#and then something softer comes after

[chucapybara]

—as bruised thorn wilts.

some thoughts on innamorati and arlecchino's first few meetings.

the arlerati brainworms really wouldn't let me rest until i get these ideas down 😭 it just kept going... it's 1.8k words...

no particular cw just a lot of mindless, rambly brainrot and inna vaguely dishing out her "love" (hint: murder)

the duty of a ferryman is to guide a voyager from one point across the river, to wherever their destination beckons them. through snow and rain, the unfettered innamorati abides not by weather, but by the calling of her passengers and the calling of her majesty's mission.

and so, when she finds a lost snezhevich in the wilds of elynas—young still, no taller than her hip—inna knows she must safeguard his return.

the child, having been separated from the rest of his siblings, was compelled to wander by tales of the beast whose bones now lay slumbering, fused in grass and soil. one of such youth had no purpose there so far away from his "family", and had gotten himself into trouble with the local creature population.

bearing fistfuls of hail and frostwind comets, innamorati had descended then upon the breacher primuses assaulting him, to the little snezhevich's amazement. a knight clad in armour dark as the twilit sky—yet with a kind touch in spite of their harsh scolding, kneeling down to speak in lowered tones and inquire what would bring him thereabouts.

innamorati knew this place well, could taste the taint of abyss even through the sheet of her helm. it was no place for a young boy.

she escorts the snezhevich back to the rest of his group, then back to the court of fontaine. they speak to her about the things they found amid the marrow, the curious plague upon the earth turning the grass as sundered violets.

rainbow roses, the rare sprout, had been the eye of their venture: a gift, they said, for their elder brother, before their sibling had wandered astray. to pick the carefully cultivated roses near the fount of lucine and within perimeter of the court might warrant trouble, and being the spry imps they were, had dared to brave the sea and to cross into the beryl region on their own.

for the most part, inna counted herself impressed by their courage (and their audacity). she made it known so, as their boat crossed the waters where it would be safer, still. she had the least liking for children, but it did not escape her the endearing quality to their spoils: a small bouquet of rainbow roses, clumsily held within a table napkin. a modest gift, to be sure, but one of great heart.

her odd kindness was not lost upon the children, either. where innamorati made to depart from the court—she was not particularly welcome in many cities, due to the nature of her profession—the snezheviches and lone snezhevna tugged at the cool, almost icy metal of her gauntlet, pulling her with them.

(children of snow ought not have any qualms in touching this frostbitten elegy, as is their birthright; and even little favours such as this deserve utmost thanks, as it was how they were raised.)

it wasn't long before their residence came into view: the hotel bouffes d'ete, headquarters to the house of the hearth, where a familiar duo stood speaking by the door.

a notable magician's hat, and a pair of quaint cat ears. their voices are hushed, a secret spoken between brother and sister.

as they received the gifted flowers and welcomed their lost siblings, who then in turn introduced the obsidian knight that had led them home, eyes fell upon innamorati. but of those eyes came a pair not present in their midst—the gaze of baleful scrutiny.

as she tilts her helm in its direction, innamorati almost believes a pair of crimson crosses had flashed just by the second story window, before vanishing like a spectre.

arlecchino hardly ever went uninformed by matters of consequence both dire and miniscule. after all, as a diplomat and fatuus, every morsel of information did not come without its value, however minute.

thusly so, it was not lost to her, the identity of that armour-clad figure. every harbinger ought to know the movements in relation to their ranks, and when an addition had been made upon the lowest rung, she'd thought little of it—another pawn to the tsaritsa, and no more.

so who could draw blame at her suspicions, when the abyssal spawn adopted by her majesty had personally seen to escorting her children back to the hotel? she had heard wind of the flesh that creature had torn apart with bare tooth and nail, of how they had feasted upon the denizens of the tsaritsa's domain; and how the tsaritsa had glimpsed the sane wedged in their madness, and thought hopefully of the nourishment those lives had offered to a potential servant of hers.

“even a collared devil must surely, too, have its benefits to keep.”

no more than a chained beast, made to amend for those troubled villagers she had fed on. arlecchino almost pitied the poor thing.

albeit so, the children—arlecchino could see—were nary scratched or nicked in their return. they seemed almost joyous, in fact, perhaps sheepish as they offered lyney a bouquet of rainbow roses held together at the stems by a tablecloth. a crude gift, but a gift nonetheless. so, perhaps, let the children be.

the knave's gaze would return once more to that armoured veil. the way they stood, almost timid in the throng of her fosters, uncertain. it seemed almost...

human.

innamorati had very little need for accommodations: a boon to the finances of the fatui. having dug her way out of the recesses of the earth after five abyssal years meant there were few conditions inna could not survive in, maybe none at all.

after completing an excursion of her own into sumeru and handling affairs of some stragglers (affectionately, in that morbid way of hers), innamorati received a letter from a scout that spent quite some time seeking her.

work to be done in fontaine, once more. more affections to ferry across the seas, and with it, a peculiar offer: an invitation, as guest, to board for a time at the hotel bouffes d'ete, as extended gratitude for returning those wayward children.

as she sits with the letter, her armour still stricken with red, innamorati thinks then of the little ones she had found traipsing around elynas, the magician duo.

the crimson x's from the window.

there would be no purpose to it. her work did not need to involve the house of the hearth or its director, but perhaps there was no undoing the ties she had woven on that day. the memory of that family’s “warmth” still lingers, tantalising, tempting—a moth to a flame, an invitation sitting on parchment in her hands.

the sweet tang of iron wafts through her visor. a limpid growl churns in her frigid soul, the rousing of another within.

she'll consider it, later, once she has quieted her little beast.

the day innamorati arrives is not the bloodstricken hour—that is to come yet.

she doesn't quite know what to do with herself in the lobby of the bouffes d'ete. the air is sweet with the fragrance of flowers—almost too sweet, she thinks—and cinder from the ever-flickering hearth, lending a warmth to the room that almost drew dew across her armour. cold, versus heat.

the children welcome her, and they speak of a "father" who is yet to arrive. inna vaguely recalls. they have not met in person, but she has heard of the woman: the lord they call knave.

one cursed, knowing another of similar ilk. but as innamorati stands in the presence of the knave's children, she couldn't help but find them pure as the untouched fire, with a lingering shade to them—the shade, perhaps, of the acts their life has led them to do.

there is an offer of a hearty meal, but innamorati politely refuses. she does not remove her helm, after all, in the presence of others; her visage is a mystery, even to inna herself.

(she almost fears what she might see, at this point.)

in return, she offers a chest of trinkets and baubles, toys and other useful things, treats and foods: items she’s procured during her time in sumeru. a guest, of course, musn’t come without bearing gifts—to do so would simply be rude, and innamorati was anything but rude. a callous lifetaker, perhaps, but certainly not rude.

as the fosters begin proclaiming which of the gifts are theirs, that familiar looming presence once more returns to haunt her. not the one that resides beneath her skin, but the other.

the “father” has arrived.

when the children rise to greet her, innamorati does the same. the sharp resounding steps, a distinguished gait, a cold and calculating gaze sharp as the gleam of a scarlet blade—there was no doubt that she was the fourth of them, indeed, an indisputable fact. in comparison, innamorati may as well have been nothing.

neither of them speak, for a moment, merely trading stares of acknowledgement. the recognition of one fatebringer to another: murky shadow beneath a visored helm to baleful crimson x’s.

“a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, innamorati.” she speaks the name with tempered intrigue, enough to make the discernment of tone difficult. neither a threat nor a welcome, but a measured neutrality.

innamorati tilts her helm, ever so slight. “a sentiment i share, lady arlecchino.”

it is the first they ever meet in person, and the first of many others to come.

for someone dubbed a chained beast, arlecchino found great interest in the manner by which innamorati interacted with the hearthfolk. the lovers seemed almost timid in the way freminet was known for, content merely to observe, her responses to queries quaint and modest—soft, almost. it felt nothing like the vicious bite she had expected out of a muzzled taskdog.

perhaps arlecchino had been too quick to conclude anything about the knight.

inna’s words held an underlying melancholy to them, even as she spoke of other things: the meaning of this sumerian gemstone inlaid upon this brooch, the background of the artisan who crafted that vibrant spinning top. she spoke with respect, which could hardly be said for many other fatuus, especially among the other harbingers.

but her tales—ah, innamorati’s tales. the knave had no shortage of stories all her own, but she was oft content to lend the stage to others, to let them speak; for in speaking can one reveal aspects of who they are to those who listen. a most apt technique indeed for information gathering, and one that brought to her some surprises.

what had taken possession of innamorati, then, to have raised her to just below tartaglia’s rank? what had she glimpsed in the depths of the abyss that she would hide away from all the world, veil her countenance, and become as another? perhaps it is the softness she shares in him, that childe; the softness unbecoming of the tsaritsa’s most dangerous.

it felt almost like reverence for the world, a love for the life that went into every little thing she brought to the hearth that day.

needless to be said, of that first visit, the children lacked for nothing by way of stories to carry regarding the gifts they chose for themselves.

somewhere, somehow, a feeling stirs in arlecchino. a burning curiosity, she finds, to gather all that she can on this beast parading within metal skin.

would she still be a knight, then, at the end of those flames—virtuous and upstanding in the ways decreed by the tsaritsa? when the veil has been turned to ashes, what ever shall remain in her wake?

she cannot help but sense a pulsing eagerness to find out.

[stop-breaking-my-heart-dragonage]

my experience with maxing out the twins' friendship is just-

Hawke: So, Carver, my dear baby brother who I love and adore, I only need +10 more points to max out your friendship. I've done the grind; through gritted teeth I've kissed templar ass so that we don't raise suspicion. I've supported and defended you and let you take the lead whenever I could. You're my favorite warrior. I took you to the Deep Roads with me because you desperately wanted to go and then made you a warden and you found a place, a purpose. I've practically written my own guide on how to earn as much friendship with you because I love you and it's totally worth it so can I please please have the last +10...? Carver: Hawke: Carver please I'm begging you Carver: Carver: +5 Friendship Hawke: AAUUGGGHHLKSAJDLKAJSDLK-

Hawke: So, Bethany, my dear sis- Bethany: +50 Friendship Hawke: Bethany: :)

[chasing-chimeras]

29. We Have Forgotten, In Ignorance Stumbling (The Blue Runt)

Gimme 👀

Pls

I know that I've kept you waiting for like an ungodly amount of time, so here's a longer one.

“Theo,” Liam warned, not amused in the slightest by his continued flirting.

“I’m teasing.” Theo crossed the room to sit back on the bed and he abruptly pulled Liam into a hug, which the younger man didn’t resist. “Let me warm you up like this, at least, yeah?”

Liam released a frustrated breath and leaned into Theo’s warmth. You need to stop putting up walls with him. He doesn’t deserve it. He’s going through just as much as you are, he’s just handling it better. Because he’s stronger. The last thought came surprisingly, but Liam knew it was true. They’d both suffered a lot since meeting, but Theo always seemed to rebound stronger and faster.

No…that’s not right.

He tilted his head and looked into Theo’s eyes. The older man’s characteristic amusement melted into a tumultuous vulnerability after a few seconds of prolonged eye contact.

He just hides it better.

A knock at the door interrupted their moment and Liam shied away from Theo, trying to look normal.

“Everyone decent?” Yazara’s voice was muffled by the thick wooden door.

“Just a second! Here.” Theo stripped off his tunic and handed it over to Liam. The shorter man gave his lover a suspicious look, but took the clothing when Theo shook it, impatiently.

“Thanks,” Liam mumbled, but continued to side-eye Theo.

“What?” Theo laughed and glanced down at his shirtless torso. “You’re shyer than I am.”

“Sure.”

“Whatever.” Theo rolled his eyes. “You can come in, Yaz, we’re good.”

So it’s already Yaz?

[sunderedoldfriends]

@tenebriism asked: [ fix ] sender gently fixes receiver‘s hair // ( Touch Prompts ) from Emet-Selch to Hythlodaeus

Sneaking into Elpis at night was a risk, but with Emet-Selch holding the third seat of the Convocation, they surely would be merciful with their punishment or they would avoid punishment altogether by not getting caught. Sneaking around Etheirys and exploring the star was usually something Azem would do, but spending a lot of time with them and listening to their stories made Hythlodaeus want to experience a little adventure for himself, and who else was he supposed to ask than Emet-Selch himself. Besides Azem he was his closest friend, the man he trusted with his life, and as he knew Emet-Selch was usually overworking himself Hythlodaeus simply decided he needed a well-deserved break.

And it was to his surprise that Emet-Selch did not refuse, it even only took a little of persuading, but eventually they waited for nightfall and then made their way to Elpis. Sneaking around the shadows like thieves brought a silly sense of excitement to Hythlodaeus, but he kept reminding himself that they were not there to hurt anyone or start trouble, only for a little fun.

So when they reached that little lake Azem had told him about Hythlodaeus just stood there, gaze on the water’s surface, watching the reflection of the moon dance upon it. It was beautiful. Turning to his friend he smirked, a challenge in the bright violet of his eyes.

“And you are sure you don’t want to join?”

Yes, Emet-Selch was someone who took his duty very serious, yet the fact that he befriended both Azem and Hythlodaeus was only proof of the goodness of his heart. And while the other had time to contemplate Hythlodaeus already got rid of mask and robe, leaving him in his undergarments before jumping into the warm water of the lake.

How beautiful their star could be. They all worked hard to maintain it, but they often forgot to sit down and take time to really appreciate it. And here Hythlodaeus was now, swimming through a lake at night, glistening fish by his side, tickling his legs. For now Emet-Selch didn’t seem to want to join him, so he swam back to shore, a happy smile on his lips as he flopped down on the grass next to his friend.

“This is wonderful. Thank you for indulging me, my friend.”

The temperature was still warm enough to keep him from freezing, even as he sat dripping wet next to Emet-Selch, but the water had tugged too much hair out of his braid, so Hythlodaeus pulled off his hair-tie, causing his hair to fall loosely over his back as he handed said hair-tie to Emet-Selch.

“Would you mind braiding my hair for me? Please?”

[kbwrites]

Found Family

synopsis: Yuji was so seamlessly integrated into your lives, a ball of sunshine in your normally quiet life. How will he react to the news that you're expecting?

⚝content: Nanami x f! reader, Yuji being your adopted son basically, a tiny bit of angst, mostly fluff, found family.

⚝wc: 1.5k

The Nanami household was usually quiet, and peaceful. Light jazz music filled the rooms, the soft notes from the record player gently floated through the air. Every detail in the house had been carefully considered, a home where Kento hoped they could build a life filled with love and serenity.

The serenity, however, was often interrupted by his pink-haired cohort.

“Seconds please (Y/N)!” Yuji beamed holding up a clean plate with a wide grin.

Kento, seated at the table with his usual composed expression, felt a warmth in his chest as we watched his dear wife and Yuji. He secretly cherished these moments, finding comfort in the young man’s lively presence. The way his laughter filled the room, the way his energy brought a spark of joy to the quiet corners—it all made Kento realize just how much he had come to love having Yuji around.

“Itadori, you’ll get sick if you eat so fast.” Kento scolds gently, earning a pout from the high schooler. You can only smile apologetically as your husband maintains his serious demeanor.

“Kento…” You chide. “Yuji’s a growing boy, he needs to eat~” You wink at Yuji as he digs into his second helping.

You were always so quick to defend the younger boy from your husband. And although it would earn a disapproving sigh, Kento couldn’t help but adore you more for it. The way you cared for Yuji as if he were you own. This was the life he had always hoped for—a beautiful home…you. It was an unspeakable joy that made every day worth living.

And the best part? The little family you had built was about to get a bit bigger.

You glance over at your husband, wondering if you should be the one to break the news to Yuji. He returns your gaze with a small smile before clearing his throat.

“Yuji,” Kento began, his voice steady. “We have… something to tell you.”

Yuji looked up from his plate, his mouth full but curiosity shining in his eyes. You reached for Kento’s hand under the table, giving it a gentle squeeze as you shared a tender smile. The moment felt perfect, filled with the quiet anticipation of the next chapter of your lives—one that would bring even more joy and love into your growing family.

You took a deep breath, stilling your nerves. Yuji would be the first one outside of yourselves to find out.

“Yuji… I’m… we’re–”

“Pregnant.” You finish, the proverbial weight being lifted off your shoulders. You take in a breath as you look at Yuji, waiting for him to process the information.

