#each word made its way into my heart where it matters

[marxism-lelouchism]

it feels bad and kind of attention-seeking to desperately need external validation to live and while i do genuinely treasure every kind word i've ever received, it also feels impossible for me to internalize any praise and actually believe it, leading me to again need more positive encouragement, which makes me feel not just attention-seeking but also like an ingrate to the people who have been supportive... i want to believe in the me that my friends believe in, but unfortunately there is a part of me that believes even more so that if i were really good enough then my work would speak for itself and i wouldnt need to ask for validation

[d1stalker]

All of You, All of Me [Logan Howlett]

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

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

----

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

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

Everyone, except for you.

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

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

Logan Howlett.

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

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

Jean Grey.

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

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

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

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

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

Logan was never the same after that.

 —

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

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

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

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

It’s Logan.

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

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

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

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

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

“Give me a fuckin’ break.”

----

Brown. Logan’s hair is brown.

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

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

Brown.

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

Why him? Why me? Why now?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why are you here?” he asks accusingly.

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

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

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

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

“Logan, I—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good. Then stay away from me.”

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

And that’s the cruelest twist of all.

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

—

The only person you tell is Charles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Because you are the only one who does care.

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

—

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

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

He’s across from you. Just your luck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s not fair.

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

“Mind if I join you?” he asks gently.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What if it just makes things worse?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Goddamn it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His words hurt. 

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

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

“That isn’t fair,” you argue.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That’s when it really hits you. 

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

You give up.

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

“Goodbye, Logan. Take care of yourself.”

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

— 

You decide to go on the mission.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I promise,” you assure.

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Location: Florence. 

Message: Help.

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The X-Men have arrived.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m glad you’re alright.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod. "Okay."

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that makes all the difference.

----

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

[ghostfacd]

I BET ON LOSING DOGS.

pairing: young!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

PART TWO

summary: you were the epitome of sunshine, and coriolanus? he was like the storm, the rain, and the everything in between.

warnings: SPOILERS from the movie & book, SMUT (protected cause we wrap it before we tap it! p in v), losing virginities to each other, snow (cause he himself needs a warning), toxic relationship, coriolanus is only in it for himself, mentions of losing virginity, you practically giving everything to snow and getting zero in return

author’s note: erm this is kinda long idek where tf i was going with this, first time writing smut on this account LOL so it might be bad. also this isn’t proofread so there might be mistakes, just ignore! as always, reblogs and comments are so greatly appreciated, enjoy reading + kisses 💓

You were the epitome of the sun itself, the sparkle, the light, and most importantly, the brightness. Despite being filthy rich, you were still that sweet sunshine Y/N everyone grown to love, the heir to the Cicero family.

Coriolanus Snow hated that about you. Not only were you everything he was not, but you lived such a lavish and easy lifestyle that it made him sick. Why was he stuck eating cabbage while you were off eating the finest thin slices of meat in the Capitol made by your chefs? It wasn’t fair, it just simply wasn’t.

“Well, Coryo!” Your sickeningly sweet voice fills his ears like a mantra.

He turns around, a smirk plays on his face. “My Y/N.”

Hearing him call you his made your heart flutter. You loop your arm through his, passing through the other academy students who were engrossed in their conversations

“Finally the star pupil.” Arachne Crane says, a glass of posca in her hand. “Lovely shirt you’ve got there. What are these cunning buttons? Tesserae?”

He looked at the shirt, shrugging. “Hm? Are they? Must’ve why they reminded me of the maid’s bathroom.”

You held his hands in yours. You knew of Coriolanus’s home life, how he wasn’t so lucky like you to have a gigantic home filled with lovable parents. His mom had died during childbirth, Coryo mentioning to you once how he was supposed to have a little sister. His father—died in the hands of rebels.

“Have you tried this lamb? It's scandalous.” Felix suddenly spoke up, taking a bite of the food that was currently on his plate.

“Didn’t daddy teach you table manners?.” Festus sneered, watching the other boy in disgust.

“Maybe he would have if he wasn’t so busy running the country.” Felix snapped back

Coriolanus took a deep breath in, already feeling overwhelmed by his classmates arguing.

After the announcement of the assigning of mentor to tributes, you could tell Coriolanus was upset. Although he wouldn’t let anyone see, he was visibly anxious and quite frankly, annoyed.

“I mean, cmon, how could it that I got the worst district?” Coriolanus says, head in his hands. “He hates me. He really does.”

“Who hates you Coryo?”

“Dean Highbottom! Isn’t it obvious?” He cries out, hands flinging into the air. You slightly flinch back, never seeing your boyfriend in such state. “He hates me Y/N. He adores you.”

“He doesn’t adore me,” you say, feeling like you were stepping around eggshells talking to Coriolanus.

“He does!” Coriolanus screams in anger, getting up in a hurry.

“Wait, no Coryo, I’m sorry.”

But your words aren’t enough, they’ll never be for Coriolanus Snow, so he walks out without a second thought.

- - -

The next day, Coriolanus apologizes. It’s a breathy, quick 5 second apology, but you being so you—accepted it without a second thought.

You loved Coriolanus, so it didn’t matter how much he hurt you.

“I’ll make it up to you tonight,” he says, placing a soft kiss on your lips.

You felt quite excited, you and your boyfriend hadn’t exactly gotten to that stage in your relationship, so thinking about sharing an intimate moment with him filled you with giddiness.

His tip had entered carefully through your folds, making you slightly wince as it bullied its way to your walls.

“Coryo..” you breathe out hazily, doe eyes coming to meet his. He sucked in his breath at the sight, never has he felt anything as good as this.

He tries so hard convincing himself he doesn’t love you. That this—it meant nothing to him. He was just here for your money, your possessions as the only daughter of Cryon and Hermione Cicero. But as he felt your nails claw its way into his back, he lets out a slip, a tiny whimper that makes your head foggy.

He spilled into the condom, pulling out with a hiss. Although you told him you were clean, and it was fine if he didn’t wear one, he simply couldn’t risk it. He wasn’t going to accidentally bring in a child into the world, having no intentions of taking care of anyone besides himself—maybe Tigris, and his Grandma’am.

“I love you,” you say quietly as you sat up, watching him discard the plastic into your trash bin.

“I’m hungry, aren’t you?” He says, putting his shirt on. It kinds of pains you at his total ignorance of the intimate words you just shared, but you nod your head.

“I could use some food,” is all you say, putting on your pajamas from earlier. “What’re hungry for Coryo? I’ll ask the chef.”

- - -

Dr. Gaul and Dean Highbottom had allowed all the mentors and their tributes roam the arena for about 15 minutes, letting them think of ways to win the game.

You were talking to Bobbin, a boy from District 7 whom you’ve had become closer with these past few days.

Suddenly, the loud scream of Felix catches your attention and before you knew it, loud bombs filled the air as tall lights fell to the ground near you.

“CORYO!” You scream, coughing loudly at the dust filling your lungs.

“Quick Y/N, we don’t have time!” Sejanus screams, grabbing ahold of your hand.

“But Coryo—”

Meanwhile, a tall pole had crushed Coriolanus’s arms.

Well, he thought, this was it.

This was how he was going to die. His girlfriend and best friend hand in hand as they ran out of the arena, the sickening feeling of betrayal filled his guts.

“What’re you doing?!” One of the tributes screamed at Lucy Gray, who was struggling to get the giant metal off Coriolanus’s arm. “Run while you can you idiot!”

But she doesn’t bother, only focusing on getting Coriolanus out. And she does, successfully, before all went black.

- - -

“Coryo? Oh Coryo!” You say, hugging him softly to ensure you weren’t hurting him.

You had felt so guilty after everything had happened. You should’ve never ran off with Sejanus, Coriolanus was your boyfriend, you should’ve saved him.

“Is Lucy Gray okay?” Is the first thing he croaks out, which makes your heart slightly crack.

“She’s—she’s okay Coryo.” You say, brushing a few blonde curls out of his eyes.

“And where were you?” He says, gaze slowly turning into anger. “I was going to die, Y/N.”

“I know! I was going to—”

He cut you off. “But you didn’t, now did you?”

His bitterness towards you makes you want to cry, tears already forming at your lash line.

“Oh now you’re crying?” It seemed like everything you did seemed of inconvenience to Coriolanus, but he opens his arms, letting you reside in them as you let out a few tears. “Always the crybaby, Y/N.” He says, hand holding your head as you buried your face into his chest.

- - -

Coriolanus Snow never believed in love. Not when he used to look at his mother and father when they were still alive, and not when he found himself a girlfriend, you.

Your relationship was merely another step stone towards success, Coriolanus viewed it. You were the heir of your family, you had countless amounts of money, and you were easily fooled by his advances. To Coriolanus, he had hit the jackpot, regardless of loving you or not.

So why did he feel so weird watching you interact with Sejanus? Sure, he considered the former district 2 boy his best friend, but it was only because Clemensia had been spending time at the hospital. The flu, Dr. Gaul described it; but Snow knew better. He was there when she had gotten bit by the snakes, and to be completely honest, if she hadn’t, he’d probably have dated her instead of you.

Clemensia Dovecote was way more smart, and he knew he wouldn’t fall inlove because they were both after the same thing. Power.

But with you, you were head over heels for Coriolanus. It almost made him sick, if it weren’t for your family name.

He clenched his jaw as he saw you throw your head back, hitting Sejanus’s shoulder as you hysterically laughed at something he had said.

What was so funny? Nothing was funny in the Capitol, not now. Maybe he was bitter, he should’ve never cheated in the games. It was stupid, and now he was getting the punishment of getting sent to 12 as a peacekeeper for 20 years.

Fuck, he really shouldn’t have cheated. And now he couldn’t even use his girlfriend’s family name as a way out.

He really should’ve known better. He knew you loved him, but he didn’t think you’d love him so much so that you begged your father to let you stay in 12 for a while to be with Coriolanus.

If there’s one thing about you—it’s that you’re a Daddy’s girl by heart, and of course, your father had once again served your request with a silver spoon. He hated that about you. He hated it. You got things too damn easily.

“Hi Coryo!” You say, making your way to him. Your beautiful sundress made him gulp, and he wanted nothing more but to snatch you away, pulling it off so he could get inside of you. But he couldn’t—he was in 12, much to his dismay.

“Y/N,” he says, placing his peacekeeper gun to the back. “Talking to the scums?”

“They’re just people from the district,” you say, frowning at his rudeness. “They’re nice, Coryo. Real nice, you’d like some of them.”

Coriolanus scoffs at that. How oblivious and stupid you were. Him, Coriolanus Snow, liking some of the district 12 citizens? What a fucking joke.

“Go along now Y/N, I’ll see you later.”

You nod, giving him a sloppy kiss on the cheek before you left, leaving the other peacekeepers to whistle at Coriolanus who only responds with an eye roll.

When later eventually comes, he was packing away the Jabberjays in their metal cages, Sejanus being right next to him.

“I saw you earlier,” Coriolanus says nonchalantly, “talking to that woman in the window. What are you playing at Sejanus?”

Sejanus scoffs, shaking his head. “They’re gonna escape Corio. Leave the districts. And I’ll be helping them.”

Coriolanus sucks in a breath, “is Y/N all in this too?”

God, he hoped Sejanus said no. But then again, it’d give him an advantage if he had said yes.

“She is,” Sejanus says, continuing to tell Coriolanus of the plan.

Without Sejanus knowing, Coriolanus had tuned the jabberjay so it could record back the whole conversation. When Sejanus finally leaves, Coriolanus sneaks to where the train bringing the birds back to the Capitol stood, placing the jabberjay in it to send it to Dr. Gaul.

If anything, Sejanus was a blocking point in Coriolanus’s way, and getting rid of him and you were like killing two birds with one stone.

- - -

The next day came and you were peacefully talking to one of the younger girls in the district when you’re suddenly pulled away along with Sejanus.

“Hey! What the hell!” You scream, thrashing in the unfamiliar peacekeeper’s hold. “Get off me!”

You and Sejanus struggle, and Coriolanus almost wants to step in and get you out of his fellow peacekeeper’s arms. Almost.

“Coryo! Tell them they’ve been mistaken!” You cry out, locking eyes with your so called lover.

“You two have been charged with treason towards the Capitol.” The peacekeeper says, his cold gaze and strong hold on you makes you let out a whimper.

“Treason?” You say, “there has to be a mistake! Call my father! Call my father!”

“I’m afraid your father can’t get you out of this one, Miss. Cicero.”

He drags you and Sejanus up the main stage of the district. “Everyone! Pay attention! This is what will happen if you are disloyal to the Capitol!”

Another peacekeeper points a gun behind Sejanus’s back as the peacekeeper who was holding you earlier pokes your back with the cold metal. You felt terrified gazes of the citizens of District 12, including Lucy Gray, stare at you.

“CORYO! TELL THEM!” You scream, begging with your eyes. “Coryo, please. Please.”

But Coriolanus Snow stands still in his spot, not budging a thing.

You thought he had loved you—or at least, cared for you. You gave him shelter when he was at his worst, you gave him your virginity, you held him when he cried about how unfair Dean Highbottom was, you let him into your home, and you always were there for him. You practically did everything for Coriolanus Snow. And what did you get? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

“Your Coryo won’t save you.” The peacekeeper snarls, before firing the gun.

Two gunshots go off, and the body of yours and Sejanus fall to the ground in an instant.

Coriolanus Snow almost wants to barf, his eyes closed for a minute before reopening them again.

Had it really been worth it? Ratting you and Sejanus out so he could get home to the Capitol faster?

He thinks so when your family and the Plinths give him their fortune as a thank you for being such a good boyfriend and friend towards their son and daughter.

If only they knew, though. But Coriolanus would never let that happen, because no matter what, Snow lands on top.

And this? It was just the beginning.

[chococolte]

Your sagau zhongli is my fave! Devotion is soooo good he's so good!! If he were offered a reward, what would he ask for? He definitely deserves good things for being such a dedicated worshipper

word count. 1.6k

୨୧ — ꒰ cw. yandere, unhealthy relationships, possessive & obsessive thoughts/behaviors, sagau + cult au shit, religious themes, g/n reader.

୨୧ — ꒰ a/n. hi guys......... sorry i took so long to write this, and im so happy you like my characterization of him!!!! it means so much to me!!!

Your praise.

Zhongli has rarely ever wanted. 

When he was young, still arrogant and born of war, Zhongli didn't want— he took. He had no need of envy or desire. What he could not have, he would get in time. Immortality comes with an infinite patience. 

If he was still that god, flippant and self-important, maybe he would demand some sort of compensation. Some sort of recompense for past agony.

For as long as Zhongli's lived, he has never wanted; not in the way a mortal yearns for their lover, or the way a dog longs for its owner until it whines. Never in any way that mattered, never before he met you.

Zhongli has had eons to become used to the loneliness that so often encompasses him. And now, knowing that you breathe the same air as him, he's become rather acquainted with the ever consuming desire to nestle close to you, like ink caressing every pore of canvas. 

His desire runs through him— barking and loud, rapid and frantic— but when faced with you, a whisper, whimpering in the dark crevices of his ribs. At times, he comes close to asking you to hold him, but decorum and propriety keep him in place, tight and tense.

Liyue was built knowing your gaze followed him. Its foundations set, earth molded, and its rivers bent, hoping they would be fit to your liking. His every breath spent chasing after your favor, desiring to be remade in your image, to be exactly what you want him to be. Afraid that, when finally met with you, you will not like what you see.

Zhongli has rarely ever wanted, and rarer still, has he ever feared.

It's a mortal's fear. The fear of their lord displeased with their harvest. A boyish fear, made up of desperation and the fear of disapproval; one he shouldn't feel, one he should feel no familiarity with. One he suspects many have felt when within his own presence.

When you ask him what he would like in return for all of his efforts— a reward, you say— Zhongli feels his breath seized from him.

Zhongli lived much of his early life against you. At every opportunity, he rebelled at what he thought was a cruel god. Imperious and charged with Guizhong’s death, he would have demanded answers. 

For him to have lived while those he cared for perished without a moment's repose, for him to have survived every moment of cruel war when each breath was like a whip against his lungs— he deserved to know, if you were as real as Guizhong so staunchly believed, why he had lived in her place.

Yet, despite centuries of tempered rage, Zhongli has become content to live as nothing more than your servant. 

He tells you he wants for nothing. That all he desires now is the simplicity of being beside you; the escape of your laughter, where there's no need to concern himself with anything other than you. He tells you he only wishes to know how to take care of you better, how to align himself with your tastes and desires.

"I insist," you say, and Zhongli realizes it's a command. His mouth turns dry, and every word settles on his tongue like heavy weights, dead and still.

You stare, and his breath hitches, his heart a swell in his chest. Zhongli thinks of every answer, how your reaction to any could either breathe life into him, or leave him broken. How, for a moment, he amuses himself with the idea of asking for your touch— the cusp of your palm on his cheek, your fingers against his spine; how he could ask, and how you might favor him enough to do so. 

He then thinks of asking you for reassurance. For affirmation of forgiveness for the actions in his youth. To finally have the certainty that he hasn’t failed you, and maybe, the confirmation that you may care for him.

“Forgive me for my impropriety, Your Grace,” Zhongli begins, voice light and breathy. His hand rests on his chest, fighting the urge to dig into his skin, hoping to calm the pounding of his heart. “But… if I may, I was wondering if I had done right by you?”

You sit inertly in silence for a moment, and Zhongli wonders if it’s on purpose, some sort of punishment for daring to ask such a thing. You had no reason to reward him, and he had been blessed enough to hold your attention for longer than a moment. He had no right to ask for your thoughts, not so directly.

He thought he knew that. It was why he followed you, why he made sure your every request was completed to the highest standard. If you mentioned the taste of your tea being too bitter, or sweet, or that you’d rather he prepare something else for you entirely, he would rush to follow your word. Even if he had been the one to brew it, even if it was him who cultivated the leaves, even if he thought it would be to your liking.

All he needed was to be helpful. All he needed was you. Within you, was his salvation— within you, was love itself. Without you, the once great Lord of Geo was but a fragmented elemental wisp of energy, only ever calling your name.

A spike of adrenaline rushes through him, fear and anxiety denying any sense of hope. All he hears is the solitary sound of his heart in his ears. 

“You have only ever done good by me.”

Zhongli’s heart lurches, heat rippling through his body. You say it like it's the most obvious thing in the world, and his mind feels dizzy at the implication. The ground sways, and his feet feel light. 

“You deserve more than that, I think.” You step forward, and Zhongli is so lost within his own thoughts, he takes no notice of your sudden increase in proximity— but his breath still quickens, and red still coats the apples of his cheeks. 

“Kneel,” you whisper, and though you say it so softly, it's as though the sky had been torn asunder with the speed he responds. Zhongli’s mind still feels far away, but he hears your orders as if spoken directly into his ear.

He drops to his knees, no care for whether he does so elegantly enough. All he can focus on is the weight of your gaze, and the way he's the only thing under it.

“Do you want me to praise you?” You trace his jawline with your finger, still speaking in a soft, unhurried tone. “Do you want me to tell you how much of a good boy you are?”

Zhongli inhales sharply, fighting every thought that screams at him to eagerly lean into your hand. He stares up at you, russet lashes fluttering and amber eyes swallowed by adoration and worship. 

“Yes, Your Grace,” he whispers hoarsely. 

Your thumb swipes over his lower lip, and a whine rises to the back of his throat. 

“My good boy.” Zhongli’s entire body shudders, his chest heaving. A shaky breath escapes him. “You've been waiting to hear that for so long, haven't you?”

He whimpers, then nods in a way he hopes doesn’t come across as overeager— quickly bereft of any sense of propriety, or care for whether or not he’s making a fool of himself. All he can concern himself with is how close you are, how easily your scent renders him still, how quickly he borders on senseless. 

You smile at that, and he bites his tongue to stop himself from whimpering. 

“Do you want me to tell you how grateful I am?” Your fingers move across his neck, brushing against his Adam’s Apple, watching it bob as he gulps, trying to keep himself steady and not fall against you. “How you're my favorite?”

An ugly sound rips from Zhongli’s throat, and it's one he's instantly ashamed of. Every part of him feels bare in front of you, laid out messy and without decorum. The mask he’s worn for eons steadily breaks, and every one of his veins and bones scream out for your warmth. 

The Lord of Geo wouldn’t have ever allowed himself to be so vulnerable. He never would have amused himself with the thought of pleading for anything, or kneeling and falling apart because he was treated softly— least of all, of being so desperate to know that you love him; that you favor him. 

Zhongli, now without his Gnosis, is as mortal as the men he used to lord over. And perhaps it’s his newfound mortality that moves him to lean into your hand, frantically trying to meld your fingers against his skin until his flesh is like clay inlaid with your fingertips; hoping that you’ll rebuild him until he fits your desires, and tell him again that he’s proven to have done good by you. 

Every thought is a prayer, another hymn, another psalm.

“Am I? Your favorite?” 

His voice trembles, and breathes into a soft whisper. Zhongli doesn’t mean to sound so desperate— he doesn’t mean to be so greedy— but his soul has never felt so full before. His mind is so mired by your touch and voice that he doesn’t realize his lack of formality, or how he might come across as arrogant. 

He wants only to think of you, and so he does. Nothing else matters.

“Yes.” You chuckle, and his heart speeds up at the sound, fervent. “Why would I want anyone else?”

Zhongli whines, and faintly, through the blur of fanaticism and worship, thinks that no matter what you asked of him, he would do it without hesitation. 

[pucksandpower]

Lullaby

Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: in which Max is the only lullaby you’ll ever need

Warnings: 18+ content

You stare up at the ceiling, wide awake. The numbers on the alarm clock seem to taunt you, the minutes ticking by as you struggle in vain to fall asleep.

It’s nearly 1 am and Max still isn’t home.

With a sigh, you roll over and bury your face in his pillow, breathing in his familiar scent.

It’s not the same.

Your body craves his warmth, the protective circle of his arms. Sleep just won’t come without him here.

You’ve always been this way, for as long as you can remember. A perpetual insomniac, tossing and turning through the lonely nights.

That is, until you met Max.

