are,” he grunts, cutting you off.

His abruptness catches you off guard, but you quickly recover, nodding. “Right. I guess that makes sense.”

“If you wanna help, there’s a broom in the back shed,” he continues, going back to his work as if the conversation is already over. “You could sweep up the hay.”

You bristle, a little surprised at how quickly he dismissed you, but you’re determined not to let it rattle you. After all, your grandparents did warn you that he wasn’t much of a talker. “Sure,” you say. “I can do that.”

As you turn to head toward the back shed, you find yourself lightly imitating his gruff tone under your breath, a flicker of irritation running through you. “There’s a broom in the back shed. Yeah, obviously, I know where the broom would be,” you mutter.

In the shed, the broom is in fact, exactly where you expected it to be, and you huff, grabbing it and walking back to the barn. When you return, Logan is still hard at work, stacking the hay, and doesn’t bother to acknowledge you yet again. You set to work sweeping, the rhythmic motion of the broom soon lulling you into a steady state. The barn is quiet, save for the soft shuffling of hay under your broom and the occasional grunt from Logan as he moves the heavy bales.

Time seems to pass slowly, the light outside growing softer as the sun dips lower in the sky. You’re so caught up in your thoughts that you barely notice when Logan’s footsteps stop. It’s only when his voice breaks the silence that you’re pulled back to the present.

“Your grandma called for dinner,” he says, causing you to jump a bit at the unexpectedness of his voice in the silence. Before you can respond, he turns and walks away, leaving you standing there with the broom still in hand. You let out a small sigh, feeling the tension in your shoulders. This is going to be a long few months, you think to yourself as you return the broom to its usual place and jog back to the farmhouse.

Inside, the kitchen smells like a warm hearty stew. The table is already set, the familiar blue-and-white checkered tablecloth in place, and your grandparents are seated, chatting quietly as they wait for you and Logan to join them.

You slide into the seat across from your grandmother just as Logan walks over from the sink, two glasses of water in his hands. He places one in front of you with a quick nod, and the other at his own seat, beside yours.

“So,” your grandmother says, her eyes shining with curiosity as she looks between the both of you. “I take it you’ve introduced yourselves to each other?”

You hesitate momentarily, your mind flashing back to your brief encounter in the barn. “Yeah, we have,” you reply, managing a smile, if you can call it that.

Logan doesn’t say anything, his focus on the bowl of stew in front of him. He doesn’t seem interested in joining the conversation, which only adds to the growing sense of awkwardness you feel. You glance at him briefly, wondering if he’s always this closed off or if it’s just his way of dealing with new people.

“Well, that’s good,” your grandmother says, either oblivious to the tension or choosing to ignore it. “Logan’s been a big help around here. We’re so grateful to have him.”

Your grandfather hums in agreement, scooping a spoonful of stew into his mouth before adding, “He’s got a strong work ethic. Doesn’t shy away from the tough jobs, that’s for sure.”

Nodding along, you feel the pressure to say something positive. “That’s great. It’s good to know the farm’s in good hands.” Even thought the words are definitely a bit forced, you mean it.

As the conversation continues, your grandparents shift the focus to you, asking about your job search and what you’ve been up to since you last visited. You give them a brief rundown of the interviews you’ve had, the options you’re considering, and the challenges you’ve faced. You try to keep it light, not wanting to worry them with your uncertainty, but you can’t help but notice the man’s presence beside you, still silent.

At one point, when you’re talking about finding a new apartment, you hear him let out a quiet scoff, and you cast a look over, catching the faintest hint of a smirk on his lips. It’s gone almost as quickly as it appears, but it’s enough to make you pause. You want to ask him what that was about, to challenge him on whatever it is he’s thinking, but you bite your tongue. This isn’t the time or place, not in front of your grandparents who are just happy to have everyone around the table.

They continue to chat with you, asking more about your plans and offering their usual words of encouragement. When dinner finally wraps up, your grandmother insists on cleaning up, waving you off when you offer to help. “You’ve had a long day, dear. Why don’t you go relax? Logan can help me with the dishes.”

You smile. “Thanks, Grandma.”

He’s already started collecting the dishes by the time you stand up, but it’s like he refuses to recognize your existence, and that pisses you off.

—

The next morning, you wake before dawn, the world still wrapped in the gentle embrace of night, and for a moment, you lie still, listening to the deep, pulsing of the house—the way the wooden floors creak slightly as they settle, the distant sound of the wind rustling through the trees outside. The comfort of knowing your grandparents are asleep down the hall brings a sense of calm that you haven’t felt in a long time.

Deciding to take advantage of the early hour, you slip out of bed, your feet brushing against the cool floor as you stretch, feeling the muscles in your body slowly wake. You dress quietly, pulling on a soft, worn sweater, and pad downstairs, careful to avoid the spots on the stairs that you know will creak.

You move through the kitchen as if on autopilot, your hands knowing exactly where everything is. You set the coffee to brew, and the rich aroma sills the room.

Reaching for the eggs, you crack a few of them into a bowl, and as you’re whisking, you let your mind wander, thinking about how to spend the day. The soft sizzle of butter in the pan gets your attention and you pour the eggs in, watching as they begin to set around the edges.

You pour yourself a cup of coffee, the steam rising from the mug in delicate spirals, and you take a sip, savouring the warmth and flavour hitting your tongue, while your gaze drifts over to the window that faces the back of the farmhouse.

Your grandparents’ own horses, and you recognize some of them from when you were younger. It makes you happy knowing that they’re still being well taken care of. The way the early light touches the land, and the morning dew covers the grass, you can’t help but smile into your mug.

Slowly, you walk a bit closer to the window, eager to take in the view you had been missing all these years, when a figure standing over by the horses catches your eye. It’s Logan, a small surprise given the early hour—you didn’t hear him wake up—but he stands there, leaning casually against the fence, an apple in his hand.

You watch as he holds out the apple to one of the horses, his rough hand moving gently over its neck as it eats. There’s something unexpectedly tender in the way he interacts with the animal, a patience and care that you didn’t expect to see from him, given how he acted yesterday.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out another apple, offering it to the second horse, who hungrily accepts it. You continue to stare at the sight outside. This side of him—so different from the unapproachable exterior he’s shown so far—stirs something inside you, a desire to connect with him, to see if there’s more to him than meets the eye.

On impulse, you quickly turn off the stove, grab a second cup of coffee and some toast you’ve just buttered, and without overthinking it, you head outside. The morning air is cool against your skin as you make your way over to Logan.

As you approach, he keeps his attention focused on the horses. You take a moment, then clear your throat lightly, holding out the coffee with a tentative smile. “Thought you might want some breakfast,” you offer, trying to keep your tone light and friendly.

He finally glances at you, his eyes briefly meeting yours. His expression is just as unreadable his had been in the last sixteen hours you’ve known him, and then he grunts, “Already ate,” and turns his attention back to the animals in front of him.

His curt, and honestly rude rebuffals really frustrate you. It’s not like you’re asking him to wipe your ass after you go to the washroom, so you have absolutely no idea why he’s like this.

“Alright,” you mutter, lips pressed together in a thin line, and turn to head back into the kitchen.

Once inside, you set the untouched coffee and toast back on the counter with a sigh. You feel a tad bit awkward. You’re going to be spending the next however-many-months with him, and you would love it if you could at the very least, get along. His rough-around-the-edges personality is not making this enjoyable for you, and you’re sure that he probably just see’s you as an annoying nuisance.

And it’s not like you’re ever going to pull this card on him or anything, but you have been here longer than him, despite the fact that he’s acting like he owns the place. You get it, he’s been here for a for a while, and it’s only been him doing the work, blah blah. But you’ve been helping and doing the work your entire childhood—missing a few years doesn’t take away that fact.

With a heavy sigh, you open a cupboard and pull out a plate, scraping the eggs off the pan and setting them on it. Because your grandparents’ are still asleep, all you can do is eat in silence.

—

You’ve decided that today you are going to trim the grass. There’s always something to do around here, and since the long grass was one of the first things you noticed upon arrival, you think it’s best to just get that chore over with, considering how long you know it will take.

Once you’ve finished cleaning the dishes and pan, you go back upstairs into your room and get changed. Today, you put on a long sleeve, and a small vest over top. Your pants are some hand-me-down working pants from one of your older cousins, and you snatch a baseball cap from your closet for when it begins to get hotter out.

Walking to the back shed, you grab some tools for trimming the lawn. A lawn mower, a string trimmer, and a rake for after everything’s been cut. Moving over to the back section of the lawn, you set the trimmer and rake against the barn and start using the mower. It’s the same one your grandparents have used since you were a child, so it’s a reel lawn mower instead of those newer, more electrical ones you’ve seen around the city.

You can’t really complain about it, so you just begin, the steady repetitive action of moving the tool back and forth being somewhat therapeutic. The smell of freshly cut grass begins to hit your senses, and you truly feel at peace.

As the minutes pass, the sun rises higher, its warmth spreading across the fields. You’re completely absorbed in your work, the rhythm of mowing and the occasional chirp of birds the only sounds around you. You’ve missed this. The sounds of cars honking and early morning city traffic has nothing on the serenity of country life.

You’re just completing the first half when you sense movement nearby. Glancing up, you see Logan walking up to you, having grabbed the trimmer. He doesn’t say anything, just starts up the machine and heads over to the next patch of grass within the area.

There’s a brief moment of eye-contact, like a subtle unspoken recognition to the effort you seem to be putting in. He gives you a small nod, and turns to focus on his task. The two of you work side by side, the hum of the machines, the scent of fresh-cut grass, and the warm sun overhead creating a strangely comforting atmosphere.

When you finally finish, few hours have passed, and you walk back over to the barn and grab a lawn bag and the rake. And because Logan’s machine was electric, he seems to have finished his section as well, so you begin raking up all the stray pieces of grass.

You quick to find out how awkward it is to hold the lawn bag open with one hand while trying to rake with the other—the grass keeps slipping out of the bag, and you can’t help but feel a bit ridiculous as you fumble with the task. You scan around, hoping Logan won’t notice, but of course, he’s right there, watching as you flail around.

You feel a flush of embarrassment creep up your neck, but before you can say anything, he steps forward. Like usual it seems, he doesn’t say a word, just holds out his hand as if asking for the rake. You falter briefly, not wanting to seem like you need his help, but at the same time you understand how much more efficient it would be if he joined.

Reluctantly, you hand it over, and he immediately starts working with the same steady efficiency he brought to trimming the grass. With both hands free, you manage the lawn bag more effectively, holding it open as Logan rakes the grass into neat piles.

The silence between you isn’t uncomfortable; instead, it feels like a natural extension of the morning’s work. The sound of the rake scraping against the ground, the rustle of grass being gathered, and the occasional whinny from a horse nearby.

After the last of the grass is finally raked and bagged, you tie off the lawn bag and glance over at him. He leans the rake against the barn wall and meets your gaze. There’s something in the way he seems to stare at you head on this time, rather than just a quick look, that makes your chest fill with satisfaction.

You nod. “Thanks.”

Logan dips his chin in return, then turns and heads back toward the barn. The heat of the sun really starts to hit you now, and you take a peak at your watch, noticing that it’s already lunch time. Knowing that even if you tried to invite him, he’s probably say no, you just walk back to the farmhouse alone.

—

The next couple of weeks unfold in the same way, moving with an almost predictable rhythm. Each morning, you wake before the sun, quietly slipping out of bed while your grandparent’s are still asleep. As you prepare and eat breakfast, you take your usual place by the kitchen window, watching as Logan interacts with the horses.

Then, as the sun rises higher, you head out to begin your chores around the farm. Sometimes, Logan joins you without a word—his presence now a familiar and abating part of your routine—or sometimes, you find yourself working alone, but even then, you know he’s never far away.

You’ve learned to read his silences, to understand that his gruff demeanor isn’t necessarily unfriendliness, but rather his way of navigating the world. And though he doesn’t speak much, his actions have a way of communicating more than words ever could.

One morning, as you’re finishing up breakfast, your grandparents announce their plans to head into one of the nearby cities for the day. “We need to run some errands and pick up a few things,” your grandmother explains, her hands busy packing a small bag. “But we were thinking it might be nice for the horses to get out and see some different scenery too.”

“They haven’t been to the pond in a while. It’s good for them to stretch their legs and take in some new sights.” Your grandfather chimes in.

You nod, smiling at the thought. The pond is a beautiful spot, a peaceful place where the water runs clear and cool, surrounded by tall trees and soft grass. It’s the perfect place to spend a day with the horses. “That sounds like a great idea. I’ll take them out there for the day.”

Your grandmother’s eyes light up as she hands you a basket. “I packed some food and a blanket for a picnic. There are also a couple of towels in case you want to swim. It’ll be a lovely day for it.”

“Thank you,” you say, appreciating the thoughtfulness behind the preparations. You take the basket and head upstairs to get ready, the idea of spending the day by the pond filling you with excitement. It’s been a long time since you’ve been there last.

In your room, you change into your bathing suit, a simple bikini that you’ve always loved for its comfort and ease. You slip on a loose shirt and shorts over it, then grab a few essentials before heading back downstairs. Your grandparents have already left, so you make your way out to the barn to prepare the horses.

As you start saddling them up, you notice Logan nearby, focused on his usual tasks. His presence has become so customary to you that you hardly think twice before calling out to him. “Hey, Logan,” you say, catching his attention.

“I’m heading to the pond with the horses,” you tell him, nodding toward the saddled horses. “Grandma’s packed some food and a blanket for a picnic. There are even towels if you want to swim. You’re welcome to join us if you’d like.”

He hesitates, his gaze shifting to the horses, then back to you. After a moment, he mutters, “I’ve never ridden a horse before.”

The admission takes you by surprise, and you raise an eyebrow. “Really? But you’ve been here for over a year. I just assumed—”

He shakes his head slightly, cutting you off. “I’ve always just walked alongside them. Holdin’ onto the reins is one thing, but I’ve never actually been on top of one.”

You can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips. “That’s okay,” you say gently. “You can still join us. You can walk alongside like you usually do, and tomorrow, if you’re up for it, I’ll teach you how to ride.”

Logan peers at you for a long moment, considering your words. Finally, he nods. “Alright. I’ll come with you.”

“Great,” you reply, your smile widening. “I think you’ll enjoy it.”

With that settled, you both finish preparing for the trip. Logan helps you load the picnic basket, blanket, and towels onto one of the horses. You mount your favourite horse, and gently click your heels into its side, starting the trip as he begins walking, horses in tow, beside you.

The journey to the pond is beautiful. The green trees that frame the pathway, the soft buzzing of nature, the sound of the horses’ hooves. You and Logan exchange a few words, but for the most part, it’s silent.

When you reach the pond, the sight is just as picturesque as you remembered. The water sparkles under the sunlight, the tall trees casting dappled shadows across the grassy bank. You untie the horses, giving them plenty of room to graze and explore, before you grab the picnic basket, while he grabs the towels and blankets. Making your way over to the other side of the creek, you find a nice open patch of grass to set up on.

“I’m going for a quick dip,” you say as you go about stepping out of your shorts. Logan, who is sitting down, looks up, but his eyes seem to stop dead in their tracks when they settle on your body. You swear you can physically see his gaze darken as he takes in the sight of you stripping off your shirt. It’s subtle, but a small shiver runs down your spine at the attention nonetheless.

Without waiting for a response, you turn and and head toward the pond. The temperature is perfect: just cool enough to be refreshing without being cold.

You dive in, the reservoir embracing you as a much-needed relief from the heat. Everything feels perfect—the gentle current against your skin, the refreshing sensation of being submerged, and the weightlessness of floating just beneath the surface.

But when you lift your head out of the water, you and Logan immediately lock eyes.

He’s lying back on the blanket, propped up on one elbow, and his focus is squarely on you. The intensity of his stare is like a physical force, pinning you in place. The world around you seems to fade away, leaving just the two of you suspended in time. Your breath catches in your throat, and you can feel a heat build within you, starting in your chest and traveling down, deeper, and deeper…But then, just as suddenly as it began, he looks away, and if you were any closer, you may have been able to spot the red flush creeping up the back of his neck and to the tip of his ears.

The moment is over, but the enduring feeling of it stays with you as you swim back to the shore. Water drips from your body as you step out, and you reach for one of the towels your grandmother packed. Once you’ve dried off, you walk over to where Logan is sitting and drop down beside him on the blanket.

You are aware of eyes on you again, though this time there’s a hesitation in the way they travel over your form, as if he’s trying to be discreet but can’t quite help himself. You pretend not to notice as you reach for the picnic basket.

“I’m starving,” you say, pulling out the sandwiches your grandmother packed. “Want one?”

He nods, sitting up a little straighter as you hand him a sandwich. After a few bites, curiosity gets the better of you, and you decide to break the ice. “So,” you start, glancing over at him, “how did you end up here, working on my grandparents’ farm?”

He takes his time chewing and swallowing before he answers, his eyes focused on the food in his hands. “I was passing through,” he says finally. “Didn’t plan on stayin’. But your grandparents… they’re good people. Needed help, so I stuck around.”

You nod, taking another bite. “They are good people,” you agree, thinking of how much they’ve done for you over the years. “But where were you headed before that? Where are you from?”

Logan pauses for a moment, then looks over at you. “Alberta,” he says. “Grew up there, mostly. Been a lot of places since, but Alberta’s home—or was.”

You smile, finding comfort in the fact that he’s sharing a bit more. “Alberta’s beautiful,” you say, remembering the few times you’d traveled through the province. “Why’d you leave?”

He shrugs, glancing out toward the creek. “Needed a change. Wanted to see what else was out there. Guess I got used to movin’ around, never really settlin’ anywhere.”

You nod thoughtfully, taking in his words. “Must have been hard, never really having a place to call home.”

His gaze meets yours, and there’s a hint of something softer in his eyes. “Yeah,” he admits, his voice quieter. “But your grandparents… they’ve made it easier. This farm… it’s good.”

You smile warmly at him. “I’m glad you’re here. You’ve been a huge help to them. And… well, I’ve liked having you around.”

He glances at you, his expression softening just a fraction. “Yeah, it’s been alright,” he mutters, a small, imperceptible smirk on his lips. You smile bashfully.

The next couple of hours pass by in a blur. Not much conversation happens, but rather, these weird periods of time where you feel as though your eyes are glued to him, and he you. It’s different—unexpected—and to put it frankly, you feel a bit shy underneath his gaze.

Logan is attractive, anyone with eyes could see that, but it really wasn’t just his face that pulled you in, it was him. The way he would silently help you with chores, his soft moments every morning with the horses, the way he subtly looks over your grandparents’ when he thinks they arent watching. All of it. You want to spend more time with him, learn more about who he is, what he likes… all of it.

Soon enough, you both begin to pack up the picnic supplies, load up the horses, and head back to the farm. The horses seem content, having had a fun day grazing and napping by the pond, and you ride beside him as he walks. Every now and then, you catch him peeking up at you from under his eyelashes, his eyes lingering just a bit longer each time.

You can see your grandparent’s car in the driveway as you near the farm, meaning they’ve also returned from their day in the city. Leading the horses back into the barn, the two of you go through the motions of the familiar routine of unsaddling them, brushing them down, and making sure they’re comfortable for the night.

Once they’re all settled for the night, Logan steps back, wiping his hands on his jeans as he looks at you.

“So ‘bout tomorrow…” He begins, shifting slightly, as if unsure how to phrase what he wants to say. “You really think you can teach me to ride?”

You grin excitedly. “Of course. I’ll come out after I’ve eaten breakfast.”

“Alright then,” he says, pivoting toward the doors, his lips twitching just barely, but enough. “Lookin’ forward to it.”

Your fingers are twitching at your sides as you watch him leave. You wait a few moments, then head out as well, closing and locking up the barn for the night. When you step into the house, you find your grandparents in the living room, their faces lit by the soft glow of a lamp as they relax on the chesterfield.

“How was your day?” your grandmother asks, looking up from her knitting with a bright smile.

“It was nice,” you reply. “The horses loved it, and the pond was as beautiful as ever. We had a picnic, and it was really peaceful.”

Your grandfather, who’s been quietly sipping his tea, sets down his cup and regards you with a knowing look. “And Logan? Did he go with you?”

You nod, feeling a bit of warmth rise to your cheeks at the mention of their helper. “Yeah, he came along. He’s never ridden a horse before, so he just walked with us. But I’m going to teach him tomorrow.”

Your grandparents exchange a look, and your grandmother’s eyes sparkle with amusement and something more tender as she smiles at you. “That’s good, dear. He’s a bit of a mystery, that one, but I can tell he’s got a good heart. Sometimes people just need a little time to open up.”

Chatting with your grandparent’s a bit longer, you listen intently as they fill you in on their activities. You can faintly hear the sound of Logan’s footsteps upstairs as he gets ready for bed. The memory of his gaze on you makes your heart beat a smidge faster.

—

Logan is unsurprisingly already at the barn when you arrive the next morning. He’s leaning against it, arms crossed over his chest.

“Morning,” you greet. “You ready to get started?”

Logan glances at the horses, then back at you. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

You lead him over to the horses, choosing one of the gentler ones for him to work with, and begin by showing him how to properly saddle the horse, explaining each step as you go. Logan watches intently, though you can see the slight furrow in his brow as he takes in all the information.

As soon as the horse is all saddled up, you hand him the reins. “Okay, now it’s your turn. Go ahead and mount up.”

He wavers for just a moment, his eyes on the horse as if weighing his options. But then, with a deep breath, he grabs the saddle and swings himself up with ease. He sits stiffly at first, his hands gripping the reins a bit too tightly, but he doesn’t look as uncomfortable as you would have expected. Definitely better than your first attempt.

“You’re doing great,” you reassure him, moving to stand beside the horse. “Just relax. The horse can sense if you’re tense, so try to loosen up a bit.”

He takes another breath, visibly trying to relax his posture. It’s clear that he’s out of his comfort zone, but he’s determined to push through. You walk him through the basics of steering and controlling the horse, keeping your tone calm and encouraging.

After a few minutes, you guide him around the paddock, walking alongside the horse to make sure he feels secure. Logan follows your instructions with serious concentration, his movements becoming more and more natural as he gets used to the rhythm of the horse’s steps.

“You’re doing really well,” you tell him, smiling up at him. “Want to try picking up the pace a little?”

He glances down at you warily at first, but then he nods. “Yeah. Let’s give it a shot.”

You guide him through a gentle trot, staying close enough to offer guidance but giving him enough space to figure things out on his own. The horse picks up speed, and you watch as he adjusts, his body moving in sync with the animal’s movements. There’s a moment when he looks down at you, a spark of surprise in his eyes as he realizes he’s actually getting the hang of it.

As the morning progresses, Logan becomes more comfortable in the saddle, his confidence growing with each passing minute. You spend the next hour practicing different techniques, guiding him through turns, stops, and even a slow canter. He’s a quick learner, and despite the initial awkwardness, you can tell he’s starting to enjoy himself.

Eventually, you lead him back to the paddock, bringing the horse to a stop. He dismounts, still a bit tense but clearly pleased with himself. He hands you the reins, his eyes meeting yours with a look that’s both grateful and slightly sheepish.

“Not bad for a first-timer,” you say with a grin, patting the horse’s neck.

He huffs a small laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, well… you’re a good teacher.”

The compliment, simple as it is, makes your heart skip a beat. There’s something about the way he says it, the sincerity in his tone, that makes you feel a warm glow inside. He begins to walk toward the back shed, undoubtedly going to start on his morning chores, but you find yourself wanting to hold onto this moment just a bit longer.

“Logan,” you call out, stopping him in his tracks.

He turns back, his eyes questioning.

“Thanks for this morning. I really enjoyed it.”

Logan studies you for a second, then he gives you a small smile. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “Me too.”

—

The days come and go, blending into one another as your first month at the farm passes by in what feels like the blink of an eye. The sun seems to rise earlier and set later with each passing day, stretching the hours out in a way that makes everything feel both languid and endless, and the heat only intensifies, something you didn’t think was possible.

Despite the longer days and rising temperatures, you and Logan’s daily routines have now intertwined in a way that feels as natural as breathing. The once solitary moments you spent watching him out with the horses have now become something shared. Every morning, without fail, the two of you meet by the barn, where the horses greet you with soft nickers and eager eyes, ready for their daily ride.

He’s improved a lot. He no longer looks uncomfortable or stiff, and he’s able to guide his horse with an ease that surprises even him. You can see the subtle shift in his posture, the way he holds the reins with a sureness that wasn’t there before.

And just like when you work on the farm together, sometimes, the two of you ride in a comfortable silence—the only sounds being the soft snorts of the horses and the creak of leather saddles. But more often than not, you chat about everything and nothing, your conversations easy and unforced.

Logan, who once spoke only in short, clipped sentences, has begun to open up more, sharing bits and pieces of his past, his thoughts, and his observations about life on the farm. You learn that he has a sarcastic, dry sense of humor, one that often catches you off guard and leaves you laughing in spite of yourself. He even joins you for your usual morning breakfast of eggs and toast, something that started only a few days into your new morning ritual.

Yet throughout all of this, there’s a something growing between you and Logan, simmering just beneath the surface.

It manifests in the little moments, the stolen glances, and the accidental touches that don’t really seem to be as accidental as you may think. It’s in the way his eyes follow you when he thinks you’re not looking, how they intensify when you laugh, or how he seems to fixate on your hands as you work, as if he’s memorizing every movement.

You’re not immune to it either. You find yourself hyper-aware of his presence, the way his proximity seems to alter the air around you. In one afternoon, you’re in the barn, and sorting through a pile of hay bales. It’s hard, sweaty work, but the it’s kind that leaves you with a satisfying ache in your muscles by the end of the day. Logan is beside you, lifting the heavy bales with ease, his shirt sticking to his back, outlining the broad expanse of his shoulders. You catch yourself staring, and quickly look away, but not before he flicks his eyes over to yours.

He doesn’t say anything, but you can see it in his eyes. It’s like they’re telling you that he knows exactly what you were thinking, where you were staring.

And when you’re both tending to the horses, something happens again. You’re brushing one down, your fingers working through its mane, when Logan comes to stand beside you, so close that you can smell his natural musk.

“Here, let me help,” he says lowly, not waiting for a response as he reaches out, his hand covering yours. You glance up at him, and he’s already looking down at you. You’re acutely aware of the feel of his hand over yours, the callousness of his skin against your own, and the way his thumb brushes lightly over your knuckles as if testing the waters.

Another time, while fixing the fence out in the field, you’re both working in tandem, passing tools back and forth. At one point, you reach for a hammer at the same time Logan does, and your fingers brush against his. It’s a fleeting touch, but it feels like a spark in the summer heat, and for a heartbeat, you both freeze, caught in that split second of contact.

“Sorry,” you mumble, pulling your hand back, but the apology feels hollow in the face of what you’re actually feeling.

“No problem,” Logan replies, his voice gruffer than usual, as he hands you the tool.

You can feel it. You’re not stupid. You know something is there, and you wonder how much longer you can resist it—how much longer you can pretend that everything is fine. But Logan is a hard man to read, and you’re not sure if what you’re feeling is reciprocated, or if it’s just wishful thinking on your part. So you stay silent, letting the tension simmer, hoping that one day, one of you will have the courage to break it.

—

You’re not the only who see’s it.

“You know,” your grandmother says one afternoon, as you’re helping them with a puzzle. “Logan has really come out of his shell since you’ve been here.”

You blink, and glance over at her. “What do you mean?”

She looks up from the table, her eyes twinkling with a mischievous light. “Oh, you know exactly what I mean,” she says with a knowing smile. “He’s been here for over a year, and in all that time, we’ve never seen him quite like this. He’s always been polite, of course, but distant. Reserved. But now… well, it’s clear he’s become quite comfortable around you.”

Your grandfather places a piece in the board and nods in agreement. “She’s right, you know. Logan’s always been a bit of a mystery, keeps to himself mostly. But ever since you arrived, he’s been different. More… engaged, I suppose you could say.”

You feel a flush of heat rising to your cheeks, your heart skipping a beat at their words. “I-I don’t know about that,” you stammer, trying to brush it off. “We just… work together a lot. That’s all.”

Chuckling, your grandmother leans forward slightly. “Darling, don’t be modest. It’d be obvious to anyone that there’s something going on between the two of you. He’s practically a different man when he’s around you. Why, just the other day, I caught him actually smiling while you two were out riding. I nearly fainted!”

“You’ve managed to do in weeks what we couldn’t do in a year. Whatever it is, it’s good for him. And for you, too, I’d wager,” your grandfather pipes in, sending you a wink.

Fidgeting with your hands, you feel like a deer caught in headlights, and you’re honestly not sure how to respond. “We’re… friends,” you say, though the words feel inadequate even as you say them.

The woman across from you raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Hmm? Well, maybe so. But it seems to me that there’s potential for something more there, if you’re both willing to see it.”

“I… I don’t know,” you mumble, feeling flustered under their scrutiny. “He’s just… he’s a complicated person.”

“Everyone’s complicated, dear,” your grandfather says gently. “But that doesn’t mean they’re not worth the effort. Oftentimes, the best things in life are the ones that take the most time to understand.”

There’s a moment of silence as their words sink in, the weight of their observations leaving you feeling exposed and uncertain. You hadn’t fully allowed yourself to consider what you felt, let alone what Logan felt. But now, with your grandparents’ teasing remarks, it’s impossible to ignore the possibility that there might be something more between you and Logan than just a budding friendship.

Your grandmother reaches over and gives your hand a comforting squeeze. “Just take it one day at a time, sweetheart. Whatever happens, we’re here for you.”

—

The following week, you find yourself itching for something new—a change in scenery. While the farm has been everything you’ve wanted and more, you think it’d be nice to go on a drive, explore a small laketown you used to go to when you were younger. So, one morning, as you and Logan are unsaddling the horses, you muster the courage to extend an invitation that’s been on your mind for days.

“So…,” you begin, trying to keep your tone casual. “I was thinking… maybe we could take a break from the farm this weekend and go into town. You know, just to get out for a bit, see something different.”

He pauses in his work, his hand stilling on the brush as he peers over at you with a raised eyebrow. “The town?” he repeats, as if the idea is foreign to him.

“Yeah,” you say, turning to face him fully. “I need to pick up a few things, and I thought it might be nice to have some company. We could grab lunch, maybe do some exploring… It doesn’t have to be anything fancy. Just a change of pace.”

There’s a beat of silence as he considers your offer. His expression is guarded, as always, but you can see the wheels turning in his mind. It’s clear that the idea of leaving the farm, even for a day, is something he hasn’t done in a long time—if ever.

“I don’t know,” he eventually gets out, his tone uncertain. “Busy places are not really my thing.”

You feel a pang of disappointment at his hesitation, but you’re not ready to give up just yet. “I get that,” you say. “But it’s not about how many people are there, really. It’s about taking a break. You’ve been working so hard, and I think you deserve a day to relax. Plus, I could use your help carrying a few things,” you tease, hoping to coax him into agreeing.

Logan’s lips twitch as if he’s suppressing a smile, and for a split second you think he’s going to turn you down. But then he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Alright,” he says, the word coming out almost reluctantly. “I’ll go.”

You beam, unable to hide your enthusiasm. “We’ll leave early on Saturday, okay?”

“Saturday it is,” he confirms.

—

The rest of the week passes quickly, your anticipation for the trip into town growing with each passing day. You find yourself planning out the day in your head, imagining the places you might visit, the food you might try, and most of all, the chance to see Logan in a different environment—away from the farm and the routine that has defined your relationship so far.

So, when Saturday morning arrives, you’re up before the sun, too excited to sleep in. You dress in your favourite casual clothes—something comfortable but a bit more put-together than your usual farm attire—and head downstairs, where you find your grandparents surprisingly already up and about.

“Off to the city today, are you?” your grandmother asks with a smile as she hands you a thermos of coffee for the road.

“Yep,” you reply, unable to keep the grin off your face. “and I’m dragging Logan along with me.”

Your grandfather chuckles, shaking his head. “Well, that should be interesting. Don’t think he’s much of a city slicker.”

“Be patient with him, dear,” your grandmother adds, laughing. “He’s stepping out of his comfort zone for you.”

“I will,” you promise, taking the coffee and heading out the door.

Logan’s already waiting by the truck, and when you see him, you can’t help but falter in your steps. The shirt he’s wearing clings to his muscular frame in a way that draws your eyes, accentuating the strength that’s always been evident. His hair is slightly disheveled, and there’s an almost shy quality to the way he stands there, his hands shoved into his pockets as if he’s not quite sure what to do with them.

You try to hide the fact that you were just checking him out as you ask, “Ready?”

“‘Course,” he replies, climbing into the passenger seat as you slide behind the wheel.

The highways are empty and the sky is clear. You chat easily about the things you need to pick up, the cute boutiques you want to visit, and even a few memories of the last time you visited the place. Logan listens more than he talks, but you can tell he’s starting to relax, the tightness in his shoulders easing as the distance passes by.

When you finally reach the town, the energy along the streets is a stark contrast to the quiet calm of the farm. The buildings tower above you, and the sidewalks are crowded with people going about their day.

Stepping out of the truck, you glance over at Logan. It’s clear that he’s out of his element, but there’s something cute about the way he takes it all in. “Where to first?” He questions.

“Well,” you say, smiling at him, “I was thinking we could grab some breakfast at this little café I know, then hit a few shops. There’s a bookstore I love that I think you’d like too.”

He nods, his expression softening slightly at the mention of a bookstore. “Lead the way.”

You spend the morning wandering around, exploring the shops, and enjoying a nice breakfast together. At the bookstore, you lose track of time, browsing through the shelves and picking out a few titles that catch your eye. Logan surprises you by finding a book on woodworking, something he’s always been interested in but never had much time for. You can see the way his eyes light up as he flips through the pages, and it makes you smile, happy to see him enjoying something for himself.

After spending a few more hours of exploring, you suggest one last stop before heading back—a lookout point that offers a stunning view of the lake and the surrounding landscape. Logan agrees, and you drive up to the spot, parking the truck and leading him to a bench that overlooks the water.

The view is breathtaking. You both sit in silence for a while, just taking in the scenery, allowing the peacefulness of the moment to wash over you. He is staring out into the water with a thoughtful expression when you decide to interrupt his stupor.

“Logan,” you begin, the gentle breeze from the lake rustling through the trees, “what did you think of me when we first met?”

He turns his head slightly, his eyes meeting yours with a hint of surprise, as if he wasn’t expecting the question. Then he pauses for a moment, looking back out at the lake, as if gathering his thoughts.

“I thought you were different,” he says slowly, each word carefully chosen. “You didn’t act like you were above the work. You jumped right in, got your hands dirty. Most people wouldn’t do that.”

You smile at the memory, remembering how you started working together the moment you met. After all, you weren’t just a visitor—you were there to help, and you knew your way around the farm. “And now?” you ask, your heart beginning to beat just a little faster.

He remains quiet for a few moments, his focus still on the water. When he finally speaks, he’s timid, almost bashful, as if he’s revealing something he’s kept hidden for a long time.

“I think you’re beautiful,” he admits, his eyes flickering back to yours. “I thought that the first time I saw you, too. It was one of the first things that hit me. But it’s more than that. Now… now I think you’re perfect.”

The sincerity in his words catches you off guard, leaving you momentarily speechless. Your mouth parts in surprise, and all you can do is gawk, trying to process the depth of what he’s just said.

Logan shifts slightly, his gaze dropping to his hands as he continues. “I was… cold at first,” he murmurs, “Didn’t know how else to act. You weren’t like anyone I’d ever met. I didn’t know how to handle it. But what really got to me was how you didn’t shy away from that—you didn’t let my attitude push you away. That changed somethin’ in me.”

You want to say something—you should say something—to acknowledge what he just said, bearing in mind that was probably the most amount of words to come out of his mouth in one go, but for some reason, you can’t. The only thought running through your head is that you want to reach out and touch him, to close the small distance between you.