He swallows, gaze flicking between you and Kento. He uncharacteristically… quiet. You could see the wheels turning, his mouth slightly agape.

Kento’s brow furrowed slightly, unsure of how to interpret the silence. He had expected Yuji to be excited—overjoyed. Jumping up immediately and grabbing you into a tight hug, at which point Kento would scold him again, reiterating that he would need to “Be more gentle… (Y/N) is pregnant.” He exchanged a concerned glance with you, searching for some understanding.

Yuji cleared his throat, voice softer than usual. “That’s..” He takes a breath, flashing his signature smile, however it didn’t quite reach his eyes as it normally did. “Amazing. I’m…really happy for you guys!”

You reach out, offering a comforting smile. “We wanted you to be the first to know.” 

The dinner continued, but the lively atmosphere had dimmed. The excitement that had filled the room was now replaced by a more subdued mood. Yuji picked at his food, his usual quips and jokes conspicuously absent. The lively energy that normally accompanied his presence was replaced by a contemplative silence.

Kento cleared his throat after a few moments, trying to shift the focus and bring some warmth back to the table. “Do you have any plans for the weekend? Maybe we could all do something together.”

The pink-haired teen looked up, blinking as he found himself again in his lost thoughts. “I think I’ll be busy with training.” He replies, not quite making eye contact with either of you.

You spoke up, intent on breaking through the walls. “You’ll be staying over tonight though?” 

Kento had bought a house with four bedrooms, partially because he wanted to be prepared for any children you’d agree to give him. But also because he was tired of Yuji sleeping on the couch when he visited your old place. He was given a room, furnished with some of his essentials. Kento made it very clear that Yuji always had a place there.

But instead of the usual eagerness to sleepover—he hesitates.

“I’m not sure–”

“Yuji. It’s late. Just stay here.” His voice soft but firm, leaving no room for argument.

You leave the bathroom, rubbing the last bit of cream into your skin. The soft glow of the bedside lamp illuminated the room as you saw Kento sitting on the edge of the bed, lost in thought.

“Something on your mind honey?” You question taking a seat next to him, already knowing the answer.

Kento looked up, his honey-brown eyes reflected in the gentle light of the lamp. “Yuji didn’t seem… happy about the news tonight.” 

You reached out to your husband, placing a hand on his knee “He was probably just caught off guard Ken. It’s a big change, give him some time.”

He sighed, fingers absentmindedly brushing against yours. “I thought he’d be excited. I thought—”

You leaned closer, resting your head on his broad shoulder. Kento wrapped an arm around you, pulling you to him. The warmth of his embrace filling you with a silent reassurance. He glances down at you.

“Dear… could you…” His voice trailed off, a subtle hint of hesitation in his words. You already knew what he was going to ask. After all, Kento’s bedside manner wasn’t exactly what made you fall for him. You just nod at him, before standing up and leaving the room.

Knock Knock.

You wait outside Yuji’s room before you hear him say “Come in.” 

You pushed the door open slowly, taking in the space. It was so uniquely Yuji, posters of his favorite actresses (that Kento would most definitely disapprove of). Beside them, a few shelves were crammed with manga volumes and action figures, the game console he loved to play with game discs littering the floor by the TV. And right by his bed, a picture of the three of you on vacation last year. Taken right after you both pushed Kento into the pool. It was his room. Without a doubt.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, his posture slumped, gaze fixed on the floor. You approached him, sitting down on the bed. He looked up, his eyes reflecting unease and weariness.

“Hey, Yuji.” Your voice as soft as a feather. “Can we talk?”

“(Y/N). It’s not that I’m not happy for you and Nanamin. It's just—” He takes a shaky breath. Your gaze softens, waiting patiently as he tries to find the words to express his feelings.

“It’s just,” his voice breaking slightly. “I… love it here. You and Nanamin are like my family. And now you’ll have a kid. A real kid. I’m just worried I won’t have a place here anymore...”

The vulnerability in his words was palpable, the pink-haired teen looked down again, his fingers nervously twisting the edge of his blanket. He took a deep breath, you take one too. 

You gently squeezed his shoulder and stood up, motioning for him to stay put. You left the room briefly, walking down the hallway to where Kento had left the bedroom to wait. He looked up as you approached, his expression a mixture of concern and curiosity. You took his hand, leading him to the room.

As you entered, you guided Kento to stand beside Yuji. Yuji looked up at him with a mixture of apprehension. The older male took a deep breath, his usual composed demeanor much softer.

“Yuji. You will Always have a place here.”

Yuji’s head snapped up, surprise evident in his eyes. 

“I know that and I—”

“No. You will always have a place here because you are family.”

The room seemed to exhale collectively, the tension lifting as Yuji’s eyes widened with a mix of disbelief and relief.

“(Y/N) is going to need all of our help, our baby will need all of our help. We need you Yuji. Our family wouldn't be complete without you.” Kento’s hand reaches out, resting on Yuji’s shoulder. 

Yuji’s eyes glistened as the reality of Kento’s words sank in. The years of feeling like an outsider, of worrying about his place in the world. Finally finding his family. Without a word, he stands up drawing you both into a tight embrace.

“Thank you… (Y/N). Nanamin. I’ll be the best big brother ever, or uncle? I’m not sure but I’m here. Whatever you need.”

In that embrace, the uncertainty began to melt away, replaced by a deep sense of belonging and love. The family you were building together, with all its changes and challenges, felt more united than ever.

[wolviensabes]

NSFW Alphabet: Wolverine

a/n: I was excited to write a nsfw version of this because his character was surprisingly fun and easy to write for this. I like Logan because you can really be flexible with how he is in bed. It all depends on preference and writer ofc, but still it was fun to write. Wrote mostly gender neutral, on parts where body is described, I wrote for afab and amab. Not edited please ignore mistakes ty <3

18+ under the cut. MDNI.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex):

Aftercare king.

He knows just what to do, especially since sex with him is normally pretty rough and crazy. He leaves you a mess under him and you're barely able to walk. "Atta girl/boy, princess/prince, up you come." he grabs hold of you and lifts you up, carrying you to the bathroom to get you all clean.

He's a messy partner so you need a shower to get all the sex off you. He leaves you alone to do anything you need privately, but otherwise he's helping you maintain your balance in the shower and drying off.

You're in such a dazed state, you feel dizzy and lightheaded, still a little loopy. He will get you back to bed and lay you down, feeling pride and satisfaction within himself at how he could bring you to such a state. Only he could do that to you.

He will hold you close to him, you feel cold now, his body will warm you up. He likes skin to skin, so unless you want a shirt, he won't dress you so he can feel your softer skin against his own.

The praise he gives you makes you feel so special and worth so much, it helps when you come down from your high, knowing he was satisfied and loved every moment of the act.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s):

I don't think he really has a favorite part of his partner, but I will die on the hill that he likes his partners a little chunky. He loves to grab onto you, he likes how he can manhandle you without worry of hurting you.

Those plush hips and belly drive him insane. If you are afab, your ass draws his hand in every single time and he loves to smack and grab it. If you are amab, he will grab onto your thighs or soft, relaxed chest muscles and squeeze them. Both afab and amab, his hands come around from behind and gently knead your belly.

Logan is a dude so on himself...he holds his manhood very high, and for good reason.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically):

Filthy.

He gets that shit all over the place and he loves it.

He loves marking you inside and out. He loves shooting his spunk on your body just as much but something about releasing inside you makes him somehow cum harder and with more.

He's not that bad taste wise, I mean cum doesn't taste great, but he's not bad. Not too bitter, not too salty, but his cum is thick. And when he does climax, he cums a LOT.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs):

Logan, being a primal mutant, loves scents. It's one of the things that he relies on a lot, and your scent is intoxicating. He steals some of your clothes and smells them, or sometimes he will dive into your crotch and inhale you.

Not exactly dirty, but Logan secretly likes when you scratch his head or mess with his hair after sex. He likes to keep himself up as a tough guy most of the time but when you wind down, even if he's the one holding you, he sometimes scoots down enough to let you play with his hair.

He will move his head where he wants your hand to scratch and leans into it when you reach that sweet spot.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?):

He's over 200 years old, he's got experience.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying):

Literally anything where he can watch you mewl and moan for him.

He also likes from behind or positions where he can watch his cock sink into you with each thrust.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.):

Logan isn't goofy but he also isn't serious. He's open to messing around and with tossing, turning, all sorts of play, it's not going to be serious 100% of the time.

He will chuckle and tease, sometimes funny noises are made, that's just how it is, and you both will laugh a little...but then you get back to it because who can resist?

Sometimes he will play fight you, wrestle you down to the bed and hold you there, with ease, and he smirks down at you trying to overpower him. It's a fun way to rile him up for sex and he enjoys it quite a bit.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.):

Logan is hairy, but not insanely so. I think below he is pretty crazy but he trims it down enough once you two get more intimate. Though he thought it was funny watching you spit out his pubes.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect):

He can be romantic but he is more passionate than anything. He likes to make sure you feel good, and he loves doing it. Once he gets you feeling good, he gets a little more rough and tells you what he likes without shame.

He's very forward, and his communication in the bedroom is immaculate. You wished he were like that outside of the bedroom sometimes, because there's no hesitation, no secrets, he's fully confident and tells you exactly what he wants.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon):

Sometimes he masturbates, sometimes he doesn't. It all depends on how horny he is in the moment.

He'll fist his cock to the thought of you, or since he likes your scent a lot, he will practically inhale your underwear and jerk himself until he cums all over his hand.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks):

Logan...he's kinky as hell.

Dom/sub dynamics drive him up the wall. He loves being in control, manhandling you, having you listen to what he says without fail.

Slight primal play would be up his alley. The playful wrestling and fighting gets him going and he likes to bite and mark you up during sex. Almost looking like an animal attacked you, but no, it was just Logan marking you as his.

Dirty talk king. He is so brazen with his language, whispering it into your ear as he pounds your poor, swollen hole full of another load.

Praise, praise, praise! He loves to praise you and how good you take his thick cock inside you.

Overstimulation/denial, he loves the control. He often makes you cum multiple times before even penetrating you just to hear you cry and whimper for him.

Maybe a slight breeding kink, since he loves the idea of filling you up to the brim with his thick cum, (this goes regardless of afab or amab), he's going to fill you up regardless if it's biologically possible to impregnate you or not. It's just for fantasy anyway.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do):

He will do it anywhere he feels like. He doesn't care who sees. You're his and he likes everyone around you to know it.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going):

I love that most everyone agrees that wearing his clothes makes him fucking feral. He would lose it seeing you in a shirt of his...or maybe even naked and only wearing a flannel. Slowly unclasping each button to make him growl and almost rip the damn thing off you.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs):

He'd never want to hurt you. There are things he likes that might harm you but he doesn't actually want to cause you harm.

He can be rough and he doesn't want to actually hurt you. A spank or choking just enough to get you dizzy is about as far as he would go. Logan would never intentionally try to harm you, especially during something as intimate as sex.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.):

He has a hard time picking what he likes better. He loves diving between your legs and lapping you. But he also loves to see you choke around his thick cock.

Logan loves the dirtiness of it, his dick in your throat and watching you try your best to please him. He loves seeing you choke and gag on him, your face gets so sloppy with spit and cum, it makes him more crazy in bed when he's fucking you.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.):

With Logan it can be 50/50. He can be rough and hard, or slower and passionate. Most of the time he is ensuring you cum multiple times, and then he fucks you into the bed while you cry around his cock. Then, he gives you another orgasm, he cums, and the cycle repeats until you literally can't take it anymore.

Then he cleans you up and makes sure you know how good you were for him. You'll have trouble walking for a few days.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.):

He's down for a quickie, he can make you cum fast when he wants to. However he does prefer to make you whine and beg instead of giving you a solid, quick orgasm unless you really need it.

Sometimes he needs a quick one too, so a fast blowjob helps. But again, he likes to take his time rather than rush it.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.):

He takes plenty of risks. He loves to test the waters with you and experiment with all sorts of things. He's down to try almost anything.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?):

His mutation allows him to have enhanced stamina so be prepared for that.

He can go for literal hours and not be tired at all. His mutation also allows his refectory period to be very short. So...you will be filled to the brim.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?):

I don't think he would have any for himself, but he would start to grow a collection if you had any or showed interest in some. He'd keep them under his bed in his room whenever you wanted to spice things up.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease):

Logan is the king of teasing you. He loves to tease until you can't take it and tears are rolling down your cheeks.

He always gives you what you want in the end, but not without that asshole making you beg.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.):

He doesn't give two shits who hears him, or you, he is loud. He grunts, groans, snarls. Not to mention the insane level of dirty talk he does, and he loves to make you scream out his name.

By the time you're done, you swear half the mansion heard you.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character):

He dirty talks like crazy.

Sometimes he will fuck you when you're wearing his clothes, or when he comes back from a mission, he doesn't bother cleaning up before he storms up to your shared room and he fucks you.

Angry sexxx

He lets out his frustrations from missions as he pounds into you.

"Goddamn slim, stupid fuckin' self-designated leader thinks he can boss me around like I'm nothin' but a loyal scout to 'em." he grunts and snarls with each plap of his hips into you, his cock driving against you. You have no idea what happened on the mission but can you complain? No.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes):

Logan's dick is huge let's get that out of the way.

He's thick, it feels like he rips you open each time he penetrates you and it feels fucking incredible. That also means lots of foreplay~

He's veiny, his cock throbs as he stands erect, and his balls are heavy.

He's a good 8 to 8.5 inches fully erect, the damn thing leaks precum constantly when he's horny.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?):

Insanely high. He will fuck you every single day if he could.

He is down to fuck all the time, anytime. You just have to say the word and he's on top of you.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards):

Logan makes sure you're comfortable before he even attempts to sleep. He stays awake, letting you curl into him and he watches you, making sure nothing he did was too much or causing pain.

Once you seem okay and have fallen asleep, he will allow himself to relax and fall asleep beside you.

Thanks for reading.

*SNIKT*

Tag list: @strawberryshortcake20

Please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list by leaving a 🧡.

dividers by @/strangergraphics

[they-call-me-hippie]

Here's one easy trick to become a better conversationalist

Become more jaded

[agirlsguidetolove]

I THOUGHT YOU KNEW

pairings: theodore nott x reader

word count: 0.9k

summary: “i thought you knew?” “you thought i knew we were dating?” “yes!” “how would i know that, nott, you never told me.”

Theodore Nott had dead eyes. That was something you had learned early on in your friendship with the boy; never expect his eyes to tell you anything. But, right now, you couldn’t help but wonder if your own advice was wrong because the look he was giving you in the moment was the farthest thing to dead. Alive.

Theodore’s eyes were ablazed, like you had lit a match in his face just as he had done with his cigarettes the night before. They looked on fire as he glared off at you, standing and chatting with some Ravenclaw boy who had decided to make the stupid of going to a slytherin party and talking to Theo’s girl.

It was a common fact that you and Theo had something, everyone knew. Well, maybe except for you.

Maybe that’s why you hadn’t expected for Theodore to waltz up to you and your new friend and throw an arm over your shoulder, and stand and listen to you too talk, not saying a word.

“Think we should get out of here?” Was the first thing he said to you, well, whispered into your ear, pulling you closer.

“I’m okay here, Teddy,” you said. Theo visible softened, melting into you at the nickname only you were allowed to call him. “You can go, though. I’ll be alright, promise.”

Theo smiled at you as you patted his arm that was wrapped around your shoulder, watching as your attention drifted back to whoever this guy was. He sighed.

“I know,” Theo started before your Ravenclaw friend interrupted.

“Yeah, mate, we’ll be okay,” he said. Theo hardened, dead eyes becoming colder as he took his arm off your shoulder, stepping forward and shoving the guy.

“Was I fucking talking to you, mate?” he spit.

“Woah!” you cut, pulling Theo back with your hand to his chest, “What the hell, Theo?”

“Yeah,” the Raveclaw pants. “What the hell, Nott? Calm down!”

Theodore sneers, glaring harshly ate the boy before hissing, “Fuck off,” and pushing past him and bumping his shoulder aggressively as he makes his way out of the common room.

Staring of at his fuming figure you quickly apologize to the boy before chasing off after Theo. When you find him, he’s angrily pacing through the hallway, running a hand through his hair.

“Theo,” you state angrily. Theo’s head whips to where you stand before shaking his head and choosing to walk away from you and down the hall.

“Theo!” you yell, walking quickly behind him. “What the fuck was that about? Can you wait for a second and talk to me?”