The first night you spent together, you were astonished to find yourself drifting off within minutes of being wrapped in his strong embrace. It was like magic. Now, months later, the spell hasn’t broken. Max has become a necessity, not just for your heart but also for your health.

The sound of the front door opening stirs you from your restless thoughts. Muted footsteps make their way to the bedroom and you feel the mattress dip down.

“Hey,” Max whispers, his hand grazing your shoulder. “Sorry I’m so late, the meeting ran long. I didn’t mean to keep you waiting up.”

You roll over to face him, drinking in the sight of his tousled hair and tired eyes. “It’s okay. I’m just glad you’re here.”

He offers you a soft smile, the one he saves only for these quiet intimate moments, and your heart skips. No matter how many times you see it, that smile never fails to make you melt.

“Let me just wash up and I’ll be right there, okay?” He squeezes your hand gently before disappearing into the bathroom.

You listen to the familiar sounds of him getting ready for bed, a ritual you know by heart. The splash of water, the electric hum of his toothbrush, the soft thud of his clothes hitting the hamper.

When he emerges in just his boxers, you lift up the covers in silent invitation. He slides in behind you and tucks your body against his chest, legs tangled together.

You fit so perfectly, two puzzle pieces made for each other.

His arms wrap around you like bands of steel and you feel yourself begin to relax into him. Here, cradled against him with your legs interlocked, is the only place you’ve ever found true peace.

Max brushes his lips over your hair. “Did you miss me?” He murmurs.

You smile into the darkness. “You know I did.”

“I missed you too, schatje.” His voice is husky with fatigue. “I’m exhausted but I had to get back to take care of my girl.”

You snuggle deeper into his embrace. “My hero.”

He chuckles, low and warm like honey flowing over you.

You talk softly as you both unwind from the day, voices hushed in the intimacy of the night. He tells you about the team debrief that ran late and you fill him in on the book you started today, trading thoughts and details as the fuzziness of sleep starts to seep into the she of your consciousness.

Eventually conversation tapers off, words replaced by contented silence. Max’s breathing deepens and you know he’s nearing slumber. But your mind still buzzes, body fighting against its own weariness.

You shift restlessly and Max instantly tightens his hold. “Shh I’ve got you,” he soothes. “Just try to relax.”

One large hand begins massaging gentle circles on your back and you focus on its hypnotic motion, on the sensation of his calloused fingers tracing delicate shapes.

He starts humming softly, a nameless tune that fills you with wistful melancholy. You’ve never asked where he learned it. It belongs to these fragile midnight moments, when he coaxes you to stillness with his voice and touch.

Between the comfort of his embrace and the lullaby reverberations rumbling through his chest, you finally feel sleep approaching. Your thoughts drift away until only the present remains — Max surrounding you, his warmth, his scent, the combined rhythm of your heartbeats.

Just as your heavy eyelids begin to close, Max shifts suddenly and cages you beneath him. You gasp as he presses urgent kisses under your jaw, nipping at the sensitive skin.

“Max!” You squirm half-heartedly. “I was almost asleep.”

“Not quite yet, schatje. We’re not done.” His voice is gravelly with arousal that makes your belly swoop. “I need you.”

He kisses you deeply until you’re clinging to him, nails digging into the flexing muscles of his back. This man unravels you with barely a touch, your body open and pliant to him like a flower turns to the sun.

When he enters you it feels like coming home. You let out a shaky exhale, overwhelmed by the perfection of his body joining yours. This connection, this wholeness, is all you’ve ever wanted.

Max sets a slow, deep rhythm. His eyes blaze into you, grey flickering with lust and love and possession. “You’re mine,” he rasps, thrusting harder. “This is right where you belong. Under me, surrounding me, taking all of me.”

“Yes, yes I’m yours,” you gasp. The slide and drag of your bodies is maddening, tension coiling at the base of your spine.

Max grips your thigh, hooking it over his hip to drive himself deeper. “No one else gets to have you like this. You only come apart for me. I’m the only one who gets to feel you shatter.”

You cry out as he hits that perfect spot inside, stars bursting behind your eyelids. “Max, please …”

He crushes you closer, thin control fraying. “Please what? Tell me. I’ll give you anything you need.”

A particularly deep thrust wrings a wanton moan from you. You’re so close now, balanced on a knife’s edge of bliss. “Just you,” you manage to say. “I just need you.”

Max smiles, satisfied. “That’s my girl.” Then his lips slant over yours, swallowing your sobs of pleasure as his hips piston faster. The tension crests, higher and higher, until finally it breaks and you’re swept away on waves of dizzying ecstasy.

Max tenses and follows you over with a rough groan, your name a prayer on his lips. He collapses heavily against you, breath coming in harsh pants.

For long moments you just cling together, fingerprints bruising, heartbeats thundering through one another.

Eventually Max stirs, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. But he doesn’t separate your bodies. He knows you’ll rest easier staying connected, so he simply shifts just enough to take some of his weight off you.

You let out a small sigh of contentment, his warmth seeping into every inch of you like a blanket. Utterly spent and sated, you quickly begin drifting off. But before sleep claims you, Max’s quiet voice cuts through the haze.

“I’ll always come back to you. Every night, just like this. You’re my home.”

His words wrap around your heart, a vow and a lullaby in one. You manage to murmur a quiet “love you” before finally succumbing to sleep, safe in the harbor of his arms.

[punkshort]

i know who you are | 4. the others

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: Winter begins to wrap its arms around Jackson, filling the town with snow and a nasty flu. Joel takes you to meet Ben and Lisa, and you finally discover more about your past.

Chapter Warnings: language, angst, amnesia, sad!joel, pining, sexual tension, slow burn, jealousy

WC: 9K

Series Masterlist

You looked happy.

Ever since you began working at the infirmary, you seemed happier. Like you were grateful to have a purpose. A way to contribute. To give back to the community that supported you.

You smiled more and you didn't shy away from him as much as you used to and it gave Joel hope. Every time you saw him and greeted him with a smile or said goodbye with a squeeze of his shoulder, it made his heart flutter. It's been weeks. Months, technically. But he was making some progress.

It was the first snowfall of the season and it put you in an even better mood than usual. Your face was pressed up against the window as he tended to the fire behind you, and you watched as the big, fluffy flakes of snow fell from the sky, coating Jackson in a perfect blanket of pure white.

"I didn't get much snow where I'm from," you told him over your shoulder. He knew that already, but he humored you.

"That so?"

"Mhmm. When I was a kid, though, we got hit with this freak storm. No one knew what to do. No one owned shovels or snow blowers or any of that, so we were all stuck inside our houses until the storm ended and everything melted," you said, turning away from the window so you could curl up on the couch, then pausing for a moment before tilting your head to the side. "Did I tell you this already?"

Yes, he thought, but he shook his head, eager for you to continue. He just loved hearing you talk, no matter what you said. Besides, if you were expected to rebuild your relationship, sharing your past would naturally be part of that, so he encouraged you to tell stories, even if he's heard them before.

"So, what happened?" he asked, putting the poker back in the stand and getting up with a groan, his knees cracking a bit before he settled in on the other end of the couch.

"Well, the power went out," you said, and he could hear the excitement in your voice, delighted to be telling him something you thought he didn't already know, and it made his heart swell. "So we didn't have any heat or any way to cook our food. We set up camping tents in the middle of our living room and slept in there with, like, five blankets each. And we lived off pop-tarts and granola bars and peanut butter sandwiches for two days til the power came back on."

"Two days?" Joel repeated, and you nodded.

"Yeah, but it was fun. As a kid, you know? I'm sure my parents were freaking out but me and Matty were excited. We played board games and ate by candlelight and told ghost stories," you said wistfully, your eyes looking miles away. "We talked about that for years," you finished softly, and Joel smiled.

"I didn't get much snow where I'm from, either," he told you, and your eyes met his again.

"Texas, right?" and he nodded. "Did you live there your whole life?"

Something deep inside him sparked with a mix of nerves and excitement. It felt like you were meeting all over again, and while it was under less than ideal circumstances, he couldn't help but feel those butterflies you feel when you first meet someone new.

"Yep, my whole life. Tommy, too, except for when he was in the army."

"Were you in the army?" you asked, but he quickly shook his head.

"Nah. Wasn't my scene. Besides, I had Sarah."

"Oh, right," you said, feeling stupid for asking. You dropped your attention to your hands, which were twisted in your lap, as you thought about your next question.

"How old was she?" you asked quietly, still looking down and avoiding his gaze, but you heard him take a deep breath.

"She was twelve when she died," he told you, his words hanging heavy in the air and he could see the conflict in your face as you tried to figure out a way to learn more about him without reopening old wounds. "It's okay, I don't mind talkin' 'bout her."

"Did we used to talk about her?" you asked him curiously, finally looking up to meet his gaze.

He shrugged. "Sometimes. But not at first. Still hurt too much back then, y'know?"

"Yeah," you breathed, your mind now drifting to thoughts of your own family. Were you together when they died? Did you see it? If so, was it some sort of sick twist of luck that you now couldn't remember?

"What was your favorite thing to do together?" you asked, watching as his eyes found a fixed point on the wall while he considered your question.

"My favorite thing was hiking. Hers was goin' to the movies or the mall, most likely," he said with a soft chuckle. "I didn't mind, though. I was just happy she still wanted to be seen with her old man at that age. Makes me wonder if she felt bad for me or somethin'."

You furrowed your brow, confused. "Why would she feel bad for you?"

He sighed and scratched the back of his neck. "I didn't date much. Had a few poker buddies but I mostly spent my time with Tommy. Just worked so hard back then that I was too tired to do much else."

"And you were a contractor?" you asked, trying to remember the small pieces of information you picked up over the last two months. He nodded.

"Yeah, me and Tommy had our own business. That was a lifetime ago. Can't imagine doin' that kind of work now, not with my back," he said with a smile.

Joel's eyes flicked to the window over your shoulder, watching as the snow continued to come down, the window panes growing foggy in the corners. "Looks like we ain't goin' anywhere for a while," he said, changing the subject. You followed his gaze and nodded.

"What about Ellie? Is she okay back there?"

"Yeah, she'll be alright. She could make it up to the house if she got too cold," he assured you.

So, you were essentially snowed in. All alone.

You could feel his eyes on you as you watched the fire and you wondered if he was thinking about an alternate reality. One where you didn't have an accident. Where you remembered everything. One where you loved him the way he so obviously loved you, and what you might be doing differently in that very moment. You had a feeling your hunch was correct because he stretched his arm across the back of the couch and subtly inched a little closer towards you, the worn cushions dipping from his weight and causing your leg to bob.

Your body stiffened and your heart suddenly felt like it was being crushed in your throat. He was so patient, you had to give him credit. It couldn't be easy for him, and although you could finally admit to yourself that you found him attractive, you still didn't think you trusted him enough to take things any further. Not yet. Not when you still had so many questions. Your eyes drifted up to meet his and as you expected, he was watching you closely. Carefully. Trying to read you the same way you were trying to read him. The problem was, every time he looked at you that way, with his eyes all soft and filled with adoration, you could only think about what he was hiding. What did he lie about? And why was he so hesitant for you to meet Ben and Lisa?

Joel leaned in a fraction and his fingers tightened their hold on the back of the couch. He wanted to kiss you. He's wanted to kiss you ever since that day in the field right before that clicker ruined the moment. And with the soft glow from the fire and the snow falling silently outside, it felt like the perfect moment. He was terrified of making things worse after he finally felt like he made some progress, but it was killing him. He missed having you so fucking much, sometimes it felt like it actually caused him physical pain. Like his chest would explode one day.

He swallowed nervously and inched a little closer and you panicked. Just as he was about to say something, you cut him off.

"Do you wanna play a board game?"

He raised his eyebrows in surprise and you gave him a nervous smile.

"Sure," he replied, watching as you jumped off the couch to look through the games stacked on the bookcase. He groaned inwardly and rubbed his chin when you bent over and he had to force himself to look away before his body reacted, praying you didn't pick Twister.

It took two days but the snow finally stopped. Ellie did eventually make her way to the house by the second day, simply because she was bored, so you helped Joel make a vegetable soup while Ellie set up the Monopoly board in the living room. You didn't have all the pieces, but you had enough, and what you didn't have you supplemented with buttons.

You didn't realize it; too caught up in cooking and the joy it used to bring you, but you and Joel worked together seamlessly in the kitchen. He chopped up zucchini while you diced onion and watched the pot on the stove that was cooking up noodles, slipping past each other to get to the sink and the cupboards and it all just felt so fucking normal that it made his chest ache. He wanted to draw your attention to it. He wanted to take you by the shoulders and say See? See how good we are together? But he didn't. He bit his tongue and bided his time until you came to that conclusion on your own, just like the first time.

But the first time was different. At least back then, you showed him affection. You kissed him and held him and shared your body with him and although you didn't want much more, not at first, eventually you did. And those moments in his bed were enough to hold him over until you opened your eyes and saw what was right in front of you.

He was selfish. He knew it was wrong to want you like that right now, but he wanted all of you, not just physically. He yearned to know what was going on behind your eyes, what you were thinking and feeling. What you thought of him. But if you would maybe just let yourself fall asleep in his arms on the couch while you read in front of the fire, or let him kiss you, just once, then maybe you would see it again. Feel it again.

"What the hell does a purple button mean?" you asked with a giggle, holding up the smooth, round plastic between your fingers.

"It's a hotel, duh!" Ellie said, grinning and rolling her eyes.

"Wait, why am I goin' to jail?"

"You rolled doubles three times in a row!" you told him, and you and Ellie bent over laughing at the confused expression on his face.

He made a disgruntled noise and moved his token to the corner of the board as he watched you and Ellie giggling and wiping tears from your eyes and fuck, it was nice. In another world, he would have made some joke about you being the one in handcuffs and maybe later he would have followed through with it and tied your wrists to the headboard, burying his face between your thighs until you couldn't take it anymore.

But instead, he just watched two of the people he loved most in the world have fun, the orange glow from the fire flickering over your smiling faces while the snow finally came to a stop outside.

Ellie had trekked back to the garage once the game was over. It was late, you looked tired, but he still suggested putting a movie on. He wasn't ready to let you go. He hated going to bed all alone. You seemed to consider his offer for a moment before you shook your head and yawned, and although he knew that would likely be your answer, he still felt his heart sink.

He walked you to your bedroom and as he was about to say goodnight, hoping to minimize the hurt by making it quick, you did something that surprised him. You pulled him into a hug, standing on your tiptoes, your chin resting on his shoulder with your arms wrapped around his neck, body pressed firmly against his and just as quickly as it happened, you pulled away. Joel was so stunned he wasn't sure he hugged you back, even though he stood cemented to the floor well after you went to bed, replaying the hug over and over, all he could remember was how he felt. And he went to bed that night with renewed hope blooming in his chest. Maybe you were finally coming around.

So the next morning when you asked him out of the blue if you could visit Ben and Lisa once the streets cleared of snow, he had a hard time finding a reason to say no. He should have known you wouldn't let it go, but he did hold out hope that maybe you moved on from the idea since it had been a few weeks when you last mentioned them.

He agreed, of course, not wanting to ruin the delicate foundation of your relationship. Besides, he already decided he would go with you and make sure they didn't tell you anything you weren't ready to hear.

The snow had melted enough where the road was visible again, but the snowbanks still piled high around the buildings and houses and you felt strangely nervous as you followed Joel down the street. He had finally agreed to take you to meet Ben and Lisa, and while you were grateful he didn't have the reaction he had the first time you mentioned them, you still wondered what caused that outburst.

You tried to convince yourself that maybe he was just tired and cranky that day, having just gotten back from patrol for the fourth day in a row. But something still felt... off.

"Wow, when Ellie said they lived on the outskirts, she wasn't kidding," you said, realizing you were reaching an edge of Jackson you had yet to explore.

"Yeah, they tend to keep to themselves," he replied without further explanation. He didn't seem agitated, but he definitely wasn't happy about going to see them. He seemed more quiet and subdued than usual.

Finally, you arrived at a quaint looking cottage tucked back from the road a ways. Like Ellie had said, it was small, but it looked cozy. You could see the smoke pluming from the chimney and you couldn't wait to warm up again.

There was no porch. Just a small roof over the front door and a folding chair that looked like it had seen better days. He knocked firmly on the door and after a moment, you heard light shuffling on the other side.

The door cracked open and you were greeted by a short woman around your age with dull, brown hair and bright green eyes. She saw Joel first and, like most people in town, she hesitated. But then she noticed you next to him and her expression changed. A wide smile stretched across her face and she said your name softly, then held her arms out for a hug.

"It's so good to see you," she said in your ear, giving you a tight squeeze before turning around and ushering you both inside. "Come in, come in, it's freezing out there. Ben! You'll never guess who's here!"

You both stepped inside and as you were slipping off your outerwear, you glanced around the small space. It was tight, but it was filled with warmth. The living room had two small, mismatched loveseats on either side of the stone fireplace. Two large bookshelves that were filled with so many books that the shelves were sagging stood on either side of the fire, and curiously you didn't notice a television anywhere in the room.

You heard a man's deep voice behind you say your name and you jumped in surprise. Turning around, you were pulled into another hug by who you could only assume was Ben. He was tall - taller than Joel - and you wondered how on earth such a small house could fit such a large man. He stepped away, his dark eyes glittering with his hands still on your shoulders, taking in your appearance as if you haven't seen them in years.

Maybe you haven't.

You were so focused on absorbing every little detail about the house and its residents that you didn't notice Joel's body stiffen next to you, his eyes glued to Ben's hands. And while Lisa seemed to have the same reaction to Joel that everyone else in town did, Ben, on the other hand, did not seem phased by his presence. In fact, he appeared pleased to see him. Once he dropped his hands from your shoulders, he stretched out a lanky arm and shook Joel's hand, giving him a kind smile which Joel had a hard time returning.

"What a wonderful surprise. Come, let's sit. Do you want coffee or tea?" Ben asked, his eyes drifting between you and Joel. You both shook your heads and Ben smiled warmly at you once again. Even though the living room was just a few feet away from the front door, Ben still rested his hand on your shoulder and guided you to one of the loveseats as if you might lose your way, only dropping his hold on you when he sat down across from you on the other one.

Joel eased himself down on the couch beside you, the space so small that he had no choice but to rest his leg against yours, and Lisa went to join Ben, the crackling fire between both loveseats warming you up right away.

"We heard you had an accident. How are you feeling?" Lisa asked, her voice so small and gentle compared to Ben's booming baritone.

"Better, thanks. But it's kind of why I'm here," you said, glancing over at Joel nervously, but he was staring silently at Ben, who still seemed unaffected.

Lisa tilted her head to the side and wrapped a hand around Ben's forearm, leaning into him a bit as she got more comfortable on the couch. You noticed for the first time a basket on the floor next to her feet filled with different colored yarn and half knitted projects tucked inside. "Oh?" she asked, then it seemed to dawn on her. "Oh! Is it... is it true? Do you really have memory loss?"

When you nodded, you noticed the flicker of pity across both their faces as they exchanged a somber look.

"I can only remember my life before the outbreak. My mom, dad and brother. I don't even remember what happened or how they died or how I managed to survive," you began, feeling yourself growing a little emotional. Joel must have sensed it in your tone because he squeezed your knee reassuringly, and when you glanced over at him, he had finally torn his eyes away from Ben to look at you with concern.

"It's been hard," Joel said, finally speaking up, addressing Ben and Lisa. "Lots of confusion, lots of missin' pieces. But she kept a journal. Turns out, she wrote 'bout you two, so that's why we're here," he finished, narrowing his eyes a bit at them.

"You wrote about us? How sweet," Ben said cheerily, running a hand through his dark blonde curls.

"Yes, but-"

"It wasn't anythin' that detailed," Joel said quickly, and you frowned at him. He sat back into the sofa and glanced over at you. "Right?"

"Yeah," you said slowly, dragging your eyes away from Joel and back to your hosts. "Just that we went fishing and it felt like old times," you continued, and they both smiled at the memory. The only sound in the room was the fire next to you, the wood popping loudly under the flames as you weighed your next question. "So I was hoping you might help tell me about myself before we arrived in Jackson. Is that... okay?"

Lisa shifted in her seat, a small smile still twitching at her lips as she gazed up at Ben, waiting for him to reply. He hesitated a moment and you thought you saw his eyes flicker to Joel before responding.

"Of course," Ben said, slapping the tops of his thighs, jostling loose Lisa's grip on his arm. He quickly picked her hand back up and brought her knuckles to his lips for a quick kiss, but your eyes were drawn to the unfamiliar symbol tattooed on the inside of her wrist, only made visible when Ben picked up her arm and her sleeve hung down.

"Can you tell me about when we first met?" you asked, figuring you should start at the beginning.

"Oh, what was it? Six or eight months after the outbreak, yeah?" Ben wondered aloud, looking to Lisa to confirm. She nodded and scratched her neck.

"Sounds about right."

You allowed yourself to feel a glimmer of excitement. There were two people right in front of you that could help fill in the blanks for the first five years after the outbreak, and you couldn't wait to hear more.

"We met in the Atlanta QZ," he began, but you quickly stopped him.

"QZ?"

"Quarantine Zone. All the major cities had 'em. Was meant to keep people safe from infected but the military ran most of 'em into the ground," Joel explained. "Treated people like cattle. Strict curfews. Barely enough rations to survive."

"It was awful," Lisa added solemnly.

"Was I alone?" you asked them, and Ben nodded. "Did I tell you anything about my family? How they died?"

Their eyes shifted to Joel for a moment before looking at one another.

"I thought you had said the infected got your mom on the first day. But your dad and brother..." Ben trailed off, looking down at his hands sadly. "They got caught out after curfew. It happened before we got there. They... were punished."

You frowned a little, looking to Joel to help shed some light on what Ben meant, but he was staring down at his feet.

"Punished?" you squeaked as your heart began to pound faster in your chest.

"Punishment for bein' out after curfew was death," Joel spoke up softly next to you.

You looked at all three of them, your eyes wide in disbelief. "Death? The military were killing people?"

"It was horrible. It's why we escaped," Lisa replied with tears in her eyes.