“What about you?” His voice is slightly more tentative now, and he definitely just asked that to fill the silence that you were ungraciously leaving. “What was your first impression of me?”

His question snaps you out of your thoughts, and you gulp, now knowing that your first impression of him was very different to his of you.

“Honestly? I thought you were rude as hell,” you say a bit nervously, watching as his eyebrows raise slightly in surprise. “You were so gruff, so serious… I didn’t know what to make of you at first. But then I saw the way you took care of the horses, the way you looked after the farm, and… it didn’t take long for my opinion to change.”

He shifts, clearly caught off guard. You can see the faintest hint of a blush creeping up his neck as he takes in what you said, and it makes your smile widen.

“And…You’re kind,” you continue. “There’s this gentleness about you that I wasn’t expecting.” You suck in a shaky breath. “I think you’re pretty perfect now too, if I’m being honest.”

The tint on his cheeks only deepens, and he looks away, flustered. It’s a rare sight—seeing him like this—and it makes you swoon.

“I don’t know about that…” He mutters, a small, embarrassed smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“I do,” you reply firmly. “You’re more than you think you are, Logan.”

The genuineness in your words makes him look back at you, his eyes searching yours for something—reassurance, maybe, or confirmation that what you’re saying is real. Slowly, almost unconsciously, you both lean in closer, locked in a stare, your breaths mingling as the space between you shrinks. You can see the way his eyes flicker down to your lips, and you feel the same pull, the undeniable urge to close the distance and see what it would feel like to kiss him overriding all your senses.

Your chest pounds as you inch closer, until you can feel the warmth of his breath on your skin. But just as your lips are about to meet, a loud, piercing scream shatters the moment.

You both jerk back, startled, and whip your heads around to see a kid nearby, his face scrunched up in disgust as he frantically wipes at his shoulder. “Ew! A seagull just pooped on me!”

The kid’s parents rush over, trying to console him as they pull out napkins, and you can’t help but burst out laughing at the absurdity of the interruption. The sound of your laughter is contagious, and soon Logan is chuckling a bit too.

“Well, that’s one way to kill the mood,” he mumbles under is breath.

You’re still laughing, the remnants of your almost-kiss still in the back of your mind, but you know the moment has passed. “Yeah,” you agree, trying to catch your breath. “Guess we should be thankful it wasn’t us.”

Logan grins, warm and wide. “Yeah, maybe we should.”

—

Driving back to the farm, neither of you say a word about what almost transpired at the lookout point, and you’re fine with that. There’s no need to fill the silence with words, no need to dissect the moment or what it could have led to. You don’t want there to be any sort of pressure between you, any expectations. Even if, deep down, all you want is to climb him like a tree, to feel the solid strength of him beneath your hands, and to finally give in to the attraction that’s been building throughout your time together.

Pulling into the driveway and shutting of the engine, you turn to him, and turns to you, his eyes meeting yours. “Thanks for today,” he says sincerely “I… enjoyed it.”

You smile, feeling a warmth spread through you at his words. “Me too,” you reply, your voice just as soft. “We should do it again sometime.”

“Yeah,” Logan agrees, his gaze holding yours a hint longer before he turns away, his hand reaching for the door handle. “We should.”

—

A few days later, as everyone sits around the kitchen table after dinner, the evening suddenly takes on a new tone when your grandmother clears her throat and shoots an exchanges a conspiratorial glance at your grandfather.

“We’ve got some news,” she begins, her eyes shining with excitement. “Your grandfather and I have been invited to spend a week at the Summers’ cottage by the lake.”

You smile, genuinely happy for them. The Summers are longtime friends of your grandparents, and the idea of them getting a little vacation away sounds perfect. “That sounds wonderful! You two deserve some time to relax.”

“Well, we thought so too,” your grandfather says. “But that means we’ll be leaving the farm in your capable hands.”

It takes a moment for the full meaning of his words to sink in. You and Logan… alone… for an entire week.

Your heart skips a beat and you glimpse over at Logan, who’s sitting across the table from you, his expression neutral as he listens to your grandparents. But there’s a quick flash of something that suggests he’s as aware of the situation as you are.

A voice brings you back to the moment. “Now, don’t worry,” she says with a reassuring smile. “There’s not much that needs doing, just the usual stuff. And we’ll be back before you know it.”

Your grandfather leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest as he scans between you and Logan. “We trust you both to keep everything running smoothly,” he says, before he drops his voice to an embarrassingly low tone. “And to keep an eye on each other.”

You can’t help but blush at his not-so-subtle innuendo, and you quickly drop your gaze to your hands, trying to hide the warmth creeping up your cheeks. The thought of spending an entire week alone with Logan is both thrilling and nerve-wracking. The lack of a buffer—your grandparents—means that literally anything could happen.

“Don’t worry,” you finally manage to say. “We’ve got this. You two just enjoy your time away.”

Logan, who has been uncharacteristically quiet during the conversation, finally speaks up. “Yeah,” he agrees, “We’ll take care of everything.”

—

Over the next couple of days, your grandparents pack their bags and make sure everything is in order before they leave. You help them with the small details, ensuring that the house is stocked with food and that all the usual chores are delegated properly.

Finally, the morning of their departure arrives. You stand by the front door, watching as your grandparents load their bags into the car. Your grandmother gives you a warm hug, “Take care, dear,” she says, kissing your cheek before hopping into the passenger’s seat.

Your grandfather shakes Logan’s hand, giving him a firm nod. “Take care of things.”

He hums. “I will. Enjoy yourselves.”

With that, your grandparents climb into the car, and after a final wave, they drive down the long, dusty road that leads away from the farm.

There’s a pause.

Suddenly, you’ve become extremely aware of how close you two are standing.

“So,” you start, hoping to ease a bit of the electricity beginning to spark. “I guess it’s just us now.”

Logan swallows thickly, his adams apple bobbing up and down. “Yeah,” he replies a bit deeper than usual. “Just us.”

“What should we do first?” you ask as casually as possible.

He shrugs slightly, his lips curving into the faintest hint of a smile. “Same old, I guess. Can’t let everythin’ fall apart right when they leave..”

“True. Let’s start with that.”

The two of you move into that familiar routine of farm work. Mucking out the stalls, hauling bags of feed from the shed to the barn, tending to the vegetable garden, you do it all. But even though you’re busy with work, there’s an underlying jitter to everything you do, a heightened awareness of each other’s presence that just wasn’t there before. And it’s impossible to ignore. Each time you make eyecontact it feels charged, almost like a promise of what’s to come, and it has your heart racing with exhilaration.

That evening, after the chores are done and the sun has dropped below the horizon, you’re in the kitchen, preparing dinner while Logan finishes up outside. The quiet of the farmhouse feels different without your grandparents there—emptier, yet somehow more intimate. Domestic. You can hear the soft creak of the floorboards as he enters the house, the sound of him washing up in the sink.

And as the evening wears on, you find yourself drawing out cleaning the dishes, not wanting to end the day just yet. Logan stays close, drying the plates and placing them back in the cupboards.

“Long day,” he grunts.

“Yeah,” you agree, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. “But it was nice. Peaceful.”

His eyes find yours. “Peaceful,” he echoes, though the word seems to hold a different meaning when he says it.

You both stay there, unmoving, until eventually, he takes a step back, as if sensing that the tension between you needs a moment to cool. “I’ll check on the barn,” he says gruffly. “Make sure everything’s locked up for the night.”

“Okay,” you reply, your voice softer than you intended.

Logan leaves to check on the barn, while he’s gone, your thoughts are a whirlwind of anticipation and nervous energy as you busy yourself with finishing up the remaining utensils.

Finally, unable to stay inside any longer, you decide to step outside, hoping the cool evening air will help clear your mind. You sink down onto the old porch swing, and pull your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them as you observe the darkened landscape.

A few minutes later, you hear the soft crunch of gravel underfoot, and you glance over your shoulder to see Logan approaching the porch. He walks up the steps and pauses momentarily as if debating whether to join you. Then, with a soft sigh, he settles down beside you, his shoulder just barely brushing against yours.

It’s now or never, you think. “We have the place to ourselves now,” you state.

He turns his head slightly, giving you a sidelong look, the corner of his mouth quirking up into a small, knowing smirk. “Indeed we do,” he replies.

The simple acknowledgment—and the way he says it—makes your pulse quicken, and you can’t help the small huff of exasperation that escapes your lips. He’s always been so tame, so careful with his words, and while you appreciate the way he’s respected your space, you’re done with tiptoeing around.

“Do I need to spell it out for you, or—” But before you can finish the sentence, Logan moves.

His hand reaches out, rough and warm, to cup the back of your head. Your eyes widen, and your heart thuds in your chest upon realizing what’s about to happen. And with a firm but gentle pull, he closes the distance between you, his lips crashing against yours.

You lose track of your surroundings—the night, the farm, everything—as you give yourself into feel of his lips against yours. It’s intense and claiming, a declaration of everything you’ve both been too afraid to say.

His hand tangles in your hair, holding you close as he deepens the kiss, his other hand coming to rest on your waist, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you. Your hands find their way to his shoulders, gripping the fabric of his shirt as if to ground yourself in the moment, to make sure this is real, that he’s really here, kissing you.

Moving your lips against his with equal fervor, you pour the longing you’ve been feeling all this time into it. The taste of him is intoxicating. It’s something that’s so uniquely him—so uniquely Logan—and you can’t get enough. You’ve imagined this moment in the dead of night, but nothing compares to the reality of it—to the way he kisses you like you’re the only thing that matters.

When you finally pull back, out of breath and a little dazed, Logan’s forehead rests against yours, his breath coming in heavy, uneven pants. His eyes are smoldering and intense and his smirk is gone, replaced by a deep look of yearning.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he admits huskily. The way his voice has dropped three octaves isn’t missed on you. You can practically feel it vibrate down in your pu—

“You’re not the only one,” You whisper, interrupting your own thoughts. The connection between you has finally been acknowledged, and you feel a huge sense of relief.

He exhales a breath you didn’t realize he was holding, and his hand slips from the back of your head to cup your face, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw. “Good,” he murmurs. “Because I don’t think I can hold back anymore.”

You lean in, pressing another kiss to his lips. “Then don’t,” you whisper against his mouth.

The spark that has been ignited between you flares up into a full blown fire, and the next kiss quickly becomes more heated. Without breaking it, Logan’s grip on your waist tightens and you let out a soft gasp as he effortlessly lifts you onto his lap. Your legs straddle his hips, and you can feel the beginning of something growing underneath you.

The sensation is dizzying, and you instinctively press yourself closer, your fingers curling into his hair. The swing beneath you creaks softly with the movement, but neither of you pays it any mind, too lost in each other to care.

You shift slightly on his lap, grinding your hips against him, and the movement draws a deep, throaty groan from him. He pulls back just enough to catch his breath, “God, you drive me crazy,” and then he’s on you again.

It’s wild. Hot, and heavy, and utterly consuming. His hands move from your hips to grip your ass, guiding you to move against him. It feels so good, you release a relieved sigh into his mouth, before dropping your head onto his shoulder, too caught up in the pleasure.

The sounds of your moans fill the air as he continues grinding you against him, his own hips bucking up into your core.

Biting your lip, you lift your head slightly, a teasing smile tugs at the corners of your mouth as your eyes dart toward the open door of the farmhouse. “You know,” you begin tilting forward to bite his ear, your voice low and playful, “as much as I’m enjoying being out here, I think we should take this inside.”

Logan’s lips quirk up into a sexy smirk. “As you wish,” he murmurs.

As you stand up, your legs a little shaky from what just occured, you peek back at him, and see that he’s already risen to his feet. Stepping closer, you slip your hand into his as you guide him toward the door. But just as you reach the threshold, a thought crosses your mind, and you pause, turning to look up at him with a mischievous glint in your eyes.

“We gotta go to your room,” you say, running your hands up and down his arms, feeling them flex underneath your touch.“I don’t think I’m ready to defile my childhood bedroom just yet.”

He raises an eyebrow, a grin spreading across his face as he catches on to what you’re implying. “Oh, is that so?” he asks, his tone filled with mock seriousness. You wink in return. grabbing one of his hands and dragging him inside.

By the time you reach his door, you’re practically vibrating with excitement, your breath coming in quick, shallow bursts. The room is simple, and the bed, neatly made, sits in the center of the room. You can’t help but laugh at the thought of how different it will look in just a few moments.

You turn to face Logan, but he doesn’t give you time to say anything, his hand reaching out, his fingers brushing against your cheek in a touch that is both tender and possessive. His thumb traces the line of your jaw as he cups your face, his eyes searching yours for any hint of hesitation.

But there’s none. You’ve never been more sure of anything in your life. The need for him, for this, is so overwhelming that it’s taking every ounce of strength in you to keep from throwing yourself onto him.

His lips find yours once more, this time more urgent, more demanding than before. He pulls you closer, his body pressing against yours. “Are you sure about this?” he asks in between kisses.

“Absolutely,” you mumble breathlessly, your hands sliding up his chest to curl around the back of his neck. The word barely leaves your lips before Logan reacts, a low hum rumbling in his chest as if your answer has unleashed something primal within him.

He kicks the door shut behind him with a force that makes the room tremble slightly, and in the same fluid motion, he pins you against the wall, lips never leaving yours as his body cages you in.

One of his thighs nudges its way between yours, the rough fabric of his jeans brushing against the sensitive spot between your legs. The friction is maddening, electric, and it hits just right, sending a jolt of pleasure up your spine that rips a moan from your throat.

The sound only spurs Logan on, his own need evident in the way he moves against you. He moves his mouth to your neck, trailing up and down it with hungrily. The feel of his mouth on your skin, the way his teeth graze your pulse point, causes you to arch against him, your hands clutching at his shoulders for support.

You can feel the warmth of his breath as he presses his lips to the sensitive spot just below your ear, his tongue flicking out to taste your skin, as his hands explore your body. They’re everywhere—one gripping your hip, holding you steady against the wall, the other sliding up your side to brush against the curve of your breast. His fingers find the hem of your shirt, tugging it up, and you lift your arms to help him, the fabric sliding up and over your head before it’s tossed carelessly to the floor.

Bringing his lips back to yours, the kiss is fiery, stealing all the oxygen from your lungs as he pushes you even harder into against the wall, his thigh still working its magic. You can’t help the way your hips rock against him, the need for more—more pressure, more friction, more him.

Logan seems to sense your desperation, moaning when his hand slips down from your breast to the waistband of your jeans. He fumbles with the button for only a moment before he gets it open, his fingers slipping inside to brush against the soft skin of your lower belly. He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze tempting and filled with a desire that matches your own.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he mutters, voice thick with want. “No idea why I waited so long.”

You can barely think, let alone form words, but you manage to breathe out, “Don’t need to wait any longer.”

The words seem to be all the encouragement he needs. In one swift motion, he slides your pants and underwear down your legs, his hands careful as he helps you step out of them. You’re left standing before him, bare and vulnerable, but the way he’s staring at you—like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen—makes you feel powerful, desired in a way you’ve never felt before.

He pulls you back into him, and this time, you can feel the hardness of his own desire against yours—bare— and it drives you insane. His grip finds you thighs as he lifts you off the ground and carries you the short distance to the bed. He lays you down gently on his bed, and breaks away long enough to strip off his own clothes. The sight of him—strong, muscular, yours—makes your breath catch in your throat.

There’s a moment where he’s standing above you, just staring, his chest rising and falling with the effort to control himself. But then he’s on you again in an instant, his body pressing yours into the mattress, his lips claiming yours and leaving you dizzy.

You lean up into him, your hands sliding up his back, feeling the play of muscles beneath his skin as he moves against you. The need for more builds up to a breaking point, and you can’t help the soft moan that escapes your lips as he grinds into you, hard and insistent against your core.

“Logan,” you breathe out. “Please.”

His name on your lips seems to break the last of his control, a desperate groan ripping out of him. He begins travelling down your body, taking his time, his lips tracing a slow, deliberate path, each kiss leaving a burning trail in its wake. His hands follow the curve of your waist, your hips, his fingers digging into your skin with just the right amount of pressure to make you gasp. Your body is practically begging for him, and you know that you’re on the verge of begging too.

Once he makes it down to your thighs, he nudges them apart, giving him better access to you. He nips and bites at them, moaning along with you. And then, with a deep, almost possessive growl, he finally lowers his mouth to you, his tongue flicking out to taste you. You react immediately, a wave of pleasure coming over you, your hands fly into his hair, tugging at the strands as you try to pull him closer.

Logan’s hands tightening their grip on your thighs as he delves deeper. You’re lost in the sensations, the pleasure growing and growing until it’s all you can think about, all you can feel. Your body is on fire, every nerve ending alight with desire, and the only thing that matters is the way he is making you feel, the way he’s driving you toward a release that you know will be earth-shattering.

And then, just as you think you can’t take any more, he pulls back slightly, his lips still hovering over you as he looks up at you, eyes black. “Tell me what you want,” he commands.

You can barely think, let alone form coherent words, but you manage to breathe out, “You. I want–I need you.”

That seems to be wanted he wanted to hear, so with a final kiss to your inner thigh, he moves back up your body, connecting his lips to yours again. You can taste yourself on his tongue as his hands slide under your thighs, lifting you slightly to position himself at your entrance.

The anticipation is almost too much, the need for him so immense that you can’t hold back the whimper that escapes your lips as begins to push, the tip of him just barely inside you, teasing, testing your patience.

“Oh god,” you moan. “I need you. Please.”

And then, finally, Logan gives you what you’ve been wanting since that time at the pond. With one slow, deliberate thrust, he pushes inside you, filling you up completely.

Everything seems to stop for a moment, the only sound the ragged gasps of breath between you, the only feeling the overwhelming pleasure of being joined together like this, of finally having what you’ve both wanted for so long.

He pauses, lowering his head in the crook of your neck as he lets you adjust to the feeling, his breath hot and heavy against your collarbone. And then he begins to move, slow and steady at first, each thrust driving you closer to the edge, the coil inside you tightening with every stroke. The feel of him inside you, the way he moves against you, is everything you’ve been dreaming of and more, and you can’t help the way your body responds to him, your hips lifting to meet his every movement.

The gentle, deliberate pace soon gives way to something more urgent, more desperate, as the need for release takes over. Each thrust drives you higher, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable level, until teetering on the edge.

And then, he sends you over it. The orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, your entire body shuddering with the intensity of it, your voice lost in the cry of pure ecstasy that escapes your lips. Logan follows you a moment later, his own release crashing into him hard, his body trembling against yours as he buries himself deep inside you, his breath hot and ragged against your neck as a loud, deep, groan reverberates in his throat.

Neither of you can move, lost in the aftermath of your shared pleasure, your bodies still entwined, as you come down from the high. He tightens his arms around you, pressing a kiss to your temple as he tries to catch his breath. And when he does, he pulls back just enough to look into your eyes.

“You okay?” he murmurs.

You nod, reaching up to cup his face in your hands, your thumbs gently brushing over the rough stubble on his cheeks. “I’m more than okay,” you whisper back, voice full of emotion. “That was… everything.”

A small smile tugs at the corners of Logan’s lips, and he leans down to press a soft kiss to your forehead, his arms still wrapped securely around you. “Yeah, it was,” he agrees.

Eventually, he eases out of you with a tenderness that makes you sigh softly. He walks out into the washroom, and gets a warm towel, wiping you and himself down. After, he settles beside you on the bed, his arm draped over your waist, holding you close. The two of you stay like that for a long time, wrapped in each other’s arms, until the exhaustion of the day begins to catch up with you, and you feel your eyes growing heavy.

“Get some rest,” you hear, “We’ve got plenty of time… no need to rush.”

You nod sleepily, snuggling closer to him as you let your eyes drift shut, the steady pulse of his heart lulling you into a peaceful sleep.

—

You wake to the feeling of warmth and security, Logan’s breathing against your ear, his arm still clinging possessively over your waist. The events of the previous night come rushing back, and a satisfied smile curves your lips as you snuggle closer to him.

But it isn’t long before that peaceful contentment becomes something more. As you move around, the feel of his skin against yours, the warmth of his breath on your neck, and the memory of the passion ignites a familiar heat low in your belly

He stirs beside you, his hand tightening around your waist as if sensing your thoughts. Pulling you closer, his nose nuzzles against your neck, his lips brushing over the sensitive skin there.

His voice is rough with sleep as he murmurs against your skin, “Morning…”

The simple word, spoken in that deep, gravelly tone, is enough to make you ache for him all over again. You turn in his arms, meeting his gaze, and the look in his eyes—dark and hungry—tells you that he feels the same way.

The morning starts in the best way possible, the both of you breathless, spent, and with the knowledge that this isn’t a one-time thing. The connection between you is too strong, too consuming to be satisfied with just one night or even one morning. And as the day stretches out before you, the realization hits that this hunger, this need, will follow you both everywhere you go.

Throughout the week, the two of you are completely insatiable for each other. It’s like the floodgates have opened and have no intention of closing. Every moment you’re together becomes an opportunity.

It starts innocently enough—just a kiss in the barn when you’re supposed to be checking on the horses. But that kiss quickly spirals and before you know it, Logan has you pressed up against the wooden wall, his lips on your neck, his hands roaming your body. The scent of hay and leather mixes with the heady scent of him as he takes you right there, the barn filled with the sound of your moans and the creak of the old wooden beams.

Or when you’re in the back shed, ostensibly looking for some tools to finish up some chores, the moment the door closes behind you, and you both know there’s no point in pretending. Logan’s hands are on you before you can even say a word, lifting you onto the workbench with ease as he claims your lips in a searing kiss.

At the pond too, the tranquil, secluded spot now holds an entirely different kind of allure to what it had before. One afternoon, you find yourselves there again, the cool water calling your name. But as you strip down to swim, the sight of him watching you is enough to make it seem less inviting than the feel of his hands on your skin. You pull him in with you, the rippling water doing nothing to muffle the sounds of your shared pleasure.

By the end of the week, you’re exhausted but in the best possible way, your body and soul both filled with the kind of satisfaction that comes from truly giving in to what you want, to who you are together. And as the sun sets on the final day of your week alone together, you find yourselves back in Logan’s room, the place where it all began.

The bed, once neat and tidy, is now a tangle of sheets and pillows, the evidence of your shared moments of bliss scattered around the room. Logan lies beside you, his hand gently stroking your hair as you rest your head on his chest, the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your ear.

“This week… it’s been more than I ever expected,” he admits quietly, his fingers brushing gently over your skin. “I don’t want it to end.”

You lift your head to look at him, your eyes meeting his, and you can see the same emotion reflected there—the same desire to hold on to what you’ve found together. “It doesn’t have to,” you reply. “We don’t have to go back to the way things were before.”

Logan’s hand tightens around yours, a small, almost imperceptible smile curving his lips. “No, we don’t,” he concurs.

—

The morning your grandparents arrive, you and Logan are in the kitchen, finishing up lunch. Your grandmother is the first to step through the door, her face lighting up as she sees the two of you. “We’re back!” she announces, her voice cheerful as she sets her bag down by the door.

You rise to greet her, giving her a warm hug. “How was the trip?”

“Oh, it was lovely,” she replies, her eyes twinkling as she pulls back to look at you. “The cottage was just as beautiful as ever. And the Summers send their love.”

Your grandfather enters next, a gleeful smile on his face as he takes in the sight of you and Logan in the kitchen, together. “Everything go smoothly while we were gone?” he asks.

You blush. “Yes, everything was fine.”

Then they do that thing they’ve been doing the whole time you’ve been with them, where they exchange a glance—and share a look that speaks volumes. It’s the kind of look that only comes from years of understanding each other without words, and you can tell they knew exactly what they were doing when they left you and Logan alone for the week.

“Well, that’s good to hear,” your grandmother says with a mischievous smile, her eyes flicking between you two in a way that makes you wonder just how much they’ve guessed.

“Seems like you two managed just fine without us.” Your grandfather says, patting Logan on the shoulder.

You can feel the heat rising to your cheeks, and you steal a look at Logan, who meets your eyes with a small smirk. It’s a way to tell you that he’s just as aware as you are of what your grandparents are thinking. But there’s no embarrassment on his face, only a quiet confidence, a certainty that whatever happened between you was exactly what was meant to be.

—

The next month flies by, the routine of everything staying largely the same except for one thing. You and Logan are inseparable, drawn to each other like magnets, and with each passing day, it seems like that attraction only grows stronger.

It’s not just the passion that binds you, though that spark is always there, and most often times doesn’t go ignored. It’s the little moments that fill your days—the way his hand brushes yours as you walk side by side, the way he rests a gentle hand on the small of your back when you’re working together in the barn, or the way his fingers grip your waist as he helps you mount your horse (even though you don’t need it).

The work on the farm continues to get done, but there’s a new layer to everything you do—a sense of shared purpose, of partnership. And even though the days are long and tiring, you find yourself looking forward to each task, knowing that Logan will be there beside you, sharing the load, offering his quiet support and his easy, comforting presence.

As the sun begins to rise one breakfast, you grandfather announces that he needs to run into town to pick up some tools for a repair project. He’s heading out the door, and as he grabs his keys from the hook, he turns to Logan with a nod.

“Logan, why don’t you come along? Could use an extra pair of hands,” he suggests, his tone casual.

Your man agrees without hesitation, always ready to lend a hand. But as he follows your grandfather out the door, he pauses for just a moment, whirling back to look at you, and what you see on his face is insane—there’s a deep yearning, a longing that tugs on your heartstrings. It’s almost as if to say that he wishes he could stay, he doesn’t want to be apart from you, even for the short trip into town.

You have half a mind to join them.

The intensity of that look lingers in the air long after he’s turned away and stepped out the door, and your grandmother doesn’t miss a thing. Once the men are in the truck and begin to drive off the property, she turns to you with a teasing smile, one eyebrow raised in amusment.

“He’s really got it bad for you, doesn’t he?” she says affectionately. “I’ve never seen a man look at a woman the way he looks at you.”

Your heart blooms in your chest. “I guess he does,” you reply, your voice soft, breathless as the weight of your feelings for him wash over you.

Your grandmother chuckles, stepping closer to place her hand on your arm “And you’ve got it bad for him too, I’d say.”

You laugh. “Yeah, I do.”

—

Several weeks later, it’s raining. That should have been the first sign that this day wasn’t going to go to plan. You’re sitting inside, curled up next to Logan on the old chesterfield, his arm wrapped around you as you both enjoy the warmth and quiet of the afternoon.

But then you decide to go through some emails—just a quick check, nothing more, to clear out any lingering notifications. You unlock your phone and start scrolling through your inbox, Logan’s fingers tracing lazy circles on your shoulder as you do. Most of the emails are routine—newsletters, updates, the usual clutter—but then you see it, nestled among the others like a tiny, unexpected bombshell.

It’s an email from the company you applied to months ago, the one you almost forgot about in the blissful haze of farm life. The subject line makes your heart skip a beat: Congratulations! Offer of Employment.

Your breath catches, and you sit up a little straighter, your heart pounding in your chest as you open the email. The words leap off the screen: We are pleased to offer you the position, starting in two months.

You stare at the email, a mixture of shock and elation washing over you. This is it—your dream job, the opportunity you’ve been working toward for years. It’s everything you’ve ever wanted, the kind of position that could set the course for your entire career. But as the initial wave of excitement begins to ebb, a heavy weight settles in your chest, pulling you back down to earth.

You glance over at Logan, who’s still relaxed beside you. His eyes are closed, his head resting back against the couch. The sight of him, so content, makes your heart ache, because with this job offer comes a harsh reality: accepting it means leaving him, leaving this life you’ve built together, at least for a while. And you don’t know when—or even if—you’ll be back.

Suddenly, his eyes flutter open in response to your shifting, and he looks over at you, concern flickering across his features. “What’s wrong?” he asks.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. “I… I just got an email,” you begin shakily as you turn the screen toward him so he can read it for himself.

He takes the phone from your hand, his eyes scanning the email. You watch his expression carefully, searching for any sign of what he’s feeling. At first, there’s no reaction, just the steady, focused way he reads the words. Yet as he reaches the end, you see it—the subtle tightening of his jaw, the pinching together of his eyebrows.

He hands the phone back to you wordlessly.

Then, “This is what you’ve been waiting for.” His voice is steady, but there’s a sadness there too, a heaviness that you can’t ignore.

You nod, feeling tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “Yeah… it is.”

There’s a long stretch of nothing, the sound of the rain outside filling the silence between you. Logan looks away, his gaze fixed on the fire as if trying to find the right words. When he finally speaks, his voice is low, measured. “You have to take it.”

You swallow hard. “But what about us? I don’t know when I’ll be back… or if I’ll even be able to come back.”

Logan’s hand tightens around yours, his grip firm, grounding. “We’ll figure it out,” he says, though you can hear the strain in his voice, the way he’s trying to hold back his own emotions for your sake. “You’ve worked too hard for this to pass it up.”

His words are supportive, encouraging, but you can see the the way he’s starting to close in on himself, as if already bracing himself for your departure. The thought of being apart from him is unbearable.

You lean into his touch, your head resting on his shoulder, and he wraps his arms around you, holding you close. “I don’t want to leave you,” you whisper as the tears finally spill over.

He presses a kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering there as if trying to convey all the things he can’t bring himself to say. “I don’t want you to leave either,” he admits. “But I’ll be here when you get back. However long it takes.”

And so begins the countdown to your departure. You always knew it was going to come, always knew you were going to have to leave your grandparents again, but you didn’t expect to find the love of your life here, and that makes it so much harder.

—

The remaining two months become a bittersweet blend of cherished moments and a looming sense of inevitability. Each day feels both precious and fleeting, a constant reminder that your time together is running out, and it shapes every decision, every action, every word between you.

In the past, your days had been filled with the rhythm of farm life—early mornings, long hours of work, and evenings spent in each other’s arms, exhausted but content. But now, there’s a conscious effort to carve out time just for you two, time that’s not dictated by chores or routine. You start taking more trips to the pond or into town, something you hadn’t quite as often before.

These dates are different from the intense, passionate moments you’ve shared on the farm—they’re softer, more tender, as if you’re both trying to imprint each other’s presence into your memories. You hold hands as you walk on the streets, your fingers intertwined, and every now and then, Logan will pull you close, pressing a kiss to your temple or your lips, as if he needs to reassure himself that you’re still there with him.

Even the way you make love changes during these months. The hunger and desire that had once defined your physical relationship are still there, of course—Logan’s touch still ignites a fire in you, and the need for each other still burns as hot as ever—but now, there’s a new dimension to your intimacy, a slow, sensual depth that hadn’t been there before.

Your grandparents, upon hearing the news, immediately noticed the change too. While they were so extremely happy for your new job opportunity, they also knew what it meant. They’ve seen the way you and Logan have grown closer, the way your connection has deepened, and there’s a quiet sadness in their eyes whenever they see you together.

It’s not a sadness for themselves, but for the both of you.

They don’t say much, but their understanding is palpable. They seem to give you more grace when it comes to doing work around the farm, trying to volunteer and do as much as they can so you two can spend time alone. No matter how much you refuse, they insist, pushing you two out the door with picnic basket and blankets.

Sitting on the porch one evening after a long day, your grandmother comes out to join you. She sits beside you, Logan’s arm is draped around your shoulders, and for a brief second, the three of you just sit in silence, watching the sunset.

“You know,” your grandmother begins, her voice soft and filled with emotion, “I see the way you two look at each other. It reminds me of your grandfather and me when we were young.”

You smile, leaning into Logan’s side as you listen to her. “You two have always been such an inspiration,” you say, meaning every word.

She chuckles, a wistful sound. “It wasn’t always easy, you know. There were times when we had to be apart, times when I wasn’t sure if we’d make it through. But we did. And looking at you two now… I know you’ll find a way.”

Logan squeezes your shoulder gently.. “We’ll figure it out,” he says, echoing the promise he made when you first told him about the job.

Your grandmother nods, reaching out to pat your knee. “I believe you will. But just know… it’s okay to be sad, to be scared. That’s part of loving someone.”

The words resonate with you, and you feel tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “Thank you,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion.

She smiles, a small, sad smile that holds a lifetime of wisdom. “You’ll be alright, my dear. Both of you.”

The days continue to slip by, and as the final weeks approach, your chest constantly feels tight. You try to make yourself feel better by lying in each other’s arms at night, whispering about the future, about the dreams you have, and the plans you’ll make when you’re together again. But still, it’s sad.

—

Your last day creeps up on you like a shadow at dusk—inevitable, inescapable, and suddenly there, looming over everything. You wake up with a rock on your heart, the realization that this is it—your final day on the farm, your last full day with Logan before everything changes.

He is still asleep beside you, holding you close, his face peaceful in the early morning quiet. For a moment, you just watch him, memorizing the lines of his face, the way his chest rises and falls with each breath, the way his hair falls across his forehead. You want to remember everything, to carry this image of him with you when you leave.

With a soft sigh, you carefully slip out of his embrace, trying not to wake him. You pad quietly to the window, staring out at the familiar landscape that has become so dear to you. The fields, the barn, the trees swaying gently in the breeze—it’s all so beautiful, so full of memories.

You don’t realize you’re crying until you feel the wetness on your cheeks, and you quickly wipe the tears away, not wanting to start the day with sadness. But as you turn back to the bed, you see that Logan is awake, his eyes open and watching you. He doesn’t say anything, but the look in his eyes says it all—he knows what today means, and he feels it just as deeply as you do.

Wordlessly, you crawl back into bed, curling up against him, and you can feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek, grounding you in the moment.

“Morning,” he murmurs.

“Morning,” you whisper back, your voice trembling slightly as you press your face into his chest, trying to hold back the tears that threaten to fall..

You just lie there together, wrapped in each other’s arms, the weight of the day pressing down on you both. Eventually, Logan pulls back slightly, his hand cupping your face as he looks into your eyes. “Let’s go to the pond,” he says delicately. “Just you and me.”

You nod, unable to find the words to respond. The pond has always been your special place, a sanctuary where you’ve shared so many intimate moments, where it feels like it all began, and so it’s only right that would spend your last day there, away from everything else, just the two of you.

You decide to walk to the pond. Logan’s hand is warm and solid in yours, and you hold on to it tightly, physically unable to tear yourself from his touch. And when you reach it, a fresh wave of emotion crashes over you.

You and Logan stand at the water’s edge, just staring out into the pond. Then, you turn to him, your eyes filled with tears, and without hesitation, he pulls you into his arms, holding you close.

The kiss that follows is desperate, full of the need to feel connected, to hold on to each other for as long as you can. It’s not like the slow, sensual lovemaking of the past weeks—this is something desperate. Stumbling back toward the soft grass by the water’s edge, Logan gently lays you down, his hands trembling slightly as he undresses you, tears stinging behind his eyelids. As he moves over you, his body pressing against yours, there’s only this moment.

With his skin against yours, his breath on your neck, your bodies move together. Tears spill from your eyes as you hold him tight, your hands unable to stay still, running over every part of him you can touch, needing to feel him, to anchor yourself. His lips find yours again, and the kiss is deep, full of all the love, all the emotion that neither of you can put into words.

It’s a kiss that says goodbye, that says I love you, that says I’ll wait for you.

After reaching the peak of pleasure, you cling to each other, the tears flowing freely now, a mix of sorrow and love and everything in between.

Logan holds you close, his forehead pressed against yours, his breath ragged, his eyes wet with tears. “I love you,” he whispers, his voice cracking with emotion. “I’ll always love you.”

“I love you too,” you choke out. “More than anything.”

—

Driving away from the farm was probably the hardest thing you've ever had to do in your entire life. Harder than moving away for university, harder than securing your first full-time job, harder than living alone in a city where you knew no one. This was different—this was leaving behind a piece of your heart, a part of your soul that you knew would never be whole until you returned.