Theo stops, allowing you to catch up to him. You can practically see the steam coming out when he turns to you. “What am I supposed to do?” he asks bitterly. “Just let him flirt with you?”

“What?” you ask, just as bitter. “What are you talking about? Why’d you have to fucking shove, Dylan?”

Dylan. Theodore scoffs, getting madder by the second. He takes a step closer, towering over you. “So I’m just supposed to stand there when some prick is running up on my girlfriend!”

Girlfriend? What the hell was he on about. “Girlfriend?” you question, softer.

“Yes! You’re my girlfriend!” Theodore shouted. He just wasn’t getting it, was he?

“What?” you spluttered. “Since when?”

“What,” Theo got quieter.

“i didn’t know…” you said. “when did we start dating?…o-officially?”

“You didn’t know?” he repeated, incredulous. “I… I thought… I thought you knew?”

“You thought I knew we were dating?” You were getting louder, voice echoing off the walked.

“Yes!” Theo yelled, eyes getting sadder.

“How would I know that, Nott, you never told me!”

Theodore shakes his head, again getting gentle. “Don’t start calling me ‘Nott’ now, angel, you don’t do that.”

“Theo,” you reiterated, taking a breath. “When did we— when did we start ‘dating’.”

Theo looks like a kicked puppy when he says, “Last trip to Hogsmeade. We kissed.”

Looking at the ground, you say, “Just because we kissed doesn’t mean we’re dating.”

“To me, it did!”

“You kiss plenty of girls that you’re not dating!” you argue.

Theo scoffs, “They’re not you, now are they?”

“Teddy,” you say, tears quickly forming in your eyes. Looking up at him, he purses his lips, heart breaking in his chest. “Why couldn’t you have just asked me to be your girlfriend?”

“Love, I… I thought you knew, didn’t I?”

“Yeah,” you swallow, hugging yourself with your own arms, still holding in your tears. “Well, I didn’t.”

It’s silent between you both for a moment, nothing but you staring at the floor and Theo staring at you. Theo takes a small step forward, his hands touching where you hold yourself. “Would you?” he says, “Be my girlfriend, if I asked?”

“Yeah,” you chuckle, looking up at him, “if you’d ask, you dick.”

Theo chuckles, dipping his head low and putting his lips against yours. His lips are so soft, despite how he tastes like liquor and cigarettes. He breaks apart from you, hand coming to caress your cheek. “Would you be my girlfriend?”

“Yes, I would.”

not proof read 🧸

i 🫶 theo nott

[ridher]

thinking about s2 rafe & just want to comfort him so bad

you knew something had been off with your boyfriend. with the way he was constantly running around town and refusing to tell you anything about these 'errands', it was concerning.

it wasn't worrying because you thought he was doing anything disloyal, but you knew the immense amount of pressure he was constantly under thanks to his father and you just wanted rafe to be alright — even if that meant you weren't his number one priority for once.

not expecting much, you invited yourself over to tanneyhill when rafe had failed to respond to your string of texts. it felt stupid, but you just wanted to see the boy after being pretty much alone for a few days without his presence.

forgoing knocking, you step inside the familiar foyer leading into the mansion, shoes scuffing across the floor where your yoga pants flow over.

the sound of distant talking and footsteps echo through the house, but it doesn't deter you from continuing your path up the stairs to where you know rafe's bedroom is — admittedly the only place you've memorized how to get to.

looking up from your feet when you reach the second floor, you're met with the sight of ward who seems equally as surprised at the sight.

"hey, sweetheart. good to see you." keeping it brief, he gives your arm a squeeze before passing by and flashing what you infer to be a guilty smile.

soon, you're at rafe's door and suddenly don't feel so sure about the decision to come over — hesitating in the hallway.

when your hand reaches for the knob, your name is mumbled behind you. startled, your hand jerks away and you turn to look over your shoulder — now completely turning around and relaxing when you see your boyfriend.

his tired eyes and slouched posture along with the stressed ruffle of his sandy curtain bangs reveal his state of emotion, visibly breaking your heart as you step forward.

without hesitation, you lean up on your toes to wrap your arms behind his neck and pull him into a hug. as much as he hates to admit it, you know better than anyone how he craves physical touch.

rafe lets out a shaky exhale and practically melts into your body, arms snaking around your waist and combining the shape of your body with his own.

his head drops to your shoulder and buries in the crook of your neck, breath warm and uneven against your skin. bringing a hand to rest at the bottom of his scalp, you lightly drag your nails across it — acrylics grown out from how long it'd been since he took you out to get them done.

you're rarely the one initiating any kind of contact, but it comes naturally when he's right there, so vulnerable in front of you.

"i love you," you assure him, not expecting a response as you just wanted to let him know someone was on his side, no matter how fucked up he convinces himself he is.

"love you too, baby." it's deep and muffled against your body, sending a shiver from the contact all the way down your back.

you spend the rest of the day in his company, curled up in bed and occasionally wandering about the house. it's mostly silent since he still keeps all his troubles to himself, but being in one another's company is enough for both of you.

falling asleep in his arms and nothing's changed, he holds you as if you'll slip away with his face buried in your hair, hands ghosting over every part of your body — indulging in a softer show of affection he deems as weak.

but at this moment, he doesn't seem to care. all worries are saved for the following morning when you wake up once again in an empty bed.

[the-case-book-of-fanfiction]

astarion ancunin hcs {pt. 1}

once he's comfortable with you, he adores non-sexual physical intimacy

playing with his hair will calm him down almost instantly

he's protective and possessive, so he'll keep a hand on you at all times, usually on your back

loves when you initiate any kind of physical contact

always asks to do something before he does, in either a sexual or nonsexual context

he's easily jealous and can sometimes get very possessive; for the first time in 200 years, he has someone who genuinely loves him and he hates the possibility that he might lose you

that possessiveness is obvious when he marks up your neck with bites and hickeys

if he feels like his place in your relationship is threatened in public, he will not hesitate to touch, hold, or kiss you in front of whomever is making a move on you; after some bearing of fangs, whoever it is usually scuttles off very quickly

he definitely feels very undeserving of you and your love and has his days when he's convinced you're going to leave him for someone better when you get the chance, or that he's keeping you from; that insecurity lasts for a very long time

constantly buries his own feelings, so you have to coax them out of him and teach him how to set boundaries and stand up for himself

astarion absolutely LOVES bathing together; he can be very vulnerable with you without sex being expected when you bathe together and it absolutely helps him regain some control and bodily autonomy

he loves gifting you things: jewelry, clothes, weapons, little knickknacks he sees that remind him of you

his elven ears are so sensitive and he absolutely will whine involuntarily when you brush your fingers over them (either on accident while you're touching his curls or on purpose)

speaking of which, astarion loves having his hair played with, it's a huge comfort to him (and another form of physical touch that isn't inherently sexual, so it's one of the ways to ease him back into being intimate and physical)

sexually, he's very switchy; some days he wants to be in control and giving you all the pleasure you deserve, but other days he's more than happy to let you take the lead and love on him

he loves staying up late to have deep talks and watch the sky (sun or moon and stars, it doesn't matter which to him)

cuddle this man. all the time. he's absolutely a cuddle bug. if you don't cuddle him while you go to sleep, he'll be very huffy, and you'll wake up to him curled up around you anyway

he also likes to be the little spoon sometimes, once he's comfortable with you seeing and being wrapped around his back

he will sew everything for you instead of teaching you to do it; he likes being useful in some little way for you (inspired by @aethes-bookshelf's post here because I saw it and went "you are absolutely right")

he commonly speaks to you in Elvish whether you understand it or not; it's absolutely a comfort to him, especially when you start picking up words and understanding some of what he says

contrary to the performances he puts on, astarion is a very gentle lover when he can finally be comfortable and genuine with you. he's quieter, softer, he takes the time to learn you and himself, he lets himself enjoy it; he learns to become a taker, not just a giver

he likes to hold you, however he can, and at the very least always be touching you. an arm around your waist or shoulders, a hand on the small of your back, holding your hand or twining your pinkies together. he can't be touching you, he's standing so close to you that he could be touching you if he moved a centimeter more

he likes to hug you randomly; one of his favorite ways to do it is to come up behind you while you're cooking or talking to someone or looking at yourself in the mirror to get ready so he can surprise you by putting his arms around your waist and resting his head on your shoulder

astarion has a habit of kissing your neck whenever he can, sometimes it's a way to let you know he's hungry, other times when he wants to be intimate, other times just to remind you he loves you

on the same hand, he doesn't always say 'i love you' but instead makes it known through his behavior around you (and the fact that he's constantly looking at you like you are his whole world, because you are)

on the nights when you can't sleep, he reads to you until you drift off because he knows you find his voice soothing

he likes tucking his head into your neck and shoulder when the two of you sleep (which he finds out he actually likes doing every now and then)

the first thing astarion does when he wakes up is pepper you with little kisses on your shoulders, collarbones, cheeks, and forehead

when he's nervous and with people he's okay with knowing that, he'll reach for your hand and touch your fingers to calm down and ground himself. if you wear a ring or multiple rings, he'll play with those

astarion loves it when you call him by a nickname, either a shortened version of his name or a pet name. if he's fed recently and had enough blood, his cheeks will turn this adorable shade of pink when you call him "Star" or "my love" or something similar

how he wakes up from a nightmare changes constantly. the worse the nightmare, the worse his reaction when he wakes up. sometimes it's just a little gasp and his eyes flying open, sometimes it's a yelp and tears, sometimes he's crying before he even wakes up; but every time, his biggest comfort is to cling to you until the panic fades and then curl up in your lap (you've learned to light a candle or summon lights with magic when he wakes up from a nightmare; the shadows make him feel worse)

when you fall asleep outside of bed, he picks you up and carries you to bed and tucks you in—all without waking you

if you are injured at any point and there is no certainty that you'll pull through, he panics. he stays at your side the entire time, even if the smell of your blood is driving him mad, and holds your hand and talks to you, often begging you to wake up, to come back to him, to stay with him; more than once, you've woken up to find him with tears streaked down his face

every time you wake up from an injury and he realizes it, either because he's watching you or because you say hi to get his attention, he smothers you in kisses

once he's no longer starving, he likes to feed from you very slowly, to take his time and enjoy your taste; now that he's promised food, he doesn't feel the need to rush. feeding becomes very sensual, intimate, and personal for the two of you after that

he also loves leaving bites and drinking from you in places the others won't see; it makes him incredibly giddy to know that you let him bite you in places only he will ever see

if he's taller than you, he loves to kiss the crown of your head whenever he can

he will sew up your injuries whenever you need his help with it, even if the sight and smell of your blood makes him salivate

he loves touching your body to see how you react and lets you do the same to learn his own likes and dislikes

matching. outfits. he loves it, loves seeing people realize that you wear the same material and colors and realize what it means. he's very smug when people come to the realization that you're together

he frequently gives you his shirts to sleep in

if you are apart from him for any amount of time, expect to be tackled with a hug the minute you are reunited again

when you have the time, he likes to just lay in bed with you and relax together, half-asleep and cuddling and sometimes mumbling to each other pt. 2 coming soon

[pucksandpower]

Crash Course Correction

Lando Norris x Reader x Max Verstappen

Summary: the Austrian Grand Prix left your boyfriends less than pleased with each other, so you decide to do something about it

The tension in the air is palpable as you stride into the living room, your eyes darting between Max and Lando. They’re seated on opposite ends of the couch, arms crossed, deliberately avoiding each other’s gaze.

The aftermath of their crash at the Austrian Grand Prix still lingers, a cloud of unresolved anger and frustration hanging over them.

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for what’s to come. “Alright, boys,” you announce, your voice firm but tinged with exasperation. “This ends now.”

Max’s head snaps up, his blue eyes narrowing. “What are you on about?”

Lando, unable to resist, chimes in with a snort. “Probably about how you can’t drive for shit.”

“Me?” Max’s voice rises an octave. “You’re the one who-”

“Enough!” You cut them off, hands on your hips. “I’ve had it with this childish bickering. You two are going to sit here and work this out, or so help me, you’ll both be sleeping on this couch until you do.”

The threat hangs in the air for a moment before Lando breaks the silence. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I’m dead serious,” you reply, your tone leaving no room for argument. “I love you both, but I’m not dealing with this anymore. Sort it out.”

Max leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “Y/N, come on. It’s not that simple. He-”

“No excuses,” you interrupt. “Talk to each other, not to me. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.” With that, you turn on your heel and march out of the room, leaving the two drivers to face each other.

For a long moment, neither speaks. The ticking of the clock on the wall seems to grow louder with each passing second.

Finally, Lando breaks. “This is ridiculous,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair.

Max grunts in agreement. “Yeah, well, welcome to life with Y/N. Stubborn as hell.”

“You’re one to talk,” Lando retorts, but there’s less heat in his words now.

Max sighs, leaning back into the couch. “Look, about the race ...”

Lando tenses. “What about it?”

“I ... I might have been a bit aggressive in that turn,” Max admits grudgingly.

Lando’s eyebrows shoot up. “A bit?”

“Hey, you weren’t exactly backing off either,” Max counters, but his tone is more defensive than accusatory.

Lando opens his mouth to argue, then closes it, considering. “Fair point,” he concedes after a moment. “I guess we were both pushing pretty hard.”

The admission seems to ease some of the tension in the room. Max nods, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “It’s what we do, isn’t it? Push to the limit.”

“Yeah,” Lando agrees, a matching smile forming. “Sometimes we just ... overstep that limit.”

There’s another pause, but this one feels less strained. Max breaks it, his voice softer now. “I am sorry, you know. For how it ended up. It wasn’t what I wanted.”

Lando’s expression softens. “I know. Me too. It’s just ... frustrating, you know? We both lost out on a podium.”

Max nods emphatically. “Tell me about it. The team was not happy.”

“Christian give you an earful?” Lando asks, a hint of sympathy in his voice.

Max groans. “Like you wouldn’t believe. You?”

“Zak was ... not thrilled,” Lando admits with a grimace. “But I think Andrea was even worse.”

They share a look of mutual understanding, the shared experience of team disappointment bridging the gap between them.

“You know,” Max says slowly, “maybe we should ... I don’t know, talk more? In the paddock, I mean. Try to avoid these situations.”

Lando tilts his head, considering. “Yeah, that could help. Better communication, less ... assuming the other will back off.”

“Exactly,” Max agrees, warming to the idea. “We’re both competitive as hell, but maybe we can find a way to race hard without ... well, this.”

Lando nods, a genuine smile spreading across his face. “I’d like that. It’s more fun when we’re both actually finishing the race.”

Max chuckles. “Can’t argue with that logic.”

The atmosphere in the room has shifted dramatically, the earlier tension replaced by a tentative camaraderie. They’re both quiet for a moment, processing the change.

“So,” Lando ventures, “think this counts as making up? Because I really don’t fancy sleeping on this couch. It’s not exactly built for comfort.”

Max laughs outright at that. “God, no. My back would never forgive me.” He pauses, then calls out, “Schatje? You can come back now. We’ve sorted it.”

You poke your head around the corner, eyeing them suspiciously. “Have you really? Or are you just saying that to get out of couch duty?”

Lando holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Cross my heart. We’ve had a proper talk and everything.”

You step fully into the room, your gaze moving between them. “And? What did you decide?”

Max and Lando exchange a glance before Max speaks. “We’re going to work on communicating better about what happens on the track. Try to avoid these ... incidents.”

“And off track?” You prompt, not quite satisfied.

Lando jumps in. “We’re good, love. Really. Water under the bridge and all that.”

You study them for a moment longer before your posture relaxes. “Alright, I believe you. But if I hear one more word about that crash ...”

“You won’t,” Max assures you quickly. “Promise.”

You nod, finally allowing yourself to smile. “Good. Now, who wants dinner? I’m starving.”

As you turn to head back to the kitchen, Lando calls out, “Hey, Y/N?”

You pause, looking back. “Yeah?”

He grins, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Just for the record, if we had to sleep on the couch ... would it have been together, or ...”

You roll your eyes, but can’t help the laugh that escapes. “In your dreams, Norris.”

Max snorts. “As if I’d share a couch with you anyway. You kick in your sleep.”

“Oi!” Lando protests. “I’ll have you know I’m a perfect sleeping companion.”

“Sure you are,” Max teases. “That’s why Y/N always complains about your snoring.”

You decide to intervene before they can start bickering again, albeit more playfully this time. “Alright, children. Less arguing, more helping with dinner.”