"Okay, then what?" you pressed, trying not to dwell too long on the thought of your father and brother being murdered by the very people who were supposed to protect them.

"After we escaped?" Ben clarified, and you nodded. He cleared his throat and averted his gaze. "We survived. Did what we had to do."

There it was again. Did what we had to do. The same thing Joel said when you brought up Lisa and Ben the first time.

You waited for him to elaborate but when it became apparent Ben had finished talking, you pushed him further. "Like what? What does that mean?"

"We laid low. Found some secluded spots in the wilderness and stuck it out for as long as we could," Lisa said, her eyes casually drifting between the two men. You looked at Joel, who was holding a steady glare at Ben and Lisa, but otherwise he was perfectly silent.

"For five years we just laid low? In the woods? The three of us?" you asked, and they could tell you knew they weren't telling you the whole truth. "What aren't you telling me? Did we do something bad? Did something happen?"

Joel shifted in his seat next to you but you kept your eyes pinned on Lisa and Ben, trying to read the expressions on their faces.

Ben was the first to fold. He dragged his eyes up to meet yours and gave you a half smile and shrug. "Yeah. I mean, everyone did bad things one time or another. It's impossible not to-"

"Like what?" you demanded. You could feel your anger building up now. "I'm not a child. Just tell me."

Ben sighed and looked at Joel once again, and this time you had enough.

"Why do you keep looking at him?"

Ben's eyes snapped back to you and he forced out a small chuckle, trying in vain to diffuse the tension in the room.

"You're our guests, so I'm looking at you both."

You weren't going to argue with him when it was clear he was looking at Joel for direction on what to say. It all made sense now. No wonder Joel didn't fight you on coming to visit them. He had planned all along to control the conversation and keep you in the dark and something inside you snapped.

Standing up from the couch suddenly, you looked down at Ben and Lisa, anger brimming in your eyes.

"Thanks," you spat, heading towards the front door. "Sorry to bother you both."

"It's no bother," Lisa said, her voice wavering as she followed you to the door. "Really. Stop by any time, it was nice to see you."

You scoffed and resisted the urge to roll your eyes as you shoved your boots and coat back on, doing your best to finish before Joel so you could get a head start back home.

Flinging open the door without another word, you took a deep breath and stormed down the street, the chilly winter air filling your lungs, trying to cool your anger from the inside out. But then you heard Joel's heavy footsteps crunching in the snow, hurrying to catch up to you, and your rage peaked again.

"You alright?" he asked when he found his place back by your side.

"No, I'm not alright," you seethed, staring straight ahead with your arms wrapped around your middle. "What was that back there?"

"What'dya mean?"

You skidded to a stop and glared at him, his cheeks pink from the cold and his chest rising and falling a little quicker than usual.

"You know what I mean. I'm not stupid, Joel. What don't you want me to know?"

He stared at you, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to figure out how to respond.

"I'm not-"

"Don't bullshit me!" you yelled, and when you remembered you were in the middle of the street, you lowered your voice. "They were clearly scared of you. You didn't want them to tell me something. It was so obvious, Joel! I hit my head but I'm not fucking blind."

"I didn't ask them to say or not say anythin'," he said truthfully.

You stared at one another, both watching as your exhale mixed together, little clouds swirling in between you before rising above your heads and disappearing, each waiting for the other to break first.

"Maybe I should move out," you finally said, voice filled with sadness. His face fell instantly.

"Why?"

"You know why. I don't think I can trust you. How can I, when I can't even get a simple answer out of you?" What did he lie about?

If you had stabbed him in the chest, it would have hurt less. His gaze fell to the ground and he felt his throat begin to constrict. He had to do something. He couldn't lose you. So he told you a half truth.

"You and Ben used to be a thing," he said, and your jaw dropped in surprise.

"What?"

He clenched his jaw and rolled his eyes. "Before you came to Jackson. You and him were a couple."

You looked away from him, taking a minute to wrap your mind around what he just told you. You supposed it would make sense. It would explain why Joel was so weird about bringing you to see them. Maybe you misread the tension in the room. Maybe the tension was about something else entirely.

"That's why you were acting so strange? That's why you were staring him down?" you asked. His answer was still difficult to believe. It explained Joel's behavior, but it didn't explain what bad things you had done and why nobody seemed willing to tell you what they were.

He shrugged and rubbed his hands together. "Can we talk about this at home? I'm freezin'," he said.

The walk afforded you more time to think now that you had this new piece of the puzzle. Ben did seem like your type: he was handsome and kind, but if you and Ben were together in the past, where did that leave Lisa? They were clearly an item now. Wouldn't that have made for a strange relationship between the three of you? Perhaps that's why you didn't see them often.

Joel let you stew in silence for the walk home, fucking praying what he told you would be enough to keep you from following through with your threat. Why did it feel like every time he made some progress with you, something happened that fucked everything up?

Maybe he should have just let them tell you the whole truth.

No, that would have been bad. You didn't trust him enough yet. You said it yourself. And if you were willing to move out over something like this, you certainly would never speak to him again if you knew the whole story.

He needed to earn your trust first but it was so fucking hard when you wouldn't let him in. When you found out the truth the first time, you were already months into a relationship with him. You were already sleeping together, and while it didn't evolve into anything more until later, it still helped build your trust in him when he finally told you the truth.

He didn't have that with you now, and for the first time he began to doubt his ability to make you fall in love with him again.

You huddled in front of the fire after the long walk home, the two of you remaining silent the entire way. Joel was in the kitchen, most likely avoiding you and your questions while you warmed up. You weren't even going to bother bringing up the topic again, but Joel surprised you by doing it himself.

"I'm sorry. 'Bout earlier," he said from the entryway. You turned from the fire to look at him. He looked worried. His eyes were wide and his brow was knit while his hands fidgeted at his sides.

"Why didn't you just tell me?" you asked, and he sighed.

"Dunno. Guess I was hopin' you'd let it go or change your mind," he said, ticking his jaw to the side.

"What would it have even mattered? I don't remember him, I don't remember what we had together. I certainly don't have feelings for him," you told him, sitting down on the couch and tucking your legs underneath you.

He looked around the room nervously as you waited for an answer that wasn't coming.

You sighed and rubbed your eyes. "If this is going to work, you need to be honest with me-"

"I was scared, alright?" he said abruptly. You watched him hang his head between his shoulders and take a deep breath before collapsing into the arm chair next to the couch. "I was scared you'd maybe remember him or..." he trailed off, finding it difficult to put into words what he was thinking. And although it wasn't the whole truth, it still was the truth. He was afraid this version of you would want someone like Ben and not like him.

He was afraid of losing you.

You seemed to understand because you didn't ask him to finish his thought. Instead, since he was opening up, you asked him something else that was bothering you.

"What did I do?"

He looked at you curiously, not following at first until you continued.

"Ben said I did bad things. We all did bad things to survive. What did he mean?"

Joel swallowed and thought about his answer for a moment. You sighed, growing impatient.

"You can't keep the truth from me forever. I'll find out one day, just tell -"

"You killed people," he told you, and you completely lost your train of thought. You searched his face as all of the air rushed out of your lungs, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air.

"I killed people?" you repeated, your voice barely a whisper, and he nodded slowly. You felt the tears begin to well up in your eyes but you blinked them away. What kind of monster did you become?

"Innocent people?"

"Depends on who you ask," he said right away, almost as if he expected that question.

"What does that mean?"

He rubbed his jaw thoughtfully as he stared into the fire. "I told you. Everyone did what they had to do in order to survive. I know it's hard for you to understand what it was like, but there were a lot of bad people out there. A lot of bad fuckin' people. The military was outta control. There were revolutions and raiders and slavers." He paused and sniffed a bit, continuing to stare into the flames while you hung on his every word. "When I say you killed people... it ain't black and white. I killed people, too. Alotta people. When the whole goddamn world ends and all you got left is one or two people you care 'bout, you'll do whatever you gotta do to protect 'em. D'you understand?" he asked, finally dragging his eyes up to look at you.

You blinked, thinking about what he said, his words rolling around your head like pinballs.

"I think so," you said quietly.

He nodded, still pinning you with his stare. "We all made decisions. We made choices based on what we knew at the time and we did our best."

You nodded, your voice wavering a bit when you asked "Am I a bad person, Joel?"

His eyebrows pinched together and he leaned forward in his chair, wanting to reach out to you, comfort you and pull you into his arms, but he refrained. "No, baby. You ain't a bad person," he told you softly.

And you weren't sure why, but you believed him.

The streets were quiet as you slowly made your way to the infirmary. You didn't start your shift until late in the morning and you didn't feel like joining Ellie at the dining hall for breakfast, so you stayed home, only getting out of bed when you heard Joel leave for patrol. He had already warned you the night before that he would be back later than usual due to the storm. Trails would likely be difficult to pass and nobody could predict if there would be damage at any of the outposts, but it was highly likely.

You didn't move out like you had threatened to. You didn't even know what you were thinking when you said that. Where would you have gone? The garage with Ellie? You didn't know anybody else. Not really. But even if you had, you saw the look in Joel's face when you said those words and even though you were so fucking angry with him, you still felt terrible for causing him pain.

On one hand, it seemed like he was just looking out for you, but on the other, his actions often came off as selfish. You had every right to know your past and what you did, and you were growing sick of Joel treating you like a child. Like you were too fragile to understand.

But at least you got it out of him. Even though you had to take extreme measures, you finally got him to tell you something truthful, and that was a positive step forward.

Lost in your thoughts, you weren't even paying attention when a man's voice called your name from across the street. You looked up after the third try and were surprised to find Ben waving to you from the tailor. You raised your hand in greeting and made your way over to the building.

"Hey," you said a little sheepishly, "about the other day, I'm sorry for how I acted-"

He shook his head and gave you a reassuring smile. "No need to apologize. All of this has to be so confusing for you. We understand."

You dropped your gaze to the frozen ground and dug your boot into the snow. "Thank you, I appreciate that. It's very frustrating, actually. I'm just trying to learn about myself and what's happened in the past ten years and I guess I took out my anger on you guys."

He waved you off and leaned against the doorframe of the tailor. "Don't worry about it. We were just happy to see you again."

And even though Ben was absolving you of your guilt, you somehow felt even worse. He was being so nice and you hardly felt like you deserved it. "Joel explained it to me, by the way. After we left your house he told me about us," you said, waving your finger back and forth between you.

"Ah," Ben said with a knowing smile as he crossed his arms over his chest. "I wondered as much. It was a very long time ago but Joel can be..." Ben trailed off and scratched his chin, "he can be a little protective, I suppose. He never really understood the nature our relationship."

You tilted your head to the side. "What do you mean?"

"It was just casual. He always thought there was something more," Ben said, meeting your eye. "But I promise you, there wasn't. At the time, we were just lonely and scared and looking for comfort. Neither of us was looking for anything more than that."

You nodded thoughtfully. "He did say we were a couple," you said, and Ben chuckled softly.

"I wouldn't even call it that. Truly. There were no hurt feelings. We just never had a connection past... y'know," he said with a shrug. You felt yourself flush a bit at the words he left unspoken and looked away. "But I'm glad he told you."

"Yeah, me too. I know his heart is in the right place, I just wish he would have told me about us and all the shit we did before I came to see you. Probably would have made the visit a little more pleasant," you said with a laugh, but Ben's face fell.

"He told you about what we did?" he asked, his tone suddenly serious. You sighed and nodded.

"Yeah, he told me I've killed people. It's been really hard to wrap my head around, but I'm trying to come to terms with it. He explained the world we live in now is not like the one I remember."

Ben raised his eyebrows in surprise and unfolded his arms. "Wow. I'm kind of shocked he told you about us and the Fireflies. That must have been really hard for you both."

You frowned and searched his face. "Fireflies?"

His body stiffened and his face paled when he realized his mistake. "Yeah. He told you about the Fireflies, right?"

You shook your head. "What are the Fireflies?"

"Shit," he muttered, pushing himself off the wall abruptly and clearing his throat. "I should get back to work. Just please forget I said anything, okay?"

"Ben, wait," you tried, but he disappeared back inside the tailor, leaving you standing in front of the door while more questions piled up.

There seemed to be a bad flu being spread around town because the infirmary was busier than usual. You were grateful for the distraction, especially after your conversation with Ben. You had spent the better part of the afternoon rushing from exam room to exam room, cleaning up after each patient as quickly as you could so Nick could continue treating the revolving door of people coughing and sneezing in the waiting room. Nick had recommended you wear a bandana around your mouth and nose to hopefully keep you healthy, but you had a feeling it would just be a matter of time before you caught the same bug as everyone else. Still, you kept the bandana tied around your neck as you worked diligently. What you didn't expect, however, was the bit of anonymity the mask afforded you.

You were cleaning up exam room six when you heard a woman's familiar voice in the room across the hall. Nick had left the door cracked open after he ushered her inside, and she apparently had another woman in there waiting with her as you started to pick up on hushed pieces of their conversation.

You didn't intend to eavesdrop, but curiosity got the best of you when you tried to place her voice, and when you realized it was Angie, your hands froze and your body stilled, doing your best to not make any noise so you could listen.

"... going down there almost every night... matter of time... him."

"But what about... freak out."

You frowned, inching closer to the door as you tried to fill in the gaps in their conversation.

Then you heard Angie say your name clear as day and your eyebrows shot up. You pressed your back against the wall and held your breath.

"She doesn't even like him. That relationship is a ticking time bomb."

You silently gasped when you realized they were most certainly talking about you and Joel.

It wasn't even true. You liked Joel. You were attracted to Joel. You were even starting to trust Joel a little more, although you definitely had plans to ask him about the Fireflies. But you were still getting to know him and it was taking time. Was this girl talking about trying to steal Joel away from you? The idea made your stomach turn and anger flare deep in your chest.

You shocked yourself with your reaction. Steal Joel away? Since when did you begin to feel some sense of ownership over him? Were you jealous?

You heard Nick's voice leaving an exam room a few doors down and you quickly made yourself look busy. He sighed tiredly in the hallway as he flipped through some papers before pushing open the door to Angie's room. You were changing the bedding on the mattress when you heard Nick call your name and you quickly dropped the sheets to cross the hall.

When your eyes locked with Angie's, giving her a hardened stare, you swore you saw a flicker of fear before she forced a fake smile and coughed into her fist while her friend, one you recognized from the bathroom at the Tipsy Bison, nervously shifted her weight and looked away. You felt a sick sense of satisfaction when it became clear to the two girls that you had heard everything they said, and you were grateful you had your mask on so they couldn't see the corners of your mouth twitch.

"Would you mind grabbing a bag of cough drops and a jar of menthol from the supply cabinet?" Nick asked, completely oblivious to the shift in the air.

"Sure thing," you told him, turning on your heel to leave and allowing yourself to finally smile.

Joel might scare the rest of the town, but you sure as hell scared the shit out of Angie.

Your shift at the infirmary went longer than expected. By the time you arrived home, you were exhausted and the sun was almost setting. So far you weren't feeling sick, but from what you had overheard all day, the symptoms came on quick, so you had already decided to call it an early night and get some rest. When you swung open the front door and found Joel hunched over the kitchen table, your plans went flying out the window.

He looked like he was on death's door. You had never seen him look so run down and pale. He didn't even open his eyes to look at you, he just kept them shut while he rubbed his temples and tried to stifle a cough, his backpack abandoned at his feet.

"Joel?" you called, toeing off your boots and hurrying over to him. You crouched down on the floor and pressed the back of your hand against his forehead. "You're burning up."

He groaned and cracked open one eye. "Feel like shit. Dunno what happened."

"There's a bad virus spreading around, the infirmary was slammed today," you said, pushing yourself up onto your aching feet to get him a glass of water. "Drink this and I'll heat you up some soup," you told him before heading towards the stove.

"You don't gotta-"

"Drink," you said firmly, cutting him off. He winced before picking up the glass and forcing down the cool liquid. Once you got the gas going on the stove, you grabbed an empty bowl and shoved your boots back on. "I'll be right back," you told him. He sat up a little straighter in his chair, about to ask where you were going but you already disappeared through the front door, returning seconds later with the bowl filled with snow.

"Lean back," you instructed, placing the bowl on the table. He did as he was told and closed his eyes, the lights from the kitchen ceiling making his head ache but when you pressed a handful of packed snow against his forehead, he groaned with relief.

"Oh shit, that feels good," he whispered as you tried to ignore the twinge between your legs at his low tone. He released a shaky breath and you watched as the snow began to melt, little trails of water dripping from his hair and down his scruffy cheeks. When it was nearly melted, you took your hand away and dumped the remnants in the sink, grabbing a towel and drying your hands on the way back. You pinched his stubbly chin delicately in your fingers and tipped his head towards you while slowly and gently wiping away the water from his face. When you finished, your eyes found his already boring into you and you felt a tingle shoot down your spine.

"Better?"

His gaze softened as he continued to stare up at you, searching your face quietly, making your heart begin to beat faster in your chest. You swallowed nervously and forced yourself to look away, and it was then he finally realized you had asked him a question.

"Yes," he murmured, "thank you."

You dragged your eyes back to his and gave him a small smile. "More?"

He didn't trust himself to speak. He just slowly nodded and watched with heavy lidded eyes as you scooped up another handful of snow. With your free hand, you slid your fingers behind his neck and through his hair, cupping the back of his head in your small hand before pressing the snow gently against his forehead once again. And even though he wanted to keep looking at you, he couldn't stop his eyes from fluttering shut at the cooling sensation, earning you another deep groan from his throat and causing your breath to stutter.

He heard it and opened his eyes.

You stared at each other, lips parted as the air began to thicken with tension. His eyes flickered over your face, noticing the way your pupils appeared bigger as you gazed down at him. He took a risk and slowly brought his hand up to rest on your side, watching you carefully for any sign that he should stop. He pressed his fingertips lightly into your hip, the fabric of your shirt bunching up slightly from the pressure.

You dropped your eyes to his hand and blinked rapidly, then opened your mouth to speak when you heard sizzling at the stove. You whipped your head around just as his soup began to boil over the pot.

"Shit!" you yelped, dropping the half melted snow onto the towel and racing over to the range. You twisted the knob off and put the pot on one of the unused burners and the liquid immediately simmered back down. "Sorry," you said, refusing to look at him as you started to gather a bowl and spoon, embarrassment burning your cheeks.

"Don't be," he replied, still leaning back in his chair in the same position you left him. He watched you fumble nervously in the kitchen and he had to suppress a smile.

Maybe he still had a chance, after all.

Joel's temperature was a little high but nothing too concerning, so you pushed the fluids and he ate all of his soup and it helped put your mind at ease. You really didn't want to have to ask for ibuprofen unless it was absolutely necessary, especially considering how the same virus was hitting almost every house at the same time. You made sure to check on Ellie from her doorway, not wanting to risk her catching anything since she appeared to be fine, before helping Joel up to bed.

Once you followed him into the room and he turned on the light next to his bed, you realized you hadn't actually ever entered his bedroom before. Sure, you've walked past it when the door was open and glanced inside, but you never really looked. As he gathered some fresh pajamas and began to unbutton his flannel, you turned your back to him to give him some privacy and examined his bookshelf. Your eyes drifted over the titles on the spines of a handful of books, most of which you hadn't heard of before noticing a framed photograph sharing a shelf with his books. It was faded and a little torn, but you could still make out their faces. It was Joel - a far younger version of Joel - with his arm around a beautiful little girl with dark hair and eyes and a stunning smile. You felt your throat tighten when you realized who it was, and if you had any doubt, Joel's voice piped up behind you.

"That's Sarah."

You heard him shuffling his bedding around so you figured he was dressed.

"She's beautiful, Joel," you said, walking over to his side of the bed and popping the thermometer under his tongue one more time. "It's wonderful that you were able to find a picture of her. I wish I had some pictures of my family," you said sadly, watching the hands of the clock on top of his bookshelf tick, counting down the seconds until you could check the thermometer. "I would have loved for you to at least see them. I think you would have gotten along with my brother really well. Maybe too well," you added with a soft laugh, not realizing he was silently hanging on your every word as you continued to stare at the clock. "He was always looking out for me. Always protecting me, trying to shield me and it drove me nuts when I was younger, but as time went on, I understood it a bit more."

You pulled the thermometer out and checked the number. "Still the same," you told him, resting it on his nightstand.

"How much time?" he asked, and you gave him a confused look. "How much time did it take 'til you started to understand?" he clarified, and you realized what he was really asking.

"I don't know," you replied honestly, sitting on the edge of his bed with a sigh. "But I'm starting to... understand," you said, giving him a sideways glance. You really wanted to ask him about the Fireflies but seeing how sick he was, you decided to bring it up another time. His hand slipped out from underneath the covers and gently squeezed your knee.

"That's good," he said softly before furrowing his brow and turning his head to cough loudly into his pillow. You winced at how bad it sounded and rubbed his upper back. When the coughing fit passed, you handed him his water and he took a grateful sip.

"Do you need anything else before I go to bed?"

"Could you stay here?" he found himself asking before he could even think. Your eyebrows shot up in surprise as you struggled to answer. "Just 'til I fall asleep?"

"Oh," you replied, looking awkwardly around his rather sparse room. "Sure, let me just go wash up," you said, standing up from his bed. You were dead on your feet from your shift at work and you knew the next day wouldn't be any better, but you felt bad saying no, so you changed your clothes and grabbed one of the books Joel had found for you before dragging the chair from the corner of his room to the side of his bed.

"You can stretch out over there," he told you, pointing weakly to the other side of the bed before coughing into his closed fist. "I won't bite."

You smiled as you settled into the chair. "I'm alright, thanks," you said, opening your book and leaning back, trying to get comfortable. After a few minutes of reading, you looked up just to find him still watching you. You laughed and said "you need to get some rest if you want to kick this thing," then he grinned and finally closed his eyes.

You may not have been in bed with him, but you were close enough to help him relax and for the first time in months, he fell fast asleep within minutes.