Your hands grip the steering wheel tightly, your knuckles white as you try to focus on the road ahead, but it’s impossible to shake the image that’s burned into your mind—the image of Logan and your grandparents standing on the porch as you drove away. The sight of them, standing there side by side, watching you leave, is something that will haunt you for a long time.

Logan, his stoic expression barely masking the pain in his eyes, his hands clenched at his sides as if holding himself back from running after you. Your grandmother, her face a mixture of sadness and pride, eyes glistening with unshed tears. And your grandfather, standing tall and strong, but with a heaviness in his gaze that spoke of understanding, of experience, of knowing just how hard this had to be.

The tears that had been threatening to fall finally break free, streaming down your face as you drive, blurring your vision and making it hard to see the road ahead. You swipe at them angrily, frustrated with yourself for breaking down like this, but it’s no use. The emotions are too strong, too overwhelming, and soon you’re bawling your eyes out, the sound of your own crying filling the car.

You can barely catch your breath, each sob wracking your body with a force that leaves you feeling drained, exhausted, and utterly broken.

—

The time apart is worse than you ever imagined it would be. In the beginning, you and Logan make every effort to stay in touch. The calls and texts are your lifeline, little threads that keep you connected to the farm, to him, to the life you left behind.

At first, you talk every day. his voice a comfort, a reminder that you’re not alone, that he’s still there, waiting for you. He tells you about his days, about how he still rides the horses every morning, just like he used to when you were there.

But as time goes on, the time between each call grows. Your demanding work schedule, and the unreliable service in the countryside, make it harder and harder to find moments when you’re both free to talk. The texts, once long and filled with details about your lives, become shorter, more practical. You try to stay connected, but the distance feels like a growing chasm between you, one that neither of you can quite figure out how to bridge.

Years pass by in a blur. You have no time to spend at the farm, with it being too far away for just a weekend trip, and other commitments seem to always get in the way.

Then, one day, the call comes—the call you’ve dreaded but somehow always knew would happen. It’s your grandmother, her voice trembling as she tells you that your grandfather has passed away.

You take leave from work immediately, making arrangements to drive back to the farm and spend a night. The funeral is simple, attended by a few close friends and neighbours, but the absence of your grandfather is felt deeply by everyone.

And he’s there too—Logan. He’s standing off to the side, his broad shoulders slightly hunched, his face etched with grief. When your eyes meet, it’s as if no time has passed at all. You walk over to him, and without a word, he pulls you into his arms, holding you tightly as if afraid to let go.

The few years apart, the pain of the distance, all of it melts away in that embrace. You bury your face in his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of him that you’ve missed so much, and the tears you thought you had run out of begin to fall.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, everything hitting you at once—the loss of your grandfather, the years you’ve spent apart, the life you could have had together.

He hugs you tighter, his hand gently stroking your hair. “I miss you,” he murmurs thickly. “Every damn day, I miss you.”

You spend the rest of the day together, holding each other, talking, catching up, and remembering your grandfather. Logan tells you about the farm, about how he’s kept things going, but you can hear the weariness in his voice, the toll that time and loneliness have taken on him. It’s clear that the farm hasn’t been the same without you, just as your life hasn’t been the same without him.

Later that evening, after the guests have left and the house has grown quiet, your grandmother pulls you aside. Her eyes are tired, full of sorrow, but there’s a calm acceptance in her expression. “I’ve made a decision,” she says softly, her voice steady. “I’m going to sell the farm.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, but before you can protest, she continues. “Not to just anyone,” she adds quickly. “To Logan. He’s been more than just a farmhand, you know that. This place is as much his as it was ours. But… I need to move into permanent care. I can’t manage on my own anymore.”

You nod, understanding but feeling a deep sadness all the same. The farm has been a part of your life for so long, and the thought of it changing hands, even to Logan, feels like another loss. But there’s also a sense of relief, knowing that it will be in good hands, that it will stay in the family, in a way.

That night, you’re tangled in Logan’s arms. Leaving him the next morning is just as hard the second time as it was the first.

—

Five years since that fateful summer have passed, and in that time, your life changes in ways you never expected. You’ve built a successful career, made some amazing friends, travelled the world, but the hustle and bustle of city life has taken its toll. The stress, the strain, the dissatisfaction—it begins to weigh on you more and more.

You make a decision.

You quit your job, find something remote, something that allows you to work from anywhere, as long as you can drive into the city every few weeks to drop off documents. It’s a drastic change, but it’s one you need. You realize that the life you want, the life you’ve been yearning for, isn’t in the city.

It’s back at the farm.

And as you step out of your car, you see him. He’s by the paddock, feeding the horses apples, just like he used to. His back is to you at first, but then he turns, and his eyes meet yours, and time stops.

There’s a lifetime of emotions in that look—love, longing, hope. Most of all, there’s recognition, as if both of you know that this is it, that this is the moment you’ve been waiting for all these years.

So, when you’re finally standing in front of him again, he reaches out, his hand trembling slightly as he cups your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek the same way it did all those years ago.

----

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shushmal · 2 months

Text

Steve who is kind of pissy and put-out that, after finally figuring out that liking boys is okay, he has no one to talk about cute boys to.

Robin will talk about girls all day long, but as soon as boys are brought up it’s all gagging and eye rolling and judgement.

Dustin settles with a slightly disturbed look, turning a magazine around every angle before giving Steve a hesitant, “I guess?”

Max just fights with him. On purpose, probably.

Steve would literally rather talk about wet paint before even trying with Nancy or Jonathan.

And it feels wrong and mean to talk about it with Eddie, who Steve loves very much and is absolutely his number one forever. But still, Steve is missing out on the opportunity to gossip and it’s horrible.

That is, until the night of The Gay bar. Steve’s first night at a gay bar. It deserves capital letters. He’s gotten to dance and kiss and hold on to Eddie all night and it’s been amazing. And then it happens.

A guy walks by, tall and golden, his black hair falling in a straight waterfall down his back. He’s wearing more glitter than clothes, and he looks almost alien, he’s so beautiful. Steve’s jaw drops.

He catches himself instantly, mouth closing with a click, and he whips his head around just in time to meet Eddie’s expression—shocked, panicked, and embarrassed—a perfect mirror to Steve’s.

They stare at each other for a moment, and then break into nervous giggles.

“Jesus,” Eddie says. “That guy was—”

“Insanely hot?” Steve laughs. They turn together, just in time to see the guy disappear into the crowd. “I didn’t know guys could be that pretty!”

“You saying I’m not pretty, Harrington?”

“You gave me shit last week that you’re actually handsome and rugged.”

“You called me cute!”

“And you are, dork!”

“… You think I could pull off a harness like that?”

Steve grins at him. “Oh, absolutely.”

#stranger things #steddie #from then on they check out hot guys together #like playing the I spy game but with dudes #my steddies

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astrobydalia · 3 months

Text

The different inner placements for each sign — observations+ranking

by astrobydalia

Disclaimer: these are based on my personal experience and opinions!!

Aries

Mercury: so insanely smart and fast thinkers. Very real, straight to the point and say-it-like-it-is kind of people, love them. I could hear them talk all day

ASC: most authentic people you'll meet!!! What you see is what you get. Also very spontaneous and effortlessly fun

Venus: love, so fun to be around and specially the women with this placement they're soooo hot

Sun, Mars: these are very similar imo. so loyal and protective people but they tend to be pretty crass and often come across as rude unintentionally. Aries Suns are more blunt and outspoken while Aries Mars can be more chill but they're more prone to attracting hate. Great people to have in your corner overall.

Moon: Stubborn as fuck. Not open to understanding anything beyond themselves so they tend go around life with HUGE tunnel vision. Trying to reason/negotiate with them is nearly impossible

Taurus

Moon: my god, you won't know emotional intelligence, calmness and care until you meet a Taurus Moon like DAMN. Their patience, empathy and sense of boundaries is just impecable

ASC: their energy is sooooo soothing like ugh. They have a very cute and comforting aura, very magnetic people and naturally gorgeous

Mercury: they speak slow or not too much but once they let a full sentence out it's usually GOLD

Sun: hmmmm they do tend to be kinda full of themselves but they have BDE and are pretty hot so I'll give them that

Mars: VOICE is soooo good. However they tend to be low-key problematic tbh. Will get very snappy and petty real quick

Venus: I know this is venus's domicile but... most taurus venus I've seen were low-key kinda..... harsh and stern in their love style?? And not all that loyal if im honest with you, they're only loyal when they see personal benefit/satisfaction. It’s true that they’ll spoil you if they truly love you tho

Gemini

Mars: comeback queens/kings, also very multi-talented. What else can I say they always manage to be so iconic

Moon: out of all gemini placements they're the most likely to sit down and really listen to you. Can be too honest, another say-it-like-it-is placement. Comforting others is not their forte but they're very tolerant and patient

Venus: golden retriever energy, extroverted and popular and I've said this before but they can be very loyal!!

Sun: they are cool and so so funny but can also be veeeeery immature and a bit self-righteous. I love them but that bad press they have in pop culture exists for a reason that's all im gonna say

ASC: they're very intelligent and entertaining but gemini on the asc is such a messy placement imo cause they have an identity/existencial crisis at least twice a day which can make them kinda chaotic people to have in your life (love you guys tho)

Mercury: talking with them is VERY annoying tbh. They will just roughly listen to what you say just keep interrupting and eventually start their own monologue. They ain't listening they aren't even wanting for their turn to speak they're just waiting for whatever opportunity to speak

Cancer

Mercury: such good listeners!! also they are very honest and genuine with what they say like aries mercury but more tactful

Venus: this placement soothes down the most fiery personality. They are very loved and inexplicably magnetic

ASC: mommy issues. I love their intuition and they are really good at creating community wherever they go but my only complaint is they are defensive 24/7

Moon: hit or miss. Either really emotionally mature person that wants to take care of everyone or very immature and childish with a victim complex

Sun: huge attention seekers. Insecure, codependent and always looking for validation. Tend to portray themselves as innocent/clueless/harmless, etc.

Mars: these are SLY motherfuckers, they scare me more than scorpio mars

Leo

Moon: I have to admit this placement surprised me for the better. Yes they can be egotistical and entitled but when developed leo moons are very profound and passionate people with strong morals and are really good at inspiring others and lifting them up

Sun: the main character complex rumors may or may not be true but their magnetism and charm is undeniable

Mars: extremely prideful, my way or the highway kinda attitude, but they’re usually pretty harmless people from what I’ve seen. Their anger can be intense but they let it go easily after some dramatic moment. Dedicated.

ASC: daddy issues central. Known to be the most introverted leo placement but they’re very very very attached to their pride underneath. They really do wanna be/feel special and unique to the point of keeping most people at arm’s length cause that’s how much they wanna distinct themselves

Mercury: won’t hesitate to change topics if they don’t care what is being talked about or it has nothing to do with them. Laser focused on their interests tho that’s pretty cool

Venus: yeah they're generous but also a bit overbearing and low-key snotty. Tendency to associate themselves with people they don’t like all that much just because it gives them status or cause they get to receive lavish treatment

Virgo

Mars: omfg I love this placement so much. They handle conflict with SO much grace and embody all the good traits of virgo (capable, responsible, hard workers, great to work with, helpful, self-accountable....) *lady gaga's voice* talented brilliant incredible amazing show-stopping spectacular-

Venus: genuinely very responsable, dedicated and loyal in their relationships and commitments. I always find myself often complimenting their style and fashion choices

Mercury: a bit of a menace bc they can be good liars but they're always very very talented individuals in whatever it is they do

ASC: pretty self-serving tbh and often come across as goody-two-shoes or know-it-alls but they're alright for the most part. The virgo placement that has it the LEAST together tbh

Moon: they'll be there for you when you need help or advice but they can be pretty judgmental. They have a tendency to not really give people some grace. If they genuinely like you tho they’ll be extremely appreciative of everything you do right. Supportive

Sun: Very standoffish personality. Hard on themselves on the surface but probably also has a hidden superiority complex. The only placement where I prefer the men over the women

Libra

Moon: least superficial libra placement. Very introspective, sweet and find it really easy to understand other's emotions in an unbiased way

Mercury: invented the concept of understanding and voicing other perspectives with necessarily agreeing. Mind of their own.

Venus: superficial and obsessed with the opposite sex? Yes. Extremely devoted in all their relationships? Also yes.

Sun: meh. I keep having this experience with Libra Suns where I think they're great at first but then they end up being... not so great after some time. They're not bad really but their air-headedness makes them very unreliable

ASC: Their charm is manipulative and can easily hide a shitty personality underneath (not always the case tho). They're also the most emotionally superficial/detached of the bunch

Mars: hypocrates, huge huge hypocrates. Dubious morality. Playing devils advocate

Scorpio

Sun: they mind their own business and are really good at picking their battles wisely, only taking out their “dark” energy when it’s needed

Mars: don’t bother them and they won’t bother you. That’s the golden rule. Otherwise they’re pretty chill and unproblematic, dark humor enjoyers and strong-willed. I won’t say they’re completely drama free but hey

Mercury: they’ll be open to talk about anything, you can tell them literally anything and will listen intently without judgement. They can easily use info against others or withhold info tho so make sure they can be trusted

ASC: y’all low-key enjoy toxicity and drama but you don’t wanna admit it!!! They really thrive in uncomfortable situations and probably likes gossip too. One of the most black-or-white mindset placements

Venus: yeah not the best in relationships. They don’t really give their all and when they do give something it’s never unconditional. Relationships are always a power dynamic to them

Moon: Very tricky placement. Life has not been kind to them oof. Either they’re very traumatized people with a good heart deep down or very traumatized people with a really ugly and nasty soul. They also romanticize psychopaths and antisocial behaviors for some reason?????

Sagittarius

ASC: yes Im biased I don't care. But, be honest, when have you met a sag asc that wasn't cool af? Case closed. Life's good as a sag asc and when it's not, we make it that way

Sun: if you keep the men out of the equation sag suns are amazing!!! Their personality is like a breath of fresh air

Mercury: soso profound and intelligent. Will introduce you to new perspectives, great researchers. So good at finding answers and solutions!!!

Venus: Very open-minded, they are genuinely very accepting of literally any kind of person! They will applaud and celebrate your differences and quirks however they tend to be flighty and pretty light on their feet

Moon: Anger issues!!! Very volatile and defensive people underneath that chill and funny persona. They have well-known beef with someone. Don't like admitting their wrong, prone to ghosting everyone 99% of the times

Mars: the most entitled and rude out of all the sagittarius placements. The type to laugh in your face and never take accountability, their attitude can be revolting if you ask me

Capricorn

Venus: they make me MELT. So incredibly attractive, reliable, such an impecable taste, the way they treat you will bring you to your knees like ugh I can't

Mars: most resilient individuals I've seen truly!! Literally nothing will bring them down. So so ambitious, focused and have endless energy love them

Sun: cap suns and I have natural synergy. They're very level-headed, reliable, loyal and mature. However they are huge fatalists, very pessimistic and my jupiterian ass ain’t got time for that

ASC: too obsessed with their status and/or how they're perceived compared to others in their circle like sis stop caring sm what others think and live a little!!!

Mercury: listen, these folks can be very intelligent and well-read, but they tend to come across as narrow-minded or bigoted sometimes with the things the say or how they say things

Moon: I wanna root for y'all cap moons but being honest I've seen this placement is very common in really toxic personalities. They hold lots of past resentments and can be very judgmental and mean similar to virgo moons

Aquarius

ASC: socially adaptable but they stay true to themselves at the same time. Attractive, loyal and fresh personality/presence.

Mars: veeeery likable and popular. They really are dedicated to making an impact on the people

Sun: when they just simply focus on being themselves and doing their own thing they're very genuinely special and chill people and great friends! However when they care too much about being making themselves special they're very egocentric and unnecessarily problematic

Venus: messy placement. Very welcoming but they have big trust issues. They go back and forth between 'everyone loves me' and 'everyone hates me' and so they act accordingly....

Mercury: super intelligent, great in debates and very convincing, they always make great points. However the god complex is BLATANT here, they really think they're the only one that's right

Moon: another deeply traumatized placement. They can be great advocates for the collective however they tend to lack empathy specially when it comes to interpersonal relationships

Pisces

Sun: rough around the edges at first but they are a lot more helpless and vulnerable than they seem on the surface. Also they are genuinely really good at disappearing??? You won't even notice they're gone. Their presence is striking tho

Mercury: "idk what the fuck she's saying but girl I am living!". They have such a rich inner world I can't. SEDUCTIVE

ASC: they are... functioning humans. They go around life not being completely sure of what's going on but hey that Jupiter is somehow making everything work for them

Moon: "There is an idea of Pisces Moons, some kind of abstraction, but there is no real them. Only an entity, something illusory. And though they can hide their wondering gaze, and you can shake their hand and feel flesh gripping yours and maybe you can even sense your life styles are probably comparable, they simply are not there"

Venus: I've already spilled the tea on this placement. Next.

Mars: ever person I've seen with this placement was mentally unwell like, severely. They're doormats for the most part but there's this hidden side of them that can turn into a total demon

by astrobydalia

#astrology #astro #astro observations #astro notes #zodiac #birth chart #astrobydalia #dalia rants #astrology observations #astro community

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gay-dorito-dust · 4 months

Note

I'm here with a Wuthering Waves request.

Could I request Jiyan with a s/o who likes talking about how pretty and handsome he is?

‘Look at you,’ you said softly as you held his face within your hands, fingertips caressing his skin as though it was made out of porcelain, while your gaze was transfixed on the many shades that made up his gorgeous eyes that always seemed to be set in a glare or deep thought. ‘Beautiful.’

Jiyan thought that after a while he would’ve gotten use to your honeyed words of sincerity and soft touches, however the general has found himself melting under your adoring gaze more times then he’d like to admit. With him being General it didn’t leave much room for you two to spend much time together, so when you do spend some time together Jiyan tries his hardest to make every second count as reconciliation for how often he’s away performing his duties.

You on the other hand didn’t mind it, sure it got lonely now and then but you’d always remind yourself that when your beloved general does come home from the battlefield, you got the opportunity to show just how much you appreciated him. You knew what you were getting into when you accepted his affections and became his partner, and as his partner it was your duty to take his mind off of his duties and bring about a sense of normality to his life.

‘Is there a reason you’re complimenting me?’ Jiyan asked, righting his hardest to not close his eyes upon feeling your fingertips caress his jaw in a way made every thought escape his head until all he could think of was how careful you were being with him.

‘I’m merely telling the truth my dear general, you are indeed a handsome man to gaze upon.’ You replied smiling warmly at him.

‘Is that why I always catch you looking at me as often as you do when I’m training?’ Jiyan raises his brow knowingly as you could only feel your cheeks flush at being caught but your couldn’t help it, you loved seeing your partner train as you got to watch him in his element and fall even more in love with him then you already had.

‘Guilty as charged,’ you chuckled as you pressed a kiss to his nose, ‘though I will not be made ashamed in watching my beloved general look ethereal and heavenly even when he’s working up a sweat.’ You added shamelessly.

Jiyan tightened his hold on your waist and pulled you in close. ‘You truly are a troublesome one aren’t you my love.’

‘Am I worth the trouble General?’ You asked him, looking deeply into those captivating eyes that you longed to look into their seemingly endless depths of pure gold forever.

‘You are indeed worth it and much more, it is I that should be asking you that question.’ Jiyan said as he recalled the important dates that he had missed due to his duties as general, he knew you didn’t resent him one bit for it, but that didn’t mean he himself had forgiven for missing out on the most important days of your life together.

You furrowed your brows as you saw a look of guilt and remorse cast over his face and you immeditly moved into action by planting kisses all over his face as you whispered sweet nothings to him. ‘You are anything but trouble my sweet, handsome Jiyan. The man with the prettiest golden eyes and the most beautiful blue hair that consumes my every waking thought to the point it maddens me.’ You pull away just to rest your forehead against his.

‘You may hold resentment towards yourself but I don’t, I miss you it’s true but my love for you is unending, I love you when you’re with me and I love you when you’re away fighting to protect our home. You are the most beautiful man I have ever laid eyes upon and I will say that until I have lost my voice completely.’ You steal a kiss from his lips. ‘You are worth every bit of me even if you may not think so but you are and I will spend the rest of my life proving that to you because if I don’t, then may my heart be forever incomplete without you. So please don’t doubt yourself because I don’t doubt who my heart chooses to love wholeheartedly.’ You finished.

Jiyan only pulled you in tightly against his chest as he burrowed his head into your shoulder to hide away his burning cheeks, the words he wanted to say had died upon his tongue when you bore your heart out to him, his eyes sealed shut as he took you in your entirety and engraved it to his memory for when he had to leave once more for the battlefield; hoping that your scent would cling to him so that he’d have something of you to keep him going when stuck in the front lines.

He just wanted to have some aspect of you with him as his own personal morale boost when he was feeling at a loss, but wouldn’t allow for the soldiers to see that side of him, for if the general is shown at a loss, then the soldiers are quick to loose hope, he has to be strong for them like a good general should from his troupes and be a human second. ‘My heart has always belonged to you my dear,’ he began, ‘I didn’t see it fit that I’d receive your honeyed words due to my frequent absences, but with your unconditional love i am sure to see myself the way you see me one day; if you’ll continue to help me.’ He finishes, tightening his hold on you.

You smiled brightly as you stole kiss from his lips. ‘Forever and always my pretty General.’

#wuwa #Wuthering waves #wuwa x reader #wuwa imagine #wuwa imagines #wuthering waves x you #wuthering waves x reader #Wuthering waves imagine #Wuthering waves imagines #jiyan x reader #wuwa jiyan #jiyan imagine #jiyan imagines #jiyan x you

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surielstea · 5 months

Text

Sweet Temptations

Pairing: Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: Azriel enters a bet with his brothers on who can go the longest without sex with their mate, Reader makes it hard for him to win.

6.2k words

I tread softly down the long hallway, following the golden tether connecting me and my mate. Shadows weave through my fingers and twirl up my calves, following at my side until I stop at a familiar door.

I creak open the private library's door and peer my head in only to find Azriel in a large leather chair that I would be drowning in if it was me who sat in it. He was lounging carelessly, a book between his hands as he flipped through the pages.

If he knew I was at the doorway he didn’t show it, just continued reading without a stir, he didn't look up to me either. So I took the opportunity to gawk at the beauty that is my mate, to admire his elegant features. It was no secret Azriel was the prettiest of the three-winged Illyrians. It didn't matter what your type was, my mate seemed to be able to make anyone flush bright red with a few words.

My gaze wandered over his complexion that I’ve admired countless times, those sharp cheekbones that seemed to be able to cut steel, his tousled black waves that drifted over his forehead, those hazel eyes rapidly scanning over the page of his book, and his golden skin that was fully on display due to him being shirtless, I was the culprit for his missing clothing, the soft black shirt draped over my frame, going down to my exposed thighs.

"I can feel you staring." He finally speaks and I startle but he still doesn't look up to me. I decided just looking wasn't nearly enough, because anybody could look at him, and I didn't want to be anybody, I wanted my hands on him the way only a lover could have. I step into the private library and close the door behind me. My steps are silent as I approach his side but again, he's still not sparing me a glance.

Something like envy makes me frown, being jealous over a book was foolish but Azriel's eyes were always on me. He is constantly observing me, silently watching no matter the circumstance. It was such a normal occurrence in our relationship that I had grown used to his eternal notice, not realizing how much I loved it until now, until this foreign attention-craving attitude took over my emotions that screamed look at me.

"Azriel," I sit on the armrest of the large chair, I feel pathetic being so desperate like this.

"Hm?" That's all he replies with, but he still won't look at me, why won't he notice me? It wasn't that I needed the attention. He could do his own thing I didn't mind, but I also didn't want to be ignored.

"I'm going to make some breakfast, do you have a preference?" I place a hand on his arm, tracing my nail over his tattoo, something I do so often that I don’t have to look at the tattoo to know where the inky lines are.

"Whatever you make will be good." He said, his words slightly clipped. I crease my brows but nod and place a kiss on his temple before sliding off of the chair. Perhaps he was just preoccupied with his thoughts.

I walk back to the door, giving him one last confused glance before leaving the library and aiming my way towards the kitchen.

I decided on making a breakfast quiche, something simple so I could mull over my thoughts while I baked. I learned the recipe from Rhys's mother so it comforted both me and Azriel I suppose, growing up in that house every winter when they weren’t preoccupied at windhaven held some of my favorite memories, as well as some of the worst. I mated with Azriel in that house, on my twentieth birthday it had clicked and we’ve been together ever since— but this was the first time Azriel has ever ignored me.

As I cooked I wondered what was going on with him, to be distracted over what he was reading I could understand, I've done that to him nearly a hundred times but the way he spoke almost sounded restrained? Like he needed to hold back from saying anything else or even doing anything else but sit there still reading.

I played the quiche once it was done on two ornate plates. I've always liked to cook, but the three winged males seemed to be against it when we were younger, saying that I didn't have to since we were in Illyria, that just because I was a girl didn’t mean I had to pick up that lifestyle. I had to make it clear to them that I wasn't their maid and I wasn't even Illyrian, it's not like I went around cleaning up after the messy boys anyway, in fact, Rhys’s mother gave them more chores than me, which has always irked Cassian.

"Az, food is ready!" I shouted down the hall and to my surprise he came down the stairs in mere seconds, without the book in his hands. "For you." I slid one of the plates over to him and he blinked down at it, still not looking at me as he carried them over to the table.

"My favorite," He hummed as I walked over to him and placed utensils beside his dish. "Thank you." He picks up the fool and cuts into his quiche. I frown. He usually kisses me after I make a meal for him, or at the least gives me a hug. I muffle a sigh and opt to lean down and kiss his cheek instead, then take a seat beside him in front of my own meal.

We ate in silence like always, but today it was slightly uncomfortable, not fully awkward, but just... off. The food was good and Azriel had it disappearing in minutes, at least he still likes my cooking. When I finish he collects both of our dishes and takes them to the sink where he'll wash them later tonight.

"It was delicious as always my love, thank you." He calls over his shoulder as he wipes his hands, but he doesn't look at me. I would do anything right now to get him to look at me.

I look at the wall of windows to my side and notice the sun rising, golden and pink hues painting the sky. "Don't you have training with Cassian today?" I ask, flitting my eyes back to him.

"Mhm, I'm going to get ready now." He says at the base of the stairs. My stomach twists anxiously, have I done something wrong? Why is he being so distant?

“Can I come?” I ask once he’s halfway up the steps.

“If you’d like to, get dressed,” He replies dryly and a frown tugs at my lips. He only talked to me in vague words, not weighing in on his own opinion on anything like I was used to, normal flowing conversation. And maybe I was in my head, but I wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to watch my mate train under the golden sun.

I rush up the stairs and enter my shared bedroom, going straight to the armoire and finding a simple outfit. I pull a pair of pants on, I wasn’t training and only spectating but it’d feel wrong to show up to a training ring in a gown. I swapped out Azriel’s shirt that still clung to my body for a top that matched my flowing bottoms, the style reminding me of what Amren typically wore.

“Az can you tie me?” I approached his side of the bedroom where he was adjusting the siphon on his gauntlet. I turned around and held my hair up before he could reply, but instead of his hands that grabbed ahold of the strings it was silky shadows, cold against my bare back as they tied the strings into dainty bows.

He walked out of the room before they were finished and I chased after him, feeling pathetic while trying any ploy to get his attention but if he would just tell me what was going on I’d be willing to help him, but I couldn’t do that if he ignored me.

I intertwined my hand with his and he squeezed it on instinct, then quickly loosened his hold like he wasn’t allowed to show me any form of affection.

He wasted no time before shadow-walking us to the top of the house of wind where Cassian always trained with my mate. He doesn't say anything, just lets us slip into that darkness of realms. I cling to his arm tighter, just in case I fall into another pitch-black realm full of mysterious creatures. The darkness only lasted a mere second until we were on the roof of the mansion Az and I used to live in.

I steady myself with Azriel's arm but he doesn't return the movement, as if he didn't want me to be anywhere near him. I disband our arms as soon as I can stand on my own. I notice Cassian across the rooftop, Nesta beside him, seething so noticeably I thought steam might come from her ears. I walk over to the sitting area where the water station resides, Nesta following suit as our mates warm up with their usual movements.

I knew better than to ask Nesta why she seemed so irritated but when she sat right beside me I felt safe enough to say she wasn't mad at anything to do with me.

Nesta and I had become close friends while I resided at the house of wind, Azriel and I only moved out about a year after her and Cassian’s mating bond clicked. But during that time Nesta would often confide in me. When she felt she couldn't talk to Cassian but needed someone, anyone who would understand. I happened to be that person. It started with romance book recommendations the house hadn't already given to her, then moved to deeper things. Things like Tomas or problems she was having with Cassian, or even her struggles with the power from the Cauldron. However, there were still things she refused to talk about, her sisters for example.

"I'm going to kill him." She gritted out as the two males began to spar.

"Tell me about it." I huffed, staring at the warriors fighting so roughly, not their usual fluid movements. Like they needed to get an anger out that's been pent up. Sweat glistened off their tan skin, discarding their shirts minutes ago— not going past me or Nesta's notice. The golden sun beamed down on them like a spotlight as they battled, swords clashing and slamming down onto the others, they were uncontrolled and savage, so far from the routine maneuvers and clever counters.

"What'd he do this time?" I ask, propping my elbows on my knees and leaning my chin into my hands, boredom enveloping me with open arms.

"He's not paying any attention to me." She huffs and I freeze. "I went as far as to try and give him head this morning and he outright ignored me," Nesta grumbled, picking at her nails. My confusion doubled over.

"Azriel's doing the same," I mumbled, sitting up to look at her confused. "He won’t look at me and will barely even talk to me," I explain and she glares at the two men on the mat, her stare so deathly I thought lightning might strike down on our mates.

"There's no way they've turned celibate right?" Nesta creased her brows and I snort at the idea alone.

"Them two? No way." I shake my head, leaning back into my chair.

"Maybe we should contact Feyre, perhaps Rhys has something to do with this." I offer.

"The three of them always seem to be up to something." She glowered.

"I'll be right back unless you want to come to the River house with me?" I ask. She shakes her head no and I nod, understanding.

I winnow straight into the foyer of the River House. Feyre who was sitting in the living room looked more than pissed. She glanced at me but wasn’t shocked when I suddenly appeared in her home. "Is Rhys ignoring you?" I sigh and she nods with a frown. "Where is he?" I glance around the sitting room as if the High Lord might be hiding.

"Out with Nyx," She kicks the toddler's toy by her foot weakly.

"What the hel is going on?" I sit beside her on the couch.

"They're doing a bet." She rolls her eyes. "Who can ‘hold out’ the longest." She makes a quotation gesture around her words and I scoff.

"You're kidding." My jaw nearly drops.

"Nope. They thought it'd be the only thing they could beat Azriel at, so you probably have it the worst." She huffs. "Stupid Illyrian pride." The high lady uttered. I'm going to strangle my mate.

"So they’re doing a sex ban on each other." I scratch the back of my head in astonishment.

"Sounds typical." She hums.

"I'm going to fix this. We’re going to make them lose." I stand from my seat. "Put on your sluttiest outfit and get Nyx a babysitter," I order her, an idea blooming in my head. "They might be prideful but not even Rhys can resist a wanting female," I explain and a feline smile curves over her lips.

I had told Nesta the same as Feyre, dress in something her mate can’t resist her in, drive him mad. We both left training before it was over. The males didn't bother noticing so we didn't say goodbye.

I took my time in choosing an outfit. The idea of Azriel's pride being more important than so much as looking at me made me beyond furious. If he wanted to ignore me over a stupid bet then I'd give him a taste of his own medicine. I selected a lingerie set that was a cobalt blue, his favorite color to see me in, due to it matching the color of his siphons, it was some possessive nature to have me dressed in a color that so clearly connected me to him.

I put the set on, delicate lace and soft mesh that he's yet to see, the kind I know he loves to rip off. I put on a white nightgown over the garments, sheer enough to still see the sapphire underwear but also opaque enough to prompt curiosity. I leave my hair down, I don't mess with it at all. He likes it down, and likes to run his hands through it. Another thing I won't let him do until he admits to losing this stupid wager between him and his brothers. I put a thin garter on my thigh, the only blue piece fully visible.

I run my fingers along a shelf of perfumes, selecting the one I usually wore when we went on dates, reminding him of those nights he'd run the tip of his nose along the column of my throat and smell that insatiable scent. I sprayed it on me, but also misted his reading chair with it, he couldn't escape the thought of me if he tried. A devious smile curved my lips as I placed the perfume back into its rightful place.

The front door of the house opens and I freeze. I know it's him. I grin and exit our bedroom, padding down the stairs until I'm just across the hall from him. His hair was pushed back and he was still glistening in sweat. Gods, he looked so perfect it was hard to stay mad. But when he didn't bother glancing at me all that rage returned.

A shadow swirled up my thigh and I allowed it to travel around the garter. Another zipped toward me, curving around my waist as if to recognize what I was wearing. I smiled down at the dark tendrils and they zipped away, quickly returning to their master and brushing up his wings, those perfect and large wings I needed my hands on. Shadows curved around his ear, telling him all about what I was wearing and immediately his gaze snapped to mine.

Those hazel eyes finally came into contact with my own. And gods how nice it was to be seen again. I remained strong. I gave him a gentle smile and walked closer.

"What are you doing?" His eyes followed me, that familiar attentiveness I missed so much returning.

"What do you mean?" I tilt my head innocently.

"Why are you dressed like that." His hands fist at his sides and I allow his eyes to drift everywhere.

"The nightgown was a gift from the boutique in The Rainbow, on the house after I bought all those presents for solstice," I explain, the lie easy on my tongue, I had bought this for our anniversary which was only a few weeks from now, but seeing that utterly desperate look on his face made showing him earlier worth it. "Do you not like it?" I do a small twirl and his knuckles turn white as the dress flows up and reveals a portion of my underwear.

"It's see-through." He gritted out and I frowned, looking down at myself.

"Is it? I hadn't realized. It's hard to tell in the darkness of our bedroom I suppose." I shrug, looking back up to him.

"It's pretty, just wear a slip under it if we leave the house." He hums casually, then brushes past me and goes into the library. Anger simmers inside of me as I hear the door close. How had that not worked? How much more direct could I get?

I sigh and quickly follow after him. Opening the door and shutting it behind me. He sat in the leather chair, as expected, book in his hands.

I wandered the room absent-minded, peering at the shelves with curious eyes, plotting my next move.

I smile at the idea I get and begin reaching for a book far out of my reach.

“Az? Can you help me?” I mumble, but my reaching causes my dress to lift so when he looks over at me he’s met with the most tempting sight he had ever seen. His movements were rigid as he stood up, coming closer but I didn’t move out of his way, just continuing to jump for the book. “The green one,” I gestured to the dusty spine and he nods, easily grabbing it for me but once I stop reaching for it I settle flat onto my feet, the curve of my ass coming back to press against his hips. He let out a quiet, low grunt that I wouldn’t have been able to hear if he wasn’t right behind me.

I turn around to face him with a cheeky smile. He holds the book I had no interest in reading out to me, his white knuckling grip proof of his restraint.

“Thanks, Az,” I take the book and he nods with a grunt before going back to his chair, sinking into it with a slightly defeated demeanor, his pitiful expression making me smile.

I bound over to his chair, settling myself on the armrest, my legs draped over his as he continued to ignore me. I place a hand on his bare shoulder and begin massaging the tight area.

"You're sore Az," I mumble. "Maybe we should take a bath?" I tilt my head. His face remains stoic, but he is gripping his book like the edge of a cliff.

I move my hands lower, to his shoulder blade where I could knead the knot of muscle there. "What do you think? I'll even wash your wings." I brush my fingers over where his wings began at his muscular back. He jolted, his book slamming shut and his head whipping to me with a wide lust-filled gaze. "Is that a yes?" I chuckle. He only narrows his eyes, like a silent interrogation. "Az, I'm going to need some words." I place a hand on his cheek.