They both groan dramatically but get up to follow you into the kitchen. As you start pulling out ingredients, you can’t help but smile at the easy banter now flowing between them.

“So,” Max says, leaning against the counter, “what’s for dinner?”

You shrug. “I was thinking pasta. Simple and quick.”

Lando perks up. “Ooh, can we have garlic bread too?”

“Only if you make it,” you counter, tossing him a loaf of Italian bread.

He catches it with a grin. “Challenge accepted.”

As Lando busies himself with the garlic bread and you start on the pasta sauce, Max hovers nearby, looking slightly lost.

“Don’t just stand there,” you chide gently. “Make yourself useful. Chop some vegetables or something.”

Max grimaces. “You know I’m useless in the kitchen.”

Lando laughs. “Come on, Max. Even you can’t mess up chopping vegetables. Here, I’ll show you.”

To your surprise, Max allows Lando to guide him through the process, their earlier animosity completely forgotten. You watch them with a warm feeling in your chest, grateful that your plan worked out better than you could have hoped.

As the kitchen fills with the aroma of garlic and herbs, the conversation flows easily between the three of you. Racing stories blend with personal anecdotes, punctuated by laughter and the occasional playful jab.

“Remember that time in Monaco,” Lando says between giggles, “when Daniel thought it’d be a good idea to-”

“Oh God,” Max groans, but he’s smiling. “Don’t remind me. I still can’t look at inflatable flamingos the same way.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Do I even want to know?”

They exchange a look before answering in unison, “Probably not.”

The pasta is almost done when Max suddenly says, “You know, I’m glad we sorted this out.”

Lando nods, his expression sincere. “Me too. It’s ... nice, this. Being able to just be together without the pressure.”

“Yeah,” Max agrees softly. “Sometimes I forget we’re not just rivals, you know? We’re ... partners.”

The word hangs in the air for a moment, weighted with meaning. You hold your breath, waiting to see how Lando will respond.

A slow smile spreads across Lando’s face. “Yeah, we are. Even if you are a pain in the arse sometimes.”

Max laughs, the sound full and genuine. “Right back at you, mate.”

You can’t help but join in their laughter, relief and happiness bubbling up inside you. This is what you’d hoped for — not just a truce, but a real reconnection.

As you all sit down to eat, the conversation continues to flow. You find yourself content to just listen, watching the way Max and Lando interact. There’s a new ease between them, a understanding that goes beyond their shared profession.

“You know,” you say during a lull in the conversation, “I’m proud of you both. For working this out.”

They both look slightly embarrassed at the praise, but pleased nonetheless.

“Well,” Lando says, a teasing lilt to his voice, “we couldn’t very well let you win, could we? Threatening us with the couch, honestly.”

You stick your tongue out at him. “Hey, it worked, didn’t it?”

Max chuckles. “She’s got us there.”

As the evening winds down, you find yourself curled up on the couch between them, a movie playing on the TV. It’s some action flick that none of you are really paying attention to, too content in each other’s company.

“Hey,” Max says softly, his arm draped around your shoulders. “Thanks for this. For ... pushing us to talk.”

Lando hums in agreement from your other side. “Yeah, we can be right idiots sometimes. It’s good to have someone to knock some sense into us.”

You smile, warmth spreading through you. “That’s what I’m here for. Someone has to keep you two in line.”

They both laugh at that, the sound harmonizing in a way that makes your heart swell.

As the credits roll on the forgotten movie, you realize that this — this moment of peace and companionship — is exactly what you’d been hoping for.

It’s not always easy loving two Formula 1 drivers. The competition, the pressure, the constant travel ... it can all take its toll.

But moments like this? They make it all worthwhile.

You snuggle deeper into the couch, surrounded by the warmth of the two men you love. “So,” you say, unable to resist one last tease, “I guess you’ve both earned your bed privileges back, huh?”

Max and Lando exchange a look over your head before Max speaks. “Actually ... I was thinking maybe we could all just stay here for a bit longer. This is ... nice.”

Lando nods in agreement. “Yeah, no rush to move. Unless you want to, of course,” he adds quickly.

You smile, touched by their reluctance to end the moment. “Here is perfect,” you assure them.

As you settle in for another movie, you can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, that crash was a blessing in disguise. It forced a confrontation that needed to happen, cleared the air in a way that casual interaction never could.

And now, curled up between Max and Lando, their earlier rivalry forgotten in favor of shared laughter and warm companionship, you know that whatever challenges come next, you’ll face them together.

As a team.

As a family.

[myeagleexpert]

The Perfect Boyfriend

𝖄𝖔𝖚 𝖘𝖒𝖊𝖑𝖑 𝖏𝖚𝖘𝖙 𝖑𝖎𝖐𝖊 𝖛𝖆𝖓𝖎𝖑𝖑𝖆 𝖄𝖔𝖚 𝖙𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊 𝖑𝖎𝖐𝖊 𝖇𝖚𝖙𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖈𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖒 𝖄𝖔𝖚'𝖗𝖊 𝖋𝖎𝖑𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖚𝖕 𝖒𝖞 𝖘𝖊𝖓𝖘𝖊𝖘 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝖊𝖒𝖕𝖙𝖞 𝖈𝖆𝖑𝖔𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘

Doppleganger/Skinwalker!Yandere x YN (AFAB) Summary: Despite living in a pink world, there's a little voice in the back of your head that tells you that there's something strange with your boyfriend. It can't be anything important, right? (You'll regret not listening to it) Warnings: (Toxic relationships, obsessed relationships, mental manipulation, the smell of rot, description of death, description of fear and panic, a little sentimental smut, The thing loves you - too much.) Uncertain motives. He tries to keep you trapped. The term 'YN' and 'you' is used several times in the fanfic for better grammatical use, my first time writing something like this, so please be gentle. <3 PT1: Candlelight dinner PT2: She Knows

It was already night when your boyfriend showed up at your door, well… er-EX boyfriend. You and Kain had been together for a few months, but when you realized how toxic and rude he was, you felt the need to break up with him. Just a week later, he shows up at your door asking for forgiveness and begging to have you back.

“Shall we at least talk?” Kain’s voice sounds like a broken record that became softer and more pleasant to listen to as he spoke, like a person with a hoarse throat from a hangover, which… well, that was Kain almost every day.

He says, offering you a beautiful bouquet of Japanese flowers, in shades of pink and pastel pink, of various sizes, wrapped in paper that imitated butterfly wings, wrapped in such an elegant and harmonious way. It was an incredibly beautiful and thoughtful bouquet. It was actually an image you had recently visualized at the flower shop and in your desired heart. Point 1 that something is wrong.

Kain has only given you flowers exactly 3 times. All three of them were cheap plastic red roses, still with the price tag on them when YN picked them up and an unmistakable smell of old invaded her nose so much that it made her cough, she has always been sensitive to smells.

These smell of harmonious and enchanted nature, as if one of Monet's beautiful paintings had come to life. But YN is hurt by the aggressive breakup, mulling over painful old memories while trying to maintain her pride with a glass or two of wine. With her mind clouded by sadness and anger, she fails to realize that the man in front of her is strangely… strange.

"What's the bouquet for? You're not going to buy me with that." YN crosses her arms and looks skeptically at the beautiful flowers.

"Please! Accept it as a peace offering!" he says approaching YN with the bouquet, trying to place it in her arms almost desperately.

They were too stupidly beautiful to refuse… but there is something in her heart that tells you to close the door immmediatly.

Sensing your hesitation, he tries to convince you once more.

“Just a conversation, nothing more. I know that… we didn't end up on the best of terms… but please, I need to talk to you.” The man looks at YN with sincerity and devotion in his… blue eyes? YN could have sworn that his eyes were beautiful brown.

“Okay. Okay. Just ONE conversation. And after that… I don't want to see you in front of me anymore.” The girl stomps her foot and maintains her angry and indifferent posture as she receives the flowers and opens the door wider so he can enter.

“And don't even think about jumping on my couch like last time! I'm still paying for the conc-“ Normally Kain would have thrown his muddy sneakers on the floor and sprawled on the couch, but to the girl's surprise, he was right next to her, waiting for her to guide him.

“Did I break your couch? I'm sorry, let me pay for the repair now, okay?” Don't pretend to be nice in front of me, just look at him pretending to be innocent as if he hadn't thrown in my face that the problem was mine.

“I don’t want anything from you, let’s get things moving.” YN spits out the venom, entering the room and placing the bouquet on the table while the man follows her wherever she goes, until they sit on the couch (the one that isn’t broken) in the living room.

In better light, YN can see that there’s something different about him. And Kain dyed his hair, his short black hair was chin-length, the ends highlighted in rich caramel tones. The skin that was once worn out by tiredness and nights of drinking was almost porcelain, clean, with hardly any prominent pores. The thin, frowning mouth had soft, kissable lips, his jaw was well defined too. The post-breakup glow, huh?

“You look different…” you make the observation as you settle into the couch, trying not to seem interested in anything he might have to say, but curiosity is addictive, right?

“Did you like it?” He lights up when you notice and runs your hand through his hair, tucking a strand behind his ear as he approaches you.

It's for you.

When he tries to get closer, you aggressively place a pillow between the two of you, much to Kain's dismay, who seems to immediately wilt at your attitude. "I said different. Don't let it go to your head." As sharp as a Tramontina knife, you cut him off immediately.

"You said you wanted to talk, come on. Talk." You snort, putting on a serious posture and looking him straight into his fake eyes. Contacts, Kain? Seriously?

"Ah.. yes, I wanted to talk to you YN." He turns towards her, giving her all the attention she once begged for. A bitter taste invades your mouth, like the feeling of receiving a gift that your child would dream of receiving, but you miss as an adult. A belated gift, that means less than the dust on the soles of your shoes.

“I ask you to reconsider… we've had our ups and downs in our relationship, but I know it has a lot of potential. Let's try again, let me show you how much I've changed, how happy we can be together.” He tries to give a friendly smile.

Change in a week? Nah, spare me.

“Nobody changes that much in a week, Kain. I don't move out of resentment and you've never changed out of guilt.” YN puts him against the wall coldly. “Why do you want to get back together? You called me worthless and now you see the potential in us? Humph… Your offer isn't the best.” She snorts as she looks at him with disdain, wanting to know where all this is coming from.

“Wait! Please!” Kain approaches and desperately takes her hand. “I know I was rude and rude to you… I was selfish and I never gave you the value you deserved. I was terrible and you have every right to refuse me…”

Oh, and how I do.

“But if you give me a chance, I promise you won’t regret it-“

“Oh, I don’t want to pay to see. In the last fight I ended up punching the wall… I don’t want to wait for you to hit my head.” Your gaze is furrowed, irritated and for a moment you notice the same look pass quickly through Kain’s. Is he upset that you threw that in his face?

“I’m sorry about that scene YN, it wasn’t me…” the last part rings so true that YN raises an eyebrow skeptically “You didn’t deserve to go through that.”

Masculine hands move to hold YN’s cheeks as he gently caresses them. They seem too big.. but let’s leave that thought for later. He’s different.. and little by little you’re feel disarmed by his attitude.

“I can’t live without you. Please… just give me one chance to prove to you that I’m your best option. That I’ve changed. That I can be better.” Kain's voice is like a warm blanket, enveloping all your senses… like a mermaid would envelop a sailor until he drowned.

He's never spoken to me like that. He's never used that tone with me.

As the red lights in your head go off, you try to pull away from his hands. Seeing your attempt to pull away, he tightens his grip and moves even closer to your body. There's something strange in his blue eyes… maybe it's a devotion you weren't used to… or something strangely… uncanny.

"YN…" he whispers sweetly and delicately, moving even closer until your eyes are staring directly into each other's.

"I love you… so much. You mean so much to me." He closes his eyes and rests his forehead against yours. "Give me a chance… just one."

Something possessed you at that moment. The wine must have messed with your head. You must have been drugged. The water was bad. You must be sick. You must have been PMSing. Or ovulating. Or menstruating… because there's no rational reason why you gave in, and nodded slightly with your head tilted to accept his offer.

"Are you serious?" He looks into your eyes and finds no lie, just a hesitation. "I'm so happy! You won't regret it!" He hugs YN and wraps her in strong arms, burying his face in her shoulder while placing small kisses on her face.

When you hug him back, very suspiciously, you notice that his body is different. Taller, more muscular, more attractive… he couldn't make such a change in a week, he didn't even go to the gym.

"YN, look at me…" with a delicate hand on her chin he guides her to his lips, where they kiss delicately, savoring each other's presence. Until the smell of his perfume invades your nose, enveloping you in a light trance.

Kain smells like expensive perfume.

He always smelled like alcohol and cigarettes, something you always complained about. He now had a feeling of cleanliness and elegance, the leather jacket was new too. The smell of perfume is almost suffocating. Why would he be wearing such a fragrant and expensive perfume?

When the two of them are separated for air, Kain looks with so much devotion and love while caressing her lower lip "I love you."

Kain smiles in a way that YN had never seen him smile like that. Big mouth, too white teeth and some sharp hidden fangs.

There's something wrong with her ex-boyfriend.

----

But two weeks later… YN forgets about it, keeping any survival instinct or voice of conscience in a drawer at the back of her mind, along with the unpleasant memories of the relationship. Mentally thanking him for having changed.

It was as if she was floating on clouds and Kain was her ray of sunshine.

As time went by, YN fell more and more in love with Kaius, as if she was getting to know a new side of him. It was as if he had created a rosy and passionate world, where he controlled all reality around her, solving everything for her. YN felt trapped in a state of enchantment and dependence almost like a drug addict, laughing alone and going limp in his presence.

It was fascinating for Kaius to manipulate YN's emotions, keeping her trapped in a state of passion and blind trust while he himself fell into a state of disillusionment. Every gesture and behavior of his was calculated to make her fall even more in love, while he tried hard to hide any detail that could reveal the truth. YN found herself increasingly trapped in the spell, unable to realize that the man she had fallen in love with was… too perfect, a romance novel, the kind she had most innocently dreamed of until the adventures in hidden paragraphs. Kaindid everything perfectly and still left her wanting more.

It's been two great weeks, YN visits him at his house almost every day and they're getting ready to live together, she's been going out with her party-loving friends, she's been so productive at work that she got a promotion today!

“Congratulations YN! I knew our project would boost you in the company.” Your boss praises you, it was hard and delicate work but she knew that by putting herself in your hands she would prosper.

“Thank you very much for your trust.” You smile at her.

“The guys are going to celebrate the success after work, are you coming?” she asks, noticing that you're not getting ready to go out

“Oh no, I promised I'd go out with my boyfriend to celebrate today. But I'm going to celebrate the weekend with you guys!” you say, reminding her that you're still going out with the company this weekend, but she looks confused

“Your boyfriend? Didn't you guys break up two or… three weeks ago?”

“We're back together, and he's better than ever, can you believe it?” you show her a picture of the two of you at the eco-park, him holding your waist while smiling beautifully.

Your boss looks suspicious, she could swear by the name of the company that she'd seen him somewhere before, like a piece of information on the tip of her tongue that's soon forgotten strangely… but she tries to give you a vote of confidence “Err… I'm happy for you. But remember, we've had clients who were wolves in sheep's clothing. Enjoy the honeymoon phase.” She gives your shoulder a gentle squeeze before leaving. “Call me if you need anything, dear.”

Wolf in sheep's clothing… interesting.

You think about this as you ride back to his house on your motorbike, and right on the way you enter the usual flower shop and meet Thomas, the friendly old man who sells the flower shop.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Thomas!” you greet him as soon as you arrive at the store. His tired eyes soon find your presence as you explore the garden in search of a plant that catches your attention.

“Good afternoon, girl.” He walks towards you in slow steps, supporting himself with his old wooden cane.

“I think I’ll take this one here-“ you point to beautiful white alstroemerias.

“Your boyfriend is allergic to these.” He warns, looking at them. “He came here the other day and when he was going to touch this one, it looked like my cat, he started coughing and almost vomited when he touched the plant.”

You turn your head to him in confusion. Kain has never been allergic to flowers.

“I found it strange, because people usually aren’t allergic to this type of alstroemeria.” The old man scratches his chin thoughtfully but then laughs to himself. “But I suppose, each organism works differently.”

“That’s true, the human body has one of those.” You laugh with him, but then you notice him staring at you. “What’s wrong?”

“He’s taking good care of you, isn’t he? You look very radiant, girl.” The old man’s soft voice breaks any tension you were feeling before, and with a slightly blushing face you admit that yes.