Please follow @punkshort-notifs and turn on notifications for fic updates ❤️

[iceunhie]

indirect kiss moments !

summary: you drink from their cup on accident = the realization that you may or may not have shared an indirect kiss. how do they feel about that? too flustered beyond belief, it seems....

featuring: part one (here) - kazuha, wanderer | part two - albedo, neuvillette, alhaitham

notes: not exactly established relationship, crush crush hehe, fluffy, my two anemo faves in one post.... loud gasp effect in the background (pls don't perceive this as my betrayal to the other anemos they'll have their turn soon i promise 🫡)

WANDERER — (in/ex)ternally flustered as fuck + has stopped working

wanderer doesn't think he has a heart, but the way the void in his chest thumps for but a flicker of a moment proves him quite wrong.

why, you ask? it's all because of you.

he resists the urge to snap, terribly so, but out of being flustered more than anything, not irritation. because there is absolutely no way for him to properly process these turn of events with even a hint of rationality. you seem to be promptly ignorant of the whirring of thoughts in his mechanical head. ignorant of his rather foolish situation of going irrational and borderline idiotic.

all because of a damn indirect kiss.

his eyes lift from where he's burning holes onto the cup you're holding—his cup, he corrects, and lingers embarrassingly long (too long) on your lips. he tries not to fight the way heat creeps up his skin, synthetic yet all too real (perhaps like his own, untouched feelings); he thinks he might be red in the face. horribly red, thinking that oh no, he’s faced with the egregious notion that he may be too (very) obvious with how his reaction to your simple action betrays his secret fondness for your existence. most troubling.

it's fine, he tries to rationalize, he's got to relax. it was but a sip of tea. tea he so carefully procured and offered with much reluctance that was more feigned than anything else. tea he only drank because he heard in passing about your preference for it, very, very sweet tea he wouldn't normally drink, he notes with faint distaste—the things he lets you get away with—

….and then you lick your lips to savor the taste.

if the traveler hadn't showed him a taste of an almost death, then he thinks this might just be how he falls.

[ spoiler alert: he ends up hastily getting up to leave after pouring you another refill, muttering curses that would certainly alarm the average civilian. fast as light; if only to hide the utter mess that was his face. red, breathless (even though he doesn't need to breathe) and disgustingly, horribly flustered.

you’d better do your best to calm his self-imposed brooding— he isn't going to tell you anything about what exactly made him fluster this much. best of luck. ]

KAZUHA — flustered, but smiling like a lovesick fool (wants to write endless haikus about this)

kazuha is drunk, both in love and on the sake that burns his throat in a pleasant blend of sweet and strong.

it all started with your request to drink from his cup. you ordered a different drink from him while the crew of the crux were celebrating beidou’s birthday. even now, the sound of laughter and drunken slurring fills the night, a slow and, if he has to be frank, tone-deaf melody of a simple happy birthday echoing in the air. of course, being as drunk in love (beidou’s words) as he is, kazuha didn't even hesitate at all to give you a sip.

…and it just so happens that you managed to drink at the exact place he drank from earlier.

small mercies come in the form of playing off the intense blush of his face and chalking it up to the effects of the wine and sake. kazuha isn't one to be flustered easily, but he must admit this one elicited no light reaction from him, no matter how much he may downplay its impact.

perhaps it was delusional, but was there not a tradition about drinking from each other's cups like this that could symbolize marriage….?

oh dear, the alcohol was getting to him, and fast.

[ spoiler alert: the next day, when you wake up with a sore headache and an achy body and an extremely clingy kazuha, try not to be confused when he mentions something like kissing you in the haze of his sleep.

the following week will also make you subject to two things: 1) an increasingly clingy kazuha (see above), and 2) dozens upon dozens of haikus left at your home, along with silkflowers of innumerable count you’d think he'd plucked the entire lot of them. you never did know why kazuha had become even sweeter (was that even possible...?) all of a sudden. ]

[९] 2024 © iceunhie :: do not copy or use my works.

[amiableness]

Dad!James Potter x Bsf!Reader ☼ 1260 words

this is part one of this blurb! the next part will be smut! this was supposed to one whole blurb, but unfortunately, i can't stop adding details

A week had passed since that toe-curling, heart stopping kiss with James, yet the memory clung to you, refusing to loosen its grip. Every moment replayed in your mind—the way his breath had mingled with yours, the warmth of his lips, the intoxicating mix of hesitation and desire that had crackled between you. It was impossible to shake, no matter how hard you tried to push it to the back of your mind.

But life, as it often does, had intervened. Work had been intense for both of you. His late nights at the office, followed by early morning school drop-offs, and your endless deadlines and marathon meetings had drained you both, leaving little room for anything else—especially the conversation you so desperately needed.

But you were hoping tonight would be different. He’d asked if you could watch Henry, and you’d never refused him before. And you weren’t about to start now.

“Darling?” Henry mumbled, his voice carrying that endearing tone that always made you smile. As he grew older, the nickname was losing its childish lisp, becoming clearer and more deliberate with each passing day. You couldn't let yourself dwell on it, knowing it would bring you to tears. And as much as it weighed on you, you couldn't even begin to imagine how James was feeling.

“Yeah, my love?” You hummed, your eyes still fixed on The Rescuers playing on the TV. Henry had insisted on watching it in James’s room because he wanted to “see the mice all big.” At first, you hesitated, unsure if being surrounded by James’s scent was a good idea. But Henry’s excitement was impossible to resist, and you found yourself giving in, despite your nerves.

“When is daddy back?”

“Um,” You glance at the alarm clock on his nightstand. “Soon I would think.”

“Oh.” Henry murmurs, shifting closer to cuddle into your side, his tiny hand reaching out to grasp yours. The two of you are nestled under the dark duvet, surrounded by the seven stuffed animals he insisted on bringing along. “I miss him,” he whispers, his voice tinged with quiet sadness.

“I’m sure he misses you too.” You say, offering him a gentle smile. He looks up at you with those unmistakable eyes—his father’s eyes—brown and sweet, carrying the same warmth that James’ have. His dark curls fall messily across his forehead, a mirror of James’s unruly hair. Even the curve of his smile, so innocent yet so familiar, pulls at your heart. It’s impossible not to see James in every feature, every expression, and every little gesture Henry makes. 

All you can think about is James.

“Do you miss daddy?” Your lips part, flustered and caught off guard by the question. For a second you debate lying, but you realize there’s no point. 

“Yes, I miss him too.” You finally murmur, and Henry’s face lights up with a grin, as if he’s just heard the most wonderful thing. He turns his gaze back to the TV, his attention returning to the movie, while he snuggles his stuffed dinosaur tightly in the hand that isn’t holding yours. The sight of him, so content and secure, tugs at your heart.

The movie has long finished and another has begun, but you’re oblivious to it all. Henry is fast asleep, nestled into your side, and you’re not far behind. Your focus is solely on threading your fingers gently through Henry’s dark curls. The rhythmic motion that had soothed him to sleep now lulls you as well, your eyes growing heavy with each tender stroke.

“Hey.” James murmurs with a warm, inviting smile, immediately drawing your gaze to the doorway where he stands. His white button-up shirt is casually open at the collar, the top two buttons undone, revealing a hint of his chest. The sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, and as he crosses his arms, the fabric tightens over his biceps, accentuating their firm definition. Your eyes slowly trace down to his forearms, where the veins are subtly prominent. The combination of his relaxed stance and the his snug shirt makes your pulse quicken.

You resist the urge to fan yourself.

You swallow hard, struggling to pull your gaze back up. “Hi,” you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

He grins, and you know instantly he’s caught you. “What are you two doing in here?” He asks, walking further into his room, glancing down at the stuffies with a soft chuckle

“Henry missed you,” You say softly. “That and he wanted to watch a movie on the big TV.”

“Of course he did.” James says with a soft, knowing tone. He rounds the bed and settles next the side closest to Henry. With a gentle touch, he brushes a few stray curls from his son's forehead, his fingers lingering for a moment. Then, leaning down, he places a tender kiss on Henry’s forehead.

“I’m going to put him to bed.” James says softly, his voice soft as he looks up at you from his kneeling position by the bed. You nod quickly, your words caught in your throat.

You watch as James moves with practiced ease, sliding one hand tenderly behind Henry’s back and slipping the other under his knees. He lifts him carefully, his movements gentle yet confident, raising Henry up and off your chest. As he does, Henry lets out a soft whine, his small face scrunching up in a mix of sleepiness and longing. With a tiny, outstretched arm, he reaches toward you, his fingers stretching as far as they can go, desperate to grab you.

“No.” He huffs, his eyes opening the tiniest bit to glance up at his dad.

“It’s bedtime.” James says softly, drawing Henry close to his chest and gently reaching down to grab the stuffed dinosaur Henry clings to. 

“No! But I—” Henry protests, wriggling in James’s arms. He twists around, casting a desperate look over his shoulder at you. “I want mummy.”

Your breath catches in your throat, and your eyes dart to James, wide with shock. He mirrors your surprise. With one arm securely wrapped around Henry’s squirming body, he struggles to keep his son from wriggling free. Henry’s little face is flushed with frustration, his eyes locked onto yours as he reaches out with tiny, pleading hands, desperate for your comfort.

“Do you want to say goodnight to mum before bed?” James asks quietly, leaning down to speak into Henry’s ear. Henry stops squirming instantly and nods. Gently, James places his son back onto the bed, and Henry immediately flings himself at you, wrapping his arms around your neck. He collides with you with a soft thud, and you hear James mutter about being gentle with you.

“Goodnight,” You say whisper, one arm holding him to you and the other holding the back of his head. “I love you bunches. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” Your eyes flicker up to meet James’ who is watching you with an indescribable look.

“Love you.” Henry mumbles, the sleepiness in his voice affecting his pronunciation. Then he leans back and plants a big kiss on your forehead, mimicking the affectionate gesture he’s seen his father make so many times. You laugh quietly and press a kiss on his nose in return. Satisfied, Henry crawls back to his father and lifts his arms. James picks him up, his gaze lingering on you.

“I’ll be right back.” James says softly before heading to Henry’s room. As he walks away, Henry peeks over his shoulder and waves a tiny hand at you.

please reblog or comment with your thoughts! they are very appreciated and keep me motivated to keep writing! 🤍

part two here!

[tayytayy12]

all these love songs, no lover | op81 x singer!reader

part two

summary - reader has a habit of constantly writing love songs about her dream relationship or the love life of those close to her, all while being single herself. But, not for long when your best friend finds out and gets her boyfriends help to set you up with someone.

warnings - none really

faceclaim - gracie abrams

lilymhe

liked by - yourusername, alex_albon and 198,091 others

lilymhe - Thank you all so much for your sweet birthday wishes, i spent my day with my favourite people 🤍

view comments

user1 - lily is the best wag i’ll stand by this forever

user2 - THE JELLY CAT CAKE SHUSHSUSHSUSHSUSH

user3 - oh to be best friends with y/n y/l/n 😔

lilymhe - it’s pretty great tbh

alex_albon - happy birthday my perfect beautiful stupid idiot 🤍

lilymhe - gonna act like those last two words weren’t there

yourusername - HAPPY BIRTHDAY BABY 💕🩵💕🧡💕🧡🤍🧡🤍🧡🤍🧡🤍

lilymhe - THANK YOU 💕🤍

lilymhe - can i have my last gift now

yourusername - be patient you dummie

yourusername

liked by - lilymhe, oscarpiastri and 1,862,919 others

tagged | @/lilymhe

yourusername - When I think about all the things I have to be grateful for so far in my life, an involuntary smile creeps its way onto my face when I get to the thing i’m most grateful for in the world; and that is, my Lily. I have no amount of words to describe how grateful and lucky I am to have you in my life. You are one of a kind, truly. You are my favourite person in the world with the purest soul ever. I couldn’t think of anyone else who would let me vomit all over their favourite shoes when I was sixteen and and she was eighteen and then proceeded to hug me through my tears because I hate throwing up. In you, I have the sister i’ve always needed, a shoulder to cry in when i need it, and someone who loves me inevitably no matter what.

Yesterday marked 25 years you’ve had your mark on this world, and nearly 23 years you’ve been there for me. I love you more than i’ll ever love anyone and I would kill for you. So, as a birthday present to my girl, i’ve written her a song about her and someone who she holds very dear to her heart.

I love you more than the moon loves the sky Lils, i hope you had the best day ever and i hope you enjoy your present (and alex ofc thanks for the inspo alabono) I love you forever. You are in love, about lils and alex out now, i hope both if you love it.

view comments

user4 - what the fuck i’m so sobbing

lilymhe - i love you so so so so so much

yourusername - i love you too

lilymhe - i’m so crying you’re my favourite person ever

alex_albon - can confirm, she’s sobbing

user5 - THE. SONG.

user6 - okay this song puts into perspective why we all want what alex and lily have

user7 - i want a friend to love me like y/n and lily love each other

user8 - y/n and love songs are the perfect combination

user9 - you can tell this song wasn’t made with anyone in mind except lily and alex

user10 - if she can write this about someone else’s relationship, imagine what she can write about her own

user11 - all these love songs, still no lover

user12 - someone tell me where to buy a lily and y/n friendship

[alex & lily]

[y/n & lily]

[gyuzgrl]

her //kmg//

summary- with your marriage in shambles, you find yourself at your wits end when Mingyu's infidelity comes to light. heated discussions ensue.

pt 2. pt3.hv pt3.sv

Mingyu never thought he'd end up here. As tears brim over your cheeks, hurt evident in your eyes, he feels his world collapse.

Sure, he'd only married you because his father arranged it, but as your relationship comes up on its first year, he's developed certain feelings towards you. Feelings you can never know of. Feelings he thought you'd never return.

Your marriage has never been a point of envy for those around you. It's common knowledge that you and Mingyu hate each other's guts. You've made your peace with this- or at least you thought you did, until this morning, when your breakfast was interrupted by an unexpected voice message.

'hi, it's me- um I think you left your tie at my place last night... d'you wanna come get it? I've uh, I've bought that set you told me to get last week. call me back, kay? see ya'

The words ring clear as day in your head, even now, as you sob into your palms, hunched over in bed.

Filled with dread, you waited for your husband to leave the house, heading to work. You knew he would've heard the message- her message- sometime during the day, and so, you waited.

Waited for the call-

"I'll be home late today- there's an issue that came up last minute. don't wait up."

There. That same excuse you've heard night after night, for months on end. Your heart breaks when you realise that Mingyu's probably gone to see her everytime he had to 'stay late at the office'.

Although you knew going into this marriage that there would be no love, no romance, you couldn't help but hope. Hope that one day your husband would wake up and realise that he's been in love with you all along. Hope that one day the fighting and screaming would cease. Hope that one day he'd look at you like you matter to him.

Hearing the practiced ease with which Mingyu lied to you, you felt your last straw snap. No love, you could deal with. No intimacy, you could self satisfy. But no respect? Taking you for a fool, playing around behind your back, lying? You've reached a new low.

What's worse is, despite knowing that he's in the wrong here, you can't help but wonder what she has that you don't. What can you do to make him love you? How can you make him want you?

Mingyu's neglect has done permanent damage to your self esteem, and now you find yourself caught in an endless loop of obsession.

Evening rolls around and you're alone, in your big apartment, surrounded by cold, white furniture. Your house is spotless. It's clean and neat and unfamiliar. You can't call this place home. Not when nobody really lives in it.

Tears threaten to spill from your eyes as your mind fills with thoughts of your husband's infidelity. He's smiled at her, undressed her, touched her. Fuck, he probably looks at her and sees the ghost of what could've been.

No, you tell yourself. You cannot possibly be crying over a man who doesn't care about you. Where is the self respecting woman you once knew? The one that would stand up tall, make her presence felt.

Hours pass by like this, and the house grows dark. You haven't moved from your position in bed- scrunched up, hugging your knees close. You haven't eaten all day. You haven't thought of anything but Mingyu's betrayal.

There's a sharp jangle of keys sticking into the door, and you know he's here. You can't bring yourself to move, can't be bothered to greet him like you usually do.

His bag lands on the couch outside with a dull thunk, and he makes his way to the bedroom.

You should move- pretend to be asleep so he doesn't try to say anything, turn to the side so he doesn't notice your pain- but you don't. You can't, rather.

Mingyu walks in, head hanging low. He notices your frame, hunched up on the mattress, and his shoulders tense.

"you're up" he says to you, as if to confirm.

You stay silent.

"y/n?"

More silence.

Flicking the lights on now, Mingyu takes a step towards the bed, now noticing the red hot flush of tears streaming down your face.

"hey what's-" he draws closer, arm reaching out to thumb away your tears, "you're crying,"

So you did end up crying.

All the mental pep talks you gave yourself about self respect and how he doesn't deserve your tears, clearly didn't do much.

You lift a hand to your cheeks, feeling the wetness of your tears.

"oh", is all you can manage, wondering when you started crying, sitting dumbly as if under some sort of spell. Your eyes, unfocused, stare blankly at the wall in front of you, and your lips begin to quiver.

"what's wrong? oh my g- please don't cry" Mingyu panics, reaching out to grab your face, but your words have him freeze.

"don't. don't touch me."

Your voice is a whisper, trembling like a leaf, but it carries a dangerous certainty.

He backs away instantly- "is everything oka-"

This time you turn to the side, facing him properly, and something within him just knows that you know.

"oh." he breathes, eyes flashing with guilt.

"when were you going to tell me?"

When he fails to respond, you push further, voice laced with a dangerous mix of hurt and rage.

"how long have you been seeing her for? goddammit Mingyu I know you don't love me- I know you aren't happy but god how could you do this to me? to us? you have to remember, I'm just a woman at the end of the day. I'm only human- fuck" you break off into a sob, letting your words, your emotions free. It was reckless- being so raw- but there's nothing to lose anymore...

You've already lost what little you thought you had.

Your watery, blank eyes tremble upwards to meet his, and you see his face contort with an unrecognizable kind of pain. You've never seen him like this before.

"whatever you wanted, whatever you needed- you could've taken it from me, I'm your wife Mingyu. god, I feel so fucking stupid waiting for you all this while to just love me- and you've been crawling into someone else's sheets? Do I disgust you so much that you won't even touch me to satisfy yourself? Do you hate me so mu-"

"don't you dare." Mingyu interrupts, jaw tensing, "you can call me a liar, a cheat, an asshole I don't care but don't you dare try and tell me how I feel- not when you don't fucking know anything."

Your brows pinch together, an insurmountable rage boiling inside you, and you rise to your feet, standing as you face your husband.

"oh, I, don't know anything? What about you then, Mingyu? What do you know that I don't? I'm telling you how I feel 'cause I fucking see it. I see the way you look at me with that unamused, tired look in your eyes, I see how you don't talk to me, I see how you leave your stupid fucking ties at some girl's house 'cause you'd rather fuck her than touch m-"

You can't bring yourself to finish your sentence. Somehow, saying what you already know, makes if feeler so much more real. You can't bear the thought of him not loving you, not wanting you.

"you think this is what I wanted? you think I wanted to look for someone else instead of touching you? fuck y/n after all the screaming and fighting, you think I didn't wanna reach out and hold you? everyday when I get home you think I don't wan- fuck do you really think I don't wanna talk to you and hear your voice and feel you?"

You shake your head, slightly afraid of how Mingyu's eyes have darkened, taking on a crazed hue.

"my arms would never have comforted you, y/n. You thought me a stranger. How could I touch you, knowing damn well you don't want me like I want you?" He stops, chest heaving with bottled emotions, and his words ring in your head.

'you don't want me like I want you'

Trembling hands ball into fists, punching his chest as tears stream down your face. How dare he? How dare he assume that you didn't want him- that you didn't love him?

"you fucking idiot" you sob, fat tears rolling down your cheek.

There's a short pause as Mingyu derives meaning from your words, and his eyes widen.

"y-you mean to say that you lo-" he chokes back a shudder when your hands grip at the fabric of his shirt in wordless confirmation. A hand wraps around your fist, pulling you closer, and your eyes widen.

"what are you doing-"

"what I should've done a long time ago."

A swift tug has you stumbling forward, right into him, and your lips meet. Mingyu's free hand splays against your lower back, dragging you nearer- as close as physically possible- while he devours you like a prisoner on death row receiving his last meal.

It's a messy, desperate kiss, but the sparks it sends flying over your body has your knees growing weaker and weaker. His lips cradle yours, sucking, tugging, pushing, as he holds you like there's no tomorrow. Tears prick your eyes once more, but this time it's different.

Now you can feel his emotions, feel his love.

The longing, the yearning he's felt all this while, comes pouring out into the points where your bodies connect. His touch sends fire burning all over you, chasing away your despair and replacing it instead with red-hot desire.

Mingyu's tongue pushes into you, licking at the seam of your mouth, circling your tongue as he discovers you in a way he never has before. You can't help but whimper at his actions, and you find yourself getting lost in him. No sound- other than your heartbeat, thudding in your ears- is audible to you. Nothing. It's as though you're underwater, and your hearing is muffled- except this time, it's him you're drowning in.

Aching lungs remind you that air is a necessity, and you both pull away, a string of saliva connecting your crimson lips to his. The rapid rise and fall of your chest tells Mingyu to give you time, but his body doesn't listen.

The taste of you is addictive.

He pulls you in once again, ignoring the helpless gasp you let out in response. Trailing up your back, Mingyu tangles his hand into your hair, letting his palm cradle the nape of your neck. The plush surface of his lips feel sinful against yours- leaving you in desperate need of more. His tongue swipes at the seam of your mouth and you let him in, giving him access once again.

The hand holding your wrist crawls up to your palm, interlacing his fingers with yours, and squeezing tight, as if to reassure you, as if to say- 'I'm right here, I'm right here and I'm not going anywhere'

"Mingyu," you breathe against his lips, "do you reall-"

You feel his lips quirk up into a smile, letting his canines show ever so slightly, and he moves down to your neck, right below your ear.

Sucking harsh, wet love bites into the sensitive skin, he whispers-

"I love you more than words could even begin to describe"

His breath ghosts over your ear, spreading goosebumps all around your body and you shudder at the sudden stimulation. Pulling back, you look him in the eye, lust and love brewing in your own.

"so show me"

It's as though you've awoken something within him- something he's been trying to tame, to control. There's a fire burning in his eyes, dancing with danger, with desire. Without warning, Mingyu pushes into you, closing the space between your bodies, and you let out a pitiful whimper.