"Are you doing this on purpose?" He says through his teeth.

"Doing what?" My voice was innocent, if he didn't know any better he'd be buying it.

"I just know those training sessions are so long and hard, I thought it'd be nice to reward my mate." My selected words weren't helping his case.

“What do you know?” He says the words like a threat and I giggle nervously.

“Are you alright Az? You’ve been acting weird all morning,” I observe and a muscle in his jaw feathers as he tightens it shut, I run my fingers down that very jaw, feeling it flex under my touch as he attempts to read me. “Are you worried about something? You know I’m always willing to help you relieve your stress,” I hum, slowly slipping into his lap, straddling over his hips and his eyes just follow the action, admiring the way I fit so perfectly on top of him.

“No, love I’m fine,” He defends and I dip down, trailing kisses down his neck, finding his pulse point and swiping my tongue over the area.

“You sure, there’s nothing I can do for you?” I tease my hips over his erect length, painfully straining against his pants. I return to the area of his neck, sucking hard as he attempts a reply.

“No, I, fuck— love, I’m fine,” He curses and a smile curves my lips in triumph.

“Alright,” I pull from his neck. “If there’s anything you want me to do I’ll do it, okay?” I stress my words with a slight lift to my brows and he nods hesitantly. “I think I’m going to take a nap, why don’t you join me? It could help call your nerves?” I offer and he nods, thinking it a good idea to sleep through the rest of this stupid bet until one of his brothers gives in but by gods was he wrong.

I get off his lap and grab his hands after he sets his book down, pulling him up and then guiding him to our bedroom with an effortless sway of my hips they had his hands tightening on mine.

Once we were in the comfort of our bedroom he shut the door behind us and I let go of his hands in favor of grabbing the straps of my nightgown and dipping them from my shoulders, allowing the sheer fabric to pool at the floor, revealing my lingerie set to him entirely.

“What are you doing?” He grits through his teeth, I look back at him and I nearly laugh. He was backed up against the door like prey trapped in a lion's den. I smirk at him and crawl into our bed.

“That nightgown is too itchy to sleep in, this is much better,” I sigh and he swallows thickly, slowly approaching our bed like it might explode at any sudden movement.

He eventually strips down to his boxers and slides into the sheets beside me, I waste little time before throwing myself over him like a second mattress.

My legs intertwine with his, my arms wrapping around the back of his neck, my body pressed to his. He flexed at the feeling of my breasts brushing against his bare chest.

“Are you always this touchy?” He said and I asked, pulling him impossibly closer.

“You don’t like it?” I feign a pout and he pales, brows creasing.

“No, I’m sorry my love I just, I hadn’t noticed it until today,” He stumbles over his words, making my frown turn into a sickeningly sweet smirk.

“You’re so cute Az,” I mumbled, leaning up and pecking his lips tenderly. “I love you,” I whisper so softly that if he wasn’t so close he wouldn’t have been able to hear it. But he did, and it wasn’t the lingerie, or the perfume, or even kissing his neck that made him snap, no, it was those three words that he thought he’d never hear romantically, and I just gave them to him so casually he thought the world stopped spinning for a moment.

“Oh, fuck it,” He grumbled before crashing his lips onto mine, the tension leaving my body as he rolls over me and settles between my legs. His kiss was starving, like he couldn’t get enough, he had been craving me all day and ignoring that feeling but now it was all crashing down onto him at once and it was impossible to get enough. His kiss was all-consuming as his thumb came to my chin and opened my mouth manually, his tongue slipping inside without forethought. My tongue met his just as quickly, they didn’t battle but they danced around each other, a steady balance of give and take between us.

“You have no idea how much I need to fuck you,” He pants onto my lips and I smile.

“What are you waiting for?” I tease and he shakes his head.

“No, it’s not making love, I need to fuck you,” He warns and a primal part of me loves the tone of his voice, the neediness of his words.

“C’mon Az don’t be shy, fuck me already,” I plead and he moves from my lips down to my neck, his mouth mapping every expanse of skin he can find.

“You’re evil,” He sighs against my chest as I arch my breasts into his face.

“You ignored me all morning, you’re the evil one,” I claim and he smirks.

“I’m sorry baby, let me make it up to you,” He hums, then moves lower, so much lower until his breath was fanning against my inner thigh and he was leaving hickeys trailing up to my heat. His eyes glow golden as he looks up at me, pure lust as his expression.

"Please." I nod my head and he's like a fucking beast ready to have a full-course meal.

He wastes no time, not one second was I not being pleasured. Scarred fingers dip into the waistband of my panties, pulling at them with a force that makes them tear. His breath fans over my slick and I arch up, grabbing onto the sheets to keep myself steady.

He lifts a leg over his shoulder and a long swipe of his perfect tongue passes through my folds. It all happened so quickly, how soaked I was for him. I could feel him smiling against my cunt, as if he was craving the taste of me all day and finally got it on his tongue, his tongue that was swirling over my clit in tight circling motions.

I mewled, my back arching as fingers swiped through my sex, lubing himself with my ecstasy before entering two long fingers where I needed him most.

"Oh fuck," I breathed out, my head falling back against the shelf, it was all so fast, so needy.

"You’re so perfect like this, spread out like a good girl who can’t wait to be eaten," His baritone voice against the apex of my thighs reverberated up my spine making me shiver.

"Mhm," I nod helplessly, relishing in the feeling of his scars rubbing against my sensitive walls, those scars that added so much to the feel of his fingers inside of me, toying with that spongy bundle of nerves that was so relentless for more.

I moaned his name repeatedly, grinding down on his hand and his face as he sucked and licked at my clit. The stimulation was too much and I was hurdling toward a release.

"Az, I'm gonna—" My breath gets caught in my throat as he lays his tongue flat against my folds, his nose digging into my clit.

"I know baby, go ahead." Cold air fanned against my slick and my hands twined into his hair, forcing his face into my cunt as I ground my hips up onto his tongue, matching the thrusts of his fingers as that knot in the pit of my stomach tightened. He groaned at the feeling of me shoving his face into my heat, letting out a grunt as he ruts his hips down onto the bed, needing to be inside of me.

"Cum on my tongue." His voice was a demand, the kind of voice that made people fear him, the kind of voice that had me unraveling on his fingers, just like he ordered.

A string of moans escaped me, my head lolling back as euphoric waves crashed into me. He supported my hips since my legs were rendered useless from shaking too damned much. He gave gentle kitten licks to my now overstimulated cunt, allowing me to gently come down. He slowly lifted from between my thighs, slick coating his lips and he licked them clean, as if savoring the taste of me.

He brought his mouth to mine, allowing me to taste myself as I threw my arms around his neck carelessly, pulling his weight down onto me, needing to be entirely consumed by him as I sampled myself off his tongue.

“Fuck me Az,” I murmur.

“I won’t be able to control myself,” He shakes his head but I didn’t care, I needed more, needed his heavy cock sheathed inside of me.

“I don’t want control, I want you feral,” I beg and something primal sparks in his gaze, a slow smirk forming over his lips.

“On your stomach then,” He orders and my chest fills with both nerves and excitement as I do as he says, flipping over and hiking up onto my knees, my pussy throbbing in anticipation as I straddle my legs, my body forming a perfect crescent moon as I arched my ass up, arms supporting the rest of my body so I don’t fall into the pillows.

His hands come to my hips, dragging from my waist to my thighs, over the curve of my ass, then repeating. He was savoring the feel of me, the view I was so generously offering him.

The rustling behind me hinted that he had freed himself from his boxers and I was proven correct when his leaking tip pressed into my folds. I whimpered at the feel of his head running through the expanse of my pussy, pre-cum mixing with my arousal, the natural lubricant preparing him for his entrance.

He leans over me, his chest slick with sweat as his lips come beside my ear, pressing kisses to my shoulder. “You going to be good?” He hums and I nod with a whine. Shadows twine around my wrists, bounding them down onto the bed forcefully. “Three taps if it’s too much alright?” He says and I nod, closing my eyes in a slow blink, mentally preparing myself as he aligns his cock to my slit.

Slowly, he pushes himself in and I take every inch with a never-ending stream of euphoria. His movements started slow but he was right, he couldn’t control himself and his thrusts quickly turned impossible to keep up with.

A moan tore from my throat as he finally managed to stuff himself completely inside of me, his balls slapping against my sopping folds, the arousal dripping down my purple-marked thighs. “Az,” I mewl, throwing my head back as he continues his relentless pace, his thrusts rough and hungry and everything I had ever craved.

“M’yours, I’m all yours,” I sighed, eyes fluttering shut at the intense feeling of him nestled so deep inside of me. “That’s right, my perfect slut to ruin,” He grunts and my back bows into his chest at the words, making him hit me deeper. He curses and goes so much faster at the new angle, every other drive into me left a soft whimper slipping from his throat, his noises so quiet yet so close to my ear and allowing me to hear just how much I was affecting him.

I clamped down on his thick length, slowly grinding my hips down onto his, gradually growing quicker and meeting each of his thrusts.

If I thought he was savage on the training mats then he must’ve been untamable when pummeling every inch of him into my puffy pussy that pulsed at each movement.

“Gods, Azriel,” I scream his name, his pace relentless as my mind loses thought, becoming incoherent to anything but the way he shoved himself into me, past that bundle of nerves and kissing up against my cervix. A ring of my arousal formed on the base of his cock. “That’s it, fuck, that’s a good girl,” He sighs, his breath fanning over the shell of my ear and making me squeeze around him, needy for more.

He loves the visual of me splayed out for him, swallowing his cock, hips clapping against mine each time he rams into me with an unmatched force, each of them landing perfectly on the tip of him grinding against the most sensitive part of me as I convulsed, my legs spreading wider as I sink lower, making his thrusts faster, harder. Tears roll down my cheeks as I continue to take it, taking all of him without hesitation. “Your perfect fucking pussy is so— fuck s’gripping me so tight,” He grinds out and I know from the underlying whine of his voice that he’s close, and thank gods for it cause I doubted I’d last another moment with my sanity.

“Az, please, please,” I cry, unable to say anything else as he continues to hit home every, single, time. “So full, Az,” I murmur, my head heavy with lust as he fucks me senseless. “Yeah? All you can think about is my cock, isn’t that right?” He purrs beside my ear and I nod fervently, agreeing to whatever he wants me to do, I just needed more.

Shadows listen to my silent request and brush down my stomach teasingly, feeling the way Azriel pumped into me so deep you could see him in my abdomen, the silky darkness curling downward and coming to my clit, making me gasp in ecstasy.

His fingers join his shadows, scooping through my folds and gathering my arousal before smearing it along my clit and then rubbing it harshly in tight little circles that left me defenseless. My entire body obeyed his touch as his ministrations continued. “Fuck, need to come Az, please,” I whine, feeling that coil tighten until it was bordering on snapping. “Come for me, wanna see you milk my cock,” He nips at my shoulder and thrusts forcefully inside of me, his head ramming into my cervix so very close to my womb, his fingers dig into my clit rougher, his calloused fingers providing so much more friction. Saliva pools in my mouth as my orgasm crests and I finally feel that immense relief I’ve been craving all morning. “I’m coming, m’comin—” I was cut off by a lewd moan, rapture surging up and down my body as I gush around his cock, white-hot pleasure consuming me.

I lay beneath him as I slowly come down from my climax but his movements don’t cease as I jolted in over stimulation, his shadows eased off my clit allowing relief but my pussy wasn’t given the same treatment, he continued to bury himself inside of me, harder, faster, deeper.

I whine, not daring to reject him like his perfect doll, clenching at the sheets as he ruts into my aching cunt. “Fill me up, Az, want your cum so bad,” I whimper and he smiles against my neck. “Yeah? Want me to fill this pussy up ‘til it’s leaking out? Stuff you full?” He asks and I mewl, lewd sounds rolling off my tongue without permission.

“Mhm,” I nod, writhing against the sheets at the intense feeling. I clench hard around him and he twitched, letting out a low grunt and without another warning, his warm seed released and spurted from his cock, into my cunt. He moaned, his sounds equally arousing as his movements inside of me. “You’re a fuckin’ angel, baby,” He pants, hands roaming along my waist as he slowly pulls himself from my slit, a whimper leaving my throat at the emptiness he left me with. He stares down at the apex of my thighs, where his cum seeped out of me, mixing with mine.

I flip onto my back and stare up at him panting with a drunken smile, my pussy throbbing as I come down from that stimulation.

I tremble as his fingers brush up my inner thighs, gathering any liquid that escaped me and then pushing them back into my cunt with ease. I gasped, my back arching, it was too much, it was all too much. And I loved every moment of it.

He lazily fingered my pussy, his languid movements making me babble in protest. “I know baby but we can’t let any of this go to waste, can we?” He hums and I shake my head no with a pout. “That’s right, m’ gonna fuck you all day, make you feel so good,” He said and my body tremors at the promise of his voice, and I knew immediately walking would be impossible tomorrow.

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atyourmerci · 5 months

Text

Dom!abby cockwarming you during a scary movie ☽

CW: smut, MDNI, dom!abby, sub!reader, cockwarming obv, hair pulling, little degradation, spit??, sleeping with fingers inside, no y/n, no pdor

A/N: is this me procrastinating a full fic or me missing Halloween you pick your fighter!

☽ ☽

She knew you hated scary movies, she knew you’d get so freaked you’d jump into her lap and shove your face in her neck to avoid any jumpscares.

What you didn’t know was that the entire time she was strapped underneath her baggy grey sweatpants. Her clit throbbing in anticipation as you inch closer to her slowly.

She just wanted to make you feel safe, and how much safer could you get with her six inches deep into your cunt?

You were practically already on top of her, legs splayed over her muscly thighs, head nudged into crease of her neck, and eyes barely peering at the screen, hidden by the golden pieces of hair that framed her face.

She was so close to picking you up and moving you there herself, she couldn’t even focus on the movie, gawking at your bare thighs. She couldn’t wait to have you whining on top of her cock.

One last jump scare and you were done, crawling up onto her lap in search of comfort, little did you know you it would only get worse.

She giggles as you realize the destiny she set out for you. Widening your mouth at the realization and staring at her shit eating grin.

“Abs you- are you-“ before you can even finish she’s gripping the back of your neck to pull you into her open mouth, using her free hand to shift you into a straddle.

You can’t help but to grind onto the bulge over her sweats, moaning into her mouth. She takes the opportunity in stride to watch how pathetic you already are, “let’s make a deal-“ she says shoving her hand down your pajama shorts to drag agonizingly slow circles at your clit, “you’re gonna wrap this needy little cunt around my cock for the rest of the movie, and if you can finish it, I’ll let you cum.”

You whine at her proposal, just wanting to throw out the movie completely and let her split you open already. “B-but what if I can’t,” you pout.

She removes her hand to shimmy down her sweats just enough that the plastic cock springs out. Gripping into your thighs she turns you around to face the screen. She pulls the thin cloth of your pajama shorts to the side and guides you onto the strap, following a guttural plea pulled from your throat.

She pulls you gently by the hair so your back is flesh with her chest, “then I’ll sleep inside of you tonight,” she finishes her deal.

You whine at the sensation, the threat, and the desire to bounce on her cock without her permission. She loved doing this to you- seeing how needy you’d get for her to move.

But you knew your consequences, if you moved without her permission she’d just edge you over and over again, ruining every orgasm she was nice enough to bring you close to, but mean enough to never let you finish.

You were being so good, now that you were focused on her cock stuffing you full you, the movie wasn’t bothering you. You tried not making any noises knowing she’s get bored and thrust into you for her own amusement.

Your teeth were breaking the skin of your lip as she gripped into your hips and pulled you back harshly onto the plastic once. Almost drawing blood into the palms of your hands from your fingernails you try not to break. Thank god it wasn’t a real dick because you could feel yourself pulsing around the plastic.

She leans back into the shell of your ear, “you can play cool all you want, you’re soaking my fucking cock,” she says driving another thrust into you.

This time you can’t help but let out the whine pent up inside you, “awh there’s my slut, tell me how bad you need it,” abby coos.

“Please abs- please, I need you,” you beg as she lets out pleased sighs. This is exactly what she wanted, breaking you into a desperate mess on her cock, begging for friction.

“Be a good girl and suck on my fingers,” abby says, placing her two fingers at the entrance of your mouth, waiting for you to take the initiation.

Which you do, rolling and lapping your tongue around her thick fingers, knowing exactly what I’d get you in return.

Once she was pleased she removed them, taking them back to her own mouth, shooting her own spit on them and wrapping her forearm around your hip to rub circles on your swollen clit.

“Now show me how badly you need it,” a relieved sigh leaves your mouth at her approval. This is her way of showing you can finally use her cock to please yourself.

Bouncing up and down onto the soaking plastic as she shows no remorse on your clit. Even after you come, until the movie is over you have to keep her inside of you. She gives you a moment to regroup after an orgasm since you were good, but when she’s ready for another one she thrusts back in to signal you to start again.

She was nice this time, letting you sleep with her two fingers nuzzled into your cunt instead of the strap.

#abby anderson #the last of us #abby anderson smut #abby x reader #abby tlou #abby anderson tlou2 #abby angst #abby the last of us #abby x fem!reader #dom abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby tlou x reader #abby x you #abby anderson x f!reader #abby anderson x you #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson fanfiction #abby anderson fanfic #abigail anderson

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rottiens · 4 months

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Vvvv... VVVV...

... ZHONGLI MORAX SMUT... ZHONGLI/MORAX BREEDING SMUT... PWEASE

✮ cw. . (18+), breeding kink, afab reader, marking. divider creds: cafekitsune.

I think the essence of being a dragon drags with it those primordial instincts. The fact that they are such territorial and possessive creatures is something that Morax can't always fight against.

Despite being an Archon and knowing that he possesses more power than the others, Morax doesn't miss the opportunity to show his followers that you are his. That you have been chosen to be by his side, in his home, in his temple where people worship him and bring him gifts, in his chambers.

His arm always wrapped around your waist, his broad hand constantly finding space on your lower back. Teeth marks you wear as jewels on your neck or wrist.

There, where the murmur of the people who often congregate outside the temple comes as whispers and where the footsteps of the crowd sometimes make you shudder because they sound like thunder; with the candle fires dancing merrily and conjuring shadows on his face, Morax forces you to look at him. His long, slender fingers grip your jaw with just enough force to keep you from escaping.

“Eyes on me,” he commands in a husky voice, charged with pleasure.

Hearing him, your eyelashes flutter, focusing on him and him alone. You shift your hips deeper, as the silk robe that was gifted to you a few moons ago falls angelically over your shoulders and drapes like a curtain over your hips. The color highlights your skin and fits perfectly to your body measurements, after all, it was made with a fabric specially chosen by the Archon, like each of the clothes you wear.

Your breasts shudder with each new rhythm at which your bodies sway, a perfect dance that causes Morax to thrust his hips from below and grunt through his teeth. Eventually, the position you were in unravels and you end up lying on the sheets, your feet dangling on his shoulders; his hands flattened on the mattress on either side of your head.

“You're so deep inside me,” you whisper through half-opened lips. All you could feel was him, his overwhelming presence, his body crushing you to the floor.

Morax is looking at you, not directly into your eyes but where his cock comes in and splits you in two. He's drunk in the way your juices wet his cock and the way your clit peeks out from between swollen lips.

The thought of cumming inside you has his pelvis clenching warning him of his own soon release, his breath escaping heavy through his nose and his teeth grinding against each other. Morax leans back and carefully lowers your legs off his shoulders to then sit on his own feet, thighs bent as he grabs your hips, lifts you off the mattress and with his strength uses you freely to move you up and down at his whim.

The wet sounds of your pussy fill the room, your cries are silenced by your teeth biting into your own forearm.

“Mine… mine… mine…” Morax growls, his golden eyes stained with lust.

In between stroking your stomach and thighs to bring comfort after his hard thrusts, Morax cums with a grunt, thrusting so deep inside you that the curly hairs are brushing against your pussy lips. And now, he wishes, this is the time he could finally see you pregnant with his babies. There is nothing that would give him more satisfaction than to see you with swollen breasts, sensitive nipples, being adored for being the woman carrying a semi-archon in her womb.

#wr #morax x reader #morax smut #zhongli x reader #zhongli smut #cw breeding

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hypewinter · 1 year

Text

I got a take on the Danny is Damian's older brother au. He's Damian's brother but he's his adopted brother. So hear me out:

Danny is running away post TUE and he encounters some assassins. For whatever reason they get into a fight and he beats them. This ends up getting back to Ra's who is quite curious about who beat up his most prized assassins effortlessly. After some investigation, he extends an invite for Danny to train under him. On Danny's part, he jumps at the chance to disappear off the face of the earth and have a free place to stay.

Danny ends up being an absolute prodigy. This is him close to being Dan so his morals are much shakier. He doesn't leap at the opportunity to kill, but he's most definitely not above it if need be. Combine that with his ghost powers and personal training by Ra's himself and the guy becomes like the golden standard within the league. So much so to the point where Ra's even names him his heir and adopts him. Though Danny insists he is his adopted grandson and not adopted son.

Flashforward to Damian being born and Ra's obviously wants him to be his new heir. Not that Danny has any problem with this. He's very clearly Ra's favorite considering the things he's allowed to get away with. Like letting targets go, having worldly possessions in his room (TV, gaming console, computer, etc), and even befriending his subordinates (Ra's particularly doesn't like that one but knows Danny will never allow it to become a weakness for him). Even if Danny wasn't the heir, he would still maintain a significant level of authority within the league (again not that he cares about having power as long as there's a roof over his head).

The problem is, Damian can't compete with Danny. After all, who could match up to a highly trained half ghost with dubious morals? Let alone a kid. Too bad Ra's doesn't see it that way. He sees Damian as a failure who will never measure up to Danny. That's why he sends the boy off to live with his father. It's under the excuse that he'll be receiving a different sort of training but in reality, the Demon Head no longer wants anything to do with his biological grandson.

Obviously this turns into quite the complex for Damian. Meanwhile Danny absolutely adores Damian. From the moment he was introduced to the baby he was ecstatic. He'd always wanted to be an older brother. He would constantly be barging into Damian's room to hang out and whenever they'd sparred together, he'd try to let him win. Ra's quickly caught onto that one and put a stop to it immediately though. Basically Danny is Damian's League of Assassins version of Dick. An example of what he's supposed to be that he will always compare himself to (and that also has no idea what personal space is).

Danny loved his little brother so much that he even managed to get a mission to Gotham about a year after Damian had been sent there in order to surprise him with a belated birthday present.

The bats are absolutely shocked with an assassin suddenly charges at Damian and before anyone can react, scoops him into a hug. Damian is screeching bloody murder as he attempts to get Danny to let him go. Danny is just hugging him while saying stuff like "I missed you little brother" and "You've grown so much since I last saw you" all while avoiding knives to the chest.

The bats get shocked x2 because wait.... little brother!? Talia had another child!? And one far older than Damian to boot. Damian is quick to clarify that Danny is adopted while still trying to stab him. Imagine the boy's horror and Danny's delight when he gets invited back to the batcave to speak further.

#dp x dc #dc x dp #dpxdc #dcxdp #winter's tales #btw i don't think ra's knows that danny is a half ghost #just a troubled kid trying to run away from something #which works for him because that means there's no danger of danny leaving the league #or is there?

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velarisdusk · 2 months

Text

Thawing Boundaries

Hockey AU | Azriel x Reader x Rhysand

Series Masterlist Part 1 <- ✦.⁺.✦.⁺.✦ -> Part 3 - Melted Resolve

word count: 11.7k

content: there's so much in this one i'm bound to miss a few [ explicit sexual content, PIV (protected, a shocker for me i know), rough sex, oral sex (f receiving), voyeuristic elements, dirty talk, degredation, biting/marking, choking, light slapping, public sex (locker room setting), threesome, dominance/submission, infidelity | forced proximity, emotional conflict, dub-con (but reader does want it i promise), injury mention, strong language, and (very light) emotional manipulation and guilt-tripping ]

summary: After tension from a failed move at practice leads to a teammate's injury, you and Azriel unexpectedly meet in the locker room. As you share a heated moment, a surprise arrival heightens the stakes, leading to a steamy, forbidden encounter that leaves you questioning your choices and their consequences.

author's note: AAAAAAAAA? tysm for all the love on Ice Cold Jealousy, this was so fun to write i hope yall like it >;) i might've gone too hard on the dirty talk depending on the type of person you are but idc it's hot OH and i PROMISE these wont all take place in the locker room lmfao, it's just where the plot took me. also, no dp dont get your hopes up.

On the ice, chaos reigns. The game unfolds at breakneck speed, the puck zipping from stick to stick, its path unpredictable. Players shift positions in the blink of an eye, changing possession in heartbeats. Their movements are a blur of speed and precision, leaving you struggling to keep up with the rapid-fire action.

With 15 seconds left, the Golden Spring Griffins were up 3-2. There was no need to score again — they just had to keep possession. A bunch of show-offs…

And right there was the proof.

A pass from one of their wingers to the other, cutting it mighty close to the Snowvale Sentinels’ defensive line. He rode it along the left side of the rink for about ten feet before an abrupt 180; clockwise, getting up close and personal with the defenseman who’d chased him down the whole play. The defenseman struck his stick down between the other player and the puck, expecting him to double back around.

Everyone expected him to double back around.

But there he was — Tamlin, you believed was his name — skating backward for a second, letting the momentum carry him along his path. And he finished out his clockwise turn. Turn back down the ice? Not a chance. It was the perfect opportunity for a spin-o-rama. What a silly name for such a calculated move. What he did next had the arena and fans watching from everywhere on their feet.

It was common practice to pass after a spin-o-rama, the maneuver simply meant to disorient any nearby opposition if a player was ever in a tough spot. Whoever he passed to would be expected to, as quickly as possible, either go for the shot or pass to someone who could. The downside was that this not only gave the opposing team time to figure out what was happening but to adjust accordingly as well.

So Tamlin didn’t give them that chance.

Immediately after coming out of his spin, he brought his stick back, and in a flash, thrust it forward. You could’ve sworn you heard the blade hit the ice just before the puck, and—

Red light. Goal.

Buzzer. That’s game.

A spin-o-rama, a risky maneuver as is, followed by a slapshot, one of the strongest but least accurate shots, as you’d heard Cassian remind his team countless times over the years.

It was all so fast.

You focus on his footwork throughout the turn, absorbing every detail.

Again, you watch, slower this time, and notice the precise angle of the blade.

Looking up, you see Tarquin attempting the very same move, Cassian standing in as an opposing player. You tap your phone screen, pausing the ESPN stream of last night’s game. You’d gotten your fill of it last night. Lifting the soup spoon from the pot to your lips, you’d very nearly burnt yourself after how badly you’d jumped at Cassian’s exaggerated gasp at the television. For what had to have been at least an hour following, you were subject to the full-volume gushes and shouts of every last one of the Vipers during their group FaceTime. They were playing the Griffins in a couple of weeks. Though they didn’t have a particularly bitter history, their rivalry always had a bit of an edge to it.

It made sense that during practice today, Cassian was on their asses more than usual. The priority for the next couple of days was to teach Tarquin and Rhysand the maneuver (while trying to master it himself), to then teach the others how to counter it.

Practice ended over half an hour ago, but they still had some time on the ice before Phil the Zamboni Guy came out to resurface it. He was cool, if a bit grouchy-looking.

“Fuck!”

He was fine regarding the first half of the move, but coming out of the spin, none of his slapshots made it into the net. Hell — none of them made it past Cassian.

“Again,” he said, firmly but coolly. In response, Tarquin wordlessly skated back to his starting position down ice, head lazily flopped back and arms loose by his sides.

“Where’s Rhys? Isn’t he supposed to be here too?” Tarquin groaned, shifting back into proper stance.

“Rhysie’s got a little date tonight,” you could hear the smirk in your boyfriend’s voice, followed by a sound of exaggerated, definitely insincere, enthusiasm from Tarquin.

Your phone buzzes, a text from Mor.

Karaoke tn?

Truly, you had plans. Plans to stay home and watch bad TLC shows with a large bottle of chilled wine. But really, how bad would it be? You’d be drinking either way. Karaoke is not a sober activity.

uhh

where at?

After a few moments, another buzz, a text with an address, followed by a “Pleaseeeee (y/n), it’s so fun when you come :( I need someone to debrief and shit talk with after.” You roll your eyes with a small snort. Tapping on the address link, the map opens to show you it’s a nice little spot downtown, hopefully better than the sketchy karaoke place you’d followed her to last time.

sure why n-

Your screen goes black. You sigh, realizing you’ve drained your battery watching replays and scrolling through socials during the long practice session.

Bringing your gaze back up, you notice the palpable frustration radiating from both men. You’ve never seen Tarquin so angry during practice; things usually came quite easily to him. When his next slapshot makes it past Cassian but bounces off the crossbar, you’re stunned. Even more shocking is the feral growl that echoes throughout the arena. You watch, astonished, as he violently hurls his helmet onto the ice. He skates off, fuming, before storming off down the hall. To cool down, you presume.

Cassian skates over to you, and you meet him at the players’ bench to avoid talking through the glass.

“That move is gonna give us all hell,” Cassian sighs, removing his helmet and running a hand through his sweat-dampened hair.

You nod sympathetically. “It looked tricky. Tarquin seemed pretty frustrated,” you say, stating the obvious. You both share a knowing smile.

“Yeah… But we’ll get it down,” he says, determination creeping into his voice. “Can’t take as long as the backhand saucer pass with Eris. Remember how many times he nearly took Az’s head off before he got it right?”

You chuckle a bit at the memory. He’d gotten the pass down fairly quickly. The issue was applying it. They’d spend about a week of practice setting up different game situations for him to practice the move.

Azriel got hit with the puck several times.

“You look good out there,” you told him with a coy smile.

“When do I not?”

“When you’re being a narcissist,” you scoff. A blatant lie; he knew you liked your men cocky.

Cassian leans closer, a roguish grin spreading across his face. “Narcissist? Please. It’s not narcissism if it’s true.” He winks, then adds in a lower voice, “Besides, I seem to recall you enjoying my… confidence quite thoroughly last night.”

You roll your eyes but can’t suppress a smile. “And here I thought your ego couldn’t get any bigger. Guess I’ll have to find a way to take you down a peg or two later.”

Cassian leans against the boards, his grin widening. “Is that a promise or a threat?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” you tease, mirroring his posture.

He relents, shaking his head with a chuckle. “You’re something else, babe, you know that?”

“So I’ve been told,” you reply with a wink. “Though usually by guys who can’t keep up.”

“Oh, I think I manage just fine,” Cassian counters, a glint in his eye.

You’re about to respond when his stomach lets out an audible growl. He looks down, slightly embarrassed, and you both chuckle, the moment lightening.

Cassian says, rubbing the back of his neck, “What are you thinking for dinner tonight?”

“Oh, actually,” you start, “I’m going to karaoke with Mor. And some of her friends, I think? I’ll grab something while I’m out.”

Cassian nods, “Sounds fun. Tell Mor I said hi.”

“My phone died while I was texting her. Mind if I use yours to let her know?”

“Sure thing,” Cassian replies, reaching over the wall for his duffel.

Suddenly, the sharp sounds of blades scraping ice cuts through the air. You both turn to see Tarquin charging full speed with the puck toward center ice. His helmet’s off, hair windswept, determination etched on his features. You can’t help but admire the raw athleticism on display as he turns his back to the goal, his footwork mirroring Tamlin’s from the video.

You inhale sharply. As he initiates the spin, his blade catches the edge of the puck instead of gliding past it. In a split second, his ankle twists at a sickening angle. His body, still carrying the momentum of the spin, topples sideways. You watch in horror as Tarquin crashes onto the ice, a cry of pain echoing through the arena.

Tarquin clutches his ankle, his features twisted in distress. Cassian immediately rushes towards him. You follow, carefully stepping onto the ice, your shoes sliding slightly as you try to keep your balance. As you near, you hear Rhysand’s voice from the direction of the locker room. “What happened?” he shouts, running towards the scene.

Rhysand, more sure-footed, reaches you first. As you slip slightly on the ice, his hand finds your lower back, the other on your shoulder, steadying you as he moves swiftly by. He slides to his knees the last few feet, joining Cassian at Tarquin’s side. You follow, more cautiously, moments later.

“You gotta let me get a look at it bro,” Cassian tells him, face grim as he gently probes at Tarquin’s ankle. He moves his hand, and Cassian carefully unlaces Tarquin’s skate. The process is slow, each tug causing him to wince. His eyes, usually so bright, are now clouded with pain, making your heart ache a little at the sight. When Cassian finally eases the skate off, you all grimace. It’s silent save for the breath you suck in through your teeth. The two men kneeling over Tarquin shoot you a look, and you mouth a small “sorry”. How were you supposed to know they were trying to keep calm? It’s not like Tarquin was some fragile rookie who couldn’t handle it.

“I don’t think it’s broken,” Tarquin tells them, jaw clenching and nostrils flaring a bit in pain when Cassian tries to move his ankle. “Probably just a sprain, right?”

His ankle is already swelling, an angry red color blooming across the skin. The area around the bone looks puffy and distorted.

“Yeah… Yeah, probably—help me get him to my truck,” Cassian says to Rhysand, his voice tense with worry. With Cassian supporting his legs and Rhysand at his shoulders, Tarquin cradles his ankle as they lift him. It’s a bit awkward with only one of them in skates but they manage.

As they carry him towards the exit, Tarquin calls out to you, his voice strained with pain. “(Y/N)! Can you grab my phone from my locker? 1418, combination’s 19-21-13.”

“Got it,” you reply assertively, already turned away. You call back to Cassian, “Just go, I’ll meet you there!”

You hurry down the hallway, your mind racing faster than your feet. The image of Tarquin’s swollen ankle flashes in your mind, making you cringe. How bad was it really? A sprain could mean a few weeks of recovery, but if it was fractured or worse…

As you near the locker room, you force yourself to focus. 1418, 19-21-13. You repeat the numbers in your head, determined not to forget them in your rush.

The quiet empty corridor feels eerie after the chaos on the ice. You find yourself wondering how Tarquin is holding up, if he’s in much pain. A pang of sympathy hits you — you’ve seen how passionate he is about the game, how hard he pushes himself. Memories of his intense focus during practices, the way his muscles flex as he glides across the ice, his infectious smile, the droplets of water trailing down his chest after a shower…

You quickly push those thoughts aside, feeling a mix of guilt and a confusing thrill at the unbidden images.

Reaching the locker room door, you push it open without hesitation, your eyes already scanning for locker 1418.

You spot it quickly enough, your fingers flying over the combination lock. 19-21-13. The locker swings open with a metallic creak. You rummage through the contents, pushing aside gym clothes and equipment until your hand closes around the familiar shape of a phone.

As you’re about to shut the locker and race back to your car, something catches your eye. Pinned to the inside of the door is a Polaroid — one you took at the team’s annual log cabin retreat last year. The guys are shirtless, grinning at the camera, their arms slung around each other’s shoulders. Cassian stands in the middle, all flexed biceps and confidence, Rhysand to his right and Tarquin on his left with matching, easygoing smiles that you’ve internally swooned at more than once. Azriel, always a bit more reserved than the others, stands slightly behind them, his eyes soft with a rare moment of unguarded joy. Helion and Eris flank the group, their expressions reflecting a mix of mischief and amusement. That was moments before they’d picked Cassian up and thrown him into the lake. You can’t help but smile, remembering the weekend’s camaraderie and the close quarters, the obstacle course that left you all covered in mud and laughing, the impromptu swimming races in the lake, and the countless moments of playful teasing. The cabin’s single bathroom had led to more than a few flustered encounters. You’d lost count of how many times you’d rounded the corner, only to collide with one of the guys fresh from the shower, hair dripping, towel barely clinging to their hips. Each of them had caught you off guard at least once over the years, leaving you to save face and will yourself not to stare.