“You know, the first time he came in here I thought he was a drunk when I bought those red, plastic roses… on your first date.” Mr. Thomas’s body shivers with disgust at the boy’s lack of romance.

“Oh my god… my head hurts just remembering, he dropped some flowers and came staggering, he smelled terrible of cigarettes.”

“It’s likely he wasn’t drunk… but high, Mr. Thomas.” You whisper to him.

“And how did you fall in love with something like that?” the rolled eyes make YN laugh a little at the florist's drama but before she could say anything he continues

“But the second time he came, he seemed like a gentleman. He walked elegantly through the plants and I was surprised when he chose that bouquet of Japanese flowers…”

“Me too! I wanted them so much!” you sigh in love

“Exactly the flowers you wanted…” he murmurs softly as he picks up a dead leaf from one of the vases

“But that's not what caught my attention, dear…”

“What caught your attention?” Was it his muscles? His hair? The beautiful way he speaks?

He spends a few seconds thinking about how to tell you exactly what it was that made him feel....

“A few years ago, when I was young, I traveled for work and spent a week away. When I came back, the first thing that caught my attention was the smell I could smell from the door…” the old gardener narrates his story with his eyes clouded with nostalgia and worry, as if he wanted YN to understand his point making you feel anxious…..

“My wife had been dead for 3 days… The putrid smell was terrible.” The words are almost like a whisper “I never forgot that smell.”

“That boy smelled like death the second time he came here.” As the gardener looks directly into your eyes YN feels her breath catch in her lungs.

What does he mean by that?

“What did she die of?” YN curiously asks him

“Heart attack or something like that.. I'm sorry. I…” the old man shudders and sits in a nearby chair visibly shaken by such memories while you get him some water trying to somehow give him comfort.

“Oh YN, the smell was very strong and terrible…. when that man came in here I could only remember that.” The man's vision was blurred because he loved his wife very much, he held on tightly to his cane to keep himself steady.

"I'm sorry about your wife, I'm sorry I made you remember all this…" YN crouched down next to him as she picked up the glass of water, feeling guilty for such emotions in the old florist.

He then looked at YN with pity for her kindness, big confused and kind eyes stared back at him, old Mr. Thomas and decided to swallow his tears as he tried to compose himself.

"I'm not saying your boyfriend is a zoombie or anything like that" he laughed as he slowly stood up "But I'm saying he smelled really bad when he got here, remind him to take baths, okay?" he said with the same funny tone as always, playing with the rhymes and tones of the words while to lighten the mood she laughed at him.

"Oh, he smells much better now." You said remembering the bubble baths you took together

"Was it you who gave him that perfume? Good choice.”

What?

“What perfume, Mr. Thomas?” you ask, helping him to the counter.

“It’s an expensive perfume, very good… I think I’ve only smelled one person wearing it, the mayor of the city in 1980. Good taste, it’s an extremely refined perfume.”

“O-oh… yeah.”

“Now he wears it a lot, I felt suffocated in his presence…” he says, adjusting his clothes and cane. “Well, me and my plants.” He laughs to himself.

“Sorry about that, I know they’re sensitive to strong smells.” You laugh.

"I give him a second chance, he brings me really pretty flowers, huh?"

"Oh, the romantic ones."

YN drives confused back to Kain's house, she remembers the drive being longer before they got back together, there were more houses in the neighborhood and that he still lived with his parents. In two weeks she has never heard of his parents… or the neighbors… or the dog he had… where are they?

Her steps are automatic and before she knows it she is in front of a cozy and chic house, with plants in front decorating a beautiful backyard with very green grass and all doubts and questions disappear when she knocks on the door, anxious for her dear boyfriend to answer.

Almost immediately the door opens, he seems to always be waiting for her like a dog anxiously awaits its owner, he would never leave her waiting.

“Good night, darling, I missed you so much.” He wraps her in a comforting hug and gives her a sweet kiss on the forehead, inviting her to come into the house, taking off her coat and boots, a gesture that always makes butterflies fly in YN’s stomach.

Oh, the little gestures < 3…

Wait, what is he wearing?

“Oh, you look beautiful in an apron, you know?” YN compliments her boyfriend, giving him a mischievous smile.

He was wearing a pastel pink plaid apron, with red lace the same shade as his cheeks when he hears her compliment.

“Oh, did you like it? I-i just wanted to surprise you, my love. Let’s celebrate, remember?”

“And how could I forget?” YN hugs him and he quickly wraps his arms around her again “I’d rather be here with you than go out to celebrate with the company.”

“And I’m going to make you enjoy every bit of tonight…” he murmured with a smirk on his lips as he brushed their noses together in a delicate gesture. He took YN’s chin between his fingers, guiding her head to within inches of his mouth. At this moment, YN’s hands began to roam Kain’s body, transforming the moment into something more intimate.

“Oh darling, what a big body you have…” she said in a husky tone, playing with the hem of his shirt. A sneaky hand left trails of fire on Kain’s body.

“It’s to protect you better, my love…” he chuckled, pulling her closer to him with his hands on her waist. The air was heavy between the two of them, and YN delighted in seeing her boyfriend’s pupils dilate like a cat’s.

“Oh darling, what big eyes you have…”

“It’s to see you better, my little one…” he chuckled softly, and his large hands began to explore her body, from her hips to her breasts, firmly cupping her breasts. goosebumps on both of them, some sparks of passion starting to turn into dangerous flames….

“But darling, what big hands you have…” the young woman's body is pressed closer against his warm body as she bats her eyelashes innocently, an innocence that doesn't reach the small smirk on her lips

“Oh, yes darling, I have nice big hands, don't I? It's the better to hold you, sweetheart……” in a husky and low voice he answers, bringing his mouth to YN's neck giving long kisses in the region Kain lets out a soft moan as YN runs her hand through his hair encouraging him, the sensation sending jolts of pleasure down his spine.

He looks at YN, blue eyes full of desire and an almost primal hunger, as he continues to kiss and tease the delicate skin…

“Oh but.. darling?” YN breathed

“Yeah?” Kain breathed back

“And why such a big mouth?”

He licks his lips as he brings his girlfriend's face closer with one hand, inches away from her succulent lips, possessively squeezing her curves with the other, making YN moan slightly, their heartbeats synchronizing as they look intensely into each other's eyes…

"It's fo-" The oven alarm goes off, a high-pitched and unromantic sound, making the two young lovers frustrated by the break in the moment.

YN grunts, leaning her head against Kain's chest, feeling embarrassed now that the sound of the alarm has brought her sanity back. She always feels like she loses her self-control around Kain. He laughs lightly at her reaction and strokes her hair gently.

"Hey, it's your surprise in the oven…" he kisses the top of her head "Go take a shower, honey, it's time for me to finish the preparations, okay?" She nods and lets go of him, climbing the stairs to the first floor, almost floating, still recovering from the previous moment with a silly smile on her face, the same one Kain had while preparing the frosting and strawberries for the cake…

YN's nose only realizes now that the house has a very sweet smell, normally she is already used to the smell in the house but today the traditional smell of roses and homey is more like an open candy store, when entering the room she notices that there are more air fresheners than usual in every corner and corner. Kain knows that Yn has a sweet tooth, always looking for desserts and sweet smells and he was very happy to make this house as comfortable as possible… but is he not exaggerating? Nah, never.

The young woman enters the marble bathroom, now with feminine touches everywhere the eye can see: Skincare that smells like tutti frutti gum, soap that smells like strawberries, shampoo that smells like raspberries, towels in a shade of pastel pink, matching the bathroom rugs and the flowers near the mirror.

YN laughs dreamily, who would have thought that for such a big man with such a rough appearance, Kain wouldn't be more than happy to have the same feminine smell as his girlfriend? He insists, as they take a shower together. He insists while using the same floral perfume as his girlfriend, claiming that he wants to have the same smell as his girlfriend, he feels closer to her every time she does leave and he could recognize her sweet scent.

YN leaves the bathroom refreshed and radiant and puts on a comfortable dress but with a slight neckline, delicate pink with white polka dots to match her boyfriend's cute apron. She sighs in relief that the day is finally over and all she will do now is enjoy the night with Kain, he always made her worries melt away with the slightest touch, and with the slightest touch from YN, Kain felt determined to do everything for her.

They were a perfect couple and beautiful to behold.

The world was pink with cotton candy clouds.

The background music was like a fairy tale from an old romance.

What more could she want?

As she dries her hair, she receives a message from her boss and ignores it thinking it must be a photo of the company's celebration or a request to reform some document. Not today, she thought to herself. When the messages became frantic, YN began to find the situation strange and, shrugging her shoulders, decided to pick up her cell phone and check what was happening.

She held her breath.

It wasn't a photo of the company party.

It was an image of Kain's body, dead in a car accident.

It wasn't a message asking her to reform some document.

It was a message in capital letters that screamed in desperation:

Boss: YN THIS IS NOT YOUR BOYFRIEND. Boss: KAIN DIED IN AN ACCIDENT THREE WEEKS AGO. Boss: RUN AWAY IMMEDIATELY!

YN feels the world fall apart as she lets her cell phone fall from her cold hands, while she keeps the storm of emotions inside her in a confused way. Trembling, she sits on the carefully made bed, and a cold hand tries to cover her half-open mouth. In a state of shock, all the girl can do is stay paralyzed, staring at the emptiness in the room while her hair drips and wets the bed.

No… this can't be real…..

She looks at the photo once more, a big red circle marking the date: It happened three weeks ago.

How….. is this….. possible?

She tries to reason while catching her breath, a mixture of sadness and fear taking over her heart.

"Honey, everything is ready! Are you going down now?" Kain's voice echoes through the house, he is asking at the foot of the stairs while drying his hands.

Fear is not enough.

Panic takes over YN's body so much that she starts to shake horribly and any logical thought disappears, becoming paralyzed.

"Will you be long, sweetheart?"

I need to get away from here. This man wants to kill me. OMG. OH MY GOD! WHAT DO I DO?

"YN?" a voice with more authority in its tone, as if demanding to know why she is not responding.

Amidst the accelerated beats and the pressure in her ears, she hears him take a step on the stairs and terrified she tries to hide it.

"N-no!… ah…. I'm looking… for my perfume." She tries to hide it by stretching to open and close the drawer next to the bed, pretending to be looking.

“Don’t be long, my love, I already miss you <3” he hums in a sweet and passionate tone as he returns to the kitchen.

Quick.

Action plan. Quick. I need help.

YN: Okay, what do you mean by that? (message not sent)

YN: Who is this man then? What is he? (message not sent)

YN: I need to get out of here, please come and get me! (message not sent)

A shiver runs down the girl’s spine when the internet suddenly goes out, what could have happened to her? Will I have to deal with all this alone?

Oh my God…..

She runs a trembling hand through her wet hair trying to calm herself down with all this and for the first time in two weeks she hears the little voice inside her head, the one that said there was something strange with her boyfriend.

He doesn’t know that I know.

An advantage? Yes.

Disadvantage? Anything could be in his plans.

What is he using me for? Why is he pretending to be my boyfriend? Is he behind the real Kain's accident? What if I call the police? What if he wants to kill me while I'm sleeping? What if he poisons me…? Oh no.

YN's eyes widen at the possibility and an overwhelming anxiety takes over her body, her breath catching in her throat, her heart racing, sweat running down her forehead.

"Sweetheart, do you want me to escort the princess to her royal kitchen?" the voice of the aforementioned person is heard in the hallway, he is in the middle of the stairs humming "Have you found your perfume yet, love?"

A second passes.

And another.

"YN, are you okay?"

You need to get out of here. Quickly.

"…… y-yes…… I, I'm… coming down now, okay?" disguising it in a shaky voice, she slowly gets up from the bed and picks up the perfume on the headboard next to the bed, applying it with difficulty because the sweat on her hands made it slip.

She swallows the terrible urge to scream for help, to jump out the window, to tear her hair out, and takes robotic steps until she leaves the room, passing through the damn hallway like a sheep going to the slaughterhouse. At that moment, the various sweet air fresheners make her feel nauseous and her head spins. She rests one hand on the wall as she goes down the stairs, her eyes wide as she holds her breath.

Slowly she takes in the scene: The dining room looks like it came straight out of a romance movie, there are rose petals on the floor and candles in vintage candelabras on the table, in the middle of the table there is a beautiful decorated pink cake and at the entrance is the perfect boyfriend.

"May I have the honors, my princess?" He extends his hand in a chivalrous manner and YN, as an instinct of her body for having done this scene many times, gives him her hand.

Kain's eyes are full of devotion as he presses a gentle kiss to the back of YN's hand, looking her directly in the eyes during the act, the action takes seconds to finish.

“I’m glad you chose me. And as promised, you won’t regret it.” He takes her by the hand and gently pulls out the chair, waiting for his lady to sit down. YN is doing everything she can to not freak out, trying to act as normal as possible, trying to relax at any cost so he doesn’t notice.

“T-thanks for the… kindness, dear.” With a dry mouth she says.

He hums in return, “Oh, anything for you.”

YN can’t help but think that everything he says and does has a hidden meaning now, like a predator sadistically toying with his prey. The young man brings the cake closer so YN can appreciate the vitsa, which he spent the afternoon learning on YouTube how to decorate a cake with icing and create a romantic setting.

“Well…” he clears his throat “I hope you like it, it was my first time doing something like this and I really wanted you to like it.” He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear while giving a charming smile

“Y-yes… yeah, it’s beautiful, love.”

YN forced a smile as she struggled to stay calm, trying not to show the chaos that was unfolding inside her. Her hands were still shaking as she watched Kain cut a piece of the cake and place it on a plate for her.

The strange man, still in the role of the perfect groom, decides to be more romantic and proposes to feed her, in a cute way. He asks YN to open her mouth while trying to make it seem like a sweet and loving scene.

"Open your mouth, honey. Let me give you a piece of cake. Say 'Aah~"

YN opens her mouth automatically, while her mind is still stuck on her boss's words. Her expression is almost absent, as she tries to maintain the facade of apparent calm in front of her boyfriend. Kain puts the piece of cake in YN's mouth and observes her face, thinking that her apparent passivity was a product of the romantic scene they were having. Meanwhile, YN could only think about finding a way to escape from there as quickly as possible.

With each bite, YN felt the fear increase even more, praying to any being in the heavens to save her, for someone to clean up this mess, for her to have the strength to stop him. A wave of ultra sensitivity hits her mind, a result of stress and anxiety, and she can't stop thinking that it's all too much… too much. The cake is too sweet, sickly sweet, the frosting is too pink, the cherries taste too much like cherries, the background music was a soundtrack from her favorite romantic movie making her hair stand on end to the point of pain, capturing every sound and vibration in constant alert, as if at any moment he would take out a knife and stab her.

While YN ate the piece of cake, her mind was still stuck in trying to find a way to escape that situation without giving herself away. She tried to act as normally as possible in front of the stranger in front of her, while her heart was pounding with anxiety and fear.

“Are you okay, love? You seem tense… isn't the cake good?” Kain asks, gently running a hand over YN's cheek and involuntarily she pulls away.

Kain's eyes widen and a twinge of sadness passes through his blue eyes.

YN regrets that.

“S-sorry, love… I'm just tired from work.” YN tries to act as normal as possible but he can almost see through her that there is something bothering her, or to be more exact, he can see through the neckline of her dress that the beautiful woman's heart is abnormally racing.

“But… but the cake is delicious!” To prove the point, she herself picks up the fork and takes a piece of cake to her mouth, holding back the urge to vomit. “Beginner's luck, maybe?” she laughs and teases him a little.

Act normal, woman. Act normal or he'll notice.

“Who knows?” He smiles at her, not understanding what happened but decides to save this subject for later to enjoy the romantic dinner

“I've always been lucky on my first times…” he winks at her

“O-Oh…” YN laughs embarrassedly, not hiding the blush that rises on her cheeks

Dinner soon ends, YN comments a few things about work while Kain gives details of how his day was and in the end they go to watch a movie on the couch cuddling wrapped in soft and warm blankets. YN who was previously so interested in the cinematography of films, obsessively observing each character and each angle now doesn't even know the name of the film or what genre it is.

Would it be horror like a terrible joke of the storm inside herself? Would it be a romantic movie to continue this psychotic game of house?

All she can think is that now is the perfect time to run away.

Now that Kain is sleeping so soundly in her arms with a contented smile.