"will you let me?" he takes in a sharp breath, feeling your body against his.

You stare up at him, wide-eyed, and nod. Mingyu taps at your thighs, and you jump right away, trusting him blindly to catch you.

"good girl-" he rasps as his hand travels down to squeeze the curve of your ass.

Mingyu sucks bruises into your skin- neck, chest, jaw- wherever he can, and you let him, not caring about who sees them. You tip your head down to do the same, but something stops you.

A bruise.

He tugs you back, searching your eyes.

"what's wrong?"

"she's kissed you here"

He sighs.

"we don't have to do this- I've j-"

"no! no I want to- I want this god I want this I just- can I do something first?"

He nods.

"anything you want, my love"

Mingyu places you back down and lets you push him onto the bed, laying him down on his back as you crawl on top of him. Stradling his waist, you begin to unbutton his shirt, letting the crisp white fabric fall slack against your fingers.

"you're mine now, you got that?"

"all yours baby, only yours" he breathes as you part his shirt.

Your eyes skim over the hickeys painted over his chest and your heart twists painfully in your chest. Unshed tears sting at your eyes, and immediately Mingyu sits up against the headboard, holding your face.

"I'm so sorry- I- fuck we shouldn't-"

"no."

"baby..."

"no- I want these-" you motion to the bruises on his chest, "I want these off of you"

Mingyu nods silently, leaning back against the headboard, and you continue your actions. Lowering your face to his throat, you find a red-ish splotch, and attach your lips to it, sucking into the tender skin so hard it breaks, leaving a purple bruise behind.

He winces as you move to the next one, sucking harder and harder each time, desperately trying to erase the past. Observing this, Mingyu's face softens. A gentle, guilty smile stretches past his lips and he brings a hand to pat the back of your head, tangling his fingers into your hair to pull you closer- flush against his bare chest.

A yelp escapes you as you lose your balance, falling forward into him. He wraps his arms around you, holding you still as he says-

"I'm yours," He squeezes around you, nuzzling into your neck, "I can't change the past, and I'm sorry for everything I've done- sorry for hurting you the way I did"

You can feel how rapidly his heart thuds against his chest, beating on the door of his ribcage as if it wants to be let out, as if it wants to jump out of his chest, into your hands.

"it hurts," you sniffle, "it really hurts"

His fingers rub soothing circles into your skin, trying to melt away your pain, feeling his own heart shatter into a million pieces. This is of his own doing, though. Only he is to blame.

"lemme make you feel good, hm? let me show you how much you really mean to me,"

You nod, letting him move you as he pleases, until you're under him, nestled comfortably between the pillows, with him hovering over you. The veins of his forearms tense deliciously as they hold his weight, and you feel your body grow hot.

Soft moans slip out of your mouth when he lowers his face into the crook of your neck, sucking red marks into you- gentle, yet firm. His lips suction your skin, teeth nipping at the chosen spot until your skin breaks, before letting his tongue soothe over the crimson bruise.

Like this, he carves a path down your neck to the collar of your shirt, stopping right at your cleavage.

"this okay, my love?" he stares up at you, one hand shifting to tickle the hem of your shirt

"mhm"

Gently, like you're made of glass, he undresses you, gasping when he realises that you're bare underneath.

Your skin catches him off-guard, and Mingyu finds himself transfixed. Like an anchorite discovering the face of God, he stares at you in wonder, in awe, finally feeling complete.

The intensity of his stare has you nervous, and you lift your arms to cover yourself.

"do-don't stare," you mumble, cheeks growing hot as his eyes burn holes into your skin.

"can't help myself- you're so beautiful,"

"Mingyu please," you whimper, feeling wetness pool between your legs, "I need you"

Feverish hands roam over you, and his head dips into the valley of your breasts, pressing soft, wet kisses to your skin. Mingyu closes in on your breast, letting his teeth nip gently at your hardened nipple, and you gasp, feeling your body light up at the motion.

He grins against you, repeating the action and you let out a trembling whimper.

"don't tease" you plead, threading your fingers through his hair, "need you so bad Gyu,"

"I could kiss you all my life and never get enough,"

Enough said. You tug him up, pushing your lips together once again in a messy kiss. Mingyu grinds into you, and you gasp at the prominent bulge poking out of his trousers. He uses this to his advantage, pushing his tongue into you, letting the wet muscle trace over the corners of your mouth as if to memorise every texture, every taste.

You chest flutters, and you whimper into his mouth, almost losing your composure when he begins to carve a path from your lips to your stomach, leaving gentle kisses down your collarbones, chest, tummy.

Stopping at the waistband of your shorts, Mingyu looks up at you, eyes practically begging that you allow him to undress you.

"please" you whisper, head tipping back into the pillows when his hands smooth down your sides, hooking under your shorts to pull them off. Keeping his eyes trained on yours, he tugs the fabric down, tantalisingly slow.

The sensuality, the intimacy of this act finally becomes known to you, when your eyes stay stitched together, as if connected by string.

Once you're left completely bare, at his mercy, he kneels.

At the foot of the bed, as if it is your alter, Mingyu kneels, letting your ankles rest on his broad shoulders. He presses tender kisses to your limbs; ankles, calves, thighs, making his way up to his very own pot of gold.

Liquid gold.

"baby you're dripping-" he groans, almost frustrated with how stunning you look, splayed out and wet, all for him.

His kisses inch closer and closer, moving from your thighs to the tender flesh right next to your sex.

You know what comes next.

"oh"

Your lips part, settling into an 'o' shape, when Mingyu licks a long, fat stripe up your slit, stopping at your clit to prod gentle circles with the tip of his tongue.

For a man who's hasn't as much as kissed you before, he sure knows how to work your body.

Perhaps you were just made for one another.

You feel the thick trickle of arousal seeping out of your hole, and Mingyu laps it up, letting his tongue dip into you slightly, curling up to cup every last drop.

"fuck you taste divine," he groans, voice low and gruff, "better than everything I've imagined-"

Your heart swells.

"you thought abou- f-fuck Mingyu right there"

He smirks against your cunt, humming a quick affirmation that sends a jolt up your spine.

"thought of you every night, wanted to hold you, feel you-"

You gasp, gulping thickly at his words, and your mind grows fuzzy, filled with cotton as you feel your body beginning to float away.

Mingyu brings his lips around your clit, suctioning the sensitive bud out of its hiding as his tongue laps at it. Your grip on his hair tightens, and your mouth hangs open- whimpers slipping out, beyond your control.

Without warning, Mingyu slips a finger into you, pushing his way in. Your back arches off the bed, and your hips snap up, but he holds you down, basking in the long drawn moan he manages to rip from your throat.

The stretch of your walls around his digit has you whimpering and writhing under him, and you can't help but wonder how big his cock is, how it would split you open for good if his fingers are already almost too much.

As if he read your thoughts, Mingyu winces at the way you suck him in.

"so fuckin' tight-" he gasps, jaw dropping in awe at how your tiny little cunt stretches to accomodate a single finger.

With the way Mingyu worked his tongue against you, and his finger into you, it's no wonder your orgasm begins to build. You feel your body tense, on the verge of release, limbs and stomach tightening as he works against you.

"please- don't sto- oh" you shudder when his tongue presses harder.

The great wave of pleasure rises, up and up, higher and higher, ready to come crashing down any moment now, when suddenly, he plunges a second finger into you, ripping your orgasm out of you with such force, your legs tremble as a string of moans and profanities leave your parted lips.

Mingyu scissors into you, fucking you through your orgasm, as your arousal drips down his fingers, down his wrist. Your legs shake uncontrollably as he pistons in and out of you, and you shudder.

"w-wait I'm still-"

"sensitive? mm I can tell" he smirks, lowering his face back to your cunt, tongue lapping at your juices eagerly.

He prods the muscle into you, bullying it's way beside his fingers to collect the remnants of your orgasm.

"fu-" you gasp, feeling your body convulse.

Cupping his tongue, Mingyu drags your wetness up your folds, spreading it over your clit before licking firm circles around the sensitive bud.

You moan, helplessly, and your body is ablaze, nerves standing on edge from the intensity of your previous orgasm.

As he continues his assault on your overstimulated sex, you feel another orgasm build at record speed.

Feeling you clench up around his fingers, Mingyu pushes harder, licking tighter circles into your clit, and you come undone within seconds- shocking both yourself and him.

"that's it, that's my good girl," he sighs, secretly in awe of how responsive you are to his touch.

He pulls his fingers out of you, and you whimper at the sudden loss.

"patience," he soothes, tongue trailing up his wrist to the tip of his finger, taking in your arousal.

Your breath hitches at his actions.

"you taste too fucking good to waste any of this"

Rising off the floor, he licks his lips, staring down at you with adoration painted plain as day on his handsome face.

His knee presses between your legs, and you feel the bed dip under his weight. Swift hands unbuckle his belt, undoing the clasp with one hand while the other works at his buttons.

Before you know it, Mingyu's pants are off, leaving him in plain black boxers and an opened shirt. He peels his top off, tossing it to the side, staring into your eyes.

"you can touch," he rasps, tugging you up to sit before his naked torso.

Your body listens before your brain can comprehend his words, and you let his hand pull your wrist up, placing your palm flush against his abs.

Your jaw drops.

He's rock solid. Years of hard work and dedication have defined the ridges of his muscles, and your mouth waters at the sight. You trace over each contour, each ridge, before turning your attention to his arms.

Those were another story altogether...

The thick, sturdy flesh of his biceps tense under your touch, rippling as your fingers pushing into them, testing how firm they really are.

answer: very.

Your nails rake down his arm, drawing over his veins, and he sucks in a sharp breath, feeling his cock grow painfully hard.

You notice, and tug his boxers off, gasping when you see his cock spring free.

It's huge. It's long and thick and veiny, flushed red at the tip with pent up energy. You bring your hand to stroke it as gently as possible, and he hisses, hips startling when you make contact with his dick

"baby," he pleads, using one hand to cup your jaw, tilting your head up to face him, "say it again"

You're confused for a moment before realisation hits.

He wanted you to say that you-

"I love you," you state, loud and clear.

His eyes darken, jaw tensing as he grits out, "again."

Mingyu pushes you down, laying you on your back, and you speak, voice meeker than before.

"I love you,"

He let's out a shaky breath.

"again"

"I love y-"your voice is a whisper now, cutting off into a stunned gasp when he pushes into you.

"oh my god," you tremble, your voice small and frail.

The girth of his cock is nothing like you've ever felt before- not with other men, not even with the toys you use. He eases himself into your tight cunt, going as slowly as his body let's him, and your eyes screw shut.

"uh uh, eyes on me,"

You look up at him, eyes wide as your brows scrunch up. Your jaw falls slack, and you can't stop your throat from opening up to release the filthiest sounds known to man.

"that's it, shh- takin' me so good," he shudders, eyes honed in on the way your face contorts in pleasure.

With each inch his pushes further, your thoughts disappear one by one, until all that's left is him.

"Mingyu" you choke out, nails clawing at his exposed back, "I love you"

Whatever seemed to have been holding him back snaps for good, and he bottoms out in one swift motion, earning a loud moan in response.

You feel your lungs burn as he pulls all the air out of you, feel how deep he is inside you.

Mingyu pulls out, leaving only the head of his cock inside you, before slamming back in, one hand on your hip, pulling your body closer, harder.

His head drops to the spot below your ear and he let's his teeth graze the delicate cartilage.

"I love you," he whispers, his breath sending shivers down your spine. "I love you so much,"

Angling his hips, he pulls your thighs up over his back, and his cock burrows deeper inside you, hitting a spot no one ever has before.

"Mingy- oh my godd" you drawl, voice shaking as he thrusts into you with force enough to power a tiny village.

The sheer girth of his cock has your walls pressing into him, squeezing so tight you can feel each ridge and furrow of his veins.

"so fuckin' perfect- m-made just for me-" His voice is a whisper. He pants into your ear, groaning everytime you squeeze around him.

The solid, steady snap of his hips into you has your head spinning. His size has you losing your mind, and soon enough, you're thoughts are limited to him.

"Mingyu Mingyu Mingyu-" you sob, tears streaming down your face at how he abuses your cunt, how he makes you feel so fucking good.

"I know, pretty, I know," he soothes, pressing a kiss to the spot under your ear, before pulling himself up to look at you again.

The sight before him has his eyes widening. It's as if his world stops. Hair fluttering around your face, skin glistening with a thin film of sweat, lips red and parted as you moan his name through thick sobs and teary, glistening eyes- fuck, how could a person be this beautiful?

"I love you," he shudders, looking you in the eye as his hand trails down to fiddle with your clit, rubbing lazy circles into the flesh.

Your head falls back, tipping into the pillows, and you choke out a strangled- "I love y- m'all yours Mingyu"

Gaining newfound access to your throat, Mingyu kisses greedily at the exposed skin, groaning as your cunt clenches down around him.

Your sounds- nothing short of pure sin- echo around the room, bouncing off the walls. The air is heavy, steaming up with the heat emanating off of your bodies. After all this time, the wait is over. He's finally yours.

As your moans turn shrill, increasing in volume and pitch, Mingyu's own voice grows breathier, and you know you're both close.

On the verge of falling deep into the cool black embrace of pleasure, you clutch desperately at each other, rutting into one another as if there was no tomorrow.

His thrusts grow sloppy as your cunt clamps down on him, and you feel your orgasms rip out of you like a whirlwind. You claw at his back as your body shakes under him, releasing your third orgasm, and he groans deeply into, riding through his own high.

Hot spurts of cum dribble out of you, forming a frothy white ring around the base of his cock- still thrusting into you.

"f-fuck Ming- please," you blubber, tears staining your cheeks, "s'too much-"

His hips halt their reckless movement, and he pulls out of you, watching as your combined orgasms trickle out of your hole.

"too much?" he asks, bringing a hand up to stroke you cheek so lovingly your heart melts.

"mhm," You nuzzle into his palm, "but it was perfect."

For a moment he stares into your eyes, guilt panging in his chest at how you look at him with so much love, despite all that he's done.

"we'll talk over breakfast tomorrow, hm? let's just- let's just stay like this for now"

You nod, letting your eyes flutter closed, and he shuffles beside you, pulling your limp frame into his chest.

The haphazard thudding of his heart tells you how nervous he is, how he's afraid to lose you, and you smile.

"hey," he mumbles, sleep taking over.

You hum and it reverberate in his chest.

"I love you"

"I love you too, Gyu"

"I'll spend the rest of my life making up for how we started," he places a soft kiss to your forehead and you mumble something incomprehensible, already drifting off to sleep.

A fond smile takes over his lips, and he sighs.

You're the best thing to have happened to him.

[propertyofwicked]

you're gonna go far - ln

♬ so pack up your car, put a hand on your heart. say whatever you feel, be wherever you are...

warnings: angst. thats kinda it icl

masterlist the playlist

at 16, had anyone asked y/n where she saw her life now, she probably wouldn’t have expected to answer that she was still watching lando’s career in motorsport blossom into a legacy. not that she didn’t imagine him being successful, it was just hard to comprehend that the boy who fell asleep in the back of his dads car on the way back from a karting race would one day be one of the most successful formula one racers on the 21st century. the boy who wiped sweat from his forehead, his other hand shaking as he raised the flowers he held up and mumbled a quick “will you be my girlfriend?”

and when lando got his first break in racing, y/n was there, cheering the loudest, her eyes shining with pride.

at 18, the two laid together, having late-night conversations about their futures, promising to support each other no matter what. lando was progressing in his career, working closely with mclaren, y/n was looking at universities, dreaming of what she would spend the rest of her working life pursuing.

and at 20, moving into the flat had been a dream come true. lando's career with mclaren soared. he became a household name, known for his skill and charisma on and off the track. y/n was always there, cheering him on, even when she couldn't be at the races in person. and the two found solace in returning to their little flat, cooking together, being surrounded by each other in every aspect.

but at 22, she did not think that she would be sat in their home, hands tightly gripping a mug between her hands, the sun casting a golden hue that spread softly throughout the flat.

the distance between them had grown. the long hours, the constant travel, and the relentless demands of the sport started to take their toll. y/n felt it most on the nights she was alone in their flat, the silence a stark contrast to the roar of engines and the cheers of the crowd. she tried to fill the void but nothing couldn't mask the loneliness that crept in.

lando's absence became more frequent. their once lively home felt emptier with each passing day. phone calls and video chats couldn't bridge the gap, and y/n found herself missing the little things - his laugh, his touch, the way he made her feel alive. she tried to stay positive, reminding herself of his dreams and the promise she had made to always support him.

the air was thick with unspoken words as they stood in the kitchen. the flat was filled with a tense silence that neither of them knew how to break - it was like this any time he came home recently. lando seemed restless, his eyes avoiding hers. finally, he broke the silence.

"i'm planning on moving to monaco," he said matter-of-factly, his voice steady but lacking its usual warmth, "it's the best move for my career, to be closer to other drivers and in a better position to travel to races."

y/n felt her heart clench, a wave of numbness washing over her. she couldn’t reason with him, she didn’t want to. understanding that their relationship had been unravelling for a while. she had become an afterthought, a part of his past that didn't quite fit into his future.

"i understand," she replied softly, her voice void of emotion.

lando looked at her, his expression a mix of relief and regret. he stepped closer, reaching out to touch her arm, but she pulled away gently.

"it's okay," she whispered. "i know you're gonna go far. this is the best decision for you career," she said, echoing his previous statement, void of any ability to fight this.

and across the following weeks, as lando packed his things, y/n watched from a distance, feeling detached from the life they had built together. the memories of their laughter, their dreams, and their love seemed like distant echoes. she moved through the days like a ghost, mentally distanced from everything around her, unable to talk to anyone about the emptiness growing inside her.

she missed the way he would come home and wrap his arms around her, the way they would stay up late talking about their dreams. she missed the feeling of being loved. they hadn’t even discussed the break up, or the fact they had even broken up - “im moving to monaco” was a weighted sentence, a statement that had no place for her.

when the day came for lando to leave, y/n stood by the door, her eyes dry and her heart heavy. he hugged her one last time, and she held on just a moment longer, savouring the last trace of lando in her life.

"take care," she murmured, almost coldly, before stepping back and letting him go.

as the door closed behind him, y/n felt a hollow ache in her chest. she knew lando was destined for greatness, but the price had been their love. she sat down in the empty flat, the silence now a testament to what had been lost. she wandered from room to room, each corner filled with memories of a time when they had been inseparable.

their friends noticed the change in y/n, the way her laughter no longer reached her eyes, the way she seemed to be merely existing rather than living. they tried to reach out, to offer comfort, but she couldn't bring herself to talk about the emptiness she felt. she painted smiles on her face, but inside, she was numb, unable to process the loss of the person who had been her world.

as months went by, y/n threw herself into her work, hoping to find solace in the one thing that had always been constant in her life. she worked hard, she improved, but every achievement felt hollow without lando by her side. she watched his races on tv, feeling a mix of pride and sorrow. he was going far, just as she had always known he would, but he was doing it without her.

standing on the balcony of their flat, looking out over the city they had once explored together, the lights of london stretched out before her, a reminder of the dreams they had shared. the city looked the same, the lights still cascaded through the rows of buildings, the cars still sped through the streets at all times of the day. how could she be angry? he was achieving his dreams, she was doing the same. it wasn’t fair to keep him here against his own volition.

it wasn’t fair, but it didn’t make it any easier. it didn’t stop her from hurting, thinking about how easily he’d left her behind in search for something greater. she took a deep breath, trying to find the strength to move on, let go of the past, find a new path.

with a heavy heart, y/n too began packing up the flat, each item a reminder of the life they had built together. she carefully wrapped up the photos, the mementos of their time together, and placed them in boxes.

when the flat was finally empty, y/n stood in the doorway, taking one last look at the place that had been their home. she knew it was time to close this chapter and start a new one, to find her own path, even if it meant doing it alone. as she locked the door behind her, she whispered a silent goodbye to the life they had shared, knowing that lando was destined to go far and that she had to find her own way, with or without him.

[giamee]

🧩 ᯓ★୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

𝐇𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐋𝐘 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔!

STARRING. ノ geto ✦ gojo ✦ choso

summary. ノ as a princess, you need a knight to keep both your body and heart safe from harm. luckily, he's got that covered.

word count. ノ 6.6k

contains. ノ royalty!au, princess!reader x knight, some suggestive content but nothing explicit, fem coded reader bc princess

gia's notes. ノ this draft has been sitting at the VERY bottom of my notes but i've finally dug it up and blown the dust off of it hehe. i have more ideas for this premise so if anyone asks i'll do a part two. eagerly.

GETO SUGURU ⌇ despite his politeness, there's more to him that lies below the surface

when you first met geto suguru, the most prominent thought in your mind was just how surprisingly pretty he was to be a mere knight. his delicate features and unblemished face seemed more fitting to be that of a nobleman's, and when he kneeled to you to swear his loyalty, his every movement was dictated with a gracefulness that suggested he was born royal.

always smiling, always alert, always vigilant, geto now accompanied you in your daily life like a second shadow. and while there had been... admittedly few attempts on your life, you chalked that up to his talent rather than a lack of conspiracy.

you had asked him one night when you had sneaked too much drink during a feast and you were too loose-lipped on your way back to your chambers, why his face was so handsome if he was just a knight.

he had merely laughed at your drunken question, readjusting his grip on you as he half-carried, half-guided you back.