Your reminiscing is abruptly cut short by a strained sound echoing through the room. You freeze, suddenly aware of the steady hiss of running water. How long have the showers been on? You were so focused on finding the phone, you hadn’t even noticed… Another noise like the last, this one a bit louder.

Concern creeps in as you wonder if someone else has gotten hurt. First Tarquin, now this? What is it with today? Cautiously, you move towards the showers, ears straining for any more sounds. The rush of water grows louder as you approach. Only the stall at the far end, against the back wall, is running. You notice a small gap between the curtain and the wall, and before you can stop yourself, your eyes are drawn to it.

Through the narrow space, you catch a glimpse of Azriel. His back is turned, muscles tense, shoulders slightly hunched, his head bowed. There’s a rhythmic quality to his movements that takes you a moment to comprehend. When realization dawns, you feel heat rush to your face.

You know you should leave, give him privacy, but you find yourself frozen in place. The steam seems to thicken the air around you, making it harder to breathe. Suddenly you’re acutely aware of your quickening pulse and the warmth spreading through your body.

Azriel’s back muscles ripple with each movement, the water cascading down his tanned skin, highlighting every ridge and contour. His left hand is splayed flat against the wall for support, fingers flexing slightly every now and then. The muscles in his arm contract and release, contract and release. His right hand, lower and out of view, works in a steady, practiced motion.

You can’t tear your eyes away from the interplay of muscles across his shoulders and back. His wet hair clings to his neck, droplets trailing down to join the rivulets streaming along his spine. Your gaze travels further downward, following the water’s path over the powerful curve of his glutes, the firm muscles clenching with each movement. His legs, strong and slightly apart for balance, show every shift in weight and tension, every flex and release.

The sight is intoxicating. A flush creeps up your neck, a reaction that’s as involuntary as it is intense. Azriel lets out a low, throaty sound of pleasure, and it sends a shiver down your spine. You’re rooted to the spot, every sense heightened. The steam swirls around you, seemingly thickening the air, making it harder to breathe. The sound of water rushing fills your ears, drowning out rational thought. You can almost feel the heat radiating from his body, the sheer presence of him a magnet pulling you closer.

Suddenly, Azriel’s movements still, and you notice the subtle tension in his muscles. He turns his head slightly, just enough for you to catch a glimpse of his profile. For a moment, you hope he hasn’t seen you, but then his eyes lock onto yours through the small gap. His gaze is intense, piercing, and you can see the realization dawning in his expression.

You feel your heart stop, your breath hitching in your throat. The room seems to shrink around you, the air heavy all of a sudden. Azriel’s lips curl into a slow, knowing smile, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Didn’t expect company,” he says, voice low and husky, cutting through the sound of the shower like a knife.

You stumble back a step, heat flooding your face. “I— Fuck, I’m sorry,” you push out, unable to tear your eyes away from him. From those eyes. He doesn’t move, just continues to watch you, the corner of his mouth twitching with amusement.

You finally force yourself to move, turning quickly and beelining for the door. “I didn’t mean to— I wasn’t trying to—” you stammer over your shoulder, your heart racing. You reach for the door handle and tug, but it doesn’t budge. Panic flares as you yank harder, but it’s stuck. You slide Tarquin’s phone into your jacket pocket to use both hands.

“Seriously?” you mutter under your breath, trying not to think about what Azriel must be thinking of you right now.

You hear the sound of footsteps approaching. Your pulse quickens as you keep tugging on the door handle. “You don’t have to pretend it’s locked if you wanna stay in here with me, y’know,” Azriel’s voice comes from behind you, closer now.

You glance back to see him walking towards you, a towel in hand, drying his forearms and hands. The towel barely preserves his modesty, exposing everything from his muscular thighs to the sharp cut of his hip bones and a tantalizing glimpse of his V-line. He’s casual, almost nonchalant, but his eyes never leave yours, dark with amusement and something more.

“I was—” you start, but he cuts you off, raising a brow.

“Enjoying the show?” he asks, voice smooth and teasing.

You manage to arch a brow as well, trying to maintain some of your dignity as you respond, “Didn’t realize you were putting on a performance.”

Azriel chuckles, a deep, rich sound. “For you, (y/n)? I’d put on a private performance anytime.”

You feel your face start to heat up again, but you keep your composure. “How generous of you.”

He grins, finally wrapping the towel around his waist, the movement slow and deliberate. It takes everything in you to keep your gaze from traveling downward. “I aim to please,” he says.

You gesture to the door with your arm. “Since you’re so helpful, how about getting this door open?”

Azriel steps closer, lightly brushing his fingers against your arm as he moves you gently aside. “Let’s see what we have here,” he murmurs, his touch making its way to your waist and lingering a moment longer than necessary.

He gives the handle a firm tug. It doesn’t budge for him either. After a few more tries, he furrows his brows at it, as if it’ll give him an answer. “You weren’t kidding…”

“Shocking, I know,” you reply, rolling your eyes.

As he continues trying the door, you can’t help but be captivated by the muscles rippling in his arms, each sinew flexing with effort. Your eyes wander to the brutal scars crisscrossing his hands, remnants of a fateful game well before your time with the team. But you can’t help but imagine how those roughened fingers would feel inside you. The thought has you biting your lip to keep from sighing.

Azriel’s movements falter, and he glances back at you, a smirk playing on his lips. You quickly divert your eyes, feeling the intensity of his gaze. His smirk widens as he steps closer, his presence overwhelming. He places a hand on your shoulder, his thumb rubbing the side of your neck gently before his grip tightens, almost possessively. “Catch your attention?” His voice drops to a whisper, the rasp sending jolts of arousal through you.

“Come on, Az…” you murmur weakly, turning your head away from him. His hand moves from your shoulder to cup your jaw, his thumb brushing your cheek.

“You think I don’t see the way you look at me?” he asks, head cocked as he leans in to whisper in your ear. “You can never keep your eyes off of me for long, you make it so obvious.”

Your breath hitches as his fingers trail down your arm, sending a chill through your body. He leans in even closer, his lips almost grazing your skin. “Are you imagining what I could do for you that he can’t? Because I think about it more than I care to admit,” he continues, his voice a low rumble.

Cass.

Your mind screams his name, but your body is rooted to the spot. Cassian is waiting for you, the urgency of the situation pulling at you like a lifeline. Yet here you stand, trapped in Azriel’s intoxicating presence, the steam in the air persistent.

“You look tense, (y/n)” Azriel pulls back, his voice low and smooth, a dark melody that raises goosebumps across your skin. His hand moves to your waist, fingers tracing the curve of your hip over your skirt. “Is it because of Cass?”

You swallow hard, trying to find your voice. “Azriel. I need to go. He’s waiting for me.”

Azriel’s lips curl into a knowing smile as his hand slides lower, toying with the hem of your skirt. “Is he?” he asks, his tone teasing.

Your breath catches as his fingers dip beneath the hem, just enough to tease, “Az, please,” you murmur, though the conviction in your voice is waning.

“Please what?” Azriel’s hand moves with slow, deliberate intent, his touch both tender and possessive. “Please stop? Or please don’t stop?”

Your mind is a whirlwind as his touch makes your pulse race. “Cassian,” you whisper, almost a plea.

“Cassian doesn’t have to know,” Azriel whispers, his voice dripping with reassurance, each word a gentle caress against your skin. “It’ll be our little secret. I promise.”

You should resist, should want to resist, to pull away and run to Cassian. But his hand slips up, under your skirt, fingers brushing over the thin fabric of your tights. Your body betrays you, squeezing your thighs together, a barely perceptible, breathy whine escaping you.

“We can’t,” you breathe out with a barely visible shake of your head, but you don’t push him away.

“And why not, hm?” He sounds like he’s hardly there, enraptured by the trail of his fingers when they find the waistline of your tights, slipping just beneath the hem to caress your skin directly.

You grab his wrist to stop him, and it’s only then that you tear your eyes away from his to look at the sight. His hand is under your skirt, the fabric draped over his wrist. The fabric is lifted just enough for him to catch a glimpse of your underwear if he were to lower his gaze.

Your heart pounds as you struggle to maintain your resolve. “This isn’t right,” you whisper, your voice betraying the war raging within you.

Azriel’s fingers pause. “Isn’t it?” he asks softly, his voice a soothing murmur. “It feels right, doesn’t it?”

His tone is gentle, almost coaxing. “We’re just sharing a moment,” he continues, his breath warm against your skin. “No one has to know.”

Your grip on his wrist weakens, the conflict within you intensifying with each second. His words, his touch — they’re all weaving a spell around you, pulling you closer.

Azriel senses your hesitation and presses his advantage, his hand resuming its slow, deliberate movements. “Just let go,” he whispers, his voice a dark promise. “Let me make you feel good.”

Your resolve crumbles as his touch becomes more insistent, his fingers tracing patterns of fire on your skin. The forbidden thrill of his touch, the intoxicating promise of pleasure — it’s too much to resist.

With a soft gasp, you finally give in, your back arching as your chest presses into him. “Azriel,” you breathe, but it’s different than before. This time, his name tumbles from your lips as both a surrender and a plea.

Azriel’s smile is triumphant as he captures your lips in a searing kiss, his hands roaming freely now, exploring every inch of you. The world outside fades away, leaving only the two of you in this heated, forbidden moment.

You know you shouldn’t be doing this. Part of your mind screams at you to stop, to push him away, but the way his hands move, the way his lips taste… It’s intoxicating. The guilt gnaws at you, but the desire is overwhelming, drowning out any sense of right or wrong when his hand slips further into the waistband of your tights, his fingers brushing against your panties. He rubs you through the fabric, and as a soft moan escapes your lips, a groan leaves his. The sensation is electric, a pleasure and forbidden thrill that makes your knees weak. You clutch at his shoulders, torn between the need to push him away and the desire to pull him closer.

You gasp, his name a breathless whisper on your lips. He responds with a low, satisfied hum, his fingers working, pushing you further into your haze. His touch is both gentle and demanding, sending shocks of pleasure through your body. You feel his warm breath against your neck as his lips trail down, leaving a blazing path in their wake. Your body craves more, hips moving in a slow, sensual rhythm against his hand. He doesn’t stop, each stroke deliberate and intoxicating. Your breaths come faster, and you tangle your fingers into his still-dripping hair, pulling him back up for a frenzied kiss.

Desperation takes over as you both rush to tear off your clothes. Your jacket falls to the floor with a distant thud, Tarquin’s phone still in the pocket. The sound barely registers in your mind, consumed as you are by the urgent need to feel Azriel’s skin on yours. His hands move with practiced ease, pulling your shirt up and off, your lips hardly separating. His fingers work deftly at the clasp of your bra, and with a single motion, it comes undone, falling away to reveal your bare skin.

As you kick off your shoes, his lips are already back on your neck, biting, licking, aching for a taste. You step backward, the backs of your thighs brushing against the wall as he tugs down your skirt and tights in one forceful, fluid motion, the urgency in his actions mirrored by your own racing heartbeat. Each step backward leaves a piece of clothing discarded. He pauses, his eyes dark with desire as he takes you in, then his fingers resume their exploration, sliding beneath your panties to rub you directly. You gasp, arching further into his touch, and he takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth with the same intensity as his fingers. He pulls back his hand, peeling away and discarding the last bit of cloth. He lifts you then, your legs wrapping around his waist instinctively. As you both step towards the shower, you hear the soft thud of Azriel’s towel hitting the floor. He guides you closer, the anticipation building with each step. The spray of water hits your skin, and for a moment you're confused.

Azriel’s voice, low and reassuring, cuts through the hiss of the water. “Some privacy,” he murmurs against your lips, a sly smile playing on his face. “In case we get rescued.”

The water cascades over you both. You cling to him, lost in the sensation, the guilt and doubt taking a backseat. His hands roam freely, caressing every inch of your body with a possessive tenderness. His lips trail down your neck, your collarbone, your chest. His fingers find your clit again, circling in slowly, teasingly. You moan into his mouth, the sound swallowed by his kiss.

“You feel so good around my fingers,” Azriel growls against your lips. “So tight and wet for me.”

Your breaths are nothing more than shallow gasps, each one punctuated by the delicious friction of his fingers. “Az,” you moan, trying to keep your voice low. “I need more.”

He smirks, his lips brushing against your ear. “Oh, are you going to beg for it?” A deep hum. “I want to hear those sweet little moans louder, baby, can you do that for me?”

You can’t help but comply, your moans finally growing from whispered gasps as his fingers move faster, curl harder. “Fuck— Yes, Azriel, right there,” you choke out, the last remnant of common sense in you still minding your volume.

“That’s it,” he purrs. “You’re so fucking perfect like this, falling apart on my hand.” His thumb steadily circles your throbbing clit.

Your hands grasp at his shoulders for something to anchor yourself with as the pleasure builds. “Please Az,” you whimper, your voice trembling with need. “I’m so close,” you tell him, a hint of disbelief in your tone.

“Come for me, angel,” he commands, a glint in his eyes. “Show me how good I make you feel.”

Your body tenses, the pleasure cresting, and you let out a strangled cry, a hand over your mouth stifling it. Your orgasm crashes over you in waves, and his name spills from your lips, a breathless chant, as he continues to touch you, prolonging the pleasure.

“That was… wow…” you pant as you come down from your high.

“Good,” he says, his fingers slowing but not stopping. “But I’m not done with you yet.”

Before you can respond, he moves his hand from your breast to your mouth, holding his fingers up to your lips. “Suck,” is all he says. And you do. You take his fingers in, swirling your tongue around them, coating them in your saliva. “You look so beautiful like this,” he murmurs, looking down at you with slightly parted lips. “So perfect.”

He pulls out of you, but just as you’re about to whine around his fingers at the loss, you see him bring them to his own mouth, and you whine at that instead. He groans and his eyes roll back when he tastes you, and the sight sends a rush of need to your core. “Azriel,” you mumble around his fingers, the word muffled.

“Shh, angel,” he soothes, his voice a low rumble. “Just let me take care of you.” His fingers leave your mouth, trailing down your body. Both of his hands come to rest on your hips, squeezing the flesh there. He turns you suddenly, pulling your back flush against his front, and his arms wrap around you. One hand slides between your legs, resuming its torment, while the other moves to cover your mouth.

“Quiet now,” he whispers. “Wouldn’t want anyone walking by outside to hear us, right?”

You nod, hardly processing what he’d said. Your concentration is set on the feel of his toned abdominal muscles pressed against your back.

“You said Cass was waiting for you, right?” he whispers in your ear, the sensation without being able to see him being all the more delicious, but your eyes widen at his words. You let out a frustrated groan, much louder than the noises you made before, though it’s muffled by his hand. “Doesn’t seem like you care too much anymore… What if he comes looking for you? Hm? What then? Gotta keep quiet for me, okay?” You can practically hear the smile in his voice. “For all we know, he could be right outside the door, worried sick about his sweet little (y/n).”

Your heart races at his words, fear and excitement coursing through you. Azriel’s fingers move faster, his hand stifling your moans. “Imagine the look on his face if he found you like this,” he continues. “So needy, so desperate for my touch.”

You shiver, his words igniting a forbidden thrill within you, far surpassing the teasing and casual touches Cassian permitted them all. “Please…” It’s so muffled behind his hand, but he hears you perfectly.

“Please what?” he murmurs, his fingers continuing to thrust in and out of you. “Please make you come again? Or please stop before Cassian catches us?”

Your mind is a whirlwind, the thought of Cassian finding you like this both terrifying and exhilarating. Azriel loosens his hand long enough to hear your response. “Make me come,” you finally whisper, your voice trembling with need. “Please, Azriel.”

“Good girl,” he purrs, his fingers moving with relentless precision. “I want to feel you come for me again.”

You’re teetering on the edge of another orgasm, every nerve ending alight with sensation. The only sounds in the room are the running water, your ragged breaths, and the wet, slick sounds of his fingers working in and out of you at a punishing speed. Just as you’re about to reach the peak, you hear it — a faint squeak of a sneaker on the tiled floor.

Your eyes snap open, panic mingling with the pleasure. Azriel falters for a beat, barely half a second, but doesn’t stop, his hand tightening over your mouth. “Shh,” he whispers right into your ear, his voice dark and heavy with authority. “Don’t make a sound.”

You’re caught in a delicious torment, the fear of being seen only heightening your arousal. The footsteps grow louder, and closer, and then, abruptly, the curtain is yanked open.

Rhysand stands there, eyes wide with shock, then with something else as his eyes rake over your body. His eyes meet yours, then shift to Azriel behind you, his hand still buried between your legs, still moving in and out. A smile creeps onto Rhysand’s face and he crosses his arms, leaning against the wall with a short breath of a laugh.

“Does Cass know you’ve got her here like this?” He juts his chin at you.

Azriel smirks, his fingers still working inside you. “What do you think?”

Rhysand chuckles, his eyes roaming over your body with a detached curiosity. “You think he’ll have you skate lines for this?” he muses. His gaze travels up and down your form, lingering on the places where Azriel’s hands are touching you, but his face remains a mask of calm. Yet you notice his knuckles turning white where he’s squeezing his hands into tight fists.

“Probably. And you’d probably be right there next to me just for seeing her like this,” Azriel replies nonchalantly, only a hint of the raspiness he spoke to you with before remains. “But I think it’s worth it.”

Rhysand nods, his eyes darkening with a predatory gleam. “She’s quite the sight isn’t she?” he says, as if you weren’t even there, as if you were nothing more than a piece of art to be admired and discussed. His gaze meets yours, and you see the raw hunger lurking beneath his cool exterior. It excites you, makes your muscles clench around Azriel’s fingers.

Azriel hums in agreement, fingers curling inside you, drawing a muffled moan from your lips. “Cass is lucky to have her.”

Rhysand's eyes remain fixed on you, a predatory gleam in their depths. He doesn't say anything more, just watches intently as Azriel continues his ministrations. You cling to Azriel's arms, your nails digging into his skin, the need to come overwhelming you.

"That's it, angel," Azriel murmurs, his voice low and soothing. "Get yours, go ahead."

You can see Rhysand hardening in his pants, his cool demeanor betraying nothing but his body telling a different story. The sight only heightens your arousal, pushing you closer to the edge.

With a final, desperate cry, you shatter around Azriel's fingers, your body convulsing with the force of your orgasm. He holds you through it, his fingers never stopping until you're trembling and spent.

As you come down from your high, Rhysand steps closer, his gaze never leaving yours. "Mind if I join?" he asks, but his question is directed at you, not Azriel.

You hesitate, the conflict clear in your eyes. Azriel tilts your chin up, forcing you to look at him. "It's okay," he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your cheek. "You want this, don't you?"

You swallow hard, then nod slowly. Rhysand's eyes darken with satisfaction as he begins to strip, his movements unhurried.

Azriel’s fingers finally slip out of you, and he gently guides you to lean back against the shower wall and he kneels before you, bringing one of your legs over his shoulder. The warm water cascades over you both, heightening the intimacy. Between your thighs, eyes locked on yours, he starts to kiss a trail up your inner thigh. “You’ve been such a good girl for me,” he murmurs against your skin. “You ready to be good for Rhys too?”

Rhysand, now fully undressed, steps into the stall with a lazy confident stride. He lowers himself beside Azriel, his eyes devouring the sight of you. You can’t help but look away from the sight of both of them admiring your most intimate parts. “Look at you ,” Rhysand says, his voice dripping with approval, and you whine in embarrassment as he spreads your sex. “So beautiful.”

Azriel’s mouth replaces his fingers, his tongue flicking out to taste you, and you gasp, your hands tangling in his hair. Rhysand stands, his hands cupping your breasts with a thumb circling your nipple, eliciting a soft moan from you. “So fucking good,” he murmurs, leaning in to capture your lips in a searing kiss.

His lips are even softer than you imagined, his hands both tender and firm, exactly as you’d fantasized. Azriel’s tongue works with expert precision, each stroke sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. Rhysand’s hand trails down your body, his fingers joining Azriel’s mouth between your legs, and the combination of their touches drives you wild.

“Does that feel good, angel?” Azriel asks, his voice vibrating against your core.

You nod, unable to say anything more than a quiet ‘uh-huh’. Rhysand’s lips travel to your neck, sucking gently on the sensitive skin there. Your heart shoots up into your throat, hoping they thought about leaving you free of any marks. “You look so perfect like this,” he whispers, his breath hot against your neck. “Tell us what you need, darling,” Rhysand says softly, gently.

“Both of you,” you manage to gasp out, your voice trembling. “I need both of you.”

Azriel’s laugh is low and wicked as he pulls back slightly, his eyes dark with amusement, chin slick with your wetness. “Hear that, Rhys? She can’t get enough — she’s fuckin’ begging for it.”

Rhysand’s fingers trail slowly over your skin, away from your most sensitive, a smirk tugging at his lips. “I know, so needy,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. “Poor Cassian. Does he know what a slut you are for us? How you’re dripping and ready the second we touch you?”

Azriel’s hands move to your hips, gripping them firmly. “I bet he’s pacing right now, worried sick about his sweet little (y/n),” he taunts, his breath fanning over your pulsing cunt. “And here you are, begging for us to fuck you. Does that make you wet, (y/n)? Knowing he’s waiting?”

You whimper, the heat of their words igniting your shame. “I don’t— It— No,” your eyes turn glassy with tears. You should leave, should somehow get through that door and run to Cassian and confess everything, beg for his forgiveness, and pray he doesn’t leave you for betraying his trust. But the need, the raw desire coursing through you, Azriel’s face between your legs, keeps you rooted to the spot. Before you can wonder how Rhysand even got in, he speaks up, his voice dripping with amusement. “Look at you, stuttering and trembling. You can’t even admit it to yourself, can you? That being a good, filthy little slut behind his back turns you on.”

Azriel chuckles against your core, the vibrations sending shivers through you. “He’s right, isn’t he, angel? Answer him,” he commands, tongue and fingers working in tandem. Then Rhysand’s lips suck and bite at your breast, his hand squeezing at the other. It all pushes you to the brink of your sanity. You can’t deny it anymore. The very thought of betraying Cassian while being worshipped by his two best friends, their words and touch stripping away your hesitance, is intoxicating. The way their voices tease and command, the way their hands and mouths worship your body — every sensation, every whisper, is a direct line to your deepest desires.

With a moan, you finally give in, your voice barely more than a breathless murmur as a single tear falls from your eye. “Yes… God, yes, it turns me on so much…” Your admission hangs heavy in the air for a few moments. Azriel’s eyes gleam with a dark satisfaction, and Rhysand’s smirk widens as if he’s just won some grand prize. The air around you crackles with their shared triumph, and they each seem to revel in having been able to extract the confession from you.

Rhysand’s fingers continue to slide over your skin, his touch commanding and sure, and Azriel shrugs your leg off his shoulder as he stands and steps aside. “Want to feel her, Rhys? She’s perfect.” He doesn’t hesitate for a moment, pushing his middle and ring fingers into you, a groan escaping him at the feel of you.

“Damn… I can’t wait to stuff you full, (y/n). Do you want that? Want us both to fuck you so good, don’t you?”

You must have whined out your boyfriend’s name, because Azriel’s voice adds, “You know we won’t tell if you don’t. Cassian doesn’t need to know about this, right?” His hand comes up to move a wet strand of hair from your face and stays on the back of your neck, thumb rubbing your skin soothingly.

Rhysand’s fingers pump into you deeply now. Their faces are both so close to yours and it takes everything in you to continue to listen to what they’re saying. “That’s right, darling. It’s our little secret, just the three of us.”

“You’re doing so well, angel,” Azriel praises. “Just let Rhys take care of you. We’re here for you.”

“Cassian doesn’t need to know. It’s just us.”

“No one else needs to be involved. It’s our little secret.”

Their voices are thick with charm. It’s meant to soothe, to let you know this is a safe space where your desires are understood and indulged. You find yourself lost in their promises, in their intoxicating reassurance. It all creates a heady mix of emotions, drawing you deeper into the experience and further away from any thoughts of right or wrong.

Suddenly, Rhysand lifts your leg, hooking your knee into the crook of his arm. You gasp in surprise, hands grasping for any point of contact with them to keep yourself from falling. One grabs Rhysand’s bicep, the other lands on Azriel’s shoulder. His voice grows more urgent as he teases your slit with the head of his cock, his breath hot and demanding. “Remember, this is all for you. It’s just us making sure you get everything you want. Okay?”

It’s silent save for the spray of water around you all, and their eyes bore into yours expectantly. They were waiting. If you really didn’t want to do this, this was the moment to give the word. But the intensity of their gaze, the heated promises in their voices, and the way their bodies are pressed so close to yours make it nearly impossible to think clearly. The urgency in Rhysand’s voice and the steady reassurance from Azriel leave you trembling in anticipation. The pressure of their touches, the pleasure, the guilt, the need.

A soft, trembling “Yes” escapes your lips, barely audible, but it’s enough. Rhysand’s eyes light up with satisfaction, and he immediately begins to position himself more firmly, his movements confident and assured.

Azriel’s hand continues to soothe your neck, his thumb stroking gently as he leans in closer. “That’s it,” he sighs absently.

But you reach out and grab Rhysand by the wrist, stopping him. Their expressions shift to confusion; surprise and concern evident on their faces. You pause, a note of urgency in your voice. “Condom,” you manage to say, clearly and firmly.

Their features seem to relax a bit at that. They exchange a glance, and Azriel nods slightly before stepping away to fetch condoms from his locker.

Rhysand takes the opportunity to lean in closer, a genuine softness in his eyes as he looks at you. He gently places a hand on your cheek, his expression turning serious. “(Y/n), if you’re having any second thoughts, you can tell us. We can stop right here if you’re not completely sure, if you’re not comfortable.”

He pauses, giving you a moment to respond, his gaze unwavering and sincere. “We want you to feel good and to be sure about what you’re doing. If you want us to stop, we’ll stop. No questions asked.”

You distantly hear Azriel throw a locker shut. “Rhys… If I didn’t want this, you wouldn’t still have my leg over your arm.”

Rhysand gives a soft smile. “Alright, then.” He leans in, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. It felt more intimate than the situation warranted. “Just making sure.”

Azriel returns holding a string of condom wrappers, and steps back into the shower, pulling the curtain shut behind him. Rhysand takes a foil square from him, opening it slowly. Azriel’s hands roam your body, his touch both grounding and electrifying. “We’re going to take our time with you,” he whispers, his breath against your ear. “Make sure you feel every second.”

You look down, watching Rhysand line himself back up, and your breath hitches. He’s big, the thickness of him daunting. The sight sends a thrill of anticipation through you, albeit with a touch of apprehension. He digs his fingers into your hips, the tip of his cock pushing up against your entrance. “Just relax, it’s alright,” he soothes you as he begins to push in, stretching you in ways that leave you breathless. The initial sensation is intense, pleasure and a slight burn as your body adjusts to his size. Every inch that presses into you feels like pure ecstasy. Your fingers tighten on each of them, your eyes wide and not once leaving Rhysand’s.

Azriel’s hand slides from your waist to your lower back, his touch featherlight but reassuring. As Rhysand pushes deeper, Azriel’s fingers trace the sensitive curve of your spine. He leans in, his breath tickling the shell of your ear. “You’re doing so well,” he murmurs. “He’s big, isn’t he?” His other hand cups your breast, rolling and pinching your nipple. The dual sensation of Rhysand slowly filling you and Azriel’s gentle, yet firm, touch on your body makes your head spin. Azriel’s lips find the curve of your neck once again, planting soft, open-mouthed kisses along your skin. The tenderness has you throwing your head back with a sigh.

“Mhm,” you moan slightly with a soft nod. Azriel, still toying with your nipple, gently grabs your chin and guides you to look back at Rhysand.

“Tell him, angel. Tell him how you love being split open by his cock, he wants to hear it.”

You whine, timid, as you look him in the eyes again, the violet deep enough to drown in. “You feel so good,” you manage to whisper, voice trembling. “I love how big you are, how you stretch me.”

But Azriel’s grip on your chin tightened. “Is that what I said?” His tone was domineering.

You swallow a gasp as Rhysand settles all the way in. “I love… being split open by your cock, Rhys,” your breathing coming in pants. “So good…”

You watch his lips curl into a smug grin. “That’s my girl,” he murmurs, pulling out until only the tip was in, then gently pushing himself back into you. But Azriel isn’t done.

“Now tell him you need more, beg him for it.” You can tell he’s got a devilish grin on his face by the sound of his voice.

“Please, Rhys, I need more,” you keen. “I need you to fuck me harder.”

Rhysand’s eyes darken with lust, his nails digging into your hips. “That’s it, beg for it,” he growls, beginning to pick up speed. His thrusts become more powerful, sending waves of pleasure through you.

“Harder, Rhys,” you plead, your voice quivering. “I need you to fuck me harder, please don’t hold back, I need it so, so bad—Fuck!” Your brows knit together in pleasure.

Azriel moves behind you, his strong hands sliding under your thighs. With a swift motion, he hoists you up, your legs hooked over his arms, the hold forcing your legs as far apart as they’ll go. Rhysand takes the opportunity to explore your body with his hands, one wrapping loosely around your throat and the other gently tangling in your hair.

“You feel so fucking good around me,” Rhysand grunts, his breath puffing against your lips. “So tight, so perfect.”

Azriel’s grip on your thighs is firm, his fingers digging into your flesh as he supports your weight. “Doing so well for us, angel,” he whispers, along with other soothing words of affirmation.

Rhysand’s pace quickens, each thrust harder and deeper than the last. His hand around your throat tightens just enough to make you gasp, his eyes locked onto yours. “You fucking like this, don’t you?” he growls. “Being used by us, being our perfect little slut.”

“Yes, God,” you moan, your voice breathless and full of need. “I love it, Rhys, you fuck me so good.” You feel Azriel’s grip tighten and Rhysand’s hips stutter at your words.

“He fucks you good, angel?” Azriel breathes out. When you nod, Rhysand sees him whisper into your ear, the relentless stream of water muffles his words, rendering them inaudible to him.

You shake your head adamantly, the glazed-over look clearing from your eyes. “No, Cassian’s the best,” your voice is steady despite the pleasure coursing through your core with every pump in and out. “No one fucks me like he does.”

Rhysand's thrusts slow but grow more deliberate, hitting deeper with every motion. He moves his hand from around your neck only to roughly grab your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Is that so?” he murmurs, brows raised slightly. He thrusts harder, his eyes never leaving yours, determined to make you doubt your own words.

Azriel readjusts his grip on your thighs, and you can feel his hard length pressing against your ass. “Does Cassian treat you like you deserve? Like the whore you are?” Azriel asks, his voice a husky whisper against your ear. “Does he know how to make you tremble like this?”

Your eyes water, and you bite your lip to stifle a moan. “He… he knows me better than anyone,” you manage to say, though your conviction wavers with each thrust and touch.

Rhysand smirks, his grip tightening on your hips as he increases his pace. “We’ll see,” he growls, leaning in to capture your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue dominating yours.

Azriel’s mouth trails hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin just enough to make you gasp. “We’re going to make you feel so good, angel,” he whispers for both of you to hear. “So good that you’ll forget all about him.”

Rhysand’s fingers dig into your flesh, his thrusts becoming more intense. “Tell us how it feels,” he demands, his breath hot against your lips. “Tell us who’s making you feel this way.”

Your mind is a whirlwind of sensations, the relentless pleasure making it hard to think. “It… it feels…” you gasp, unable to form coherent thoughts as Azriel’s lips and Rhysand’s thrusts overwhelm your senses.

“Tell us,” Rhysand growls, jackhammering into you, a thumb playing with your clit. “Who makes you feel this way?”

Azriel’s breath is hot against your ear, his voice a seductive murmur. “Just admit it to yourself, (y/n).”

You’re teetering on the brink, the overwhelming sensations pushing you closer and closer to the edge. “You… you’re…” you stammer, the words caught in your throat.

“Say it,” Rhysand commands, his voice rough with need.

Azriel’s lips find the sensitive spot just below your ear, his teeth grazing your skin.

Finally, your orgasm breaks, and you cry out, your body convulsing with the force of it. “Cassian!” you scream, the name ripped from your lips as pleasure crashes over you in waves. Tears stream from your eyes now, whether from the contrition or the sheer bliss, you didn’t know.

Rhysand's eyes flare with anger. His thrusts become more erratic and forceful, his jaw clenched in frustration. The force of his thrusts now left the previous ones forgotten. “Cassian?” he growls, voice low and dangerous. “Was Cassian the one to make you come just now?” Without a word, he grabs you from Azriel. You wrap your legs around him. Without missing a beat, he pulls out almost entirely, leaving you gasping for breath. He slams back into you with a renewed, relentless force. The raw intensity of his thrusts makes you whimper, your body trembling from the overstimulation. His eyes lock onto yours, filled with a fierce determination to make you forget everything but him.

“I don’t want you saying his name while I’m inside you, while I’m the one fucking you dumb,” Rhysand demands, his voice rough and commanding. “Look at you… A crying mess.” He pulls you down onto him with every upward thrust. “Say my name,” he demands, his tone both seductive and demanding. “I don’t care if it isn’t true, while I’m fucking you, you make me believe I’m the only one you want.”

You gasp and moan as his words cut through your tears. “Rhysand… Rhysand, you’re the one,” you whimper, barely able to form coherent thoughts. “I need you… so much.”

Behind you, Azriel’s eyes gleam with a predatory interest as he watches the intense scene unfold. His hand drifts down his body, fingers brushing against his neglected cock. He strokes himself slowly, savoring the sight of you being claimed by Rhysand, the way your body responds so eagerly to every thrust.

“Prove that I’m fucking you so stupid that all you can think about is my name. Can you do that for me? Can you forget about Cassian and make me the only one who matters?”

You nod fervently, your voice breaking. You shout a mantra of “Yes’s,” your body arching in response to his powerful thrusts. “Want you to come…”

Rhysand’s lips curl into a dark, satisfied grin as he listens to your desperate pleas. “Good girl,” he murmurs, movements growing more urgent, breathing growing heavier. “Scream my name while I come inside you,” he commands, his voice strained.

Your body is trembling from the intensity, every nerve alight with overstimulation. “Rhysand! Rhysand!” you cry out, each plea mingled with breathless moans and cries of ecstasy. “Please, don’t stop! I need more, need you to come!”

With a low, guttural sound, Rhysand finally reaches his climax. His thrusts become sharp and erratic, each one punctuated by a shudder as he fills you completely. His grip on your hips is relentless, his body convulsing with the force of his release. “That’s it,” he growls, his voice thick with satisfaction. “You’re perfect. So good for me…”

As he pulls back, panting heavily, Azriel steps forward with a smirk of his own. His gaze is unwavering, and his presence feels almost predatory. He takes you by the waist, guiding you down gently. Your legs feel like jelly, barely able to support your weight, and you stumble slightly as you catch yourself against the cold tiles of the wall.

“Wait, just a sec…” you manage to murmur, still trying to catch your breath. But Azriel isn’t having any of it. His hands are firm and decisive as he presses you against the wall chest-first, pulling your hips back, and pushing your back into an arch.

“No,” Azriel’s voice is a low, fierce growl, his eyes burning with unrestrained hunger. He steps closer, his movements assertive and commanding, an almost primal need radiating from him. As he presses you against the cold tiles, your legs buckle slightly under the weight of his presence. His hands grip your waist with unyielding strength, holding you firmly in place. “No more waiting,” he murmurs, his voice rough and laced with desire. “I found you first. I’ve been waiting my turn, watching, and now I get my time with you. You’re not getting a moment’s rest.”

Your mind is a hazy whirl of pleasure and confusion, struggling to focus on anything. The remnants of your coherence slipped away at some point while you were in Rhysand’s arms — those strong arms — leaving you a trembling mess against the cold wall. You can barely think.