The clock strikes midnight and with a little trick she manages to leave without waking him, making her steps as light as a feather as she walks to the door, the only source of light being the TV playing scenes from the movie.

Her heart was beating strongly in her veins, she could hear her own heartbeats in her ear as she took a deep breath until she reached the door she had dreamed of, the exit to salvation.

As soon as she puts her cold hand on the doorknob, a brutal realization hits her in the face, she doesn't have her cell phone… and she doesn't know where it is.

With a sharp gulp she decides to go without it because this might be her only chance of survival, she tightly holds the motorcycle keys and opens the door.

"Where are you going at this time of night, sweetheart?" the creature's voice was like a roar held back by teeth, Kain's figure was on the other side of the door making her blood run cold immediately, YN's cell phone was in his big hand with the messages with her boss open.

His figure towers over her trembling form, his head twisting in an inhuman manner, watching YN intently, a horrifying smile on his lips.

For the first time in two weeks, YN smells a repulsive, rotten smell.

A scream is heard.

(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ Every like, repost and comment is very welcome and appreciated. ♥

[paarksunghoon]

FIXED COMFORT | SUNGHOON

SUMMARY: typically, sunghoon’s the one who takes care of you when you’ve had one too many. but once in a blue moon, he lets his guard down and allows you to care for him the way he does for you.

or, the one where sunghoon’s drunk at a bar and misses his girlfriend a little too much.

NOTES: idk I just feel like someone should let him sleep for six months straight!!!

PAIRING: sunghoon x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 4.4K (4444 exactly—she’s a shortie).

WARNINGS: fluff on fluff on fluff.

***

“Hey, do you think you could come get Sunghoon from the bar? He’s been asking for you for the past hour.”  

Jay’s phone call pulls you out from a deep slumber on a Saturday night that falls on a day with no plans other than pure relaxation. Sunghoon had been preoccupied with work and classes this past week and wanted to unwind by drinking at his favorite bar with his closest friends and all you wanted to do was sleep the weekend away. 

Since the two of you started dating six months ago after being friends for a little over two years, you both agree on the notion that you’ve found a good balance between time spent together and apart respectively. Nothing fundamentally changed with the exception of kissing and touching one another in the way a couple would. He still respects your independence and you respect his time away from you as well. 

Sunghoon learned quickly that you’re the type of person who values your alone time more than anything else. When he first started developing feelings for you, grappling with your absence wasn’t easy. He initially thought you weren’t interested in getting to know him the way he was with you because you weren’t afraid to decline invitations and telling people ‘no.’ Slowly, over the course of many months of pining and late night conversations, did Sunghoon learn that you’re typically your best self after a moment of isolation. 

Your boyfriend is somewhere in between an introvert and extrovert. He tends to be shy when he meets people he isn’t familiar with while his loud, rambunctious attitude is typically reserved for those who know him best. He likes to keep to himself for the most part, giving some of his personality away when he feels his walls start to crumble naturally. You love that he has a good head on his shoulders and that he’s able to tell you about his feelings while maintaining an air of confidence. He doesn’t inherently need anybody; he likes your company and will do anything to keep it.

Moments like this are when your heart feels softer for Sunghoon than when the two of you were just friends.

“I know you wanted to spend the weekend alone but Hoon’s been saying your name all night,” Jay says. “I’m sorry for waking you up.”

“No, it’s fine.” You’re sure Jay can hear your brittle voice. “Are you guys at the bar near your place?”

“That’s the one. Thanks again and I’m really sorry for waking you up.”

“Don’t sweat it. Cook me something next week if you still feel bad.” 

“I can do that. Chili oil noodles with shrimp sound good?”

“It’s almost like you know me.” He laughs at your sarcasm. 

“Drive safe.” 

When Jay hangs up, you allow yourself a few minutes to adjust and wake up, stretching your body from the warm comfort of your blankets. You change out of Sunghoon’s shirt to put on pajama pants and another one of his stolen shirts, opting not to take a jacket since you figure you won’t be out for very long. 

You thank your past self for filling up your gas tank before tonight after having put it off for a few days. Knowing Sunghoon, he would still scold you for allowing yourself to run nearly empty before filling it up even if he was inebriated. Somehow, knowing this about him brings a smile to your face.

Sunghoon’s the kind of guy who likes to have some control over certain things. He likes order and structure, often waking up at the same hour every weekday to build a routine his body can remember. He’s been like that since you first met him but you think it’s part of his charm. Even from two years ago, when you met him through Jake Sim, Sunghoon has maintained a level of confidence and control that he does now. On the heels of an impressive skating career before pivoting to focus on higher education, Sunghoon had his preferences and will stick by them. 

His discipline is the first thing you noticed when you met him for the first time. Jay, someone you were already familiar with, agreed to cook dinner with your friend group under the condition that everyone helped him shop and chip in for the meal. Sunghoon held Jake back from buying unnecessary things like boxed chocolate milk and candy because Jay had desserts back at his place. He held a checklist of items whereas the rest of your friends ran up and down the aisles without thinking much about what needed to be purchased.

Sunghoon’s near-meticulous behavior is juxtaposed to your chaotic and rambunctious nature. You often follow your gut instead of setting a solid plan because you’re not concerned with meeting deadlines, sans education. Whereas you tend to lean towards a go-with-the-flow attitude, Sunghoon is the opposite. But that’s something he loves about you.  

At a surface level distinction, it didn’t seem like the two of you would get along as well as you did. It surprised Jake when Sunghoon asked for your number so he could text you about seeing a comedy film with him as no one else in the group wanted to see it. Including you at an impromptu study session with him (Sunghoon was organized and neat while your pens were spread all over and your study methods, haphazard) felt like watching two people clash. 

Rather, you and Sunghoon complement one another. 

The idea of letting himself go with someone who wasn’t part of his friend collective was unheard of. Getting to know a girl who didn’t share similar lifestyles didn’t appeal to him before meeting you, and you’re inarguably the most chaotic person Sunghoon knows. But he finds that there’s order within your chaos—you know who you are and what you want, and you will not compromise yourself just to please other people. 

It’s what Sunghoon loves the most about you. There’s a boundary you never let anyone cross under the assumption that your own safety net feels compromised. He’s watched you lose friends for this same reason and has always admired the way you carry yourself like you know you deserve better than people who disrespect you. He’s witnessed the grace you maintain when people who call you a friend voice words of kindness but speak ill about you behind your back. If anything, Sunghoon feels pity for anyone who crosses you to the point of anger. To be envious of another’s confidence is one thing. To make that known is another. 

Sunghoon learns that you let your inhibitions go because holding control over yourself feels like a burden. It feels like setting a standard you will never be able to meet. He never thought of order in that way before getting to know you. Your approach to life sparked a new wave of emotions within him to the point where he was open and willing to let you farther into his life. 

His days were ruled by guidelines he had to maintain and proper etiquette that followed him even off the rink. The poise he carried from his career on the ice bled into his personal life too. Although, he doesn’t mind that it does. Sunghoon values any form of structure because it makes him feel like he has a purpose and that there’s something to be accomplished at the end of the day. 

Most times, Sunghoon’s feels like people judge him for his regimen and can’t fathom why he appreciates control so much. They tell him to let loose and enjoy his time away from his career. People always think he simply doesn’t know how to have fun because he’s set in his ways and won’t let other people coax him into doing something he’s not comfortable with. But not you. Sunghoon has never felt like you‘ve judged how he chooses to live his life. 

Before he knew it, a year had passed and he started to call you one of his best friends. The friendship was gradual. Sunghoon didn’t have many close female friends in the way he does with Heeseung, Jay, and Jake. You’re the first person since ending his career who hasn’t tried to pry into the why. In fact, Sunghoon enjoys that you didn’t bring it up. 

(You did, in the form of cooing over his younger self skating in competitions for the first time or roasting all of the outfits he had to wear. But somehow, all of your jabs made him feel happier than when people complimented his performance.)

Eventually, being around you felt too right. He loved it when you took naps on his bed and felt comfortable raiding your kitchen pantry without permission. Sunghoon could leave you in his apartment without him being in it and feel at ease. In fact, he started to look forward to coming home to you. All it took was seeing you wear his hoodie because you got too cold and forgot your jacket, to make him drop his bag by the front door and ask you to be his girlfriend. He hasn’t regretted anything with you since. 

The weather is cold outside since it’s approaching the middle of autumn. You let your car warm up and blast the heat all the way up while adjusting your defrosting settings before heading to the bar to pick up Sunghoon. You sift through your playlists and settle on soft indie melodies before you drive away from the curb. 

You’ve never seen Sunghoon get drunk to the point of needing extra help. Usually, you’re the one who goes a little too hard whenever Heeseung brings out the alcohol or if Jake offers an edible or two. Sunghoon likes to sit back and stay sober (or sober up by the end of the night) when he notices you having too much fun. He doesn’t mind, though. Sunghoon likes taking care of you because sometimes it gives him purpose. You’ve never understood that sentiment but to each their own. 

The only times you’ve seen him completely wasted are usually when you’re equally as gone, like on your first road trip as a couple. The five of you rented a lakehouse a few hours from Seoul and spent an entire weekend basking under the hot sun and chose to forget about university stress before finals would inevitably kick everyone’s ass. All five of you were cross-faded (but not without Jay and Sunghoon both prepping water bottles and snacks for when the munchies would hit prior to taking anything). You watched Sunghoon relax to the point where he was much quieter than he normally was and when you asked if he was doing alright, he looked you in the eye and told you he loved you for the first time. 

I always have, I think, he said as he brought your hand to his chest. You might not believe me because neither of us are sober but I swear I’ll tell you in the morning. 

Sunghoon gets affectionate when he’s drunk or high, often to the point of asking for reassurance. The rational side of his brain is temporarily disfigured. You don’t mind being there to tell him that he’s the love of your life and you’d never go anywhere when he gets like this. Although, you’re usually just as gone and gush all of your hidden emotionally-charged feelings, which pair well with Sunghoon’s need for validation sometimes. 

Your friends love your relationship. They don’t think it’s too much or too little, going so far as to take photos of the two of you when you aren’t looking. Some are funny like the pictures of you sleeping on his chest with drool pooling out of your mouth. Others are romantic and whimsical, like the pictures of Sunghoon looking at you like you’re the sunshine to his moonlight. They can’t get enough of you two. Your friends love knowing people they care about are deeply in love with one another and your relationship is somewhat of a reminder that true romance does exist. 

Thinking about this makes your heart swell as you park your car and tuck your keys inside your purse. The bouncer checks your ID and lets you inside the bar, and you already spot Jay off to the side. 

“Thanks for coming,” he says as he gives you a loose hug. “And sorry for waking you up.” 

You wave him off. “It’s fine. I’ve probably woken you up for worse.” 

“Yeah, like the time you and Jake wanted ramen at 3am and wouldn’t stop calling me because both of you got a little too high.” 

“Can you blame us?! You were like, two blocks away.” 

“Yeah, but did you need to eat with me?” 

“Duh. You’re like, the best person to eat a late night dinner with.” 

The two of you laugh as he leads you to the group. You see Sunghoon slumped over the table with his head in his arms and the rest of your friend group tries really hard not to seem too excited when they see you standing next to Jay. 

“Fucking finally.” Heeseung stands and gives you a quick side hug before Jake does the same. “Love you guys and all but he started to become unbearable when he kept showing us photos of you.”

Jake snorts. “Poor guy was almost about to cry.” That makes your heart soft. 

“He looks so cute,” you coo, tilting your head to savor this moment. It’s abnormal for you to be the sober one but you’re starting to understand why Sunghoon doesn’t mind taking care of you when you’re like this. 

Jay comes to stand next to you. “He’s not cute when he drank half his weight in alcohol and wouldn’t shut up about how pretty your hair is.” 

“What, do you don’t think my hair’s pretty?” The messy, unbrushed hair is enough to make the guys laugh. 

“Nah seriously, thanks for coming,” says Jake. “We felt bad calling you but he refuses to get out of his seat.” 

“It’s fine.” You wave him off and step closer to your boyfriend, who still hasn’t moved from his position. 

“Do your thing and we’ll be here if you need help bringing him to the car.” Heeseung smiles gratefully at you. 

Even the back of Sunghoon’s head is unfairly gorgeous. His hair always looks nice, although you credit that to his younger sister introducing him to a world of hair care products during his skating years. It feels soft to the touch as you stroke the back of his head until Sunghoon slowly comes to. You feel his body start to stir.

“Baby,” you say quietly, bending down until you’re next to him. “Wake up for me.” 

“Hm?” Sunghoon mumbles from his arms. He feels the sensation of your fingers carding through his hair and pulls himself from the table, wiping the spit from the corner of his mouth before realizing you’re standing next to him. “Y/N?”

“I’m right here.” 

He pulls his head up until he’s sitting upright in the booth, squinting up at you to adjust to the bar lights that disappeared when he closed his eyes. Your boyfriend looks so innocent like this. He looks at you with a wide, round gaze as if you’d appeared out of thin air and he’s trying his hardest to figure out how you’re standing in front of him. 

“Is it really you?” Sunghoon asks in a quiet voice. His tone makes your heart flutter and you reach your arms out until you’re cupping his jaw and rubbing the pads of your thumbs over his cheeks. Sunghoon melts into your touch and you feel his body start to relax. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, bug. Did you have fun tonight?”

He nods in your hands, “Mhm. Just tired now.”

“Jay said you were asking for me.” 

“I always ask for you.” Your cheeks heat up and you try to ignore the snickers from behind you. 

“Why don’t we go back to my place, yeah? You can sleep in my bed instead of this bar.” 

“Can we? I love the guys but I just missed you.”

“Simp,” Heeseung whispers before coughing into his fist. 

Sunghoon stands from the booth once you’ve taken a step back to give him the space to move. He’s surprisingly able to stand on his own and clutches onto his jacket as he makes his way to the door. 

“Sorry guys,” he mutters to the guys. 

“Yah, it’s fine,” Jay says as he waves Sunghoon off. 

“Get home safe,” Heeseung says as he opens the door for the two of you. Sunghoon waves behind him until you guide him to the car. 

“Can you put your jacket on for me?” You catch it in your hands after he nearly let them fall from his grasp. 

“Shit, sorry.” You watch Sunghoon put on one arm and then the other. He looks so childlike in this moment as he concentrates his hardest to put the jacket on without stumbling. 

It reminds you that he doesn’t show you this side of him often. Sunghoon, ever the poised individual who likes to know what’s ahead of him, has let his inhibitions down. Seeing his figure slowly push his body through the warm fabric has you biting back a smile. 

“Need help?”

Sunghoon looks down at his hands that are trying to zip his jacket up to no avail. He feels like his hands are too big and the zipper is too small. “Please.”

Your steady fingers cover Sunghoon’s and take over the tedious task. The metal is warm from his fingertips. You can feel him looking down at you and you temporarily fumble with the zipper, which makes him laugh.

“Silly,” he mutters. “Ah, fuck. I don’t know if I can open the door.”

You roll your eyes and open it for him. “You’re funny.” 

He slides into the seat as gracefully as he can without hitting his head on the roof. Sunghoon struggles, but manages to buckle himself in and grins up at you when he hears the click of the buckle. When you look down on him, the lamp post from above casts a soft glow on his face. He looks so youthful at this moment. Sunghoon has let go of his thoughts and couldn’t think about anything but the present moment even if he tried. 

He waits for you and mumbles about how cold it is when you turn the engine on. The warm air starts to uplift his spirits and he looks at you with us head pressed to the headrest.

“I’m sorry you have to see me like this.”

“What?” you ask. “Why?”

He shrugs. “Dunno. Usually I’m the one taking care of you.”

“You don’t always have to be brave, you know.” 

Sunghoon doesn’t say anything. He reaches out to envelope your hand in his and squeezes it until he’s holding it loosely in the quiet of the evening.

“I love you.” 

Your heart blooms. “I love you right back.” He seems satisfied with your response and lets go of your hand so that you can drive back to your apartment. 

When you park on the curb, Sunghoon’s sober enough to unbuckle his seatbelt and wait for you to turn the engine off before opening his door carefully. He steps outside and leans back on the car door until you walk around the hood of the vehicle and grabs your hands to pull you into him. 

You feel his lips on your before you register what’s happening. He tastes faintly of pineapple soju and beer, and his mouth is warm. Despite his inebriated state, Sunghoon’s able to hold you between his hands as he moves to place them on your hips to balance your body after you’ve stumbled into him. 