"i'm handsome because nobody's been able to lay a finger on me."

you were quite fond of him, beyond his ability to keep you safe. you may be naive but you weren't stupid- you knew how others looked at the pair of you, how scandalous it was for the princess and her handsome knight to be so close with each other, in public at that.

it was incredibly apparent at balls and other royal events- ever so cumbersome, but still a requirement- that you always made sure to drag geto along to, no matter the security detail. and if you had personally ensured that he wears clothing befitting of a royal, and more importantly matched your gown every time, who wouldn't jump to conclusions?

in all honesty, you liked the attention it drew to the pair of you. you revelled in the glances shot your way, zeroed in on your hand looped around his arm or the way his encircled your waist, looking more like a courtier than a bodyguard.

you liked how the other women of the court looked at you with not just disgust, but with jealousy, because you knew that they certainly knew that geto suguru is a very handsome man. and no matter how much they stare, the fact that he was firmly attached to you would never change.

and if they hated you, let them come. geto would keep you safe, anyway.

whilst you were more than happy to live life as you were (the same as always with no real responsibility), the world continued its course, and you found yourself being suddenly thrust into something that you never imagined would happen this soon- a removal of your freedom.

that wasn't its official title, of course. a marriage proposal is what it had been presented to you as. to some poncey prince from a neighbouring kingdom in the name of keeping peace and good relations with neighbours- it was enough to make you feel sick.

you remembered ranting about it to geto that night in your bedchambers- yes, he was in them whether it was permissible or not- him merely chuckling at your rage while leaning against one of the walls, watching as you paced the room, waving your arms fervently to accentuate your frustration.

"relax, your highness. you'll still have me, after all." his words have an effect on you, admittedly, and it's comforting to find some constancy in him.

on nights where you let your imagination take over, it's quite easy to imagine him as a prince, one who courts you and you fall for and eventually marry- a mere fantasy to escape from this world.

despite your wishes, despite the rumours, the royal engagement continues. you haven't even met your fiancé, yet the marriage is due to happen this spring- symbolising the fresh beginnings of this joyous union.

geto had been gracious enough to accompany you on your newly-developed habit of taking long walks around the castle in favour of sleeping. you might as well memorise every nook and cranny before you'd be forced out of here- kicking and screaming, no doubt.

despite geto's best efforts, the joy you once found from life in the castle was quickly draining, merely fluff to pad the days leading up to the inevitable date.

an arrangement to meet this prince in person was very quickly procured out of nowhere- you couldn't remember his name for the life of you- and you found yourself going through the motions of being even more dolled up for a special ball with little to no enthusiasm. there was once a time where you would be bursting with delight at the beauty looking back at you in the mirror, though now it felt like you were being trussed up in the same sense the cooks were preparing the roasted animals on golden platters for everyone to feast on.

you were just meant to look as appetising as possible. you felt like a prize cow. anything in the name of peace.

you heard someone clear their throat from behind you- your eyes flicked up to your mirror to see geto stood behind you, his gaze particularly soft. you smiled at his outfit, equally exquisite in its brocade and material as yours. a perfect pair.

"i know i say this every time i see you, but you look especially radiant tonight, your highness." and just like that, you're glad to be so dressed up.

"thank you, sir geto." his lips twitch at the official title, but he extends his arm out for you to take nonetheless. "you look very handsome yourself." his cheeks go a shade darker, barely noticeable. you see it, though.

"how could i manage without you?"

the ballroom was decorated even more lavishly in commemoration of tonight- a decadent gold being the setting for this glorious occasion. you hoped that the prince would live up to the grandeur. or at the very least, not be completely hideous to look at. he'd never look as good as geto.

there were a lot of formal introductions. you always had hated curtsying, but the practice you were forced to endure paid off- you were nothing less than perfectly gracious as you met the officials of the neighbouring kingdom, and then, finally, the prince. he winked at you before kissing your hand and asking you to dance. you would rather dance with someone else.

at least the prince wasn't ugly. with the way he looked at you, though, you had to try not to let your nose wrinkle in disgust as you read the lechery in his eyes. was this really who you would be bound to 'til death do you part?

he stank of wine as the two of you danced. you were surprised that he wasn't toppling over, with the way that his words were already slurring. you tried your best to smile and nod along, though you couldn't help your eyes from wandering over his shoulder, settling on the figure of geto stood on the edge of the dancefloor.

you longed for him to be the one before you, and judging by the look on his face, it's what he would have wanted too. even jealousy looked good on him, his narrowed eyes and set jaw infinitely more handsome than the prince's leering one that you barely avoided as he lurched towards you, a little too close for this courtly dance.

geto jerked forwards at this, hands automatically settling on his sword. his eyes met yours, a silent plea to let it go exchanged before he begrudgingly relinquished his defensive stance. his little action still sent a thrill running through you nonetheless, something to cling to as an affirmation that he cared in more than a professional sense.

you let your thoughts wander as you danced, and you didn't do much to try and reel them back in. would it really be so bad to become wedded to a knight? it was unheard of, but there was a first time for everything, you supposed. you wouldn't mind no longer being a princess, as long as you were with him.

that realisation snapped you back to reality, just as the ending notes of the song played. your mandatory dance was over, and you curtsied to the prince before excusing yourself, weaving your way through the crowd of nobles until you reached the outskirts of the ballroom. your whole world felt like it had been tipped on its axis with this revelation, and even then you couldn't help but seek him out.

it was like an invisible force drew you together as you all but crashed into geto, him steadying you and immediately taking in the no doubt frenzied look in your eyes.

"are you alright, your highness?"

"i'm alright, just need to get some air."

geto nods dutifully, keeping hold of one of your arms as he navigates the crowd, slipping the both of you out of a side exit, the noise of the ballroom immediately drowning out as the door shut behind you.

"is that better, your highness?" your heart warmed at the genuine concern written over his face, and you nodded gratefully.

"much better."

the pair of you walk in silence for a few minutes, retracing the same routes of the castle that you had both become so accustomed to recently. it was comfortable to be with him, no matter the occasion.

"you know, i wish i could dance with you." it wasn't quite a confession, but it would do for now. geto paused for a second, and you saw him turn to look at you in the corner of your eye.

"there may be no music playing right now, but it would be an honour to have this dance, your highness." he bows down low, a mockery of etiquette, and you giggle before slipping your hand into his outstretched one. he's smiling as he straightens back up, his other hand curling around your waist with a gracefulness that would put the entire royal court to shame.

the dimly lit corridors became your private ballroom, and geto led you down them nimbly. another giddy laugh escaped you as he raised his arm, letting you twirl freely before bringing you close to him again.

it's a back and forth that you enjoy being led through, wondering to yourself just where he learnt to dance like this but not finding the heart to complain about it. it was a sweet moment amidst the growing realisation that this would most likely be ripped from you as you are forced to move to a different kingdom, away from everything that you've ever known. well, almost everything.

one particular turn has you stumbling ever so slightly, the questionable gap left between you and geto fully closing as your head collides with his chest. his arms instinctively protect you, effectively encasing you against him, leaving you to merely stare up at his face with a dumbfounded look on your face.

"your highness?"

he looked so much more handsome up close, and the torchlight cast shadows that only accentuated his features. you could count his eyelashes from here, feel the slight rise and fall of his chest against your own as you both leaned in ever so slightly- just a few more inches and your faces would be-

a noise from the end of the hallway distracts you, and your focus slips from the man before you to whatever lay behind him

you're horrified by what you see before you. it's that very prince, your fiancé, nestled in one of the darker corners castle, and he wasn't alone. your brain took a little longer to comprehend what was happening, but with the way the woman he was with was pressed up against the wall, caged in by his arms, and the little moans that echoed against the stony walls, it didn't take a genius to figure it out.

"let's go." you sounded so robotic, a ringing in your ears making your voice sound a thousand miles away as you began to retrace your steps, taking you further away from the transgression you just saw. you were vaguely aware of geto talking to you, but your thoughts were too overpowering to properly process anything other than the rising tide of emotion quickly consuming you.

you could barely turn the next corner before you felt yourself start to break down, tears that you fought so hard to contain tracking down your face. even with your back to him, geto read you like a book, placing a hand on your shoulder in some sort of attempt to comfort you.

you took it as an invitation to turn around, burying your face in his chest and letting yourself properly cry as his arms wrapped around you, one rubbing circles on your back and the other petting your hair.

"i wish you were a prince, geto," you sobbed into his tunic. your knight merely chuckled, continuing to stroke your hair as he let you stain the expensive clothing with your tears.

"i do too, your highness." his tone is light, but you still detect the underlying sincerity. it doesn't do much to stop your tears, though, until you feel one of his hands cup your face. these hold more evidence of him being a knight, with rough callouses marring his otherwise flawless hands. his fingers brush back the strands of hair that have come loose from your elegant updo, lingering a moment too long.

"besides, why cry, your highness? you and i both know that your heart does not belong to him." his hand's still on your face, fingers now hooking underneath your chin, raising your gaze to meet his. his smile's coy, and you both can read between the lines of what he's saying. it had been rather obvious for a while now.

that your heart lay a lot closer to home. that maybe the rumours were right.

"you'll always have me."

GOJO SATORU ⌇ he's two whole years younger than you

officially, the title of royal knight carries a certain air of poise, of authority and grace that forces your spine a little straighter whenever you cross paths with them. but never did you think that this man would be the one entrusted with your life and safety in general.

you were more mature than him, and that's saying something. and despite his insistence on being one of the strongest, in your eyes he certainly didn't act like it. but if he was appointed as your personal bodyguard, then that must mean that he did something worthy enough to fulfil the role, right?

despite your slight doubts, you didn't actually have anything against him. on the contrary, you rather enjoyed his presence. he wasn't afraid to make himself known, and you much preferred the thought of him as an animate person than some silent looming shadow that mirrored your every step.

besides, he wasn't half bad to look at.

you especially liked it when he was in the mood to humour you and your questions, opening up a little about his life before becoming a knight- of the small village he used to live in, the beauty of life beyond the castle walls, and his stories intrigued you, invoking a childlike wonder that hadn't been piqued in years.

satoru had told you of one particular festival- a lantern ceremony to celebrate a bountiful autumn's harvest. it was one you had heard of, had seen always from a distance, the faint lights of hundreds of paper lanterns floating into the sky mere pinpricks that blend into the stars from your vantage point of the castle window.

he has a knack for storytelling, too- for better or worse. he spins gold with his tongue, painting a picture so lovely and vibrant that you are compelled to see it in person- whether it is as wondrous as the knight claims it to be.

and gojo has always been up for a challenge.

"satoru."

"princess y/n." he's amused, already knowing what your proposition will be before you utter another word.

"how good are you at keeping me safe?"

"incredibly, why?"

"i'd like you to take me to see this festival in person."

he had to decline at first- he had a duty to fulfil, after all- but you demand, you implore, you even beg in order to get him on board.

he was willing to do so the very first time you mention it, the gleam in his eye giving his true intentions away, but he plays along, getting a kick out of the desperation in your voice. you whine about how you are the princess and it's his job to do what you ask- and he laughs, throwing his hands up in mock defeat with an obliging "as you wish, your highness."

and thus begins your daring expedition to sneak out of the castle and back in completely undetected.

it's an operation carried out under the guise of night, the pair of you in cloaks and dressed inconspicuously. it's a simple plan, too. the gardens below your bedchamber's window is not a commonly patrolled area, and it's laughably easy for gojo to slip out of the window first and jump down the few metres until he lands on grass. he lands like it's nothing, smiling back up at you and motioning for you to join him.

it's a leap of faith, the crossing of a boundary as you swing your leg over the windowsill, feeling the fear kick in as you see just how high up you are. but you see gojo, too, his bright hair and eyes looking up at you encouragingly, and you swallow that fear.

"i'll catch you," he promises.

and he does. it's a soft landing, all things considered, as you land in his arms that are deceptively solid beneath you. you yelp as you fall- it couldn't be helped- but it's short-lived as you find yourself face to face with satoru.

he seems as equally stunned as you at the proximity of your faces, but the moment passes quickly for him, his signature practised grin coming back on to his face as he gently touches your feet to the ground.

"good to go, princess?" you nod, still reeling. he offers you an arm, half-joking, and you take it with a pleased smile.

gojo knows the castle grounds like the back of his hand- leading you to a concealed door in the outer wall, slipping through it like a shadow with you in tow. it wasn't until now that you saw him in his element, not sitting around like a lazy cat like he so often did in your presence.

he's more alert, alive, lithe body moving with purpose. it's nice to see him like this, without all of the bulky armour and constraints of the castle walls. the tension leaves him, his gait changing, and you feel the adrenaline course through your veins as the two of you officially make it outside of the castle.

you try to memorise every step you take, the way the ground feels against your shoes, the feeling of the breeze rushing unfiltered against your face. it's surreal, this taste of freedom, and you feel the urge to laugh like a maniac.

your hand slips from its grasp of gojo's bicep, letting you drift away from your knight in favour of pausing to squat down and inspect the brightly coloured flowers that grew on the path.

it was a mere tulip- nothing that you had ever seen before, the castle favouring more exotic species to showcase than some simple thing that you could pluck from the ground. but it was beautiful, all the same.

you felt gojo pause, letting you have your moment uninterrupted before you stand, beaming up at him.

"the outside world is very beautiful."

"indeed it is, princess. just wait until you see the lanterns up close."

it wasn't too far to reach his hometown, so he said. it was a comfortable walk, the terrain not too demanding. and finally, with the last stretch of land, you saw it.

"oh, wow."

if anything, satoru didn't do it justice in his stories. there's another element that you had never anticipated, of the music coursing throughout the town, breathing life into the people. everything was so much more colourful, more beautiful up close.

the closer you approach it, the more it comes into focus, and you don't try to hide your awe as you take in the surroundings. you don't turn your head to see the way your knight is smiling down at you, a soft look in his eyes.

and while it may make his job a pain sometimes, satoru's thankful that you're so oblivious to his surroundings and the ways he pines after you gone unnoticed. he had never exposed this part of himself before, the small nostalgic part of him that treasured unblemished memories of his childhood, now walking arm in arm with a princess and pointing out each little nook and cranny that he used to play in.

the pair of you finally make it to the inner part of the festivities, where there are countless stalls set up with all kinds of goods being sold. satoru stands back, letting you pour over each individual item, oohing and aahing as the vendors explain what they are.

you do this for... quite some time, until you settle upon a small jewellery stand. it was nothing like you had ever seen worn by nobles, fashioned out of colourful stones and leather cord instead of the gold and silver inlaid with precious gems. it intrigued you, the beautiful polished stone somehow being the most elegant thing you had ever laid eyes upon. and like a bloodhound, the lady running the stall sidled up to you and satoru.

"and for the beautiful couple, what can i interest you in?"

"oh, we-" you laugh, all pitchy as you get flustered, but satoru takes this in stride, simply wrapping his waist around you and pulling you closer together. he always had been one to toe the line.

"i think that my darling here had her eye on that necklace." he nods towards the very one that had caught your attention, you glancing at him in surprise, unaware that he even noticed such details. he merely winked in return as the lady beamed, taking it off its hook and holding it out to you.

"a fine choice, indeed! the rose quartz is said to bring luck to you in all romantic endeavours." you blush as you accept the necklace, satoru paying for it before you could get a single word in. he waved off any protests, merely taking the necklace from your hands before lifting it to fit around your neck.

his fingers brush against the soft skin at your nape, a little shiver rippling from it as he moved your hair onto one of your shoulders, out of the way of the cord.

"it looks beautiful on you." you try not to read into the sincerity emanating from his gaze, bowing your head graciously from the compliment before looping an arm around his, letting satoru guide you through the rest of the village.

you ended up in the main square, watching as some officials released the lanterns, how each one floated upwards until they became pinpricks in the sky. your gaze drifted towards the castle looming, and you felt some heaviness return to your heart.

the night had to come to an end, after all.

satoru sensed your shift in mood, offering a sympathetic smile before the pair of you trudged back, retracing your steps to return to your chambers without getting caught.

for a few minutes, before you properly laid down to rest, you caught yourself toying with the necklace, unable to stop the grin that spread across your face as you thought of the magical night with satoru, and his unseen side.

and as you woke up the next morning, the events of the past few hours were hard to see as more than a dream. but as you rise, you gaze at your reflection in the vanity next to your bed again, and you see the cord of the necklace still peeking out past the neckline of your nightgown.

there's a knock on your door, too, and you see your knight's face peek from around the corner.

"good morning, satoru."

"good morning, princess. did you sleep well?" there's a practised formality in his tone, but you don't miss his expression, the smile that threatens to slip onto his face.

it'll be a secret between just the two of you.

CHOSO KAMO ⌇ there wasn't a single doubt in your mind that this man wouldn't put his life on the line for you

however, it wasn't so certain from the start. when you were first introduced to choso, he was polite. he looked you in the eyes, kneeled to you, pledged his allegiance, but what struck you most was the anger that his gaze met you with.

it was like being scalded, making you shrink back from the sheer intensity. you couldn't get a read off of him apart from that cool anger, one that you weren't even sure was directed at you or not.

it was only through gossip overheard by the maidservants that you learnt of his prospects before being appointed as your bodyguard.

the most promising of his rank, on course to become the youngest commander in the military in the past century. he would have been set for life, the salary enough to support his entire family- yet he's now responsible for babysitting a spoilt princess.

it's what they had said, after all.

and the more you thought about it, the more awful you felt. you understand now why he looked at you like that, that pointed gaze with all its burning intensity. why he looked like he would rather be anywhere else within the castle than at your side.

it's improper to assume responsibility for anything as a member of the royal family, but you do so anyway and apologise to him one night- borderline tearful, your emotions besting you as you finally cave in and tell him about how you think he hates you.

and he stops you mid-sentence, confusion written across all of his features.

"milady... i'm afraid you've got it all wrong."

it was an awkward conversation, to say the least. you had never really been exposed to someone like him before- to have such a rigid sense of duty and seriousness that it translated as hatred was unheard of, even for the castle.

and despite this revelation, choso's stiff upper lip did not waver. his intertwined sense of duty was a tricky thing to peel away from him.

but it's a task that you were willing to commit to. you'd be spending a lot more time with him, after all, and you'd much rather get to know choso as a person if that was the case.

and so began your futile efforts of breaking down choso's barriers. you felt like a petulant child, always asking him questions that he would either blank or answer with an occasional grunt.

you were glad that news travels fast within the castle- any gossip about the princess' handsome new knight was a snippet of information that you hung onto eagerly.

it appears that you weren't alone in harbouring an interest in the young knight- if the excited chattering of maidservants and the way that they squealed over every interaction with him was any indicator.

for some reason, hearing them gush over the way his muscles looked when he was practising swordfighting in the barracks, or how strong he was when he helped carry in heavy sacks of grain rubbed you the wrong way. it lit a fire underneath you that made you all the more eager to get to know him well and truly before anybody else did.

you seemed to have struck gold about sir choso when you overheard one maidservant admit to having grown up in the same village as him- how she remembered that his family used to own a horse that him and his brothers loved more than anything else when growing up.

amidst the oohs and aahs of this revelation, a plan started to hatch in your mind. one that came into fruition the very next day as choso accompanied you on your morning walk around the royal gardens.

"say, choso, have you ever ridden a horse before?"

out of all of the questions and hints about him that you've posed, you've never seen such a reaction from him before. he starts, and out of the corner of your eye you see him almost puff up with excitement, and your ears strain, eager to hear what he has to say before you see him school his features once again, and the moment is bitterly over.

"it was part of my training to become a knight, milady. why do you ask?"

it was no matter if he didn't want to open up yet, you can be patient. and spend a little longer playing dumb about just how much you know about him.

"well, i was thinking of doing something slightly different today." he raises an eyebrow, prompting you to continue. "i wanted to go horse-riding." he pauses for a good few seconds, ever so stoic, before nodding his head in acknowledgement.

"as you wish, milady."

you clap your hands togeher excitedly, beaming up at him.

"perfect!"

you set off in the direction of the stables, your knight following closely behind you, and dare you say with a slightest improvement in the upbeat of his gait. despite all of his professionalism, he still had his tells.

the smell of fresh hay and the less pleasant odour of manure reaches your nostrils before you can properly see the horses, but you let your nose wrinkle in displeasure and resolutely keep marching onwards to the stable entrance. you had a purpose to fulfil by being here, after all.

now, as a princess, it was imperative that you had acquired several different skills as part of your royal upbringing. how to eat properly, how to speak properly, act properly, including when riding a horse.

but, try as you might, you just couldn't quite manage to get a proper grasp on that last part. but, if it meant getting to know choso, you'd simply grin and bear it and hope to god that it didn't buck you off directly into a patch of mud.

the horses can smell your fear, you had been told as a child. even the stubbiest pony accustomed to your eight-year-old self's stature still towered above you, nostrils flared and rubbery lips dripping with saliva, making you hide behind the legs of your tutors as you cowered away from such a ferocious beast.

such childlike fears seemed to resurface now, as the snort of a nearby horse makes you twitch, visibly enough that it doesn't go unnoticed.

"are you alright, milady?" he's eyeing you sideways now, having caught up with your stride with his much longer one. you wonder just how eager he must be to ride a horse that it would warrant him breaking his usual pattern of tracing your footsteps and now meeting them with his own as the pair of you walk.

the thought brings a pang of guilt to accompany it, so you plaster on a smile and nod at him brightly.

"of course i am! it just caught me off guard, is all. not to worry, i'll have two horses be arranged for us."

you look at the nearest stable hand expectantly, and the young boy seems to comprehend your message as he dashes off to affix saddles and leashes to two fine stallions, befitting of royalty, to ride. you don't miss the doubtful look choso still gives you out of the corner of your eye.

it's better than focusing on the huffs and snorts of the beast before you as it's brought forwards, close enough for its putrid breath to curl in warm tendrils against your face. you feel your skin shrivel at the sensation.

but being a princess means putting on a brave face, and to never crumble in the face of adversity.

you march over to see the stirrup, level with your chest, inviting you to step up and onto the horse's back. it's funny, all these years later you would have dwarfed that little pony, so now they've brought an even larger horse to maintain order.

you can feel your heart hammering in your chest as you approach it, and you think that the horse can feel it too, because it snorts, twisting its head, the stable hand sounding panicked as the rope is prised from his grasp by the powerful strain from the stallion.

and then there's those painstaking moments, of the horse bucking and neighing, free now, and you really regret not providing more foresight into this plan.

how exactly will you get to know choso more if you've been trampled to death before he opens his mouth again?

you think this is the end of your short and silly life, if not for the hand that shoots out, grabbing the reins, another smoothing over the horse's snout. you watch in awe as your knight, your personal bodyguard, does just that and saves you from what would have been an imminent and painful death.

and like some horse whisperer, the stallion was now rendered meek and docile, following where it was led as choso turned to you, expression impassive as always.