“(Y/n),” he says sharply, getting your attention, or what was left of it. “I’m going to take you, right here, hard and deep, and make sure that every time this pussy gets fucked, you wish it was me doing it. Do you understand?”

Your head nods instinctively, but your voice comes out as a breathy murmur, “Y-yes… want it… need you…” Your words barely form.

Rhysand, still catching his breath, watches with a smirk. “She’s completely lost in it, Az,” he teases, stepping up next to you to run a hand over your wet hair. “I fucked you so good. That’s what you said, right?” He chuckles lowly.

Azriel’s eyes darken as he cuts him a look, jealous when he sees Rhysand running his hand through your hair. “You did. And now you’re done,” Azriel growls, pushing his hand off of you. You whine, missing the comforting touch. He grips your hips firmly and thrusts all the way into you, eliciting a loud shriek from your lips. He doesn’t give you time to adjust to his considerable size before he sets a powerful, unrelenting rhythm, each motion drawing a helpless gasp from your lips. Your legs shake and threaten to give out, but Azriel’s strong hold keeps you steady.

“So fucked out you can’t even think, hm, darling?” Rhysand says in mock sympathy.

“Good,” Azriel mutters into your ear. “Brainless and begging for my cock.”

Without warning, Rhysand drops to his knees between you and the wall, his tongue tracing a line from your thigh to where Azriel is pounding into you. He wraps his arms around you, hands squeezing your thighs and ass, the sensation makes you gasp, your body jolting as Rhysand’s mouth latches onto your clit, his tongue swirling with expert precision. Azriel's grip on your hips tightens, his thrusts merciless. “Do you think about us when you're with him? Do you wish it was our hands on you, our cocks filling you up?”

Your answer is a high-pitched moan, your mind too foggy to form words. Azriel’s hand slides up to your throat, gripping firmly but not cutting off your air. “Don’t just moan like a dumb fucking whore,” he growls, the other hand slapping your cheek lightly a few times to get your attention. He doesn’t stop plowing into you for a moment. “Answer me.”

“Yes! Yes, I think about you,” you gasp out, your voice trembling. “I want you… both of you… so bad.”

Rhysand chuckles against your skin, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. “Good girl,” he murmurs against your lips, his tongue flicking your clit mercilessly. “Y’know, Cass’s probably gonna be a fuckin’ mess if he finds out what you’ve been up to, especially since he’s just sitting around waiting for you at the hospital,” he whispers, his voice laced with playful menace. “Just imagine how he’d react…”

Your response is a pitiful whine, tears mixing with sweat as you weakly call out, “Cassian… Cassian… I love him…” Your voice breaks with each syllable, the raw emotion evident in your cries.

You feel Rhysand’s smirk widen against you as he looks up and meets Azriel’s eyes. “Yeah, you love him so much that you’re here with us, right, darling?”

Azriel’s thrusts don’t falter as he grabs you by the shoulders for leverage. “We know you love him, baby. Now take this fucking cock.” And he slams into you with a force that pulls sob after sob out of you. His grip on your shoulders tightens, then shifts. One arm slides up, wrapping a firm, massive bicep around your neck, pulling you back into a headlock, his control over you absolute. Each thrust of his massive cock seems to reach even deeper into you at this angle. “You love being used by us, don’t you? Just a little slut for our cocks.”

“Yes… I love it…” you manage to gasp out, your voice barely above a whisper.

Azriel’s hand comes down sharply on your ass, the sting making you cry out. “That’s right. Scream for me. Let Cassian hear how much you love this.”

He grabs your jaw, forcing you to look back at him. “Look at you, a dumb little whore, taking it so well. You like being fucked like this? Like a toy?”

“Yes… like a toy… your toy…” you whimper, your body trembling.

“Tell me how much you love it, angel. Beg for more. Beg for my cock,” he commands, his voice dripping with dominance.

“Please… Azriel… more… I need more…” you plead, tears streaming down your face.

“I bet Cassian couldn’t fuck you like this. Even when he thinks he’s being rough, he’s too gentle, isn’t he? A pretty little cocksleeve like you needs it rough, huh? Need to be reminded you’re just a hole for us to use,” Azriel growls.

“You’re nothing but a cock-hungry slut, aren’t you? Just a little plaything for us,” he continues, his words sending waves of shame and arousal through you.

Sometimes, you could swear you felt Rhysand’s tongue reach further as if he was tasting you on Azriel’s cock. The sensation is mind-blowing, pushing you deeper, if possible, into submission. Rhysand's tongue continues its relentless torment, occasionally delving deeper, tasting every thrust Azriel gives you. It's overwhelming, the combination of Azriel's cock and Rhysand's tongue driving you to the brink of insanity.

“You’re so fucking tight,” Azriel grunts, his arm tightening around your neck, making you gasp for air. “I can feel you clenching around me. You love this, don’t you? Love being filled up, love being our dirty little secret.”

“Yes… Fuck yes, Az,” you whimper, your voice raw and desperate. “I love it… love our secret.”

Rhysand chuckles darkly, his hot breath teasing your sensitive skin. “Desperate, dripping, and fucked out of your mind for us. What would they all say…?”

Azriel's hand slides from your jaw to your breasts, roughly squeezing and pinching your nipples, adding to the exquisite mix of pain and pleasure. “I want to hear you beg for it, angel. Beg for me to fuck you harder.”

“Please… Az… fuck me harder… use me,” you plead, each word broken by gasps and moans.

He holds you up effortlessly, his strength and dominance undeniable. “I want you to scream my name,” he commands, his voice low and rough. “Scream it so loud that Cassian hears it in his fucking dreams.”

“Azriel! Azriel!” you scream, your body trembling uncontrollably as he drives you closer to the edge.

“That’s it, you’re doing so good. Show me how much this tight fucking hole loves when I fuck it,” Azriel growls.

“I’m just your — fuck — your worthless slut… your cum dump, both of you…” you whimper, the words spilling from your lips without thought. “I’ll take everything you want to give me…”

Azriel’s and Rhysand’s eyes widen in shock, both momentarily stunned by your shameless, complete submission. The brief pause is charged with a dark thrill, their expressions those of surprise and deepened desire.

Rhysand recovers first, a dark smile stretching across his face as he leans over to look up at Azriel. “You hear that, Az? You hear what she’s calling herself?” His voice is dripping with mockery and appreciation. “Tell us again, darling, I love hearing it. How much do you like being used like this?” He leans back into you, his tongue flicking over your clit with renewed intensity.

“Love it so much…! Just want to be filled and used… Want to make you feel good…”

Azriel let out a sound somewhere between a groan and a whimper. “Making me feel so good, angel, you’re perfect… Gonna use you up, nothing else matters but you taking what we give you, do you understand?”

You cry out a string of “yes’s!” the muscles in your body begin to shake uncontrollably. Your ears ring, the sound melding with the pounding of your heart.

Azriel’s hands slide back down to your hips, and he pulls you closer with each powerful thrust, altering the angle to hit deeper. The shift sends a jolt of intense pleasure through you, causing your body to spasm with every stroke. You gasp, feeling every ridge and vein of his cock with heightened sensitivity.

Rhysand pauses his relentless flicking of your clit, his mouth hovering just above your sensitive skin. He takes a moment to savor the sight of you trembling and gasping, his eyes dark with satisfaction. “That’s all us,” he murmurs, his voice a low purr.

Azriel’s breathing grows ragged. “Just let go and take it all. Your body’s ours to use however we want right now, huh?” The depth of Azriel’s movements, coupled with Rhysand’s teasing touch, pushes you to the edge yet again. You cry out, all desperate moans and incoherent babble. Rhysand’s tongue returns to its torment, tasting you come undone on his tongue, leaving you gasping and clinging to whatever coherence you have left. The ringing in your ears doesn’t subside until they finally relent.

Azriel’s breaths come in heavy, ragged gasps as he slows his thrusts, satisfaction in his eyes. “You took us so well,” he murmurs, and he sounds almost as spent as you did. You both collapse against the cool tiles, bodies still intertwined, the sound of the water cascading around you. You reach out and turn the water off, the sudden silence only broken by the soft pants of breath.

Rhysand steps out for a moment and returns with a couple of towels from his locker. He hands one to Azriel, who begins to dry you off with a tender, almost reverent touch. Rhysand grins, wrapping his towel around his waist. "You kept up pretty well," he quips, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

You smirk, taking the towel Azriel offers you. "I think you two just like to show off," you tease, patting yourself dry. "Always trying to one-up each other and forgetting about everyone else."

Azriel chuckles, shaking his head as he dries his hair. "Can you blame us?" he replies. "We have a reputation to maintain."

Rhysand steps closer, his eyes darkening with a mix of amusement and desire. "And what about you?" he murmurs, brushing a strand of wet hair from your face. "You’re quite the little fox yourself."

You raise an eyebrow, a playful grin tugging at your lips. "Takes one to know one," you retort, enjoying the way their eyes light up at your sass.

Suddenly, you look at him with curiosity. “Wait, Rhys, what are you even doing here? How did you get in?”

Rhysand smirks, a little sheepishly. "I left my wallet and came back to get it."

Azriel chuckles. "Through the door? We were stuck in here."

Rhysand shrugs. "Oh, that door has been acting up ever since Eris jammed it last month." A look of understanding dawns on Azriel’s face.

Just then, the phone abandoned in your jacket pocket rings, jolting you all.

Fuck.

You rush over to grab it. Your heart races as you see Cassian's name on Tarquin's phone. You answer the call, trying to steady your breath. "Cassian?”

"Hey, babe, what's taking so long? Are you on your way?"

You hesitate, then reply, "We got stuck in the locker room."

"...We...?"

"Yeah, Rhys and Az are here too."

You can hear the suspicion and jealousy creeping into Cassian's voice. "How long have you been in there? Why didn’t you call?”

“My phone is dead, remember? And I don’t know Tarquin’s password to make a call,” you explain quickly.

There’s a pause before Cassian speaks again, his tone tight. “I'll send Mor to help you out.”

You sigh, relief and anxiety mingling. "Thanks, Cass. Love you."

"Love you, too."

As you end the call, you glance back at Rhysand and Azriel, who are both watching you with a mix of concern and amusement. "Looks like Mor is on her way to rescue us," you say, trying to lighten the mood, though you can’t help but worry about your hair still being wet. She’d notice that right away.

"Better get dressed then," Azriel smirks. "Wouldn't want her to catch us like this." Rhysand chuckles, shaking his head, and you smile, the tension easing a bit.

"Definitely not..."

691 notes · View notes

nightfalltales · 4 months

Text

show me how much you missed me

parings: jiyan x fm reader

cw: SMUT - size kink bc hes so massive + bit of foreplay + fingering + overstimulation + penetration + jiyan eating you out; dom!jiyan + sub!fm reader; needy jiyan & him being a horny little bitch; explicit

word count: 1k+

summary: after not seeing you for so long, jiyan wants to show you how much he misses you in bed.

author’s note: i’m FINALLY on summer break so i’ll write as much as i can and i got wuthering waves 3 days ago + got jiyan in 30 free pulls WOOO help i’m obsessed with that game and him (also this feels rushed my apologies)

smut below (18+) !! MINORS DON’T INTERACT !!

“jiyan? is that..”

“yeah.. it’s me.”

you were taken aback by how quickly he returned home after being gone for two weeks. however, you can only imagine the amount of work he has to accomplish as a general of the midnight rangers and a busy man. considering that he leads and manages issues, it's likely that he just wrapped up early.

he shut the front door of your shared house and gave you a quick embrace, his warmth relaxing and comforting you. you hugged him back, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“sorry i wasn’t home for a while, y/n.” he apologized, hugging you even tighter.

“it’s okay. you’re the general anyway. you must’ve really dealt with a lot of work.”

knowing how understanding you are, he grinned.

“i’m just glad i can finally get a break to see you.”

“i’m also glad you came back to me.”

for a moment, you both stood motionless, taking in each other's warmth and comfort.

then you two kissed each other tenderly the following second. however, a tender kiss quickly becomes passionate and hotter.

together, you made your way to a shared bedroom, where he helped you remove your shirt and you removed his top and equipment, even untied his hair. he then gently lifted you up and placed you on the bed, continuing to kiss you throughout the entire process.

his hot body was pressing against yours. he must have waited for this particular opportunity. to express to you how much he both physically and emotionally missed you.

as he kissed down to your jaw, you felt his hand slithering to your back. you let out a gasp as his warm lips touched your skin.

“jiyan..” you whimpered as he unhooked your bra.

he raised his head up.

“am i going too fast?” he asked as he was about to stop, but you pressed closer to him.

“no, it’s not that.” you shook your head, unable to find the right words to say.

jiyan cocked his head to the side as you at last inhaled deeply to express this feeling.

“show me how much you missed me.”

jiyan’s eyes widened. he didn't anticipate you being that bold.

“are.. you certain?” he asked. “i don’t want to hurt you.”

“please.” you begged. “please show me how much you missed me. you can be rough if you have to.”

his golden pupils glowered at yours as his gaze deepened, and you felt yourself getting wet from that.

“you know the rules, right?” he asked as he brought his face closer to yours.

“i’ll give you signs or let you know if i wanna stop or if you’re going too hard.” you nodded.

he grinned, thrusting his tongue into you as he kissed.

and he is now engaged in that. not on your lips, but on your wet pussy.

you both were fully naked. the only difference is that he's on his knees on the ground, while you were sprawling out on the edge of the bed.

you moaned as you felt his tongue overtake you, the fire in your chest getting out of control.

“j-jiyan.. please..” you begged.

“mmh?” he groaned.

you gripped the bed sheets and moaned his name. you could even feel the vibration of his groaning from his throat, thrilling you even more.

“faster..” you whimpered. you really want him now. you want him deep inside you.

he craned his neck up to gaze at you, replacing his tongue with his finger, penetrating deep inside you.

“patience, darling. i’m just prepping you.” he chuckled.

sometimes you find this hard to believe. the seemingly distant general of the midnight rangers is on his knees eating you out.

you met your climax a few minutes after he returned to lap you up.

your body shook with pleasure as you again screamed his name. your torso raised as the climax intensified and the heat became more unbearable. he even continued eating you out after you came!

you knew he wasn't done, so you inhaled deeply and tried to relax yourself. still, you told him to be rough.

and once more, you were correct. as he rises from the floor and joins you in bed, you can clearly see the oozing of his thick precum from his cock.

he’s now on top of you, pressing his body into yours. his wide shoulders are encircled by your arms as he thrusts into you as if there's no tomorrow. he put one arm over you to make sure you stayed still and took him well while the other gripped the headboard.

"fuck y/n.." he groaned, feeling your warm, damp walls.

because of his size in general and how quickly he was moving, you are burned by his touch, and he growls against your neck whenever you squirm.

you moaned together as a result of your mutual pleasure. you were both in bliss as he slid his immense, girthy cock more inside of you.

“jiyan please! i’m close! i’m close!” you moaned and panted, realizing you were losing self-control.

“close?” he teased.

“yes! i’m gonna..”

he chuckled. “i’m close too, y/n.. we can cum together then?”

“yes! please!”

he gave you a short peck on your lips and grinned.

“then let it out.”

as he descended more and farther inside of you, his tempo quickened. you swore you saw stars.

you both put your arms around each other and panted each other's name like a chant as you both were about to reach climax.

and without even blinking, you both came at the same time.

you came on his cock as he came deep inside you. you could feel his warm, thick cum splattering and painting your walls.

you both gave each other long embraces to relax and take a breather. however, you both knew that the evening was not over yet.

his gaze peered through yours as he saw you came earlier, eager to witness your response once more.

with your consent, he proceeded to pound you once more after giving you an intense kiss.

safe to say that you both go all night and he stayed by your side to clean you up and himself.

guess he really did miss you.

#jiyan #jiyan x reader #jiyan smut #wuthering waves #wuthering waves smut #wuwa smut

973 notes · View notes

stsgooo · 10 months

Text

Subconscious Reassurance.

✩࿐ summary: even the strongest has dreams he longs to be reality.

warning(s): slight 236 spoilers, shibuya incident spoilers, mentioned death, poor coping mechanisms, lovesick!gojo, girldad!gojo, as usual not proofread (it’s 2 am give me a break). wc; 3.6k

pairing(s): gojo satoru x reader

a/n: keep seeing tiktoks about the lamp story and this came to me. it’s a shortie but i just wanted to get this out. also do we prefer the colorless manga panels or the ones like the above one? i was messing with filters on picsart so lmk :)

divider 1 | previous work | ao3

SATORU ARRIVED HOME EXACTLY 7 PM.

He knew it was true because that’s the time he always arrived. There was no need to glance at the clock or question anyone around him. He knew it was 7PM.

The sun was peeking through the curtains and basking your shared home in a golden hue. Warmth enveloped his very being as he closed the front door behind him. There wasn’t a surface that wasn’t being touched by the sun, that wasn’t feeling the same feelings he did.

The sky outside was illuminated in a mixture of purples, reds, oranges, and pinks. A palate that could be implemented into his very soul and he’d smile in return.

“Daddy!”

The call was familiar and came exactly one minute after Satoru walked through the door.

Again, he didn’t need to glance, he just knew.

A smile blossomed on his lips and he crouched down to catch the little girl that jumped into his arms with a loud squeal. Her nose pressed into her cheek as she happily rambled about how much she missed him. A norm and a routine that he greeted happily with his own reassurances that he missed her infinitely more.

"Daddy," she whined, her tiny chubby fingers reaching up for his blindfold. "Can't see your eyes, daddy."

This happened every night after he arrived home. She would always frown and trace her nails over where his eyes would definitely be. Most of the time it was uncomfortable and, frankly, a little scary, but he always welcomed it with an overly dramatic gasp.

"Oh, sorry, daddy forgot!" He hooked his finger under the fabric and pulled it down to rest against his neck. Her eyes (which were his) met his and brightened considerably. "Is that better, Rie?"

Rie nodded enthusiastically. "Yes!"

Despite the aching behind his right eye, Satoru kept the blindfold off for Rie’s sake. She had always expressed her upmost displeasure for the item since she was a baby. Crying and crying until he finally pulled it off. It’d been a rough first few years trying to get used to pulling the thing off whenever he got home. But he’d grown accustomed to it.

“What’s mama up to?” Satoru asked softly, tracing his finger briefly over the bridge of Rie’s nose as she giggled.

The little girl swayed slightly in his arms. “Mama’s been working in the eating room—“ dining room, Satoru softly corrected with a smile, “—she put on on Yuki for me to watch while she worked.”

“Yuki, huh? Lucky you!” He playfully pinched her cheek which resulted in her swatting his hand with a resounding “daddy!” in protest. Satoru adjusted her on his hip and raised an eyebrow. “Should we go bother mommy?”

Like usual, Rie enthusiastically nodded in response.

Poor you.

True to his routine, he made his way from the front door towards the dining room, loudly. He left no room for you to not hear him coming him and gave you ample opportunity to prepare for his and Rie’s interruption on your precious work (he swore you were almost as bad as Nanam— …. as… as…).

The smile on his lips didn’t falter as his mind trailed away from the forgotten name. What was forgotten obviously wasn’t entirely important. He enthusiastically turned the corner, arm thrown out as Rie squealed happily as his rather jerky movements.

You were as you always were. Responsible. In your usual space occupying your rightful position.

Despite the loud (dramatic) entrance he made, you did not react in anyway. Your eyes were glued to your screen as you furiously typed away a response to whoever got on your bad side today. It wasn’t an unfamiliar sight. In fact, this should’ve been around the time Gakuganji of Ya— someone of higher standing emailed you something that didn’t sit right with you. Even the appearance of your amazing and rambunctious husband didn’t seem to deter you from your mission.

Satoru pouted, huffing as he peacefully placed Rie down (the girl now more interested in the TV returning to her show), and crept closer to you. Still, you did not look away.

He leaned over, his chin hooked over his shoulder as he peeked over the words you were putting out into the world. Oddly, he couldn’t read any of the screen. He tried squinting your eyes and blinking a few times— nothing. It was more reminiscent of gibberish than any Japanese he knew. None of it seemed to stay in one place and it all smashed together to create a blob.

You knew how to read and write, he knew that much. Was it something with his eyes? He doubted it. But something wasn’t—

The laptop clicked close.

“You’ve never been one to take a hint, Satoru,” you turned your head to place a soft kiss against his temple in greeting. He could feel your tiny smile against his skin. The warmth of your lips. The coolness of your silvia left behind. His chest ached. He missed— missed? “Although, I knew that before I married you.”

He pushed away the mud in his mind and turned his head, placing a peck against your lips. Strawberries. You always had remnants of strawberries on your lips. Rie’s favorite fruit.

“I think it’s one of my many charming qualities.” He hummed.

You rolled your eyes, but placed a chaste kiss against his lips once again. “Charming is pushing it.” You patted his cheek. “It’s definitely an interesting characteristic.”

Satoru pouted. “You make it sound so unappealing.”

“Well, if the shoe fits…”

He snorted in response, standing to his full height and peeking at you from over his nose. “You know, you’re not innocent either. Thought you said the TV would rot her brain, now you’re putting it on to keep her distracted?” He spared a glance to where Rie was hanging off the couch, upside down, her eyes glued to the television.

You shot him an incredulous look. “Because she’s your daughter and has the self restraint of a puppy. I needed a hour to get some things done.” You pat the top of your laptop. “Sue me.”

Satoru smirked. “I just might for emotional damages.” He gestured towards the laptop with a vague hand. “What exactly had you typing up a storm?”

There was a brief wave of giddiness in his chest when he saw the look in your eyes darken. Passion. Anger. Protectiveness. There were so many things he loved about you. Adored you for. Made him sick to his stomach whenever he thought about it.

“Well, I got an email from —— about some work in Shibuya, but I told him I already checked it out and suffered for it. Well, guess what he said? ——— and ———— suffered too so I can’t complain much. Set me off a bit, had to give him a piece of my mind and remind him what happened.”

Satoru wasn’t sure if he was having a stroke or he was just too awestruck by your beauty; but he swore that your voice simply stopped whenever you spoke names. As if your voice box couldn’t get it out. But you carried on like it was nothing. Your lips had even formed around the words that so desperately wanted to be out there, but were never uttered. You didn’t look panicked or disturbed. If anything, you looked normal. Just sipping from your capri sun that was definitely forced on you by Rie.

It was like he was the only one not hearing it.

It vaguely concerned him, but he was also Gojo Satoru. Sometimes weird things happened that had no explanation.

“But,” you continued once you swallowed down the fruit punch liquid with a twisted face. “I suppose I can’t really blame anyone for what happened. It was Halloween, we were all caught off guard. Some of us suffered for it more than others.”

Satoru, for the life of him, couldn’t recall what happened on Halloween. But he should. He had that overwhelming feeling that he really, really should.

Either way, he gave a nonchalant shrug, “Eh, my motto is that it’s always easier to forgive and forget.” He snatched the remainder of your capri sun and gave a loud slurp.

You grin, resting your chin on your cupped fingers. “I suppose so.” You eyed him warmly, then nodded to the chair next to you. Always warm. Always welcoming. “Now, what did you get up to today?”

Satoru groaned, flopping onto the seat with a creak. He placed the capri sun down to place his hands against his face. “Two specials grades in Iwate, one grade one in Kagawa, then three nasty things leeching off on the playground on the way home.” He knew he should feel exhausted. He usually did. But that day, this day, he did not. If anything, he felt well rested.

Odd.

You hum softly. “They’re overworking you, Satoru,” your tone is barely there. Your words could be missed if the house had any movement or loud noises. But it was just you and him. The soft background noises of your daughter. Always you and him. “They should recognize that you’re just a man. One day it’ll be too much. One day you’ll snap in half.”

Satoru frowned, finding the sudden shift in tone a little unsettling. “I’m the strongest, no need to worry.” He waved a passive hand in the air between you.

“I’ll always worry. It’s been my job to worry.” Your eyes moved towards Rie almost melancholic. “She’ll worry too, you know. She does worry. More than she should at 10.”

Satoru frowned deeper. “Eh…?” He blinked slowly, eyes sliding to Rie with confusion. 10? Was he crazy? Blind? Since when was the little girl sitting on the couch 10? Last he checked, she was six. It was 2012. Were you losing it on him? Was this your subtle way of telling him you’re spiraling again? “Baby, she is not—“

“I know you worry too. Think you’ve been worried about losing since the moment you got home.”

Losing? He’s never lost. Well, except those few times. But they didn’t count. Those were intentional loses.

Satoru was beginning to feel as though you both were having two different conversations. “Y/N, I’m not following.” He stated softly, eyebrows furrowed.

“What do you have to do tomorrow, Satoru?” You breezed through as if you knew where that was going. A pensive expression on your face now.

Again, he frowned, narrowing his eyes. “Tomorrow? I…Well, I’m going to Shinjuku to… to…” To…what…? What was it he had to do? He could feel it deep in his chest. That ache. That unfamiliar emptiness that made him rub over his heart softly. There was something he was missing.

“Tomorrow’s going to be romantic,” You said wistfully, eyes distant as you sighed. “Well, it’s supposed to be.”

December 24th.

December 24th. So I don’t have to remember two different dates.

How romantic.

Satoru felt his gut churn. He wasn’t sure why. He couldn’t explain it but everything felt so tight now.

“I’m not.. I don’t…?”

Why couldn’t he get words out. Why did he stare at you like that? Unmoving, unblinking? Why did his eyes collect with tears.

Why did you look so sad?

You reached out, taking his hand. It’s cold. It feels cold. Not like the usual warmth that envelopes him whenever you held him. Whenever you reached out from him.

You’re cold.

You take his hand. “Satoru, what’s happening tomorrow?”

Seriously, what is with you?

Satoru clenched his jaw. “What are you doing?” He wasn’t sure why but he felt so unnerved. He felt like he’s been disillusioned. As if his world was crumbling. But he didn’t get it. He didn’t understand.

You’re cold.

You looked briefly disappointed in his response. “You’re not well. You’re trying to appear to be, but you’re not. She worries. She’s so worried. And you know it.” Your hand reached out and cupped his cheek. Your cold thumb gently stroked against his bone, against the tears that were flowing— why was he crying?

“I’m fine. Just a little tired.” He didn’t feel tired. “I just need a nap.” He didn’t feel tired.

“Oh, Satoru, I’m so sorry,” you uttered it, barely audible. But it was enough to conjure up an earth shattering sob from his chest. A heartbroken tremble under your touch. “I’m so sorry for leaving you.”

“You’re right here?” Confusion was clear in his tone and his expression as he stared back at you.

You just smiled sadly in response.

He shook his head. “You’re right here.” He prided a finger against your chest. Firm. But cold.

You tilted your head and blinked slowly at him.

Satoru wasn’t sure why, but he took in as deep breath. Like he couldn’t quite catch it in the first place.

“You didn’t— You’re right here!” He desperately clutched onto your hand, pressing your skin against his own. “You’re right here. This-This is real. This-This is you. Please. Please, this is you.”

You only stared sadly in response.

Satoru wasn’t sure what was happening. Why he was so panicked or why he felt so terribly sad— but he knew it was making him quiver and sob. Why? Why? Why did this all have to happen to you? Of all people had you been the one to suffer?

What suffering?

“I…” He felt breathless. Feather light. He felt like he had no control of his lips or his tongue. “Tomorrow I fight… Sukuna…?”

Sukuna? Since when? When did—

“Since before Shibuya. Since before Itadori Yuji.” You answered his thoughts.

Itadori Yuji. Satoru thought that name sounded familiar. A blank face appeared in his mind, the back of a pink hair head facing him. Itadori Yuji.

He felt like he was living someone else’s life. As if he were placed in some point in space where nothing bad could touch it.

But these feelings, these tears, this ache in his chest wasn’t peaceful. It wasn’t safe from the darkness of the world.

“Nanami… Yaga… Nobara…” You uttered the names that made his ears ring. That made his muscles tense and his heart sputter to a catastrophic halt. “But still you dream of Suguru…. of me…. of the lives you desperately want to hold on to.”

Suguru… you…

Satoru’s lips quivered.

Suguru… you….

“Why?” You asked the million dollar question.

Breathless whispers against sweat slick skin. Endless touches of tense muscle. Hair hanging and tickling. Eyes sure and hardened with undoubted honesty.

Why? Satoru thought that question was dumb. Why would the earth dream to reach out for the moon and the sun?

He stared at you, big blue eyes glittering with shimmering tears. “I’m the strongest… I should’ve saved the ones I loved… I should’ve… I’m the strongest.”

To be whole. To be loved. To love.

You sigh softly. Sadly. “Satoru, you can’t save everyone.”

“But I could.”

“Obviously not.”

The words were final. Absolute. No doubt. And he supposed, a deep part of him knew, you were right.

But that other part of himself. The one that hated himself for what happened, for whatever happened, convinced him otherwise.

“You don’t—“

“Get it?” You raised an eyebrow at his blink. “I’m your subconscious. I’m your deepest, most personal thoughts. I get it.”

Satoru stared in return. “…huh?”

You pressed your lips together. “Satoru, you’re the strongest. But you don’t always have to be.” You whispered if. A nefarious secret between the both of you that couldn’t be touched. That couldn’t be shared outside of this setting. You scoot closer in your chair. You’re slotted between his legs. “There’ll come a time where you need to step back. To rest. And let those you’ve guided this far to do their jobs.”

Resting. Stepping back.

No one had ever spoken those words to him before. It was never a guarantee nor was it ever a possibility. He feared, even now, he couldn’t even dream about something like that.

Are you the strongest because you’re Gojo Satoru? Or are you Gojo Satoru because you’re the strongest?

Years later, Satoru didn’t know what to make of his words. But Suguru had always known him better, he supposed.

Distracted, he didn’t realize you had started to card your fingers through his hair, bringing his head against your shoulder. It was a blissful moment when he came to his senses. When he felt your fingers ghost his scalp. When he felt your lips brush against his temple.

“You should take a nap, you look tired.”

The moment the words left your lips, his eyes felt heavy and he felt exhausted. He hadn’t felt tired before. He would love to sleep. But…

“What about you?” He whispered, eyes unmoving from your face. He studied the bow of your lips. The softness and warmth of your eyes. The faint blush across your cheeks. The little wrinkles on your forehead. “If I close my eyes, you’ll be gone.”

“No,” you shook your head and placed your free hand against his rapidly beating heart. “I’ll be here.”

How cliche. He wanted to say. But he would take it. He’d take and savor any moment with you.

He took in a shuddering breath. “I love you.”

“I love you.” No hesitation. No doubt. How could this be a dream? Something of his own mind? He nuzzled into your neck with a small sigh. “Take care of her.”

Take care of her.

Satoru woke with a soft gasp.

He was not happy or surprised to find the ceiling of his dark room instead of the dining room.

The clock next to his bed illuminated 2AM in angry red outline. He’d been asleep for approximately 4 hours. And dreamt of you. Again.

His jaw clenched as he tried to push down the tears that threatened to spill over. You, angelic, in your rightful place typing away. That’s what you should be doing.

Instead, you were one of the first to die in Shibuya.

It’d been you, then Nanami, then Nobara, then whoever else.

She got caught up with Noritoshi in the tunnels, that Death Womb Painting kid tried to explain to Satoru when everyone else had been too distraught and nervous to reveal it themselves. She didn’t suffer.

It didn’t bring him comfort. Satoru was pretty sure it was a lie, but it still brought him no comfort.

It gave him all the more reason to make Kenjaku suffer.

December 24th.

Today was the day.

Almost two months since your death. Christmas Eve.

Satoru was pretty sure he was about to do the same. Embrace death for the sake of others.

He could look around, tell all of them that he’d win, but there was that growing inkling that this was mounting up against him. That Sukuna— Megumi— knew exactly what to do to get one up on him. He feared the unknown. The possibility this was it.

What would you say?

“Dad?”

Satoru’s eyes dragged from the ceiling and to the spot next to him.

Now 10, Rie was older and less rambunctious. But he blamed that partly on your death and his sudden sealing.

She had clung to him since he returned. Tears streaming down her face as she hugged him, begged him to never go again— she thought she’d lost him just like mama. (It’d been six years since he heard her call you mama.) And she slept in his bed. Said she couldn’t sleep otherwise. She’d curl up against him and he’d run his hands through her hair as he hummed a long forgotten lullaby to guide her to sleep.

Shoko said she needed this. Him.

Satoru knew she needed you.

“Rie, did I wake you?” He asked sympathetically.

“No,” surprisingly, it sounded like the truth. “I’ve been up.”

He frowned, “Why?”

There was a prolonged pause between them. A thick layer of hesitation passed and Satoru tensed up. What could she possibly be up for?

When he heard the small sniffle, his heart ached.

He sat up and drew her into his arms, holding her close as he pressed kisses against her head. “Hey, hey, why are you crying?”

“I don’t want you to die!” Rie sobbed immediately. “I don’t want you to fight stupid Sukuna! I just want you to stay here with me— I can’t lose you too!”

I can’t lose you too.

Satoru pressed his lips together as tears sprung to his eyes. “Rie, I’m not going to die.” Such sure words for a man who was worried over his own mortality only moments ago. Who had to be reassured by his subconscious image of his dead wife that it’s okay to lose.

Rie shook her head frantically. “No! I heard Kusakabe say you will!” She sobbed, clutching onto his night shirt with a vice like hold.

Satoru silently cursed the man as he rubbed Rie’s back. “I’m not going anywhere, okay? What does Kusakabe know anyway, the schmuck?” His poor attempt at joking fell flat, Rie only continued to cry. With a heavy sigh, Satoru pulled back, holding her face in his hands. “What do I always say, hm? I’m the strongest. I’ll get one up on him.”

Rie stared up at him and Satoru was painfully aware of how young she was. “You promise?” She uttered.

Satoru hesitated.

If he were to promise and it didn’t actually work out, who was he? Would she resent him for the rest of her life? Would she try to forget him and spit on his memory? He’d been promised many things in life by people he looked up to and every single one had been broken. Resentment festered. Trust was broken.

What kind of father was he if he—

Take care of her. She worries.

Satoru tucked some of her hair— your hair— behind her ear. “I promise.” He whispered, pressing a tender kiss against her forehead. “I promise.”

Rie clutched onto him once again. “I love you.”

No hesitation.

“I love you too.”

The worries of Sukuna and Kenjaku could wait until morning. Satoru had to focus on her now.

Take care of her.

#✩࿐ t writes #♡ oneshot #gojo satoru #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo x reader #gojo x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen fic #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru angst #yeahhhh #another one where reader is dead #can’t help myself sorry.

1K notes · View notes

maplleaf · 2 years

Text

《"Bridal style? but I'm not a bride!》

Sumeru boys reacting to you carrying them bridal style.

Characters: Alhaitham, The Wanderer (Scaramouche), Kaveh, Cyno, Tighnari

》 Akademiya's Scribe : Al Haitham

Those arms are no joke, Alhaitham is a beefy man.

And you. His precious partner; someone who can somehow defy his 'always rational' mindset. He knows you're capable of handling yourself but the scribe has always liked the idea of protecting you.

Which is why when you picked him up and held him nonchalantly, he's quite ??? at first.

He's never been into heavy PDA and the endless teasing that might come from his roommate if Kaveh sees this makes him dread the idea.

He'll ask you to place him down, but if no one's around and he has a perfectly good book in his hands; Alhaitham would sigh and continue on reading.

The feeling of you holding him so gently whilst having the strenght to carry him made Alhaitham slightly flustered, but you didn't hear it from me.

8/10 very heavy, but now you have a pretty bookworm nerd prince in your arms.

》 The Wanderer : Scaramouche

(I know he's from Inazuma but his vision frame is Sumeru's soooo)

Touch starved boy

Despite his rather unpleasant temper, Scaramouche has a soft spot for you. That doesn't mean he won't be cranky tho.