The kiss itself is slow. In fact, it feels as though Sunghoon has slowed time around so that the two of you could enjoy the late night kiss uninterrupted. You can barely hear anything besides the ringing in your ears after being caught by surprise due to your boyfriend’s abrupt movements. Your mouths move in slow tandem and Sunghoon nearly pushes his tongue inside your mouth before pulling away to rest his forehead against your own.

“My baby,” he whispers against your lips before giving you another quick peck. 

“You are so cute.” You blurt out this confession like you’re still pining after him. “Let’s go inside, yeah?” 

The apartment is warm compared to the environment outside and Sunghoon slips off his shoes in favor of wearing his designated slippers. He doesn’t let go of your hand the entire time he does so, letting you pull him into the hallway until the two of you reach your bedroom. The hardwood floors feel better than the uneven pavement from outside.

He loves it here. It’s a sanctuary away from his apartment with the friends he will probably invite to his wedding. But something about your green comforter and hand-painted artwork adorning your walls makes Sunghoon feel like he would live by your side for the rest of his life. The scent of your room–warm peaches and vanilla–tugs at his heart strings. This is where he belongs. 

Likewise, you love seeing Sunghoon behave like this. It’s not commonplace for him to let people take care of him in the way you are now. He’s used to people looking out for his career and best interest but he struggles with allowing others to handle him with such care. After a decade of enduring harsh criticism and physical endurance, Sunghoon struggles to relax and allow others to take the reins. It’s partially why he loves taking care of you. Being able to provide that kind of love and support makes him feel wanted and needed, even if you tell him he’s more than enough a thousand times over. 

You leave him in your room to change his clothes taken from his designated drawer while you prepare skincare and the works. You hear him shuffle outside and fall onto the bed once, prompting you to hold your laughter in as you wash your hands and pull out hair clips for him to use. 

“I can’t lie,” Sunghoon says as you emerge from the bathroom to see him in a big t-shirt and pajama bottoms, “I’m really looking forward to you doing my skincare.” 

You snicker and pull your desk chair into the bathroom. “Now you know exactly how I feel every time I beg you to do mine when I’m drunk. Sit and close your eyes, please.” 

He follows your instructions and leans his back against the furniture. Sunghoon doesn’t fuss when you pin his hair back until it’s secure and allows you to make him feel pampered in a way he typically wouldn’t. 

“Did you have fun tonight?” 

Sunghoon hums. “Yeah, I did. The guys picked me up from my place and we had lunch at that seafood spot we’ve been meaning to try.” 

“Was it any good?”

“So good.” He licks his lips. “God, I’m still thinking about that shellfish soup. We ordered enough food to feed a village but it was so worth it. I wanna go with you.” 

“We can go wherever you want.” He smiles at your soft tone. 

“We also went to the beach and met some guys at the skate park by the highway. They were pretty nice and let us use their boards for a little. Heeseung got along with them the best, I think.”

“Heeseung makes friends with everybody.”

“He says he’s not social but that’s a lie.” Sunghoon twitches his nose when he feels a damp washcloth on his face. “We went to the bar afterwards and split it by round. I got the first and honestly, I don’t remember much after that.” 

“How are you feeling now, though?” you ask as you finish patting his skin dry. “Do you still feel dizzy?” Sunghoon opens his eyes and watches you apply a serum before dabbing it all over his face. 

“Not as much as before. I think I’m just tired.”

“And clingy, apparently.” 

Sunghoon smacks the back of your thighs. “Shut up. You love it.” You silence him by kissing his nose. 

While he brushes his teeth, you situate yourself underneath your plush covers and allow the weight of the blanket to fall on top of you. The sweet promise of a good night’s rest feels imminent, especially when you see your boyfriend emerge from the bathroom. He turns off the light and walks towards the empty side of the bed before he’s slipping himself beside you. 

Sunghoon’s an equal opportunist when it comes to sleeping positions. He loves it the most when your head is on his chest and when your arms are tangled in one another because he likes knowing that the two of you yearn for each other equally. But when he gets like this, Sunghoon takes initiative to maneuver himself until half of his chest and head are on top of you. He situates his arm around your waist and pulls himself closer to your body until a deep, satisfied sigh comes from the back of his throat. 

He hums in appreciation when your fingers begin to massage his scalp. Sunghoon’s hair is soft and silky and on most days, you’re the only person who gets to touch it. The slowness of your movements paired with the soft kiss you place on his temple makes his eyelids feel heavy. 

“Sorry you had to come pick me up,” Sunghoon mumbles against you. “I know we agreed to give each other some space this weekend.” 

“You should know by now that I’d do anything for you.” He feels you kiss the crown of his head. “Plus, we both know you’d do the same for me.” 

Sunghoon nods. “I would. You’re my girlfriend. Duh.” His sleepy nonsense makes you laugh. 

“You can go back to hanging out with the guys tomorrow if you want.” He shakes his head. 

“I want to get breakfast with you.” Sunghoon finds your free hand and presses a sleepy kiss to the back of it. 

“Whatever you want. We can get breakfast.” 

“If we wake up early enough.” 

You laugh again. “Yes, if we wake up early enough.” 

Sunghoon mumbles a few incoherent words that you can’t quite make out because of your own tiredness. When your own eyes start to droop, Sunghoon feels your fingers start to falter and looks up at you to see you’ve fallen fast asleep. 

He kisses the underside of your chin and falls asleep too.

***

comments and reblogs are appreciated! x

[comfortless]

dog hybrid recruit König thots??

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. more loner x loner because it is a treat for me. fem (afab) reader. König is a man just with ears and a tail. vague smut.

He’s the one that was never picked.

So maybe you’re too busy for a puppy hybrid, but maybe you’re a bit too lonely for an empty apartment. You don’t have the space for a big, excitable dog. The cats and bunnies are in high demand, too, there’s no shot of you adopting one of the cute, softer things within your budget. So you settle for a dog. The only dog left at the shelter.

His papers state that he comes from Austria, aged twenty-five and never been put into an actual home before. He’s endured some rigorous military training: scenting, tracking, breaking down thick doors with only a shoulder and an efficient push. A hunter through and through. Then, following his merits: erratic, jumpy, impulsive, and more than a little aggressive.

This dog doesn’t growl, only bites.

The paper sits crumpled in your hands as you eye the dimly lit hallway to your left. Posters of information line the beige walls to either side, some with photos of proud kitties and dogs, hand-in-hand with their companions and cheery phrases printed above in a bright, yellow cursive.

If anything, those are the ones that give you the final push to adopt this unloved, discarded experimental soldier. He’s only been given this one very last chance before… You would rather not think of what comes if you’re to turn away and leave him to rot and wither here. It must have happened a dozen times already: ambitious families looking for a more intriguing addition only to lock eyes with this pitiful thing and shake their heads ‘no’ for him to be put on death row like this.

“He’s scary,” the clerk reminds you once you’re finally led down the hall to the tiny room your new pet— no, friend, must be kept in. It was easy to think of them as something else sometimes. Animal instincts as prevalent as their claws, teeth, and fuzzy little ears. But you didn’t need a pet, there were an abundance of shops for those. You needed a good soul to spill your guts to and maybe pet from time to time.

“I’m sure he’s fine.”

The poor thing is locked away to fester in what more closely resembles a cell than anything resembling a home. A steel door with a thin, narrow gap in the middle like a peephole keeps him locked in tight. Peering through that narrow gap, you only then seem to realize just what an impulsive decision you’re making.

König is exactly what the clerk said, continues to say next to you as she searches for the correct key on the ring. He’s bigger than any other hybrid you’ve seen before, built narrow at the waist but broad and deadly where it matters most; arms like narrow trees and thighs larger than your head, all muscle and intimidation, even with the cute, perky ears peeking out of the top of his helmet. He was definitely used for guarding and killing, and how a man his stature could even begin to fail that was unknown to you. Not that it was necessary. At most, he may need to shoo a scuttling pest out of the front door and put away a dish or two.

When the door swings open, the clerk offers a hesitant nod before dismissing herself back down the hall, and you’re left stood with a pair of blue eyes locked directly onto you.

König assesses with a tilt of his head and a slow ascent to his feet. He’s clad in layers of black, an empty vest where magazines or grenades must have been in place prior. Hell if you knew. He should have been given a fresh change of clothes after being discharged and sent to this place. A proper bed, too, considering the only furniture in this barren place seemed to be a cot that could never hope to hold him.

If not for the swaying of his tail, you might even find yourself nervous, but he does well to try and look approachable, even greets you with a thickly accented tongue beneath that hood. A simple, “Hallo.”

“I’ve adopted you,” you explain, and it sounds ridiculous. You can’t just adopt a full-grown man. Maybe a puppy or some hybrid child, never a man better suited for a gladiator pit than a home. “I mean that… if you want to come home with me, you can.”

He gives you a huff, a burst of breath that pushes the hood out from his face and a near imperceptible roll of his eyes as a step is taken toward you. It must sound stupid, even to him, but the wiry tail at his back does not cease its wagging. No matter how stern the glimpses of his face seem to look and how alarming his size may be, he’s nothing but an eager pup it seemed.

“Richtig… Then let’s go.”

Life with your big soldier turns out to be remarkably easy.

The first few weeks are dedicated to stoking up some sort of bond and rationing out chores. Simple tasks to see how he adapts, and small rewards in the form of pets along the velvety fur of his ears and scratches beneath his chin. The walks with you seem to be his favorite and tend to be long, but he remains right at your side the entire way. The only barking to be heard comes from nosy passersby that warn you to keep your beast on a leash, but you let him be reasoning that it wouldn’t do you any good at all. Your strength was that of a tiny rabbit’s by comparison.

König is clean enough from his prior military training and does as you ask without complaint. Even things you don’t request, such as your laundry are taken care of before you ever even return from work. He’s overbearing on those evenings, when you’ve been apart and he sates himself drunk on the scent of your perfume still clinging to the collar of an old sweater. Excitable and sweet, though, when he curls at your side while some movie plays on the television screen.

It amazes you how easily he’s shifted from stiff to adoring in a matter of days, but it’s rare to have a moment to yourself now. The hybrid is insistent on pulling you up into his lap when you’re curled on the couch, or rushing behind to hoist you up and pin you between an expanse of chest and the kitchen counter with drooly licks against the side of your neck and cheek. Biting, too. You try your best to bully that out of him, flicking at his ears or shoving against his face, but there’s always a mark left behind.

When a coworker gives you a mischievous grin and asks if there’s a new man in your life at the sight of a purplish bruise against your throat, that is when you decide that a collar may actually be nice. Weave your fingers between leather and skin and give König a sharp tug when he gets too rowdy, maybe that would teach him. Spray bottles and warnings spoken through giggles just aren’t enough.

You find one that you think might fit at a shop specializing in hybrid needs. It’s thick and well-made, a black leather hold to match that big scary demeanor that he tries his best to uphold. The cutesy silver bell attached to it is just a bonus. At least you would hear him coming the next time he insisted on peppering you in kisses with his tail a blur behind him.

He greets you at the door as always, unlocks it for you and pulls it open before you ever even make it to the top of the landing. It’s cute how giddy he seems each day when you return, how he doesn’t hesitate to walk right up to you with his hands at his sides, his own silent request for a hug or some form of affection whilst staring down at you and mumbling a “hallo” like the most awkward gentleman in the entire world.

“I got you a present,” you excitedly tell him instead of blessing him with your usual embrace, lifting up the little gift bag with a smile.

When the collar is retrieved from the bag by a massive hand, König does not mirror your enthusiasm. Any light in the placid blue of his eyes seems to extinguish, smothered and fizzled out to pave way for a look of the purest disdain. He rolls the leather between both palms, only then regarding you with as a heavy sigh stirs up from his chest to whistle past the open mouth beneath the hood.

Maybe he would have preferred something with spikes. Something heavy and intimidating with a tag that read “FUCK YOU” in red, painted letters.

“I don’t wear collars,” he finally says, flatly.

Or maybe a muzzle would have been best…

“You do now, big guy,” you challenge with an airy laugh, slipping past him to cross into your home. Tidy as ever, he’s been working today it seemed. The bulb in the living room has been replaced, a few pieces of furniture rearranged. It all just looks… cozy. More habitable now that someone else lives here too.

König follows you inside with his head lowered and tail pushed between his thighs. The collar rests in one hand, fingers curled over it so tightly it almost seemed he wished the damned thing to dissipate into dust.

“Nein. I won’t wear it.” The door is locked behind him. It’s the first time he’s refused you anything. Even cleaning up around the kitchen wasn’t met with a rejection. It’s odd, almost uncharacteristic for him.

“I just thought…” You would want to be mine. Properly. With a nice symbol of it right around his neck, with a sturdy leash to lead him by, with…

Any thought in your head puffs into a plume of smoke back there behind your eyes when you feel two hands grasp at your shoulders, push you back towards the wall to hold you there. Hugging, lifting, cuddling up against, even licking… those things were commonplace. This was foreign and surprisingly rough; there’s no give to his hold, no room to even try to move away as his head lowers to stare you straight in the eyes.

“I killed my last handler.”

“Did you…?”

“Ja.”

That confession should have sent icy dread to the pit of your stomach, should have spurred you to claw and kick and bite. Surely the shelter would have known, could have warned you too. That would have spared you from looking like a terrified little rabbit now, yet a part of you knew it wouldn’t have changed a thing. König sort of… belonged here, as if written in some silly reading of the stars.

His ears flatten against his skull, large hands trembling where they hold you in place. The dam begins to crack as his eyes grow glassy, gaze far away in a concoction of pain and contemplation. He stares through you, not at, reliving something you dared not ask for an explanation for. The whys and hows die on your tongue.

And there’s nothing scary about him anymore.

There’s only a wounded soldier here.

A good boy.

Your hands rise to flip up the hood, rest it over the top of his head to cup his jaw in your palms, stroking over his cheeks with both thumbs to soothe and comfort. His unwinding comes immediate, hands slipping down to your lower back to pull you in closer.

You don’t apologize and neither does he. Everything just falls back into a comfortable lull, some fuzzy droning from both sides as you wish one another good night. He walks you to your bedroom door, the very best he can do to prove that he’s not some mutt with froth coming from his jaw. You bite your tongue to prevent yourself from encouraging that he sleep next to you.

“You’re a good boy, you know that?,” you tell him as you lean against the door in preparation to push it closed. “The very best there is.”

He doesn’t respond, but the tail behind him wags at a frantic pace from those words alone.

The following morning is different.

There’s food on the table and coffee already brewing by the time you cross from your room into the kitchen. The air bears the scent of sandalwood and geranium, a forgotten candle sat burning on the countertop. You eat your breakfast of too-sweet pancakes and prep your coffee to go all while the shower runs from somewhere down the hallway.

He usually waits, tells you goodbye before you’re off to work, bites at your neck and asks which will be better: a movie after dinner or some fresh air. Instead, there’s a note attached to the door. Something simple and mischievous, a scribbled, lopsided heart and some phrase in German written with handwriting so sloppy that there was no hope of your still sleep-addled mind translating it.

You chalk it up to him being fully adjusted in this new space, let him go about his business while you go about yours.

It would be a walk tonight.

Arriving home twists what is simply different into the realm of bizarre. No hugging by the door, it sits closed and untouched since you left this morning. You inhale something heavy, trepidation or maybe a bit of yearning there, while you fumble with your key in the lock. A click, a push, and then everything just changes. There’s no crashing and burning, only a very firm and insistent buzzing that rises to your chest, because the sight inside is just…

König.

Your König.

The hood has been discarded and set aside on the polished wood of a nearby table, the little bell collar sits right along his throat. It jingles when his ears perk and his tail begins that gentle sway, swishing with every step that you take into the apartment, rampant and unyielding when the sparkles in your eyes cluster like the tiniest, most insignificant stars.

No apologies, but this was something better.

“Gut?,” he asks you, kneels before you with the cutest stare that you’ve ever seen on a man. Constellations sit there waiting to be mapped, and your giant puppy waits for just a little praise.

You stroke his ears first, then dip your head to press a kiss to his cheek.

“The best boy,” you tell him.

“I have a present for you too.”

No protest comes when he herds you out of the door, still in your stiff uniform with your hair a mess. The sun begins its setting out on the horizon, bathing the world in purple and gold. Trees with spring blossoms and wildflowers all abloom tinge the air in something sweet. It’s not your usual trail, and König doesn’t walk at your side this time, only ahead. You watch him fondly as he grazes his fingertips against the blooms hanging from branches just overhead, how he shies away from the curious nesting birds in bushes as to not startle them.