"are you scared of horses milady?"

how foolish of you to think you wouldn't be all these years later. there's no use lying, and you dejectedly nod at his question. a beat of silence, before confusion graces his features.

"then why decide to go riding today?"

"because i heard that you like horses..."

it sounds so truly pathetic coming out of your mouth, but your heart still skips a beat as you see an entirely new expression on his face. a smile, one that he bites back as he looks off to the side, shaking his head in disbelief.

and then he looks back at you, really looks at you, with that coldness in his eyes parting like clouds to give way to something softer, warmer.

"allow me to help you then, your highness."

you give him a shy little nod at his proposition, and choso turns to the tearfully apologetic stable hand, signalling to him to return the other horse. you're confused as he approaches you, horse in tow, and you eye the animal with suspicion as it meets you face to face.

"the first thing about any animal is to establish a connection with it, milady." choso speaks so softly, voice barely above a whisper, and you watch in amazement as the horse's ears prick up, as if hanging on every word that he says alongside yourself.

"you've got to talk to it, introduce yourself." he motions for you to try, and your eyes flick back to the horse.

"hello, horse," you whisper to it. you feel like an idiot, but choso's nod of encouragement and second rare smile convince you to keep going. "it's nice to meet you."

it seems to have turned its attention towards you now, its nose snuffling at you, and you rear back a little.

"it's okay, milady, he just wants to smell you."

you look at choso again, expression doubtful, and he holds his hand outstretched, prompting you to place your palm in his.

he's warm, deliciously so, a decisive strength resting behind each finger as he guides your dainty hand towards the maw of the beast. its nostrils flare, snuffling against your hand, and you giggle girlishly at the odd sensation. choso's smiling now, no charade as he lets his joy shine through, matching yours.

"see? he likes you, your highness."

the pair of you stay like that for a few minutes, tentatively stroking the horse, until you feel comfortable enough to suggest riding them. choso nods, a flicker of responsibilty taking over his expressions as he guides you towards the saddle.

you're uncertain all over again, for different reasons now, as the distance required to get your foot in the stirrup seemed a little too high to achieve. and then choso's behind you, a hushed "may i?" whispered into your ear as his fingers curl at your waist.

you're flustered now, nodding all the same, gasping at how easily he lifts you until your feet dangle adjacent to the sturrup, and you let yourself slip a foot into it and swing the rest of yourself up and over to be seated on the horse.

you peer down at choso, desperately trying to ignore the fact that his head was directly next to your lap. it was absurd- you were the one riding atop a horse as he remained on the ground, you were the one of royal descent- yet in this very moment you were entirely at his mercy.

you clear your throat, nodding to him.

"if there aren't any more horses, how are you going to ride one?" and now he smirks at you, as if it's the most obvious answer in the world.

"well, if you're so scared of horses, i thought that i'd continue to help you get over that fear."

the penny doesn't drop until he places his foot in the very same stirrup that you had used to hoist yourself up, doing the same in an admittedly much more fluid motion, and positing himself flush against your back.

if it weren't for the light armour he wore, you were certain that he would be able to feel the way your heart threatens to beat out of your chest.

you look down to your lap, watching as his arms reach forwards, practically embracing you, before his hands take a willful grip of the leather reins.

"how does that sound, milady?" he's practically purring into your ear, and he must know the effect he's having on you, if not before then definitely now as you sharply inhale, feeling the hairs on the back of your neck prickle at the slight sensation of his breath.

you don't even trust yourself to speak eloquently without making a fool of yourself, so you nod instead. the message is not lost on choso, and he chuckles right into your ear before starting to guide the horse as easily as breathing.

the animal lurched forwards, and your hands shot out, instinctively latching onto the nearest solid thing. whether they were your knight's hands or not wasn't important. but choso took this in stride, guiding your hands to take hold of the reins, and then encapsulating them with his own.

it sent a little thrill jolting through your spine, especially as he shuffles even closer to you, just to make sure that he could see properly.

your plan was working brilliantly after all.

and for all the trouble it took to situate yourself on the horse, your initial fears melted away in the presence of choso, as he spurred the horse to start a slow walk out of the stables, and onto the vast grounds surrounding the palace.

and as you gaze back to catch a glimpse of your knight, catching the way he smiles down at you so freely, faces a breadth apart, you realise that your fates are well and truly intertwined together.

➤ IF YOU LIKED THIS, TRY ... there's no release, i feel you in my dreams

(i don't have any other jjk fics FOR NOW ㅜㅡㅜ) best friend!aventurine x reader

➤ alternatively, you can find my jjk masterlist here!

[buckyalpine]

My First and Only

Virgin Mob beefy Bucky x reader

So I'm taking my drabble and making into a one shot. Our beautiful, rugged mob boss whose glare make grown men cower is just a sweet shy thing on his wedding night. He has his wife to guide him poor Bucky is even more nervous because he doesn't want to disappoint his princess. Do keep in mind he's going to be a menace once he's well practiced.

-

"The right one will be worth it Jamie" Bucky's mothers words echoed in his ear as he sipped on a glass of whisky, the loud bass of the club music making the ice in his glass clink. "You'll know when it's the right time"

He was sixteen when she told him that, around the same time that he started working closer with his father, preparing to take over his families business. With money came power and with the money the Barnes' had, it was near limitless. The last thing Winifred wanted was for her son to go down the wrong path, one filled with greed, violence and lust.

She raised him to respect those around him and himself. To see beauty in living things, to love others and above all else, to value what it meant to share a life with someone you cared for. It was a sharp contrast to the way George ruled with an iron fist but it gave Bucky the balance he needed to be an excellent leader.

Under his mother's guidance, he followed the path that lead him to where he currently sat along with his two right hand men, Steve and Sam, the three men sipping on a dark amber liquid, ignoring the numerous girls that tried to fling themselves at their table.

"You'd think they'd get the hint after you said no to the first three" Steve chuckled while another woman slinked up only to have Bucky politely shake his head.

"Think you'll say yes to any of them?" Sam playfully shoved Bucky's shoulder already knowing the answer. Whenever they were out, plenty of women would approach the mob boss only to be turned away every single time.

"Not tonight" Bucky snorted, knowing he'd be ready when he found the right one. It was just a matter of time.

Looking at him, it was doubtful anyone would think or know Bucky was a virgin. He'd dated girls before but no one made him feel anything that also captured his heart. Of course, its not like he told anyone what he did or didn't do with those girls. He certainly didn't look like someone who lacked experience. He took care of himself when he needed to, after all he was still human. His right hand knew exactly what to do when necessary.

He met his pretty angel at a flower shop. He was there to get a bouquet for his ma's birthday and left with your number instead, quickly going back with a blush on his cheeks, realizing he didn't get what he initially came for. Bucky knew he'd found the one when the first thought that came to mind after his date was that he had to take you home. Not to his bed but to his family. To show everyone the sweet girl he knew he'd love for the rest of his life, the one he instantly knew was for him.

"You better protect her with all your heart" Was the only thing his father said before patting his shoulder whereas His mother didn't say a word about you after you'd both first met. She simply handed Bucky her wedding ring, already recognizing the lovestruck look on her sons face.

When he kissed your lips at the altar, he nearly fell to his knees, the soft warmth of your skin already making him woozy. He didn't leave your side the entire night, his arm protectively around your waist, so in love with the one person he got to call his for the rest of his life. Your first dance was filled with soft kisses, whispering sweet nothings to each others while your loved ones watched with teary eyes. When the SUV came to whisk you both away, Bucky still didn't let you go, holding you tightly in his lap, ready to start a together new chapter as husband and wife.

The very first one being in his bedroom.

-

Bucky didn't understand this feeling. It was brand new to him. He'd felt every emotion under the sun except this.

Shyness.

Pure, innocent shyness.

God, he'd never felt so shy in his entire life, it was almost embarrassing. He shook his head at himself; he was over 6 ft tall, covered in dark ink but the thought of going to bed with his sweet wife was what was going to take him down.

"Jamie, can you help me with the back please?" You stood in front of the dresser while his sucked in a breath, his fingers fidgeting with the delicate buttons down your back. He carefully undid them, letting his hand ghost down your spine, his breath catching in his throat when your dress fell and pooled around your feet. You stepped of it, left in your white lingerie and heels, bending over to unstrap them, only to have Bucky stop you.

"Let me, sweet heart" He got down on one knee, taking off the tiny strap wrapped around your ankle and slipping your heels off before standing up again, taking in the soft lace that barely covered your body.

You took off his blazer before you unbuttoned his shirt, smiling at the way he held onto your waist, his thumbs tracing small circles onto your hips. He didn't know where to focus, feeling your lips kiss his chest where he had tattooed your name over his heart to the way your soft breasts were now pressed against his body.

You let your hands caress over the thick planes of muscle while going down to his belt buckle, various pieces of art covering his body in the most beautiful way. Bucky's heart hammered against his chest as your hands trailed down to unbutton his pants, your nimble fingers brushing over his throbbing erection.

He hopes you don't realize how nervous he feels when you unzip his pants, letting it fall to his feet. He gives you a shaky nod when you look up at him for permission to pull down his brief's, letting you see all of him for the first time. Your fingers hook around the waistband, puling them down his thick thighs, till he's left perfectly bare in front of you. His thighs tense together at the soft gasp you let out, scared he'd disappoint you some how though the very thought is ridiculous.

You can't help but take a moment to admire you perfect husband in his all naked glory, his thick, heavy cock curved towards his tummy, heavy balls, achingly full. The blush on his cheeks deepen when your eyes flick down to his most intimate parts; no one else ever seen him like this before, not since he was a baby. You lean up to give him a reassuring kiss while he slips his hand into yours, taking you to bed. Every part of him wants to pick you up, throw you over his shoulder and toss you on to the large mattress but not tonight. You lay down with him against the soft pillows, the silky sheets under you cool against your skin while he gently tugs on the straps of your lingerie.

"Can I?" He whispers, still to nervous to do anything while you move his hands to the clasps of the lace.

"M'your's Jamie" You nod, letting him take his time unhooking your bustier off, his eyes growing wide at your perfect bare breasts. You know its his first time and there's nothing more you want than for him to know you trust him completely and you're all his.

He doesn't waste any time slipping your panties off, his tongue darting out to lick his lips at the sight of you naked on his bed. It starts off slow and innocent. He doesn't rush to do anything, taking his time to hug you close to him, relishing on the feeling of your bare skin on his between soft kisses. He struggles to calm himself down with the way your soft body is pressed against his, your leg hitched over his waist, his cock itching to rut against your tummy for more friction. His wide, thick body engulphs you when he holds you close, his hands skimming up and down your waist before trailing up your spine.

His heart starts to hammer again when he starts to trail kisses from your jaw down to your neck wanting to touch more of you. He wants to show you how much he loves you, gently taking a nipple into his mouth, moaning as soon as he starts to suckle. Your back arches, a gasp melting into a moan at the way his tongue flicks and moves in circles between his lips tugging and sucking your peaked bud.

Nothing compares to how warm and soft your breasts are in his mouth, his cock starting to leak. He so lost in kissing and sucking your breasts, precum smearing all over your tummy, where his cock rests against.

"Can I Touch you baby?" you whisper, kissing his forehead when he looks up at you with wide eyes. He quickly nods, pressing his hips against you showing you where he needed you most while refusing to take his mouth off your breasts.

You hand goes down to gently palm him to giving poor baby some relief. You wrap around his thick shaft, loving the needy muffled moan he lets out, his hips moving on their own when they thrust up into your fist. He doesn't even realize he's practically humping into your hand, your lips nipping down his neck.

"I-

"What is it James" You ask with your sweet doe eyes and he manages to blush more. He should be the one making you feel good and taking care of you but instead here he was, scared he'd cum before getting a chance to be inside you. You see his eyes trail down your body, darting down to between your legs, understanding he wants to touch you too. You pull away slightly, lying down on your back for him because fuck, you needed to feel him.

"Angel" His voice was breathless as you spread your thighs apart for him, giving him the perfect view of your soaked pussy and swollen button. He could feel precum starting to dribble from his tip; there was something so beautifully erotic about the way you were giving yourself to him despite how shy you were yourself. Displaying your most sacred and intimate parts to your husband so he'd take care of you.

He loves the way your face contorts with pleasure each time he rubs your clit, moving in slow, deliberate circles. He doesn't get a chance to toy with your for too long when you peck his pouty lips before trailing kisses down his body. His eyes grow wide when you get closer to his cock, his hips nearly lifting off the bed so you'd know where he needed you so badly but too shy to ask.

You take your time to clean off his slick precum that's beading from the tip, his swollen cockhead growing more sensitive each time you flick your tongue across his slit. He lets out soft, sweet babbles when you take him down your throat, his salty taste coating your tongue.

"You're making me leak" He whimpered, biting his lip to keep from letting more high pitched whines slip out, "dragă, st-stop, I'll c-cum"

He's never sounded more gone, gripping onto the sheets while you swirl your tongue around his head one last time before pulling off with a pop.

"oh-OH" His eyes grow wide when you drip down further to take his balls in your mouth instead, the sensation different that anything he's ever felt. A steady dribble of slippery arousal streams out of his cock while you nurse on suckle his heavy sac, addicted to your husbands distinct, sweet taste. You love how heavy he feels in your mouth, the smooth silky head of his pink cock begging to be sucked again.

He know's he'll cum if you keep on going which is why he pulls you up, kissing you deeply before settling you comfortably against the pillows again. He wants to make love to you so badly, even if it's not perfect the first time. He wants to give himself to you, nervously blushing when you spread your thighs for him while he pumps his cock.

"Are you ready?" He whispered against your cheek, the both of you nearly trembling with anticipation when you nod, letting him line his tip up with your fluttering entrance. He lets out the most desperate moan when he starts to push in, his body weight falling on top of you while his cock throbs, already close to cumming.

"Angel, I think m'gonna cum" He whimpers against you neck, knowing the slightest movement will make him blow his load. He hugs and clings onto you tightly, rutting himself into your cunt with the most gentle roll of his hips.

"Want you to feel good Jamie, it's okay" you hug him back while he pants harder trying to give you deeper strokes, he wants to make you feel good, feel how much he adores you by giving you pleasure but he just can't. You feel too good, pussy so warm, silky and soft.

"P-please cum for me angel" He pleads, his hand slipping between your bodies, finding your throbbing clit, rubbing quick circles with his thumb.

"J-James!" You hold onto him tighter, spots starting to cloud your vision with the way he's toying with your body as if he's touched you for years, his cock reaching depths you didn't know existed. "Fuck, fuck baby, feels so good" Your moans nearly turn into wails when he moves faster, his orgasm barreling towards him when you start to clench around his cock.

"Need you to feel good angel, don't wanna cum yet, wanna make love to you" He hides his face against your neck to try and muffle his moans but it's not use, a few sloppy stokes in and hes pumping you full of his seed, unable to stop as stream after stream burst from his cock.

"I-f-fuck, Swetheart, m'cumming- I-oh-hng princess-" He practically rolls over with you, still buried deep in your pussy, your mixed arousal soaking the sheets. His body shudders and he continued to thrust his hips up, grabbing your ass to keep you flush against him, moaning into the crook of your neck, "m'cumming so much for you, god I can't stop"

And he doesn't stop.

You gasp, feeling him still somehow rock hard, his sensitive cock still thrusting into you, his cum making it easy for him to slip in and out of you faster.

"Not done pretty girl, gonna keep my cock in you all night"

****

"Was I okay?" He whispers innocently while you cuddle into his chest, the both of you still naked, snuggling in the sheets. You giggle at his adorable expression, pecking his lips

"Of course baby" You reassure him again, your body still trembling from the way he pulled a second and third orgasm from you.

"Is everything okay for you?" You check in with him, loving that the question okay makes him shy again, the pink on his cheeks now moving to his neck and ears.

"M'happy I waited, that you're my first and only" He playfully shrugged, struggling to meet your gaze while you hugged him tightly, closing your eyes. The both of you drift off to sleep, only to wake up in the middle of the night, blindly reaching for each other again.

No words are said but you end up on top, dinking down on his cock, bouncing up and down, the lights turned off, only the glow of the moon illuminating your skin. He can't help himself, greedily pulling you down towards him when your breasts bounce in his face, desperately suckling on your nipples.

Between the way you ride him and the way your soft breasts in his mouth feel, he doesn't even realized he's whined mommy, eyes closed and clinging onto you like a baby.

Keep in mind, this was Bucky's first time. He's surprised at how needy and subby he can get for you, so desperate to please and pleasure you.

Until he starts to get more comfortable.

When he discovers his dom side the bedroom.

He learns he loves when you call him Sir and Daddy. On the rare occasion the house is empty, he becomes the most filthy fuck you'd meet, pulling his knife out whenever he wants to strip your clothes off and getting on his knees to eat you like a man starved. He'll bend you over anywhere; over the banister, over the kitchen counter, the table, the stairs, the floor when he wants.

If he's not nursing off of your clit, you're between his meaty thighs giving him the most sloppy head of life and he's never been more thankful for his sound proof walls.

He loves being a switch the most, alternating between begging to get a chance to taste you and then railing you with his cock till your crying and dripping with cum.

[sweetiecutie]

🖤Fuck or die🖤

Paring: slasher! König x fem! Reader

Warnings: NSFW, mdni, dead dove do not eat, non-con so rape, cuckolding, unwilling cheating, oral, facefuck, dick piercing bc I know y’all like it, unprotected sex, blood, murder, gore in the end. This is only fiction, don’t take any of this too seriously! If you feel triggered by any of these tags - just scroll past!

Word count: 4k, holy fucking shit

A/n: not me writing this in one day, jesus fucking christ😮‍💨 It’s first time I wrote something so violent, but I think I did pretty good! Originally planned to post it on halloween night but I’m too eager to share!! Also, I tried my best to fix all mistakes by proofreading it 4 times, I really did, but I’m pretty sure that I left out some still

It’s been very uneasy in a small town where you lived - series of blatant murders shook up all inhabitants with their brutality. Cruelly butchered corpses gave a hint of culprit’s strength, so cops guessed it was a man. And the most terrifying thing about this whole situation was that this maniac was still on loose - he never left any evidences, not a damn thing - nothing that could give a clue of who he was. The only trace he’s ever left wasn’t an accident or his mistake, but a well-planned thing - after appearing nameless in numerous news reports and articles he finally decided to introduce himself, writing KÖNIG with his victim’s blood on white flooring, said victim’s two bloody teeth serving as umlaut.

And his motives behind picking out victims were just as unclear - there was nothing in common between all these people: he didn’t have any preferences in victim’s sex or age, their profession nor appearance - as long as they lived in one family house, to avoid anyone hearing their screams, you figured. It seemed that he simply loved killing, who that was - didn’t matter.

You can’t say how exactly it all happened. It was another evening that you were spending at your boyfriend’s place - Paul’s parents were out of town for a few days for anniversary of their wedding, leaving a huge house for their only son. You felt uneasy - there weren’t any new murders in over a month, people were scared that maniac will go “haunting” very soon, which meant that no one was safe.

Paul only cooed at you soothingly when you shared your worries with him, promising to “protect you from all weirdos out there”, placing a comforting kiss on your forehead. So to distract yourselves you decided to throw a movie night - stacking up with snacks and beer, Netflix window opened on a large tv-screen, ready to serve its purpose as you made last preparations.

Cuddled up on the comfy couch, your boyfriend’s comforting warmth slowly seeped into your tense muscles, you watched some corny comedy, groaning in tandem at poorly-made jokes. When suddenly a sound of shattered glass jolted you both up, staring tensely at each other.

- I’ll go check it, - Paul said, getting up and heading to the living room from where the noise came. Everything was quiet for a few long minutes, your fingers fiddled with loose string on the corner of fluffy blanket as you heard some crashing and your boyfriend’s angry shouting:

- Y/n, get out of here!

Then everything was as if in a blur; tall figure clad in all black stepped into the living room, white scream mask contrasting starkly, huge knife covered in thin layer of blood was shining in blue tv-light. Your heart dropped to your stomach as you stared at the man in front of you - sticky feeling of fear seemed to fill every muscle in your body with heavy lead, making it impossibly hard to move even an inch. And then something in your head snapped, you threw yourself off the couch and towards the door opposite from killer, but he was way quicker - huge hands gripped you by your shoulders, rising you off your feet easily and dragging you back towards living room, your struggling and screaming did nothing to help.

You were now kneeling in front of this psycho, hands tied up tightly with coarse rope that dug painfully into your soft skin, surely leaving deep indents and dark bruises. Your boyfriend was laying on his side a few meters afar - bound by his wrists and ankles with same rope, crimson blood oozed out of deep stabbing wound in his stomach, nose obviously broken and bleeding - all these a result of his grapple with intruder, which obviously didn’t end in Paul’s favour.

- Please, - you weeped, tears and snot covered all of your face, whole body trembled with fear and adrenaline. - Please, I’ll do anything you want, just don’t kill me, - you managed to choke out, silent cries tore through your chest, their intensity made it hard for you to breathe - you were hysterical.

- Oh, I know you will, sweetheart, - mechanical voice said in mock sympathy. One huge glowed hand came up to cup your chin, causing you to jolt violently upon feeling the contact; murderer tilted your head upwards, your insides churning upon laying your eyes on white plastic of his mask.

His thumb rubbed soft circles on your wet cheek - it was almost ridiculous how gently he touched you. This made you sob even more, but you didn’t dare to turn away, too scared to anger him.

- That would be a shame to kill such a pretty little thing, after all, - maniac said, glove-clad pad of his thumb swiped over your trembling bottom lip, soft cotton absorbing the mixture of your tears and saliva glazing it. - I may have an idea. Wanna hear it?

Silence set in for a few long gut-wrenching seconds which was interrupted only by your quiet sobbing and sounds of your boyfriend struggling against tight ropes. Quiet squeal tore through your chest as huge hand squeezed your cheeks harshly, yanking your face upward, forcing you to look up at König. Your bleary from tears eyes fixed upon two black holes in his mask, where man’s eyes supposedly were.

- I said “wanna hear it”? - slasher gritted out, his tone harsh as he put heavy emphasis on every syllable he uttered, making you shrink even further into yourself. You nodded your head hastily, not wanting to try out your luck any more.