Honestly, if you're in a public place Scaramouche would be uncomfortable and angry; he wants these types of moments where he could be vulnerable only for you and him. He'll be fine with it when you're both alone.

When you picked him up and held him so closely, he went tsundere mode and demanded you to place him down, but the way he stuttered those words may mean he doesn't fully want you to.

If you do as you're told, Scaramouche would act pissed off, but he can't stop thinking about how you picked him up and held him gently for the rest of the day.

But if you don't listen to his demands and complaints, Scaramouche would still be angry at first then the complaints slowly turned into a "fine, whatever" as you held him close to you

9/10 tsundere boi, he's light as hell so it's easy to sweep him off his feet. The whining gets annoying tho.

》 The Palace of Alcazarzaray's Architect : Kaveh

Smirks at you, goes confident mode

Kaveh has always been the type to tease you. So when your strong arms swept him off his feet, he sees a golden opportunity.

"Oh? Did someone missed me?"

A part of you is tempted to drop him on the floor for all the teasing but didn't have the heart to.

It slowly morphs into the two of you flirting/bickering with eachother. If Alhaitham walks in on this, it's best he pretends to not see it.

Kaveh actually likes you picking him up like that. Whilst he does take the more affectionate role in the relationship most of the time, Kaveh likes the feeling of you holding him gently after he finished the sketches for his next project.

10/10 he's light to be picked up + bonus flirting with eachother.

》 The General Mahamatra : Cyno

One might think the general mahamatra might not like the idea of being picked up and carried like a bride. They're wrong.

Cyno is neutral when he's being carried by you like this; it just depends on the surroundings.

If the place you're is both in is safe and he's not doing any important work, he'll let you pick him up with ease. The blank and straight face might say otherwise, but he likes it.

Cyno is a warrior at heart, he brings judgement upon those at the Akademiya or those at the desert; but being picked up gently by you makes him feel butterflies.

He might show you his appreciation in the form of a smile, or three of his best jokes.

10/10 he has those muscles from being the General Mahamatra, but Cyno is still easy to pick up. Remember to laugh at his jokes.

》 Avidya Forest Watcher : Tighnari

"Watch it on the tail!" He did not groom it to be soft n fluffy just for it to be ruined, be careful.

Like Cyno, if he's doing any important things or is in a dangerous area; don't pick him up. But if the two of you are just patrolling or in a private area, go for it!

Tighnari quite likes it when you pick him up. He's not big on PDA, but some exceptions can be made.

If the forest ranger is feeling tired that day, he might lean to your chest and rest his eyes for a bit. Keeping anyone safe from the forest isn't an easy task, so let the fox rest for a bit against you.

His ears are sensitive, so he can hear your heartbeat clearly if he presses his head against your chest. He finds it comforting

11/10 very light and soft, pet those ears.

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queenendless · 10 months

Text

❤️‍🩹Tough Love (Adult!SatoSugu x Adult!Fem!Reader)❤️‍🩹

A/N: This is a paid commission I wrote, requested by @anime-lover1234

Content warning: JJK AU with lots of angst, hurt/comfort, short injured teacher/sorcerer reader with lots of boo boos, overprotective!upset!SatoSugu hubbies yall.

Haibara alive in this AU, Nanako and Mimiko are first years here with Yuji Megumi and Nobara and they're your students too. Plus Gojo can heal others in this AU.

AND NEARLY 7K LONG SO THERE!

*Please DON'T plagarize, translate, or repost my FANFIC content. Reblog, like and follow instead.

You wanted to impress them.

You wanted to prove your worth in battle.

But things went far off the deep end.

It all began that one sunset evening.

As a Grade 1 Jujutsu Sorcerer, you were a perfect match for the Grade 1 curse spirit lurking in the forest near an abandoned school rumored to be haunted after closing down due to allegations of murderous cover ups.

As you pulled down the Curtain, the cool winds blew at your hair, swaying along with your black attire, as the sun was setting for you exorcized the curse at last.

You were turning, ready to return to Haibara-kun who was waiting by the car parked out front, when you felt a stir in the air.

You sensed it further deep in the thicket.

Another cursed spirit.

Small … but on the highest level.

Curiosity and cockiness came in, seeping into your being, compulsively drawn towards your next – spontaneous – assignment.

It was a tall skinny humanoid one, blood painting its skin, eating one of the few mangled teen corpses strewn about the splattered wrecked tents of the makeshift campsite.

"Forgive me. I couldn't save you all." You muttered, cursed energy pulsing through your legs. “I'll avenge you by exorcizing that curse.”

Then you chanted quietly.

“Emerge from the darkness, blacker than darkness. Purify that which is impure."

With the barrier now placed; this one designed to keep curses in, you moved in.

With its eyes slowly turning to spot you bouncing off the branches, a swift blur dashing through the air, you warped right behind it, readying a blow right to its head.

But going toe to toe with a special grade cursed spirit on your own … you know it's not the same as it was before. But you were willing to take this golden opportunity.

Your fist blazing with cursed energy, ready to strike, even as —

The spike in its cursed energy went through the roof in that split second.

The atmosphere now pricked with that rotten flesh smog coming off its figure.

One that sprouted up to 10 ft tall.

Your cursed punch missed its mark.

Its sharpened hand going right into your side.

It was all a trap.

And you fell for it.

Hook line and sinker.

Your banshee cry startled the birds as you warped out of its grip, blood spraying out from the forced movement, skidding back on shaky limbs, its toxic touch seeping into your gash wound.

Flashes of white exploded in your mind.

The screams of your two mighty husband sorcerers were blowing out your eardrums.

Your vision was spotty but you felt the shift in its cursed presence spring forward through the air, barely dodging its swipe but feeling the tips of its claws scrape your stomach.

Deciding to draw it away, you became the injured bait, running for your life, warping out of its grab, ready to slam a kick down from above —

The sight of Satoru and Suguru bleeding and crumpled before you took its place. A twinge of fear stabbed your nerves — you were socked hard from the side, paralyzing your cranium, warping in your dazed state right before slamming into a tree.

Covering your ears in futility at the intrusive fake voices invading your eardrums, you squeezed your eyes over your unwillingness to see their gutted crimson painted selves.

"Don't leave us here!"

Toru.

"How could you leave us behind!?"

Sugu.

"It's not real. They're not here. They can hold their own. Even against bastards like you." You growled under your breath, keeping your eyes shut. "Don't see. Don't hear. Just feel."

Sniffing the air as cursed energy heightened your nostrils, you followed its putrid stench and nothing else. Trusting your sense of smell by amplifying it to near max — your limit.

Yet the debilitating toxins were slowing you down. You were getting lightheaded as blood trailed down your side and leg from that open wound. The punches and kicks you managed to land on it were barely making a dent on this creep.

This curse was sapping you of your strength, your swiftness, and your stability at an alarming rate. All you could do was dodge and weave. But didn't stop the onslaught of punches, kicks and slashes littering your body.

Those normal – now dead – teens were just fodder to it.

Now that you; a sorcerer, was in its domain, you became its toy. It would kill you. But first, it would take its time and play with you, prolonging its enjoyment as long as possible, wearing you down until you broke …

Down at the nearby rural town, outside a combini, a bespectacled man just stepped out, throwing away the wrappings of his just finished sandwich, turning to where the foul energies were resonating, seeing the barrier among the thicket of trees …

Curled into the ground, gashes, bruises and blood painted your now immobile body, keeping your head to the ground when you suddenly sensed a trusting presence slipping inside the veil, looming above you, followed by the anguished roars of the special grade collapsing.

"Don't let it hit you … its toxins can make you hallucinate … and can mimic voices." You rasped out the warnings, coughing out blood in the process, when his folded work jacket was pressed into your hands then against your crimson dripping side.

"Understood. Keep pressure on that wound. You've lost enough blood already." You choked out a sob of relief at that low rumbling voice.

Kento Nanami.

A fellow Grade 1 sorcerer. A dependable comrade and a close friend. One of incredible proficiency. Extremely precise aim. Evades with clever maneuvers. Reinforced body with cursed energy.

Tying his spotted tie around his fist, he went into Overtime. With his now stained clothed blunted sword in hand, Nanami struck in as many weak spots as he could create on that titan.

The red and black sparks of Black Flash streaking right off him to chop off its enormous arm.

His words were ringing in your ears as he revealed his hand intentionally to raise his power levels.

Slashing weak points in the surrounding pine trees, he follows it off with diving in to cleave off its legs by the knee.

Bringing it face down to ground level just to cleave its head in two horizontally.

Releasing both his binding vows to enact that single blow, Nanami's extension technique Collapse activated, causing those pine trees to come tumbling down to bury it for good measure.

Scooping you up at breakneck speed, you two got clear of the fallen debris, slipped through the decaying barrier.

Neither of you sensed it any more.

Nanami's eyes bore great disappointment down upon you from on high. "And here I thought you were better than to emulate those two's recklessness."

You felt your pride crack, your ego bruise, and your shame boosted over Nanami-san's disapproval when you felt yourself blacking out and your form became limp too quick for his liking.

Nanami's exasperated, panicking face getting all up in yours, his shouting going mute in your ringing ears, occurred before it all went dark.

❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

Hastily calling Nitta-san to send the proper authorities to handle post cleanup in those woods, Nanami kept pressure on your wound in your stead as he situated you two carefully in the backseat as Haibara stepped on it; his wary eyes peeking in the rearview mirror now and then just so he wouldn't crash the car.

Watching in dismay as the only signs of you still alive was your little shifts of discomfort paired with frail mumbling, calling out for your loves, as fear worked its way to the front of your mind.

Hurriedly calling Shoko immediately after to meet them at the foothills of Mount Mushiro where the screeching halts of the car's tires skidded to an almost collision at the first torii gate.

The backseat was tainted red as Nanami tossed his stained business jacket aside then undid the buttons of your uniform jacket then tugged up your undershirt enough to show your biggest wound, allowing Shoko to lean over and work.

“What a way to spend my night." She huffed, concentrating as pure white light emanated off her hands and over your wound.

"She's lost a lot of blood already on top of fractured broken bones. And hallucinogenic, auditory ailments are still in effect even when curse has been exorcized." Nanami added, brooding from the added severity of the situation.

"What the hell, L/n?” Shoko heaved heavily, shedding sweat. "That curse's toxins are still in her system. It's making it difficult to fully heal her.” She was able to seal up your side wound though. “That will have to do for now. We need to move her."

"I'll join you all once I park the car." Haibara informed them, quickly leaning over from the driver's seat to kiss Nanami.

Nanami's tender gaze came Haibara's way before he got out of the car, carrying you, carefully treading up the steps, Shoko shutting the car door and hurrying behind him, with Haibara driving off and Nanami's bloody business jacket left discarded on the back seat.

Shoko spent the late night hours repairing your damaged self, collapsing over the metal surgical table from the overtime stress, panting from her energy spent. Blood pumped into a vein on your arm via the cannula connected to the drip. And your shallow breathing toppled with a cold sweat only made her push herself further as she squeezed your hand to keep you as grounded as possible and you continued murmuring the guys names in raspy, pleading whispers.

A harried Nanami patted Shoko's forehead with a clean spare rag lying on a counter while Haibara gave her a water bottle to hydrate.

Coming in and out of consciousness, tugged between horrish illusions and bleak reality, your once weakened pulse grew stronger as Shoko's RCT filled you, pushing the toxins out of your system.

So when you finally awoke, faded scars and bruises dotted your skin, front and back, leaving you groaning weakly as you clutched your pounding head. You felt like a truck had run you over.

"About time you woke up. Those fear toxins should be leaving your system now. But it did make healing you quite taxing for me. We can continue your checkup in the afternoon when we've both rested. But I could really use a drink right now.” Shoko apathetically griped as she carefully pulled the IV out of your arm just to place a cotton ball sticking to a bandage over the small leaking prick.

“Sorry about that, Shoko.” Feeling her gloved hand holding your still sore one, you barely squeezed back. "I failed to exorcize that special grade … I'm sorry I made you all overwork because of my screw-up." Your guilt stricken face struck their hearts.

"Nitta-san made sure the bodies were collected … what was left of them. Just count yourself fortunate that the curse was just dragging it out when I arrived. Never underestimate them." Nanami chastised you at the end, his goggles currently off, sternness laced in his eyes.

"Please … don't tell the guys. It's bad enough I couldn't exorcize it by myself. If they find out, they'll never let me live this down. Satoru especially." You weakly pleaded, struggling to sit up but able to get up on your bum as Haibara pulled you up.

"They'll find out sooner or later. And there'll be hell to pay if you choose to omit it from them. I will not partake in that sort of nonsense." Nanami griped, dreading the world flipped on its axis once your husbands found out.

"They'll never want to leave my side after this! They're already dealing with workloads of missions as is! Adding this to their pillars of stressful shit … I just need to be right as rain ASAP."

"No such thing as stress free in our line of work." Shoko bluntly stated.

"Gojo-san and Geto-san would be heartbroken if you kept this from them." Haibara frowned, personally wounded.

"They'd be even more wrecked that this happened and they weren't there to stop it …" Anxious guilt raked your bones.

A hand plopped into your hair, brushing it gingerly. “Your foolish pride as a sorcerer better be worth it if you're prepared for what will come of this endeavor." Nanami's foreboding didn't stop you from embracing him around his waist, pressing your face in his stomach, humming as Haibara gently hugged you from behind, and Shoko smiled nonetheless at the cute scene, especially at Nanami's sternness lessening and patting your head some more.

Still too out of it to walk on your own, you were pushed out in a wheelchair by Haibara, straight back to the dorms, stating he would stay in the room beside yours in case you needed any aid for the night, needing to head out in the morning alongside Nanami.

Carrying your ruined uniform clothes in the recyclable bag Shoko kept them in, you set them aside as you limped about to change into familiar comfier PJs you kept on hand in your old dorm room closet whenever you had to crash at the school grounds.

Pulling your phone out of the zip lock bag it was kept in thanks to Shoko too, you had seen it was still on.

They had been messaging you all night. Notifications of your group chat popping up on your lock screen.

But you just … felt too ashamed and embarrassed to reply back.

So you turned it off.

Without them smushing you between them tonight, there was no comforting warmth keeping you safe and sound.

And the aftermath of those horrific illusions and their copycats speaking during and post battle still lingered in your memory. Tittering between life and death, you were trapped within your worst nightmare yet.

Their disapproving glares.

Their cold voices.

Turning their backs on you as they walked into the foggy embrace of bloodshed against your voiceless cries and your wavering hand fruitlessly reached out into nothingness.

So going back to sleep was the last thing you wanted.

But even so, being in your old single dorm bed, your quiet sobs swarmed the room, your pent up agony painting your pillow in tears, stewing internally over wanting to suffer your follies alone versus wishing more than anything to have Toru and Sugu embracing you to chase all those bad dreams and fears away like they have always done.

Your phone stayed isolated on the small wooden bedside table, plugged in and charging. In silence.

Meanwhile, in a hotel, nestled in the Saitama prefecture that lies above Tokyo…

"Well, the twins are sleeping. Their mission definitely exhausted them both." Suguru softly informed, returning to his partner's side after checking on the girls in the room across from theirs.

A pouty Satoru groaned miserably, splayed out like a moody pancake across the bed, puppy eyes trained on his phone. "Suguru~! She's not answering me~!”

Now splayed out beside him on their shared hotel bed, Suguru ruffled Satoru's poofy hair. "Perhaps she's sleeping."

"She always answers me though! She didn't even send me a cute kitty gif~! The injustice!" Satoru cried, shoving his phone screen right in his best friend's face.

Suguru pushed Satoru's phone aside, pulled out his own from his sweatpants and sent a heart your way. And yet, it was not even read on your end. His forehead creased with worry. "No response for me either … I do hope nothing bad has happened.”

Satoru slung an arm around Suguru's neck, pulling himself snug against him, frowning vividly. "I miss her."

Suguru plopped his cheek atop Satoru's noggin. "So do I. The sooner we finish here with our own cases, the sooner we can have her in our arms again. Until then," Suguru brushed aside Satoru's snowy bangs to smooch his velvety forehead, tenderly grinning. "We'll just have to keep each other company~"

Now that piqued Satoru's intrigue, cheekily giggling as he rolled them over so the raven head could straddle him. “Nothing wrong with that~”

Suguru quickly turned the side table lamp off before engaging in a long, sensual make out with his smirking mate, whisking the night away.

Your new strategy going forward?

Keep your phone off.

Give off the illusion of still being out in the field, doing assignments far off in the distance.

Stay locked up in your old room except for Shoko's treatments and bathroom breaks.

Until you were all patched up; no visually alarming marks blemishing your skin, you wouldn't let any aside from those that already knew find out.

Not your students.

NOT your men.

By the time you had awoken, Haibara had already left as informed. His sticky note he left on your bedside table with morning greetings and hopes to see you soon followed by a scribbled smiley face did turn your frown upside down.

But it meant you were the only one left in the dorm as your throbbing self painstakingly grabbed some long sleeved apparel outta the closet and changed before putting on some slippers. It was fall now, slowly transitioning to winter, so it was the perfect cover up to be snugly dressed.

You had just gotten outside when you noticed the trio heading to the torii gate exit.

Yuji sniffing the air was what alerted you; skidding to a halt as he was literally across from you on the other side of the long stone pathway, turning to eye you with an unpleasant awkwardness. Running over, his nose dove in closer to get a deep long whiff of you to your jitteriness.

He was your best student in terms of enhancing his senses to their peak with cursed energy. And one you cherished like your own pride and joy. Your pure son.

“L/n-sensei … you're injured. And you look restless. Did something happen?” His eyes became glassy saucers.

Your game plan was on the rocks now. Super human senses at work!

“Hey! The sooner we finish our mission from that blindfolded madman, the sooner I can get to shopping! So move it! No offense, sensei!” Nobara snapped out loud, waiting by the gate, curious what was occurring but impatient to wrap things up for her own reasons.

“Cone on Itadori! We're burning daylight!” Megumi coaxed.

“Alright alright, I'm coming!” Yuji's voice then softened for just you two to hear. “Sensei, whatever’s going on, just … take it easy, okay?”

Your heart swelled at his considerate caring nature like the precious boy he is, smiling thankfully. “I will. Thanks.”

“Welcome back.” That genuine smile of relief and joy of Yuji's almost made you tear up; your swelling up heart touched by his words, doing your best to smile through the soreness as you waved at the boy, saluting back to you, joining his friends, and heading off.

You started uncomfortably limping on your way the moment you students were out of eyesight. Shoko met you halfway, presenting a new wheelchair for you to make traversing more easier. “Sorry but Nanami-kun wanted me to remind you to work on your report about last night. We can head to the faculty office first. Besides, you look ready to topple over.”

You internally groaned at the stingy procedures, expected to recount your near death experience down to the last detail; literally occurring just last night, sending a grateful look her way. “What would I do without you, Shoko?”

“Let's just say I'm better off with you in my life … and I know I'm not the only one.” Apathy gave way to relieving passion in her gaze that you looked away to brush your wet eyes. And you both left it at that as she wheeled you the rest of the way.

Flash forward to some time later …

“I can't believe you going gung ho back there cost me my chance to hit up that sale at my new favorite boutique, you boneheaded idiot!” Nobara bit out.

“Okay okay, I get it! Go easy on my shoulder, Kugisaki!” Yuji yelped in pain at how much she was fussing as she and Megumi helped him walk since he took the brunt of the hits in their latest mission.

“Always ready to put yourself on the line for us … we can handle ourselves, you know, doofus.” Megumi was less harsh, making sure not to hit his shin against Yuji's stabbed one; wrapped in the torn sleeve of Yuji's uniform to stop the bleeding.

Yuji noticed the tender gaze his spiky haired friend gave him, smiling in recognition, chuckling sheepishly. “Protective instincts, I guess.”

“Serves you right, idiot.” Though Nobara and Megumi spoke such mocking words, they were softly spoken, still irked but also grateful they're all still standing.

The moment the trio splurged through the morgue door, spotting your bare back littered with bumps and wide slash marks had them faltering as their short beloved teacher and practically mother figure was in this state.

“WHAT THE HELL?!”

Their unified exclaims startled Shoko enough to press too hard on a red welt on your forearm, causing your excruciating shout.

You slapped your palms over your mouth, mortified at legit blowing your cover out loud.

Due to the fact that Shoko at the moment got a sudden phone call while examining you.

From THEM.

“Shoko, what was that?” Suguru demanded.

“Sounds like a wounded animal!” Satoru exclaimed.

“Takes one to know one. I have work to get back to. Bye bye~” Shoko's false perky jab reverts back to her usual demeanor after hanging up on them. “I would say stay hidden until everything settles down but I'd be lying. I know 25 mins away means those two lunatics will floor it by the end of the day. I wish you the best of luck, my dear.” Her sympathetic pat on your shoulder did not calm down those anxious belly butterflies.

“I knew you were hurt but … OKASAN WHO DID THIS TO YOU!?” Yuji's own wounds were forgotten as he scrambled over to you, blubbering out waterfalls, throwing off everyone by legit calling you mom out loud but too overwhelmed to notice right away.

You pulled your shirt back down, flushed in shame. “Special grade got the upper hand on me. Nanami-san saved me. Sorry to have you three see me like this. So please … keep this between us? Please?” You literally prayed for it.

“For my favorite sensei, my lips are sealed.” Nobara assured.

“Geto-sensei may be less hysterical … Gojo-sensei not so much … but those two together … oh God.” Megumi paled up at the reality.

“The calm …” Nobara ominously started.

“Before the shit storm.” Megumi drearily ended.

“Uh, while I'm not a big fan of keeping things from Gojo-sensei, if it's what you want, then I'll do it.” Yuji, skeptical but willing to make you happy, blushed pink as you embraced him loosely due to you still not being at full strength yet.

“Thank you.” You weeped.

Megumi, Nobara and even Shoko joined in on that hug.

Meanwhile, back in Saitama, again, nestled outdoors in front of a patisserie.

“That was suss as hell.” Gojo lowly rumbled, sitting under the umbrella covered table on one end, stuffing his last – now smooshed – Maneki Usagi Manju from his hands straight to his mouth.

“We know that shout all too well …” Geto's eyes teemed with cynicism, sitting across from him, sipping Sayama tea in one hand, his phone in the other.

Their mentality synced, restlessness in their bones, their six senses flaring up with red alerts.

Something did happen to you.

Something big.

Something bad.

With their cases long since finished; not surprising, their leisure time was spent sightseeing, tasting the treats the places they visited had to offer. Meaning more sweets for Gojo to savor. However, his gut along with Geto's twisted at the thought of you in trouble.

“Girls, gather your things. We're heading back now.” Geto firmly spoke while speed dialing Ijichi-san to come pick them up.

The twins, sitting at the table beside theirs, stopped taking selfies of themselves with their cutely decorated drinks at his announcement. “Yes, Papa~!”

Throughout the ride back to the school; Ijichi-san fidgeting and sweating bullets at his seniors stewing in silence, panicked thoughts raced through the duo's minds.

The one constant that kept coming up?

Whatever was going on with you …

They were getting to the bottom of it.

The sky changed from blue and calm to orange and warm.

Getting healed by Shoko before being ushered out to continue healing you, the trio crashed in the common room slash longue when the sight of Nanako and Mimiko waving and smiling as they entered with bags of gifts and snacks to share and give had the trio beaming at the twins safe return.

However, the sight of their teachers coming round the corner into view, radiating such potent agitated auras, sent the trio's hearts racing in dread.

It spelled the first sign of doom.

Gojo zipped up right to them, a wide ass smile on his face, waving with bags of souvenirs on the other arm, cheerfully greeting them all.

“Oh my precious students~! Your esteemed adoring sensei has returned! And I come bearing gifts for you all! As thanks for a job well done! But on the condition that you answer me truthfully! Do you happen to know what our dear Y/n has been up to as of late~?”

“Nope.” Megumi kept a straight face.

“Nada.” Nobara is the same.

“We know nothing.” Yuji as well.

Their calm blunt responses had Geto narrow his eyes at their stoic behavior, the twins shuffling to him in nervousness at the tense situation, and Gojo's fake smile fell, becoming so straight faced. “Hmm … okay then. Hold these, please and thanks.”

Dropping their bagged gifts into their arms, Gojo warping away was the second sign.

Appearing again before them, with a squirming distressed you in his arms, was the final nail in the coffin.

Gojo hastily set you down, firmly grabbed your sweater sleeve covered hand, and tugged that sleeve up to your shoulder. Even with the blindfold on, you could picture his Six Eyes shrinking to dots at the colorful splotches and littering your once unblemished skin.

“What the hell?” Gojo's shaky raw voice had you gulping.

“How did … when did … Y/n explain yourself!” Geto's perturbed face turned to aggravation.

Keeping your head ducked, you could picture their eyes bearing those same cold, disappointing glazes those curse's nightmares forced you to bear. Your state of panic got triggered!

You wince in pain, trying in vain to tug your hand free of Gojo's iron hold. Warping into the morgue, literally sweeping you off your feet, greeting Shoko, then warping out of the morgue all meant your recovery got cut short.

"Hey! Where do you think you're going!?" Gojo jested, pulling your back against his front, caging you in his hold, knowing to restrain himself on the pressure, gritting his canines at seeing those same colorful marks on the back of your neck. “You better start talking.”

"You mustn't strain yourself any more, either! You can barely walk as is!" Geto irritatedly griped, wrapping his arms around your other one, leaving you wobbling, therefore needing either of them as counterbalance.

"I'll be fine! I'll get better! I'm innocent!" You babbled desperately, wiggling like a worm, to your utter dismay and their annoyance.

Geto narrowed his eyes, downtrodden. "Have you no shame, Y/n? And you three knew about this, didn't you?!” His eyes flared up with scorn as his face whipped to the trio, having all three flinch back at the irritated sight.

“And after all the trouble I went through to get you all gifts!” Gojo dramatically complained.

“Unnecessary to be honest.” Megumi dryly rebuttal.

“My tastes far exceed yours, anyway.” Nobara throwing shade.

“I'll take them all, thank you very much! I felt like telling you Gojo-sensei, I swear! But L/n-sensei was in pain and I just wanted to help her!” Yuji blabbed.

“Softie.” Mimiko and Nanako teased smugly.

“Yuji~!” Gojo weeped.

“I told them to keep quiet. Shoko and Haibara too. Nanami wanted no part in it. It was all my fault!”

Your pleas only riled them up more. Their eyes returned to you, burning intensely, straight into your soul as they cushioned you between their built bodies just like a mating press.

You gasped as Geto's hand slid under your top, his calloused touch sending anxious tingles through you, feeling that tender scar left on your side, lips trembling and eyes wavering. “Honestly believing you could pull the wool over our eyes, dearest? Ridiculous.” Geto belittled.

Gojo scoffed, suddenly frightening as he towered behind you, alarming everyone besides Geto as he pulled down his blindfold to stare down at you now with those glaring Six Eyes. "Screw that. This isn't panning out well for you, darling. Not at all.”

Your weak whines of protest made the teens cringe with pity. Your short self was literally trapped between giants. The atmosphere was so thick with tension that trying to cut it with a knife would mean getting obliterated. GoGe might as well be a bomb.

But to see tears swell up in your e/c eyes and trail down your cheeks, glistening from the guilt, embarrassment and pain, everyone in that room froze in paling realization.

You were the actual bomb.

And you just got set off.

"DON'T HATE ME!"

Your heartbroken scream had the strongest duo become the weakest. Their grips laxing, their tunnel vision eroding, their resolve dusting, as you pulled away freely, tugging your sleeve back down to cover the damage, sat down on the couch to your buckling knees relief, and cried in your tarnished hands, becoming a mess for them all to see.

"L/n-sensei no!!! Please don't cry!!!" Yuji went into a panicked frenzy, squatting down before you, frazzled as you bowed your head against his jacketed shoulder, rubbing your shoulders in an attempt to soothe you, sweating bullets at the sight of his once mighty teachers now becoming statues at this turn of events. "None of us hate you! It's okay! Everything's gonna be okay! R–Right guys?!”

"You two are the scum of the Earth, you are! Harassing an injured emotional woman!" Nobara yelled abhorrently in their stunned paled faces, pulling out tissues from her small flowered package she kept in her belt pack along with her cursed tools to offer you. “Here sensei. Take these.”

"I won't blame her if she files for divorce." Megumi gripes under his breath, sitting down beside you, timidly rubbing your back in comforting circles. "L/n-sensei, you need to calm down and rest."

“Geto-sama, do something about this! Mama is a wreck now!” Nanako was willing to put her foot down at this insolence.

“This is depressing.” Mimiko patted your head from behind the couch.

Your desperate need to melt into a puddle and just die from utter disgrace was dashed when you felt Gojo approaching.

His serious blazing eyes spoke for themselves to let him handle you himself, but those kids hesitated letting this slide when the gentle shushing of their usually obnoxious teacher threw them for a loop. Sitting down in the free space on your other side, gently brushing your hair, he leaned in to your ear to confess —

"I'm sorry." You stiffened at his words as they rumbled against your ear. While you were partly miffed and scared due to his attitude, his gentleness returning made you drawn to him all over again, recollecting how much you did miss him — miss them both actually cause OF COURSE YOU DO!!!

Weaving his hand through your hair, he carefully pulled your head to rest against his chest instead, wrapping his arms around your shoulders, a shaky vulnerability leaking into his voice. “I'm so sorry.” You dare set down your hands to see his eyes as glittery blue glass. "I shouldn't have snapped like that. I hate seeing you cry like this.” His wandering hand had his fingertips weave through yours to squeeze your hand benignly. “Especially when you're all banged up. I just …”

“I'm deeply sorry as well.” The moment Suguru sat down in Megumi's spot, the kids had already stood back and watched with anticipation as his arms gently hugged your waist from behind, kissing your blotchy cheek, regret radiating on his face. “We both shouldn't have approached you so harshly. We were out of line. We just …”

They were both at a loss for words.

Taking a chance, a risk, a leap of faith, you decide to tell them the truth, rather preferring for them to hear it from you than read it from a document.

“The other night … a special grade curse popped up just when I finished my case … I wanted to prove myself … I thought I could take it on … but Nanami saved me in the end. I was … ashamed … anxious … afraid. It showed me … illusions … nightmares … of you both suffering and abandoning me … and I panicked when you both got upset earlier … I just – !”

“You haven't properly rested at all.” Geto delicately gripped your chin and turned your face to see the dark circles under your now red eyes. “Beloved, you of all people should know that keeping your troubles bottled up inside does no one any good! Least of all hiding your pain from us when we can help!”

“You can't always be there for me … I can't keep weighing you down … but I can't hold my own when it really counts … I'm never gonna be at your level … even as a Grade 1 … by myself … I'm not good enough.” Your eyes squeezed shut, deep seated in this emotional turmoil.

“Yes you are!” The sharp conviction Satoru had made your eyes snap back open. It got your attention attentively. “We still think of them … Kuroi … Amanai … what we could have done differently or better … had we not failed them. If anything happened to you … and if we weren't there to stop it … and it already has … then what the hell’s the point in being the strongest when we can't protect those that matter to us the most?!” You shook as his tears hit your nose, rubbing his wet nose against yours with those beautiful blue eyes now red with compassion looking into yours, for even his watery smile is breathtaking. “You've never been weak. Not to any of us. You kept us together through all the shit thrown our way since that day. I don't need Six Eyes to tell me this truth … that you are the most beautiful, genuine, strongest soul I know you are inside and out.”

“You're the very reason I gathered the courage to reach out to everyone when my resolve wavered … when I lost my way … it's difficult to wear a heartfelt smile in this world …” Sugu's voice slipped for a moment, his almond eyes twinkling as his wet cheek nuzzled yours, pressing a timid kiss to the corner of your lips, another breathtaking smile amiss the waterfalls. “But you brought back my smile. You helped me find a better way … I'm no longer alone. So you don't get to be either. Not anymore.”

Unified, their cracked voices caved.

“We can't lose you too.”

You breathed in their natural scents, submerged in their warmth, coveted in their supportive treasuring embrace, their crying faces resting against either side of your neck, just to be as close to you as possible without hurting you more so than that curse and themselves already have.

In this moment of vulnerability, the strongest duo put down their guards just to show you how immensely you've always mattered to them. Your pain, your sadness, your doubts … they're theirs too.

Your hand that was still being held by Satoru weaved down to rub against Suguru's knuckles, drawing him in to lay his hand atop both yours. “I feel the same way.”

“But damn Y/n, you scared us shitless." Gojo sighed exasperated, now chewing and suckling hungrily on your red cheek just to hear your raspy squeals for their amusement.

"Immensely." Geto hummed conspiratory like, chewing and tugging on your other cheek for good measure, your squeaking making them smirk.

“I'm sorry!” You garbled out, mewling.

Suguru popped off your cheek, pecking it several times apologetically. “We're sorry too. We're just relieved that you're alive.”

Satoru popped off your cheek as well, smooching the welt left in his wake. “Still injured though, but I'll finish healing you myself.”

Catharsis finally came as your waterworks were one of relief. “I missed you both so much~!!!”

"Yosh, yosh~” Satoru doting on you, petting your head like the cutie you will always be in their eyes. “We missed our cutie patootie too~” Now that got you to smile at last, shedding tears of joy, as your chortled laughs made them smile as well.

The kids left you three a while ago when the mushiness kicked in. The twins giggled as Megumi summoned his wolf Shinigami for them to ride on so they could stop pestering him, right before he buried his bashfully blushing face in the crook of Yuji's neck who carried him and Nobara with ease from her own pestering, heading off to do whatever.

Now drained from the mental and emotional trip you went through, all you wanted now was sleep.

And to be honest?

So did the guys.

Your old dorm bed would make do just this once. For old times sake. Warping you three there was easier on an already wiped Gojo, anyway.

Their uniforms, boots, and socks along with your slippers littered the floor.

The AC hummed in the background.

And the drawls of moonlight slipped through the curtains.

Tepid flustered gasps left your parted lips as Satoru sensually trailed his smooth sly hand across every inch of your backside under your top, healing you from that point as you relaxed.

You smothered your face in Satoru's snug black tee covered pecs as he ran his fingers through your hair, languidly brushing it to further soothe you, pecking your forehead. “It wasn't the same without you.”

Suguru carefully splayed on top of you from behind, warmth seeping through his snug white tee and into your cloth covered back, heatedly breathing down your flushed nape as his veiny giant hand caressed your bare tummy underneath your top as well as stroking your thighs with his other hand. “Having you to cuddle again, all snug in between us, truly feels like heaven.”

“No angel to sleep with … oh how did we cope without you~?" Satoru ranted quietly as he could for your sleepy sake.

Suguru gave him a sly smirk. “Satoru~”

Satoru chuckled, ruffling Suguru's loosely free hair, before resting that hand on Suguru's lower back. “Okay, it wasn't bad at all. Even so… can I please just keep us in this moment and never let each other go ever again?” Satoru gently begged.

“As long as I can get some shut eye. And new uniform garbs.” Your cheek nuzzled his chest, consenting in a yawn.

“Deal.” With Six Eyes now switched off, Satoru became heavy-eyed at the sight of his two favorite people in bed with him. Back together again.

“No more bad thoughts for us tonight.” Suguru languorously rumbled in your ear.

“Plus those nightmares will get a kick in the balls if they come back.” Satoru grumbled drowsily.

“If it's a curse, sure. Dreams, not so much.” You mumbled softly.

Satoru could feel your body start to reach the end of its recovery from his healing touch, trailing his hand from your back to cover your hand that rested on the front of his shirt where his heart lay.

Suguru's own hand traversed, resting atop Satoru's, all three splayed on his chest in the same exact spot.

You sagged as you felt the weight of all that battle damage lift right off you, for all the pain got replaced with fuzzy tingling warmth.