It isn’t the usual trail, but he walks it with confidence. There are no people out so late in the day, and apart from the occasional quip between the both of you, the setting only bears the sound of the chiming of his bell and a few night birds beginning to call. Peace morphs to something greater when the sun tucks itself away and sets the stage for a bright, waning moon. There’s a small clearing, a meadow cut straight through by the dirt path you walk, and only then are you pulled aside.

“Here,” he huffs against your chest when your back meets soft grass and a hazy, spring sky is painted out above you.

Maybe you’re not the best with men, but there have been signs.

So many in abundance that the pitiful squeak that leaves you when his nose finds its way up your skirt is only an embarrassment. König must have found it charming, reaches for both of your hands as he laps at your sex through the thin lace of your panties until your body grows tense and your nails leave little crescents on the backs of his hands.

The words don’t come, they don’t have to when he speaks them for you, little whispers and coos into your hair when any barrier between you is discarded with the descent of a zipper and the sound of tearing lace. There’s an outpouring of thanks in the form of a tiny, fragile, “I missed you.”

The night birds calling washes out each sound that escapes from either of you then, only outdone by the symphony of impact when König loses himself entirely to you. Limbs curling around narrow hips and a broad back, pools of blue so shimmery and pretty they outdo even the moon hanging above locked onto you. He doesn’t look away even as you try to bury your face into the width of his shoulder, only then guides you back down with a gentle hand and a muffled, needywhine.

“Good boy,” comes as a mere peep when he fully sheaths himself and laps at the corner of your mouth as you speak. The praise only causes him to still, pries the words from his panting mouth and reduces them to a series of pleasured, stuttering groans.

“What did the note say?,” you ask him in the silence that comes comfortable once the act is done, nestled into a pair of strong arms with a cheek pressed against an expanse of chest.

“Oh.” König laughs breathily, coming down from the height of both love and need.

“That you found home?,” you ask when he pets at your hair, twirls strands between his fingertips. “Because I think that I may have, too…”

“Something like that.” He shrugs, loosens his grip around your body for a mere second before pulling you in closer, tighter to him, as if letting go would end the world entirely. “Heaven.”

[earthtooz]

in which: a moment of impulsivity has ratio knocking on your door at 3 am with a grand confession.

There is a great cloud of curiosity that surrounds Dr. Ratio.

His intelligence is far beyond the average person’s comprehension, mind working at insurmountable speeds to reach conclusions and answers that no others have come to before. Mediocrity and Ratio could never stand to be in the same room, intelligence and reputation as an academic preceding him.

When people find out that you have been in a long-term relationship with the scholar, you can almost see the question mark above their heads. How did you meet? When did you start dating? How did you start dating? How do you put up with him? (You always answer that with ‘I’m still trying to find out myself’. He always rolls his eyes when you say that, but it’s nothing a kiss to the cheek can’t solve.) 

Only your closest friends know the story of how you started dating, but it’s always one you love recounting, much to the dismay of Veritas. 

For the decades that he has lived for, there have been few moments he regrets, always critically scrutinising every move six steps before he makes them. No one has ever seen him messy, uncertain, or dishevelled- except you. 

Towards the end of your university years, with an urgent final assignment due soon, you’re rudely awoken one night by frantic knocks on your dorm’s door. You notice the clock reads 3 am, and since the knocks only got louder by the second, you throw your covers off with a groan.

Who could be at your door at 3 am? Perhaps a drunk dormmate who forgot their keys? Or someone knocking thinking it was their room?

Looking through the peephole, you’re stunned to see a certain violet-haired friend on the other side, trouble etched deeply into his features. His hair was messy, falling haphazardly around his face, and his usual accessory of a laurel wreath was discarded, flamboyant outfit discarded for something more comfortable. 

It’s clear that he’s troubled by something, but you have half a mind to leave him outside until he goes away (that’s what he’d do to you, or so you think).

Opening the door, you begin by scolding him. “You better have a good reason to show up at this godforsaken time or otherwise-”

“-I’m in love with you.” 

Perhaps if it were a normal hour of the day, and if you hadn’t just been rudely awaken from your sleep, you would have processed his words faster. Instead, you blink at him once, twice, three times, fatigue weighing heavily on your features as you struggled to keep your eyes open. 

“What?” You murmur, shaking your head as if that would clear up the mental blockage.

“I’m in love with you,” he repeats, firmer this time. 

You grab his wrist and drag him inside your dorm, blinded by the harshness of the hallway lights illuminating the outline of his figure. Turning on the softer light on your desk, you take a seat on the edge of your bed, gazing down at your hands. Veritas, however, stays near your door, annoyingly muscular arms flexed over his chest.

“I have so many questions,” you grumble, rubbing your eyes. “Why are you awake? You’re always asleep by 11 to get your ass up at 6 to exercise, or whatever.” 

“Are you avoiding the main point, or just stupid?” He grabs you by the shoulders and shakes. “I love you.” 

“Excuse me! You were banging bullets on my dorm room, I’m disorientated right now, not stupid- what?”

It’s almost like his statement from earlier only pierces through your brain now with the way you freeze, eyes morphing into something akin to disbelief and shock. He sees all the changes in your expression in the dimness of the room, nervously biting his cheek with every subtle shift.

“Did… I hear that right?” You whisper after what feels like an eternity. “You love me?”

He nods. “For a few years now.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Am I not doing so in this very moment?” 

Tonight has been nothing but agitating for him. First, he was kept awake by the pounding of his heart and the burning desire to see you, significantly delaying his sleep until Veritas decided to cast all caution into the wind, running to your dorm all the way on the other side of the University. Now, he is trying to pour his heart onto your hands, all because of a moment of impulsivity and bull-headed stubbornness, and a secret he cannot keep to himself any longer.

He may be stubborn (as are all geniuses), but Veritas is never impulsive. All truths will come to light eventually, no matter how hard he tries to hide them. 

“While I accept that my feelings may not be reciprocated, can you at least say something rather than stare at me blankly?” There’s an unfamiliar look of concern in his eyes, contrasting the usual pride and arrogance he always wears.

What happened to the Veritas Ratio you know? Who is this man by your feet?

“No- that’s not. I… I love you too, I have for a while now, but everything about this is… just… unbelievable.”

“Why?” 

“You’re aeons out of my league, Veritas. I never once considered you would return my feelings.”

He stifles back a laugh, dropping his large hands off your shoulders and clutching the mattress on either side of you. You won’t forget about the way the sheets crumple beneath his grip, or the way his head hangs, bangs tickling your legs.

Bravely, you raise a hand to his hair, running through it. Seemed like he could use the comfort.

“You make me too damn nervous,” he breathes, a hand coming to clutch at his chest. 

“Never thought I’d live to see the day you admit you get nervous.” 

“Why’s that?”

“The only thing bigger than your brain is your ego.”

His confession, and everything about that night, was unorthodox, never predicting that you’d end the day curled up next to Veritas, or the long relationship that would follow.

© EARTHTOOZ 2024, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[thebestandworstdayofjune]

desperate people find faith

summary: your first mission ends with you in Jean's lab and a very worried Logan who's had trouble leaving your side wc: 2.0k a/n: thank you thank you so much for all of your very positive feedback on the previous fics with these two!!! I am really looking forward to writing more for them, so please feel free to send any requests for them my way, or Logan requests in general! And yes, the title is from a Taylor Swift song again. Lots of hurt/comfort in this one, talks of mushy gushy feelings, very worried Logan find the previous part here! all empath!reader fics here!

You took the cold table underneath you as a sign that something had gone wrong. You peaked one eye open before quickly squeezing it closed, the bright florescent lights too much to handle. You took a beat, trying to make sense of your surroundings. 

You remembered the jet landing in what seemed like the middle of nowhere, you and Jean searching an abandoned building looking for the young mutant that Charles had promised would be there and coming up empty. The two of you had made your way back to the jet and.. shit. The kid had freaked, and you distinctly remember taking enough damage to warrant a swift retreat back to the school. You must be downstairs, in Jean’s lab. It’s probably a bad sign that the first thing you worry about how much shit Logan is going to give you for this. 

You reached out with your power, too cautious of the lights (and the judgment of the rest of the team) to look with your eyes. A few people were mildly worried just across the room, but it was hard not to be distracted by the huge amounts of anger and exhaustion on your left. You debated facing him head on, being a grown up about it and fessing up to the fact that you were wrong. Thankfully, you could be immature when the situation called for it. You attempted to even out your breathing and smooth out the crease between your eyebrows, anything that could give you away. 

“Sweetheart?” Logan’s voice is so much softer than you were expecting, based on the waves of pure fury currently radiating off of him. 

You shush him, blinking one eye open. “I’m sleeping.” You whisper, letting your eye fall shut again. 

You felt his hand gently brush over the top of your head. His voice is closer, air tickling your ear as he leans down beside you. “Been sleeping for three days, bub. Need you to wake up now.” 

You turn your head to the side and are treated to Logan dropping a small kiss on your forehead. You can’t help but smile at the affection, eyes half open against the bright lights. After a few moments, they dim. Jean takes her place on the other side of the table, lab coat on and stethoscope in hand. You expected her to shoo Logan away in the name of a more thorough analysis but she doesn’t even attempt it. 

Logan’s hand finds your own, gripping tight enough to be just short of uncomfortable. Jean makes quick work of taking your diagnostics, and gently informs you that besides feeling fatigued, you are just fine. 

That can’t be right. 

You know that you caught the brunt of the impact, it was beginning to come back to you. The young mutant had lashed out, and before you’d had the chance to get close, he’d sent a car flying towards you and Jean. She’d managed to counteract it with her own mutation, firmly shoving you out of the way. But she hadn’t been fast enough to catch the small metal spikes he’d also thrown. There was no way you should be ‘just fine’ by now. 

Either Jean was in your head or the confusion was showing clearly on your face. She gave you a tight smile, eyes darting between you and the door. She took a few steps back, clearly intent of making her exit. “Jean, wait, there’s no way-”

She gave you her please stop talking smile. “I think it’s best if this comes from him,” she nodded at Logan, placing her stethoscope and clipboard on the side table. “I’ll be back in a bit to do one final check before we clear you.” She gives you another smile that didn’t meet her eyes, and then she was gone. 

You began to sit up slowly, still in shock that there was little to no pain, only stiffness from being immobile for too long. “What is she talking about?” Logan huffed, supporting you with a hand on your back. “What’s going on?” 

One hand made long, slow strokes up and down your spine, while the other had not loosened it’s grip on your own since you’d woken up. His eyebrows were scrunched together, the tell tale sign of his thinking face. You tried your best not to rush him, but everything about the situation was so confusing and your mind was racing. You were far too healed, and he was being far too calm for the anger that was rolling off go him, still. 

“Didn’t expect me to just sit around when you came back one foot in the grave, did ya?” 

“I’m sorry if me coming back banged up gave you extra work, I just don’t understand why you’re so upset with me.” 

His eyes went wide, the hand on your back stilling. “I’m not mad at you, sweetheart.” The tremble in his voice almost had you convinced. 

“Don’t lie to me about it,” you help up your hand, still firmly entwined with his. “I can tell.” 

“I’m notmad at you, bub.” He brought the back of your hand to his lips, peppering it with kisses. “I’m mad at the little fuck who did this to you, I’m mad that they let this happen, and I’m furious with myself that I wasn’t there.” 

“He’s just a kid, Logan.” 

His shoulders shook with silent laughter, a stark white dancing at the edge of his emotions now. Shock. “You almost died, and your first instinct is to defend the little asshole responsible.” 

You leaned forward, bumping your shoulder against his chest in warning. “I feel fine.” He nodded, taking a deep breath in through his nose while his hand not currently locked with yours resumed it’s path up and down your back. You let it go on for a few moments, appreciating the silence and the grounding effect of his touch. “Do you… wanna fill me in on why exactly that is?” 

He sucked in a breath, shoulders visibly tense. “We were lucky that Hank was stopping by for a visit.” He played with your fingers, distracting himself. You tilted your head to the side, wondering why that information was important at a time like this. “When they brought you in, god there was so much blood. Jean managed to take care of a lot of it, but she didn’t know when, or uh, if you were going to wake up.” He blew out a breath, steadying himself. “You know that Hank has been asking for a long time-”

Both of your hands gripped his tightly. “Tell me you didn’t.” 

Hank had been asking for ages to use some of Logan’s blood to synthesize a more advanced healing serum for the X-Men. It was rare they came back with more than bumps and bruises, but he was a worrier and felt that Logan was the key to making something truly effective. The only problem? Logan hated needles. You’d only gotten bits and pieces from him about why, but you had a hunch that when you were alive for as long as he had been, people were willing to poke and prod for some answers. He’d never admit it, but you had felt how terrified he was the last time he’d been down hard after a mission, and Jean had tried to give him an IV of fluids to speed up the regeneration. It hadn’t ended well, to say the least. 

“I should’ve done it sooner. Seeing you like this, knowing I could have done something about it.” He shook his head, clearing his thoughts. 

Cautiously, you fit yourself against him, arms tight around his neck and your chest flush with his own. You half expected him to reprimand you, to remind you that you should be careful, not to move too much. Instead, he held you tightly, the side of his face pressed against the top of your head. The two of you stayed like that for a good long while, reveling in the comfort of the other. 

“I know you think that you only did it because,” you paused, steeling yourself. “Because it was me.” You can feel him trying to pull away, but you mold yourself to him even more tightly, knowing that if he really wanted to he could break away from you like it was nothing. “You’re wrong. You would have done this for anyone.” 

“Except for-”

“Even for Scott.” You were quick to cut him off, unwilling to hear him being so harsh on himself.

You pulled back, just enough so that you were able to meet his eyes. You needed him to know that you are being earnest. “You are a good man, Logan. And before you even try to deny it or say I’m lying I know you can hear my heart beat. And I know you can tell when people are lying. And besides, I’ve never ever lied to you, have I?” He shakes his head slowly, one tear falling, and a few more after that. You reached up, brushing them away. He grabbed your hand, gently placing a kiss on your wrist, and then your palm. 

“Y’scared me, sweetheart.” He murmured, voice muffled by your palm still against his lips. “Don’t ever do that again.” 

You slide your hand to cup the side of his face, prompting him to meet your gaze. “You know I can’t guarantee that.” His eyes closed for a moment, and you knew he was doing his best not to shout. “I will always be careful, but I can’t stay back and leave the work to everyone else. If I can help, I’m gonna help.” 

His eyes narrowed, the tiniest hint of a smirk playing at his lips. “Fine. But we’re getting you trained up and you aren’t going out there without me again for a good long while.” 

You rolled your eyes, the both of you well aware there was no ill will behind it. “If you insist.” 

“I absolutely do.” He pulled you back into his chest, keeping you there until Jean peaked her head in through the door. 

“If you two are done being mushy, there are a few people who have been dying to see you.” 

Ororo rushed into the room, playfully shoving Logan away to scoop you into her arms. She gently checked you over, ignoring the fact that you’d already had several medical professionals on the case. Scott clasped you on the shoulder, reassuring you that for a first mission, this was a success. You laughed before shooting Logan a look that begged him to let it pass. He huffed, but nodded all the same. 

“Shocked we didn't have to keep him from trying to tear the kid apart, but he refused to leave the lab.” Scott nodded his head at Logan, who was continuing to shuffle closer to the table where you sat. 

Well, you would be dutifully ignoring the latter half of Scott's quip, instead choosing to focus on the young mutant. “You mean he's?” 

Scott smiled, nodding. “He’s settling in upstairs.” 

You grinned, glad to know that it hadn’t all been for nothing. You fixed your gaze on Logan, narrowing your eyes at him. “Don’t even think about failing him out of history as some kind of weird revenge, I’ll know and I will find a way to get back at you for it.” 

Your friends laughed around you, let you know that Charles has ordered in your favorite take out for dinner and started to filter out of the room. Eventually, you and Logan are left alone again, sitting side by side on the metal table. 

“You still owe me an important conversation, ya know.” You bump your shoulder against his. You stay there, pressed against his side with your head leaning on his shoulders. His hand rests on your shoulder, holding you close. 

“Maybe wait until you aren’t in a hospital gown, sweetheart.” You rolled your eyes, clearly aware that he was deflecting, but still content to take in his warmth and quiet support. You were safe, and you were home. Not just at school, but with him.