Shivering with delight, you felt those two curling in on you from both sides, their legs tangling with yours, as you all smushed in the middle, with Suguru's face against your shoulder and Satoru's in your hair.

“Toru … Sugu … I love you guys.”

Satoru breathed in your scent, smiling drowsily. “We love you too … so damn much.”

"Truly. We'd be lost forever if we never knew you.” Suguru mused languidly.

A tiny smile formed as you succumbed to your long awaited dreamland. “I … feel … the same.”

And the kiddies, poking their heads through the crack in the slide doorway, eyed you snug between those two in just their tees and boxers, your entangled limbed cocoon, the bed comforter halfway touching the floor, as gentle snores and breathing made up your guys personal symphony.

Taking some snapshots for potential blackmail material; basically on Nobara and Megumi's part, they left you three to rest.

Of course, knowing you three, you'll stay in bed all day tomorrow. Whether to sleep, talk, cuddle, make out, do the devil's tango — nah it's all of the above! Meaning no classes.

The weekend is free.

To unwind and reflect.

Your old room feels more homely now that they're there with you.

That night, you’re gifted with cathartic, stress relieving dreams where those two awaited you with smothering embraces and enriching laughter.

Through their tough, imposing, and fierce exteriors …

There lay the true blessings that are their empathy, passion and humanity.

Your chaotically lovestruck sorcerers.

And you, their heaven sent wife, will feel their love till the very end.

And even beyond.

For Infinity.

1K notes · View notes

i2ycat · 4 months

Text

Trouble is a Band

synopsis being in a band was all you ever wanted, and so when you were able to fly across the globe to join your brother’s high school band, you jumped at the opportunity to show everyone everything that you’ve got. singing in a band? check. performing in front of a crowd? check. falling in love with your brother’s best friend, who is in a complicated relationship with one of your fellow bandmates? check?

pairing park jongseong x fem!reader genre high school!au, kind of band!au, fluff, angst, friends to lovers, brothers best friend trope, slow burn-ish? word count 7.5k warnings implied sexual relationships (there’s no smut), kind of an implied fwb situation, liking someone who is taken(??), mentions of toxic relationships, bitchy character lol, cursing, kissing, nicknames (princess, baby), semi-proofread, lmk if i missed anything else lyn speaking i’ve been writing this for like 2 months and even lost sleep over this, the real ones know ☝🏻 idk why but this was much harder to write compared to my heeseung one… and this is not my best work, wouldn’t say i’m entirely proud of this i’m ngl so i won’t be too surprised if this flops </3 also this got me thinking ab jay and guitars wayyyy too much main masterlist

reblogs and comments are very much appreciated!

“Are the schools here always up a damn hill?” You heave out an exasperated pant, your legs burning from the early morning cardio you definitely weren’t prepared for, or even expecting for that matter.

The summer sun is so unforgiving that in under ten minutes, you’ve become such a sweaty mess that you’re furiously sweating from every possible angle; your uniform practically drenched from your back and underarm areas. A layer of perspiration sheens the expanse of your forehead and it results in you resembling something the likes of Abby from Chicken Little as individual strands of hair stuck to it like glue.

You look over at an unbothered Jake with his hair still perfectly intact and looking as if he had just walked out of Vogue magazine. You scoff at this.

The only things you and Jake had in common were having the same last names, a slight similarity in facial structures, and maybe a shared interest in band music but that was about it. You’ve had totally different upbringings up until now, with you having lived in France while he was in Australia, and soon after, in Sokor. You were apart for most of your childhood, only seeing each other for vacations and special occasions, like that one time Aunt Jung had her outdoor wedding in Barcelona and you’d met Jake and your mother at the airport out of pure coincidence.

But despite the distance, it didn’t deter the both of you from being as close as you guys are, still making the effort to talk almost every day, even if you were drained from school. You remembered nights when you would call up Jake just to rant to him about boys — yes, multiple — you were talking to while he ate lunch on the other side of the world.

However, other than just being brought up differently, you guys were total opposites. If Jake was known to be the golden retriever with his high energy, bright smiles, and friendly dispositions, then you would be considered the chihuahua — closed-off and somewhat sarcastic. You didn’t have a social circle as expansive as Jake's because you liked to be alone. People have always told you that you had this brooding aura about you, and you could never tell if they were complimenting or insulting you.

“You get used to it,” Jake simply shrugs, adjusting the straps of his bag in a manner that did not mirror yours in any capacity. It was ridiculous how not even a single drop of sweat was in sight. “Now hurry it up! If we walk any slower, we might actually be late.” He drags you by the arm, to which you inwardly groan, already regretting the fact that you transferred to a pseudo-gym of a school in the dead of summer.

—

Transferring to an entirely different school system definitely posed itself as an inevitable challenge at first, but even then, half a day passed you by uncharacteristically fast. It might have been because you were sleeping through the majority of your morning classes, unable to totally grasp or get used to your supposed mother tongue just yet, that made time pass seemingly faster.

That, coupled with the fact you never functioned properly in the morning in the first place thanks to your night owl tendencies.

You’d spent most of your life conversing in either English or French, rendering your skills in your own mother tongue to an intermediate level at best. You could, at the very least, listen and understand it to a certain degree but not speak it as well as Jake does. You were only able to communicate with simple sentences and the few swear words and phrases your father used whenever he was lecturing you.

A day before your flight back home, you’d even attempted to touch up on your language skills with the help of your father and a facetimed version of your brother and mother, but it was already too late then. You were a lost cause. You definitely don’t blame your parents for your inability to speak the language, but rather, you blame your own lack of enthusiasm to learn it on your own in the first place.

“Y/n, right?” You rub the sleepiness from your eyes away as your gaze averts to the girl standing in front of your desk. She, with her neatly braided hair and black rims, sported a welcoming smile that gave you the impression of a class president. Maybe she was; you haven’t been paying attention to anything the teacher said since this morning.

You slowly nod, “Yeah, I am.”

“I’m Mia, the class vice president.” Okay, so your guess wasn’t entirely off the mark. You were only missing a word.

“Hi.” You purse your lips into a tight-lipped smile, unknowing of what to say next and silently wishing that your brother would come get you faster. Why did his classroom have to be so far from yours? Did the administration really think you could handle all this on your own?

In the painful silence, you were sure that this Mia girl could sense the awkwardness radiating from you with the way she’s trying so hard to keep the conversation afloat, probably thinking that you’re an introvert that doesn’t like approaching people first — which if it was any other day she would’ve be right on the money on but all you wanted right now was to be left alone to your own thoughts. You were still suffering from jet lag and time differences, and those two combined ran your social battery dry.

“Where’d you transfer from?”

“France.”

“You’re french?”

“No, I just moved there really young.”

“I see,” she said, nodding her head as if she were deep in thought. “I’ve always wanted to go to France.”

“It’s nice there.”

“So, can you speak-”

Before she can even finish her question, a blaring bang coming from the front door reverberates in your almost empty homeroom, save for yourself, Mia, and a group of friends in the back with their homemade lunches. You almost dropped to your knees to thank the heavens for hearing your prayers as you watched your brother's figure stand there, taking a moment to catch his breath as if he’d just finished running a marathon.

“Hey, Jake!” You damn near winced at Mia’s drastic change of voices in your brother’s presence. You were sure she had a deeper voice just a few seconds earlier, even having the same mezzo tone as you do. It definitely raised a few brows, but you weren’t the type to judge people too quickly, and you didn’t want to think that about such a sweet-looking girl.

Maybe she just had a crush on your brother; whatever it was, your senses were telling you that they were currently not in favour of Mia’s presence.

"Oh, hey, Mi. I see you’ve met my sister.” Jake acknowledges her before turning to you and saying, “Come on, we've got to go meet the others.” He beckons you towards him with a nod of his head, to which you happily oblige, just thankful that you don’t need to go through the rest of lunch with any more of Mia’s interrogation-style questioning.

You follow your brother after handing Mia a terse goodbye, attempting to at least have an amiable smile on your face in the process.

Even if Mia had more things she wanted to ask you, she put them aside on the backburner for a later date. Instead, opting to just wave you and Jake off with the same friendly grin she always has on.

When you’re out of earshot, making quick work to slide the door close behind you, you make your way beside Jake in quick strides. “You know her?”

“Obviously. Why?”

“Nothing.” You shrug the feelings of uncertainty off, not having the energy to try and dig anything up on the first day of school. “You said we’re meeting the others?”

“Yeah, my friends, you’ve seen them. They heard you were transferring here and really wanted to meet you.”

From the number of times you’ve called Jake during his school hours, you were bound to interact with a few of his friends, mainly the three youngest of the group: Jungwon, Sunoo, and Riki. There would even be times he’d leave you alone with his friends while he went for a toilet break, and when he’d come back, you'd already be three months into the storyline with your then-current situationship.

You were obviously excited to finally meet them after only having talked to them via Jake’s phone. Throughout the four years, you’d like to think that you’ve created a connection with some of the boys, given that they already know so much about your life and you know theirs. The older ones, not so much, despite being much closer in age ranges.

Out of the four oldest, you’ve only managed to properly talk to Sunghoon. It was when you were on call crying to your brother about the fourth boy of the month, and Sunghoon just so happened to be going home with Jake that day. He’d eavesdropped on your conversation and offered you some advice, explaining that he had a sister of his own, as if that gave him the certification needed to meddle in your affairs.

You didn’t even know he was with Jake, let alone hearing you bawl your eyes out, blowing into copious amounts of tissues included, until he started going off about how boys are scary and that you shouldn’t trust them so easily. It startled you, almost making you scream, but you were grateful for his brotherly advice either way.

When the two of you finally make it towards the other end of the sixth floor, Jake slides the door to his homeroom open, and you’re immediately greeted with the view of six boys scattered around the empty classroom, a few having acoustic guitars and drumsticks in hand. This may sound cringy, but it reminded you of that one scene from Lemonade Mouth, where everyone was in the detention room and just communicating through the music. Except you weren’t in a detention room, and instead of singing, mindless chatter filled the space.

You’ve always daydreamed about being in a band, even going as far as attempting to create one of your own, but keyword: attempt. You obviously failed at doing so in your previous school because nobody likes being in bands nowadays, and your brother, knowing this, instantly jumped at the idea of adding you as their newest member.

He’d already gone through the logistics a week before you even officially transferred, coercing everyone in the band to agree to your addition, but truth be told, it didn’t even take that much toiling since everyone was just excited to finally meet you, and they'd already heard about how talented you are thanks to Jake’s endless bragging.

“She’s here!” Jake announces, prompting everyone to halt whatever it was they were doing and immediately jump at the sight of you gracing their homeroom entryway.

“Y/n!” Jungwon, Sunoo, and Riki are the first ones to capture you in a big embrace, effectively squishing you under their hold. Is this what people feel when they finally meet an online friend?

The mixture of fulfilment and excitement bubbling inside you was hard to maintain levelled, spilling out of you in the form of a grin that extended from ear to ear. You considered these three your babies at this point, wanting to spoil and shower them with as much love and affection as an actual mother would. It didn’t matter if you were only a few months older than them, that’s wasn’t the point.

When you’re released from their embrace, you can finally see the rest standing there with a cordial expression plastered over their features. You must admit, you’ve always thought that Jake’s friends were all attractive and had a relative charm to them, but it’s even more apparent now that you’ve met them in real life. With their tall stature and undeniable talent, you could only imagine the long line of girls waiting for them.

As you start to scan the boys one by one, you catch yourself gravitating towards Jay. He’s donning the school uniform, the same exact ones that the rest are, but he makes it so uniquely his by unbuttoning it to show the black shirt underneath and cuffing the sleeves until it reaches his forearms.

From the plethora of Instagram stories you’ve seen about Jay, you knew that Jay was into fashion and occasionally designed the outfits the guys wore onto stage. And as a fashion guru yourself, you applauded his impeccable style, finding yourself in constant awe of the effortless aura and innate ability for fashion that he possessed.

It also didn’t help that he was totally up your alley in terms of physical attractiveness. The others were pretty and charming in their own way, yes, but Jay had you hooked the moment Jake posted that photo of him fresh out of the beach, with tan skin and wet hair, looking like a damn Greek god.

Did you mention that you’ve also watched an unhealthy amount of videos of Jay playing the guitar? Because you have and it made getting attracted to him so much easier. Even through the screen, you could just tell that he was in his element, like he was born to perform as the passion he had for the instrument oozed out. Everything about him was just so mesmerising; you’re sure that you’re not the only one who sees that.

The timeline is blurry but from then on, you’d developed a small, insignificant crush on him, one that you didn’t bother mentioning to your brother because you were scared he would force you to act on it, even when you weren’t sure if you liked him enough to want to date him. You haven’t even properly met the guy at that point.

To you, it was simply an attraction. One that you’d get over in about a month because it’s what you always do.

“Hey, guys.” You wave.

“You’re awfully shorter than I thought you would be.” Riki says this from beside you, silently mocking you for all the times you’ve challenged him about his height.

“Of course you would say that.” You playfully roll your eyes. “You’re obsessed with your height, Riks; we get it.”

"Okay, back off, guys. That’s my little sister you guys are hogging.” Jake shoos the younger boys away with a flick of his hand, to which they dejectedly comply, making way for you to enter further into the classroom. “What was on our agenda again? Right, Y/n’s position in the band.”

“We could use another guitarist.” Sunoo muses, with Jungwon and Sunghoon silently agreeing on the side.

“Nah, we already have Jay and you for that.” Your brother shakes his head. “Wait, speaking of Jay, where’s Jiwon? You said she’d be here when I came back.” At this, all eyes shift towards Jay, who simply shrugs.

“I don’t know.”

“Don’t tell me you guys are having a lover's quarrel again.” Heeseung sighs. Your ears immediately perk up at the mention of Jay, Jiwon, and a lover's quarrel in the same sentence. Confusion starts to pervade your stomach.

Huh? When did they start dating? You thought Jiwon was only a close friend.

You’ve only ever heard of Jiwon, not once seeing her face in Jake’s stories or any of the others. All the information you had on her was that she was the same age as you and played the keys for the band. Jungwon, Sunoo, and Riki mentioned her once or twice, but it was more of them complaining about her. Other than that, it was as if her existence evaded you completely.

“The third one this month, mind you.” Riki quips.

“It’s only the second week of the month, though.” Jake’s mouth gapes at the fact that his best friend is still willing to go through such a toxic relationship, or whatever it was, even when she limits the people around him until she’s the only one left in his life, when they constantly fight over the smallest things, or even when she encourages him to drop his best friends. He doesn’t understand what’s so good about Jiwon that’s got Jay under her spell, and he doesn’t want to know either.

“Can we just drop it?”

Your brother puts his hands up in defeat and says, “Whatever you say, bro.”

An awkward air of silence starts to permeate the air, and by now, you’re sure someone could cut through the tension with a knife.

You clear your throat before saying, “Is it okay if I’m just a singer?” in an attempt to divert the conversation back to its original agenda, which thankfully works because the others start talking, adding in their own thoughts here and there. And by the time lunch ends, you’re officially set as the band’s lead singer and lyricist.

Finding out about Jay and Jiwon’s relationship made you realise just how little you know about these guys, only having talked to them through FaceTime and watching them live their lives through snippets of Jake’s Instagram.

The warmth and familiarity you were initially met with made you completely forget that you only officially met these guys today. They were all, to some extent, still strangers to you.

—

A few hours of school turned into two weeks, and two weeks into a month. By now, you’ve gotten more than used to everyone’s dynamics and energy, though it was still a little too high for you at times. You were thankful that your brother was there whenever you couldn’t communicate your feelings and thoughts as well as you wanted to, and for the rest for being so understanding.

All of this was a dream come true for you, truly. Ever since your father introduced you to the world of music, you’ve dreamt of being in a band yourself, singing your own songs in front of people, and feeling the music course through you as you stand on the stage.

But no matter how much you wanted to saturate your mind with happier, less confusing thoughts, it always seemed to circle back to the same thing: Jay and Jiwon.

Over the course of a month, you’ve managed to interact with Jiwon on several occasions, each lasting around a minute. They consisted of mostly quick pleasantries, instructions, and the rare ‘how are you’s? She wasn’t cold but not entirely friendly either, which you totally get because it’s not like you were any different.

Throughout the majority of the breaks in between practice sessions, she stuck by Jay’s side, engaging in playful and flirtatious banter that the boys would secretly roll their eyes at. You’d asked your brother why everyone seemed to not like seeing Jay and Jiwon together, but he simply shrugged you off, leaving you with even more questions.

“Hey, Y/n.” You look up from your notebook to see Mia, who you’ve wrongly assumed was a pick-me at first, cheerfully greeting you.

Somewhere along the line, she’d bashfully admitted to you that she liked your brother. It definitely explained the change in personalities and voices whenever he was around, but it didn’t make you want to recoil any less. She was a good-natured girl who hated letting anyone down, so when she asked for a favour from you — one that involved you setting her up with your brother — there was just no way you could decline. If she wanted to date your brother, you would happily aid her in that.

Which brought you to a now-blooming friendship.

“Hi, Mi.” You managed to reciprocate her energy.

“You’re having band practice today, right?” She asks with a tilt of her head, to which you nod. A beat passes before she bites her lip in anticipation. “Is it okay if I come watch?”

From the way her eyes glowed with hope, you could immediately tell that she only had one mission in mind: to see Jake. “You’re not being very discreet with this,” you chuckle, endeared by her amateurish antics. “But, sure. Practice starts at 4.” Hearing this, she immediately clasps her hand into yours, thanking you as if you just saved her entire bloodline.

She leaves you to your own accord not soon after being called by the teacher, “I’ll be there!”

With twenty minutes to spare and no one to spend it with, seeing as your brother was busy with lunch detention and your three babies had a student council meeting to attend to, you decided to make your merry way towards the practice room with your notebook in hand.

Pushing the door open, the view of Jay playing the guitar by the window warmly greets you. You're awestruck by the way he strums the chords so effortlessly, filling your ears with the most beautiful progressions you’ve ever heard, like it was heaven’s sonata. You would’ve loved to just stand there all day and relish in the intimate moment he’s created in the dingy room, but it only takes a few seconds before Jay inevitably notices your figure by the door.

“Y/n?”

“Sorry, I didn’t think anyone would be here right now.” You take a step back, ready to shut the door close behind you, but before you could move even an inch, Jay refused, instead asking you if you could keep him company. “You want me to stay?”

“I mean, why not?” He pats the space beside him and scoots over.

Your steps are hesitant, somehow alarmed by the prospects of Pandora's box in your heart breaking open the moment you decide to sit next to him. But it was just a simple, friendly act, so what could possibly go wrong here? You push those thoughts away and plop yourself on the cushioned window seat, leaving just enough space between you and him.

“So, why are you here?” He asks you as he carefully sets the guitar back on the floor.

“Everyone else was busy,” You could feel Jay’s intense watch on you, and you couldn’t help but feel the burning sensation on your skin. Just being in his presence alone was already making you feel hot; your cheeks were heating up in the process. “How about you?” You just wanted him to stop looking at you, because you wouldn’t know what to do if he noticed just how he was making you feel.

“Me?” He hums. “I guess I just wanted some peace and quiet.”

“Oh, am I disturbing your peace and quiet? I could leave right now.”

“You don’t have to be so antsy. I’m not going to bite you, ya’know?” He chuckles, clearly amused by your response. “And besides, you’re giving me peace by just being here.”

“I see.” You nod slowly as you bite your lip in an attempt to get a better hold of your nerves. There was absolutely no need to be so nervous around your brother’s best friend.

“I just realised something,”

“What?” You shift in your seat to get a better look at him.

“This is the first time we’ve ever had a one-on-one talk.”

“Yeah, I wonder why.” You retort, and he raises an eyebrow at this.

“What do you mean by that?” His head tilts at an angle, looking at you with those deep-set eyes of his. You can try to deny it all you want, but the skip in your heartbeat is hard to mistake; it’s not a feeling you’re stranger to.

“I don’t know; you never seem to talk with anyone else other than Jiwon during practice, so it’s no wonder we’ve never actually talked before.”

“Wow, you’re sounding a little salty there.” Jay’s lips form a lopsided smirk after noticing the defensive expression that adorned your features. “Nah, I’m just toying with you.” The airy laugh he lets out does little to nothing to soothe the chaos that ensues in your heart and mind.

“For your information, I am not salty. It’s just a bummer that you never really tried forming a closer friendship with anyone else in the band.”

“It’s not that I haven’t tried." He mumbles.

“Sorry?”

He shakes his head and says, “It’s nothing.”

A comfortable silence engulfs the air between both of you before Jay continues, “Hey, since you’re so salty about me not giving you my attention, how about I buy you ice cream tomorrow?”

“First of all, I am not salty. And second of all, it wasn’t that-”

"So, is it a no?”

You narrow your eyes at him. “If you admit that I’m not salty, then maybe I’ll agree to it.”

“You’re not really in the position to be giving me a challenge, seeing as I’m the one offering you free food,” he bites down a simper. “But fine, your highness, I hereby declare you not salty.” He adds a curt bow for the dramatics, and you can’t help but roll your eyes in faux annoyance.

“You’re so annoying.” You huff out.

“If you’re going to be in our band, you’re going to need more tolerance and patience than that.”

You could feel yourself slowly letting your guard down in Jay’s presence. The playful and witty banter he offered you made you feel like you’ve known him longer than you actually do, and it felt nice.

It felt almost too nice to be around him. But like everything else in your life, this feeling too shall pass. He has a girlfriend, for Christ's sake. So you better make sure that it will.

—

With your head resting on your hand, you silently watched the busy street beside you. When you first came to Korea, it was summer, but now that the leaves were starting to turn orange little by little, you could tell that it was nearing your favourite season of the year — autumn. To you, everything felt just a little more romantic under the autumn leaves and the cool breeze that hangs in the air.

“Were you waiting long?” Jay’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts, and you quickly shake your head. “Sorry, Ji wanted me to teach her this riff on the guitar.” He pulls the seat out in front of you to sit, and you take the opportunity to sneak a longing glance at him: tousled hair, swollen lips, an untucked collar. It definitely looked like he did more than just teach her chords, but you bite your tongue.

It was none of your business.

“Did you order already?” He flips through the menu of desserts.

“No, I was going to, but I realised I didn’t know what flavours you liked.”

“Sorry,” He passes you a sheepish smile. “I’m going to go on a whim here and guess that you like Rocky Road.”

You raise an impressed brow. “How’d you know?”

“I just know you like that.”

“We’ve known each other for 3 weeks, Jay.”

“Okay, damn. You really do wound me,” a hand raises to his chest, feigning hurt. “Okay, now you guess what flavour I like.”

You ponder over for a while but decide to just settle on the most basic flavour of all, “Vanilla?” His face visibly falters at your answer; you could almost make out a pout forming on his kiss-bitten lips.

“Wow, I could tell the amount of thought you put into that.” His sarcastic claps boom throughout the modest ice cream parlour, earning him dirty looks from the few customers at the neighbouring tables.

“So you don’t like vanilla?”

He crosses his arms and asks, “What do you think?”

“Ugh, this conversation is going nowhere; go order it yourself.” You groan out, rising on your feet to order on your own.

“Calm down, princess; I’ll go order it.” Before you could protest, he'd already made a beeline for the cashier.

Princess? That was new. Oh, who were you kidding? All of this was fucking new.

A feeling of internal turmoil starts to bubble violently, like a seething kettle waiting to be opened. You hated how he was so nonchalant about everything. And you hated how he unknowingly made you feel things you shouldn’t feel. It felt awfully wrong on so many levels, but this thing was just a friendly gesture, a payback, if you will. There was nothing wrong with hanging out with your brother’s best friend on a Thursday evening, even if you held an underlying attraction for said friend, right?

“Here, one Rocky Road for your highness, and one good ol’ vanilla ice cream for her loyal servant.”

“So you do like vanilla ice cream,” you scoff.

“I never said I didn’t.” He shrugged. “Woah, this might actually be the best vanilla I’ve ever tasted. Try it!” He scoops a chunk out for you to taste, which you politely decline. There was a certain line you didn’t want to cross, no matter how insignificant and innocent the gesture might’ve been. Maybe you were thinking too hard, but it would’ve been weird for you to share an indirect kiss with a taken man, even if he was your brother’s best friend. “Hm, your loss then.”

The both of you remained in silence with the dulcet melodies of Wave to Earth playing in the background, and it served as a pleasant companion to the overly complicated noise in your head, all caused by the boy sitting a few feet from you.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you.” Jay’s voice pulls you out of your own mind, causing you to look up at him expectantly. “You have a really beautiful voice.” His warm smile shoots you in the heart, right where you know it shouldn’t. It was just a simple compliment, one that you’ve heard plenty of times before, yet it sounded so good coming from him. It almost made you want to keep proving yourself to him so you could keep hearing him praise you like that.

“Thank you,” You bite the insides of your cheek as a way to chide yourself. Just why were you so easily affected by everything he says and does?

“I really want you to sing this song I’m writing. I mean, I’m not totally done yet, but I wrote it with your voice in mind. It’s for the upcoming music festival.” He pulls out his phone and earphones from his pocket, sliding his chair closer to yours and offering an earpiece, which you cautiously take.

You straighten your back in an effort to keep yourself focused, not wanting to mind the way his shoulders are pushed up against yours, or the way you could practically make out every single feature on his face, or the fact that you would’ve felt his breath fan against your face if he turned even just a bit to the left. You needed to physically force yourself to focus solely on the music.

Don’t mind the confusion.

The sense of focusing.

The only sure thing is you.

So now, put it all behind.

I’m just going to walk according to how my heart beats.

Fatal trouble.

Jay’s voice fills your ears, alongside Jungwon and Sunghoon’s. You could appreciate their heavenly voices all day, but the striking lyrics seemed to be the main reason for taking your breath away. It sounded as if they were speaking to your troubled thoughts right in the face, slithering around you to tempt you into falling deeper. Deeper into what? You didn’t want to even think about it.

"So, what do you think?”

“It's... it’s good.”

“That’s it?”

“What did you want me to say?”

“No need to get so feisty, princess.” He ruffles your hair, and you sigh, feeling the overwhelming defeat take over you because, no matter how much you wanted to fight the feeling, you knew that all your efforts would come crashing down anyway.

You were a weak woman with many faults, and being attracted to someone who is so painfully taken is the biggest one of them all.

—

With only a few weeks left until the school’s music festival, it’s no surprise that everyone has been on edge, but particularly so with Jay and Jiwon. Anyone with a pair of eyes could tell they were going through a rough patch in their relationship right now, made apparent by the abnormal amount of distance between them and the lack of flirtatious banter filling the room.

Every practice session was filled with the suffocating tension that made practicing so much more exhausting, and Jake had had enough of it.

“I know you guys are having yet another lover's quarrel, but can you guys quit it? We have a festival coming up, and we can’t afford to have both of your immature asses fucking this up for us.” Your brother’s stern voice shakes the entire room. He was usually never the one to get mad at people, so it felt unusual to see this side of Jake.

“We’re not lovers,” Jiwon retorts as her fingers mindlessly hover over the keys on the keyboard. She tilts her head at Jay and says, “He made very sure of that.”

“Look, it doesn’t matter what the fuck you guys are or not; I just need you guys to keep it civil for the sake of our performance, if not our team.”

“Oh, fuck off. As if you guys have ever even tried keeping it civil with me,” Jiwon seethes, the dark chuckle of complete disbelief she lets out hanging heavy in the air. “Yeah, I see the way you guys roll your eyes at me, and I hear the way you guys bitch about me behind my back too. I’m not fucking blind, Jake.”

You could see the way everyone shifts uncomfortably in their spots, and you can’t help but do so too.

“Quit it, Ji.” Jay’s attempts at getting Jiwon’s rampage to stop proved futile, as it only spurred her on.

“Shut up, Jay. I know the only reason you refuse to make it official is because you started liking your best friend’s little sister over me.” As soon as she dropped the bomb, all eyes darted towards Jay, who only stared at Jiwon. His jaw ticks in what you could only surmise as vexation, with the evidence of it starting to sprawl across his features. “What, baby? Cat got your tongue?” Jiwon sneers.

“Jiwon, if you’re not going to contribute anything to the band, you can just go home.” Sunghoon speaks as he points to the exit.

“I was planning to anyway,” she says, picking up her bag from the floor. “I am so fucking done with this, and you guys are all fucked.” With that, the door behind Jiwon shuts with a deafening bang.

The eight of you remain frozen in your spots with the shock of it all coursing through your veins like a hot iron. You needed a minute or two to even begin to assimilate whatever the fuck just went down.

When she said that Jay liked you over her, she meant it as a friend, right? There’s no way it meant anything more than that, right? Why does he keep confusing you? Why did he have to have your heart right in the palm of his hand? You felt your head start to pound the more you thought about it, and you just wanted to escape from it all.

—

Life since you joined your brother’s band has been everything you’ve ever imagined and more. You were finally able to meet people you called your family; you were able to sing your heart away on stages the way you always wanted to; and you were able to feel alive in a way you couldn’t when you were in France. But it didn’t stop there. You fell in love — a little too hard at that — and now you were suffering the consequences of that.

You had a track record for falling in love way too easily with people, as evident by your long list of situationships turned relationships, so when you found yourself staring at Jay for a bit too long, you weren’t entirely alarmed because you knew you’d be able to get over it in a few weeks. It was no biggie, or so you thought.

After Jiwon’s official departure from the band, the overall atmosphere had lifted and everyone was back to their normal selves; Sunoo and Sunghoon were back to bickering, and Jungwon and Riki were back to hogging you. Heeseung occasionally joined in sessions despite the senior duties that called for his presence. Jake and Jay, on the other hand, were preparing diligently for the festival, working on the song non-stop. It’s because of that that you haven’t been seeing either of them lately, which you were thankful for because it gave you time to really think. Think about whether Jay liked you as a friend or in a romantic sense.

“You’re thinking about it again, aren’t you?” Mia nudges you in the arm. She knows you like the back of her hand at this point, given the amount of time she’s spent at your practices. It’s thanks to your cupid skills that your brother and her have been spending much more time together inside and out of the practice room, and despite either of them telling you that they’re just friends, you know better than that.

You sigh, knowing that it’s no use lying to her. “Is it that obvious?”

"Oh, baby, it’s written all over your face.” Her neatly manicured fingers push loose strands of hair out of your face just before squishing your cheeks in an endearing manner. “Talk to me about it.”

“Ugh, I don’t know.” She gives you a knowing look. “It’s just... that I liked him for so long, thinking that he was taken, and I felt so fucking guilty for it. Then the whole ‘Jiwon leaving’ thing happened, and now I’m all confused. Honestly, there hasn’t been a moment where Jay hasn’t confused me. Everything he says and does just makes me want to scream, ‘What the fuck are we!’ but I know he’s just doing it because we’re friends or whatever.

I mean, he literally calls me princess. How does he not expect me to not feel things? It’s so damn frustrating. I thought I would be able to get over these feelings before winter started, but here we are in the dead of winter, and I’m still helplessly pining over my brother’s best friend, like a damn loser.”

Everything you’ve been holding since you transferred here finally threatens to spill out, and by now, you just couldn’t help the tears from lining your eyes and your throat from constricting.

“Oh, my Y/n.” She embraces you in a hug and connects her forehead with yours; it only eggs you on to fully succumb to your emotions, and so tears become full-fledged sobs. “It’s okay, let it all out.” Her voice, along with her hand ministering to gently soothe your back, lulls you.

Until you’re left only as a sniffling mess, she continues to caress your back. “Thank you, Mi. I really appreciate it.”

“I’m always here for you,” She squeezes you one last time for good measure before letting go of you. “Now, we need a plan for you to get your man.”

“No, we do not.”

“You did it for me, so it’s only fair if I return the favour.”

“I don’t even know if he likes me like that,” you exhale for what seems like the nth time this month.

“Then we’ll make sure he does. Simple as that,” she claps her hand. “Boys fall for anything, so if he doesn’t already like you, he will anyway, because just look at you! You’re stunning, funny, kind, talented, and so so so much more. Believe me when I say that, Y/n.” Her features soften even further as she shares a look of sympathy with you.

Her words melt right through you, and you’d like to believe that you do hold the ability to make Jay fall for you.

—

Endless weeks of toiling had brought you all to this exact moment — d-day. You fidgeted with the microphone stand to try getting a better hold of your emotions because there was no way you would mess things up, not when you’ve all worked so hard for this.

The seats in front of you are filled to the brim, yet out of the hundreds of faces, you could only recognise a select few: your mom, Mia, and a few of the others’s family members.

Jay, who stood not too far behind you, could see the trembling in your legs. “You’ll do perfect; I know that because you were made for this.” He whispers in your ear, squeezing your hands in the process. You’ve never wanted anything more than to just kiss the boy for being so damn near perfect — everything you could’ve asked for and more — but he wasn’t yours to kiss, so you heed those thoughts away, instead simply nodding your head.

“Hello, we are ENHYPEN, and we’ll be performing an original song called ‘Fatal Trouble.’” Jake’s voice echoes throughout the school hall, with claps following shortly after, just before it falls back to a silent abyss.

Sunghoon’s keys fill the empty air before you start, “Can’t believe. You, in front of my eyes, everything is the same. But your smile is one I don’t know. Your pupils are like an abyss.” You shut your eyes, letting your emotions lace through each and every word you sing.

As soon as Sunoo and Jay’s electric guitars and Riki’s drums joined in on the melody, you could physically feel the shift in the air. It brought goosebumps to your skin watching people gape at you in awe and watching their eyes twinkle against the stage lights.

“Fatal trouble. It’s getting blurry. The memory of you is crumbling down.” Heeseung and Jungwon’s lower voice harmonises with your higher one, creating the most heavenly of harmonies to echo across the expanse of the hall. It felt so electrifying to finally be able to see the fruits of all your hard work. You’re happy you got to perform with these boys side by side.

By the time the instrumentals fade to complete silence, your heart roars against your chest like a lion so hard you can practically hear them in your ears. You all take time to thank the audience before heading backstage, where you all instantly huddle together.

“We did so well!” Sunoo beams.

“For all our hard work, I say we go drinking after this,” Heeseung suggests with a motion of his hand, to which the others instantly agree.

“Drinks are on me!” You chuckle as you watch your overly excited brother raise his arm like a puppy. You of all people know just how hard he exerted himself just for this performance, if the dark circles under his eyes were anything to go by, so you’re just happy to finally see him be himself again.

Cheers and hoots are heard throughout the backstage area until the staff politely asks you to leave. Before you could even follow the rest past the door, Jay’s call to you stopped you in your tracks.

“You did well out there,” he compliments with a sheepish smile, and it does the same thing it always does to you — make you fall even harder. You were so damn weak for him. “I knew you would kill it.”

“You did too, considering it is your song.” He steps a foot closer to you, and despite the hitch in your throat, you don’t do much to shy away. Jay takes this as a sign to be more forthright with you. He takes your hand in his, tracing circles with his thumb along the backside of your hand.

“I wrote this song for you. It wasn’t just your voice that inspired me to write this song; it was your smile, the way you made me feel, and the warmth you gave. So, technically, it’s our song.” The boyishness in his tone is obvious, almost like he was scared to admit this to you in the first place.

“I-…” You’re rendered speechless at his insinuation, feeling the familiar giddiness starting to spread across your body. “Are you confessing to me right now?” His deep eyes hold yours, staring at you with such admiration and intensity that you feel like you could cry.

“Yes, I am, princess.” His voice was nothing short of a whisper. You could see the way he eyes your lips, and so without much contemplation, or even hesitation for that matter, you take the first step in your newfound relationship by trapping him in a kiss. Further closing in the distance between you, your arms travel around his neck while his hands find purchase in your waist.

As breathless as you felt, you couldn’t let him go — not when this is all you’ve ever wanted for so long. Months of seeing him with Jiwon and hopelessly pining over him brought you to this moment, and you were going to let yourself relish the fuck out of it.

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