- Y-yes, - you stammered, your voice giving out making your response sound more like a kitten’s squealing rather than human speech. König stared at you for a few long silent seconds, your knees beginning to tremble from both fear and painful exposure to hard flooring, which soon irradiated onto the whole of your body.

- I’ve been watching you guys, you know? For a few weeks now, - he said nonchalantly, his grip on your face loosened, long fingers tracing intricate shapes on your cheeks and temples, tucking a few strands of hair behind your ears, getting it out of your eyes. A wave of hysterical cries threatened to tear through your throat upon hearing his words, but you tried to suppress them as much as you physically could, staying still before him.

- Yes, - his voice sounded delicate - as if one of those passionate lovers who proclaimed their tender feelings. - Seen you guys do stuff… kiss, cuddle, fuck. A pathetic view, to be honest, - as he said so, his fingers came to tangle in your messy hair, massaging your scalp with soft movements. You felt sick. This man with a dagger bigger than your forearm clasped tightly in one hand, was caressing you so tenderly with another one - his unpredictable behaviour was making your guts churn.

He turned toward your boyfriend who was still thrashing harshly, struggling with all his might against secure confines of tight rope. Your gaze shifted towards your lover as well - the sight made your heart ache - his blood - some already caked and some fresh and shiny - covered the whole bottom of Paul’s face, a makeshift gag out of piece of some fabric was tied skilfully around his head - by the looks of it not to be untied by itself. His eyes met murderer’s, you could make out his muffled promises of killing the bastard, threats to not touch you and to get the fuck out of here. Murderer didn’t look impressed at all, staring silently at your man lying at his feet.

- Look at this pathetic scumbag - I tied your hands loosely, hoped for a bit of a fight, - harsh noise came from the speaker behind the mask, which you figured to be a sigh. König then turned back towards you, his head tilting to the side slightly, you could practically feel his intense gaze prickling on your skin. - Why are you even wasting your time on this piece of shit? He can’t even fuck you right, and you expected this piece of shit to actually protect you from danger? Provide for you?

Hot tears rushed down your cheeks at his words, as you stayed silent, not knowing what to say. König sighed again, rolling his shoulders to rid himself of the tension in sore muscles, his neck popping loudly, making you jolt at the sound.

- Now, my plan is - how about I show you what a real man is like? Set the bar high for you, hm? - he said, a cool glimmer of blood-stained blade caught your eye as König twirled his knife skilfully in between thick fingers barely twenty centimetres away from your face. He noticed your attention shifting from him to his little tool, softly nudging your chin up to look back at him. - Oh, don’t worry darling. If you’re being a good girl that thing won’t touch you, deal?

You nodded your head frantically, swallowing a thick lump in your throat. - Anything, - you choked out, voice hoarse and barely audible but it was enough for him to hear.

- I like the eagerness, - murderer chuckled, straightening his back from semi-crouching position to stand to his full height. His hand left your face with a small pinch on your tear-stained cheek, tossing his knife from one hand to another as if he was juggling; finally gripping the handle tight König pointed the tip of sharp blade towards your boyfriend: - I want you to watch. You dare closing your eyes and she’s dead.

Your eyes widened in panic, staring fearfully at Paul, mouthing silent “please” at him. Maniac shifted his attention back to you; he put his knife into its holster which was attached to his thigh with tight leather straps, you noted that he didn’t secure the handle, making it easier to pull the knife out in one move if needed.

You watched as if in slow motion how his hands came to the waistband of his black jeans, undoing the button and tugging zipper down, pulling front pants pieces apart. Your gaze darted up towards his mask-covered face, confusion mixed with terror written on your face - your insides dropped as you finally realised what he actually meant.

- What? Doll, I promised to show you what a real man is like, - one big hand came to rest on the crown of your head, not pushing nor pulling, just staying there securely. - Now I warn you, you dare using your teeth - I’ll pluck every single one of them before gutting you like a fucking pig, you get it?

Your breath stopped upon hearing his words, shoulders started shaking as strong bout of adrenaline rushed through your veins, making your poor heart pound crazily, threatening to break your ribs from the inside. You nodded your head vigorously, all of a sudden extremely aware of the tight rope binding your wrists together, how your fingers prickled from constricted blood flow, how much your shoulders ached from being pulled back for so long.

- Good girl. Now, go on, - König said, lightly pushing your head towards his clothed crotch. You had to crane your head up painfully because of the height difference between you two in order to even reach König’s private parts. You gazed up at him, unsure of what exactly he wanted you to do, but he just stared down at you silently, not offering any instructions nor comments.

You darted your tongue out, licking a noticeable bulge showing through his boxers, soaking black fabric in your spit. You did it again, and again, fear and adrenaline subduing feelings of humiliation and shame, you could hear your boyfriend’s muffled “get your fucking hands off her”, but König didn’t seem to pay slightest attention to the other male. You tilted your head to the side, pressing your opened mouth to the thick shaft that was trapped between man’s v-line and his tight underwear, sucking on it softly. That made slasher heave a deep sigh, hand on your head tangled deeper in your hair, holding you firmly in place, indicating for you to keep going.

- Now pull my boxers down, - psycho ordered a few seconds later; his voice, though contorted by voice changer, now sounded deeper. You looked frightfully up at him, your hands still bound tightly behind your back.

- But… how? - you asked, a spark of hope igniting in your chest as thought of him untying your hands popped up in your head. But it was extinguished just as quickly as it appeared with his next words:

- Well, think about it, - he shrugged his broad shoulders ever so slightly, your mind racing at the speed of light as you tried to figure out the problem.

You opened your mouth, moving as slowly as you could to indicate that you didn’t mean to do anything reckless - baring your teeth and gently hooking the elastic of his boxers, your canines grazing slightly against warm skin of murderer’s lower stomach. Once you secured your hold on elastic you pulled down on it, managing to slide it down slightly. König’s hard cock sprung right out, standing tall and thick against his clothed stomach - tip was concealed by brownish foreskin, and your eyes widened at the sheer size of him. Your attention was caught by two symmetrical rows of shiny silver balls running along mighty shaft, glistening coldly is white light of living room’s chandelier.

- Now, doll, that’s what a real good cock looks like, - man said, his free hand came to wrap around thick shaft, pumping it a few times to reveal pink head, a shiny bead of precum sitting in the middle of it. - Open wide, princess. And mind your teeth.

You let your mouth fall open, sticking your tongue out; his cock was standing too high for you to reach it in your kneeling position so König had to guide his length down to your lips, your mouth managing to only take his tip and a little bit more inside.

With your mouth full of other man’s cock your eyes wandered in the direction of your boyfriend; thrashing around seemed to finally exhaust him, crimson blood oozed out of the wound in his stomach. His chest was heaving in tandem with his wheezing breath, angry tears streamed down his temples as he stared with fierce anger at your abuser, the sight made your throat clench, causing you to gag on killer’s hefty length.

- Aw, poor girl is not used to a decent cock, huh? Tell me, did the even reach down to your throat? Lemme guess - he was cumming a few minutes after shoving his pathetic ten centimetres in this precious mouth, wasn’t he? - König chuckled darkly, suddenly pushing down onto your head, forcing you to take half his length down your tight throat, keeping you in place as you choked around his thickness, metal balls were rubbing painfully against the softness of your tongue, irritating sensitive buds of it.

Murderer’s free hand joined the one resting on your nape, gathering your hair in a makeshift ponytail, fixating your head in one position. Tears of pain and humiliation rushed down your reddened cheeks as man fucked his massive cock into your tight throat; his pace was erratic, without certain rhythm, making it hard for you to synchronise your breathing with his irregular thrusts. Your lungs burned with lack of air, dainty kneecaps ached from standing for so long on hard flooring, surely bruising your tender skin.

He let go of you only when you actually started to choke, your whole face reddening with exertion; thick strings of spit mixed with precum connected your swollen lips to glistening pink tip, fat tears rolled down your cheeks, dripping down your chin onto the floor below. A choked cry tore through your chest as massive hands manhandled you around, forcing your head down so that your wet cheek was pressed against cold hardwood facing your boyfriend, your back arched and ass up high in the air. König kneeled down behind you, backs of your thighs were touching coarse denim sitting snugly around his legs, cold metal rivets of his holster contrasting brutally with warmth of your skin. Broad palms kneaded on soft pudge of your ass, delivering a strong smack to the swell of your buttcheek, impact softened slightly by the fabric of your shorts and his glove.

Your boyfriend started thrashing as hard as ever, grunting and screaming as much as he could as König pulled your shorts along with your underwear down to your knees, huge hands resting on the bottom part of your ass, thumbs spreading your pussy open. Silent tears ran down from your eyes, gathering in a small puddle on the floor; you heard maniac tut behind your back, a pad of thumb swiped up and down your slit, making you jolt from sudden contact.

- What a shame, - he heaved a deep sigh, straightening his shoulders and looking up at your boyfriend. - She’s wet, dude.

A few small sobs left you upon his words. Paul tried talking back, but a horrible bubbling sound came out of his throat - gag in his mouth was completely red with absorbed blood, some of it oozed down the corners of his mouth, adding to the bloody mess on his face. You sobbed at the sight, squeezing your eyes shut to avoid looking at horrible picture.

- Turns out our little slut likes it rough, yeah? - König mocked, leaning over your frail form, one meaty forearm rested next to your head, huge chest pressed tightly against your back, overstimulating your thus on age senses. Terrifying mask was barely a few centimetres afar from your face as man whispered right next to your ear: - Did he ever fuck you rough?

His heavy gaze was fixed expectantly upon you, huge hand that still rested on your ass squeezed your flesh painfully, causing you to cringe. - No, - you mouthed, but that was more than enough for him. Slasher hummed in acknowledgment, straightening back into his kneeling position.

- Don’t worry love, I’ll give this pretty pussy what she needs, - psycho said, fisting his leaking cock a few times before aligning swollen tip against your tight entrance. With slow but persistent push of his hips König forced one third of his length inside your poor cunt, fresh dose of hot tears rushed from your eyes, pain of penetration adding to the ache all over your body.

With a sharp snap of his massive hips man forced as much of his cock as it’d go into you. Loud yelp tore through your throat, scratching it painfully; stretch of his girthy cock was too much for your pussy to take, ladder of piercings adding to unpleasant feeling. Tender walls fought against his thick length, such sudden stretch caused your muscles to reflexively constrict around him more, drawing a throaty groan to tumbling out of killer’s broad chest.

- There there, dearie. Poor pussy so used to pathetic cocks, can’t even take me whole, - König said in fake compassion, you felt his length throb within you, twitching a few times. Strong hands held you in place tightly, preventing you from moving your hips even for a millimetre.

Murderer generously allowed you a minute or so for your poor cunny to accommodate to his size before beginning to move his hips in shallow but quick thrusts. Soon enough König was full on fucking into you on rapid pace, your whole body jolting forward with intensity of his mighty thrusts, strong arms yanking you back in place every so often.

One of his deadly hands slithered around your ridiculously smaller form, index and middle fingers danced across your spread around his dick folds, causing your stomach to tense at sudden contact. Free hand yanked you up by the rope binding your wrists, urging you to raise your torso; your shoulder blades were pressed tightly against his heaving chest, warmth emitted off him like a fucking radiator.

Clothed fingertips rubbed tight relentless circles on your clit, causing thick pleasure to rush up and down your spine and your back arch uncontrollably. Your teeth clenched to suppress all the small sounds threatening to spill out of your lips; you felt König’s massive form shift behind you, cold plastic of horrendous mask pressed against the side of your face - he was whispering right into your ear, soft voice real and unchanged:

- I’m gonna slit your fucking throat if you’re not using it, - that caused a shiver to rush down your spine, arising goosebumps in its wake. You moaned out, doing as the murderer wanted, letting all the small sighs and moans flow freely from your lips, your voice lower than usual from all the crying and throatfucking.

Your breathing became shallow; your head just wasn’t working anymore - emotional shock along with physical abuse drained you out of all strength - you were a mere rug doll in psycho’s tight grip, and he could do whatever he pleased with you, you were too exhausted to fight back anyway.

Consciousness started to slip out of your grasp, vision blurred out with tears, dark spots appearing in the corners; König’s throbbing dick pounded your poor pussy mercilessly, thick cockhead nudged against all the sweet spots inside of you, his piercings stimulating you even further as if in spite of all your attempts to resist pleasure psycho was forcing onto you. A tight coil curled in the pit of your stomach, threatening to explode with every harsh snap of mighty hips against your reddened ass. Soaked with your slick fabric of König’s gloves felt overbearing against your clit, his fingers never once stopping to rub your sensitive nub.

A few moments later something deep within you snapped, like a rubber band stretched to its limit - suddenly the world around you turned white, ringing noise filled your ears as you had the most painful orgasm of your life being wrung out of you; your body quivered and thrashed in serial killer’s strong grip, unintelligible sounds and words poured out of your lips, barely louder than a whisper. And then everything became quiet. Soft velvet of darkness enveloped your bruised and exhausted body; you were drowning in warm waves of sleep, not finding it in yourself to try and fight them off. You gave in happily, trusting yourself in welcoming hands of darkness and quiet, afar from horrible reality, afar from fear and danger.

It felt as if your head was splitting in two - horrible ache settled somewhere deep inside of your brain, pain irradiated from within to the outsides of both hemispheres, causing you to groan in agony quietly in. Your whole body hurt, eyelids felt swollen and heavy even as they were closed; and then suddenly your eyes snapped open.

You were lying on cold hardwood flooring in your boyfriend’s living room, shorts and underwear still pulled down to your knees, but your hands now free from rope. You pulled your bottoms back up, hot tears pooling in your eyes as you let out a choked sob. You felt wretched, disgusting, dirty.

- Paul? - you called out to your boyfriend, the sound of your own voice startling you - hoarse and scratchy, total opposite from your usual octave.

As you turned around your breath got caught up in your chest, bitter ball of bile got stuck in your throat - you felt like you were about to throw up.

Here lay Paul - pale and lifeless, dull eyes staring blankly into nothingness, gag still fixed tightly around his head, now brown with dried out blood. Some of his insides spilled out of the gaping cut across his stomach, lying on the floor in a small heap right next to him, huge puddle of blood spread out on the floor, getting into all small cracks and gapes in wooden flooring.

And on the wall behind, in strange brownish color that looked all too similar to the caked blood on your boyfriend’s face, in sprawling handwriting were words:

SEE YOU SOON ♡

Slasher! König Masterlist

Another a/n: I’m planning on making it a series - let me know what you guys think<3 Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! Give writes some love - we live off feedback<3

[goldfades]

✮ 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐩, 𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐬, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐝 𝐮𝐩 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 | jack hughes

♡ ─ word count | 3.8k

♡ ─ summary | when you and jack had parted ways, somehow you both knew you'd meet again somehow.

♡ ─ warnings | second chance romance!! slight angst (nothing too crazy), fluffy as fuck!!! jack being a cutie patootie, bsf x luke hughes cus why not???? mention of drinking/bars but that should be it.

♡ ─ taglist | | @dancerbailey3 @valluvsu @daisysnhl @dasiysthings @iminlovewithtz11 @literatureluster @lvrzegras @lxvleyzoe @bowen-power @ru-kru @jackhughesily @hearts-for-luke

♡ ─ ev's notes | okay, so this started off as sweeter than fiction fic but slowly turned into an invisible string fic, but its okay. they both slay and lowkey work well together!!

No matter how hard you tried to forget Jack, you never could.

The moment you both laid eyes on each other, each of you knew it was game over for everyone else. Everyone else was merely everybody else, and the other was just the one. From the first hello to the last goodbye, there was a connection neither of you could fathom.

Jack was more than just your first love or your first everything, he soon became the key to solving all your problems and the keeper of all your secrets. He was the funniest and kindest person you knew, no matter how long you'd been together. That never changed, even after you two parted ways.

It's been almost three years since you seperated but you can still how he made you feel, and all his favorite things: how he liked his coffee, what side of the bed he slept, his favorite soda and how to cheer him up. However, if someone had asked you where he was now, you couldn't tell them.

Well, not necessarily. You knew he plays some NHL team and he was doing what he's always loved, that's all you knew for sure. Some things never change, you guess.

Sometimes, you would wonder if he ever thought of you. Were you just a passing thought or a lasting memory? Did he remember everything or did he forget it? Those questions kept you up at night. But, at the end of the day, you realized that you were happy for him because he was out there, pursuing his dreams. Even if you weren't in those stands, wearing his jersey cheering him on, like he'd always promised.

──

"A hockey game?" You repeated, staring at your best friend Brie. She shook her head, a big smile on her face.

"My friend got tickets a few months ago but he got covid, so he gave them to me. And I knew you were a fan of hockey, so why not?" Brie explained as she leaned back into the couch.

"Not really-"

"Well you grew uo in Ontario so that makes you a hockey fan by association. You're going, end of discussion." Brie sighed exasperatedly, feigning annoyance as a smile enveloped your face. You had no choice now, you had to go.

You couldn't help but chuckle at Brie's determination. She always had a way of roping you into things, and this time was no exception. Despite your initial reluctance, the prospect of attending a hockey game stirred a sense of excitement within you.

A few days later, you found yourself growing curious about the experience. Memories of watching hockey matches with your family in Ontario flooded back, reminding you of the excitement that accompanied each game. One memory stuck out to you, you couldn't remember much but you do remember the warm feeling of his jacket and how your heart was beating- No, no. Focus on the now, Y/N. You reminded yourself as you forced yourself out of your head.

You navigate your way through the big arena and you both finally found your seats, settling in as the game was beginning. Settling into your seat, you let yourself soak in the atmosphere, the sights and sounds of the arena becoming a backdrop to your thoughts and emotions.

The players take to the ice and the game begins, you find yourself swept up in the thrill of the moment. The cheers of the crowd fill the air, each goal and save met with loud applause and excitement. You missed this.

"Y/N, look! That's the one I was telling you about, the one who followed me. Isn't he cute?" Brie spoke with a warm blush on her face, pointing out a number 43. You nodded, watching him glide.

He looked slightly familiar but you couldn't place it. "Wait... Is that why we're here, Brie?"

"What? No. What do you mean? What?" Brie's blush spread to her entire face as she let out a giggle, a telltale sign of her lying. You shook your head with a laugh, of course there was an ulterior motive to coming here.

She let out a sigh and then continued, "Okay fine. He invited me to the game, with free tickets. You wouldn't say no either, alright?"

"Yeah, free tickets are free tickets." You shrugged with another laugh. "Is he cute?"

"You'll see, he told me to come to the bar after the game."

"And I have to come?" You sighed, leading back into the uncomfortable seat of the stands.

"Don't sound too excited, Y/N." She teased as you rolled your eyes playfully. "He has a cute brother and I heard the captain is hot, so... you won't be third wheeling entirely."

"Okay, fine. But what if they aren't cute?"

"This is hockey, babe, there is a very low chance of that happening." Brie said with a big grin as you laughed. That was true, they all happened to be very cute.

With each passing minute, the anticipation grew, fueled by the idea of meeting Brie's acquaintance and his friends. Despite your initial hesitation, there was an undeniable curiosity about what the night held in store.

As the final buzzer sounded and the game drew to a close with another win for the Devils, you found yourself caught between anxious anticipation and excitement. The promise of a post-game gathering lingered in the air, pulling you into its orbit with a magnetic force you couldn't resist.

Brie quickly took you out of your trance, grabbing your hand to rush to the bar. As you entered the busy bar, the atmosphere was electric, pulsating with the excitement of post-game celebration. The air was thick with the scent of beer and sweat as you nervously walked beside Brie to find her friend.

She pulled your sleeve and pointed to a curly-head in the distance before whispering, "That's him."

"Whoa, he's tall."

"I know." She whispered back dreamily as she stared before walking towards him, a confident smile on her face whilst you followed her.

He turned around and your eyes widened. He was familiar, you knew exactly who he was. Luke Hughes, Jack's little brother. Instant regret hit you as you hoped and prayed he wouldn't remember you.

Thankfully, he looked right at Brie with a huge grin. "Oh, hey. Glad you could make it."

He leaned in for a hug and your eyebrows rose, they were already on hugging terms? As they pulled apart, his gaze moved to you and his features changed into a knowing one. You plastered on the best smile you could and silently prayed he didn't remember you.

"Y/N?"

Shit.

But that wasn't Luke's voice, you turned your head to the side to see him. "Jack?"

As the name escaped his lips, your heart skipped a beat, the world around you seeming to slow to a crawl. Time seemed to stand still as you locked eyes with him, the familiarity of his gaze stirring a whirlwind of emotions within you. His blue eyes boring into yours, your heart racing.

In that moment, the weight of the past crashed over you like a tidal wave, memories flooding back with clarity. The sound of his smooth voice, the warmth of his sweet gaze—it was as if no time had passed at all, as if you were transported back to a time when the world was simpler, when your love felt like an unbreakable bond.

For a moment, the world fell away, leaving only the two of you locked in a silent exchange that spoke volumes to only the two of you. Memories of your shared past flooded back, the laughter, the tears, the love that had once bound you together, all laid bare in the space between you.

Jack's expression softened, a flicker of recognition dancing in his eyes as he took in your features. It was as if time itself had stood still, freezing this moment in eternity, the echoes of your past reverberating through the air like a haunting melody.

"Jack, buddy, you're about to spill the drinks." Luke's voice drew both of you out of your trance and back into the present moment and out of your head.

"Yeah, um, sorry. Here." Jack nodded to his brother and handed him the beer as you stared back at him, a troubled expression plastered on your face.

As Jack handed the beer to Luke, the brief interlude allowed a moment of reflection from the intensity of the small exchange. The tension lingered between you, a reminder of the emotions simmering under the surface.

You struggled to find the words to break the silence, the weight of your past weighing heavy on your heart. Each passing moment seemed to stretch into eternity, the air thick with anticipation and uncertainty.

Finally, Jack turned back to you, his gaze searching, as if looking for answers to questions left unasked. The troubled expression on your face mirrored the emotions swirling in you, a storm of conflicting feelings that threatened to engulf you both.

"I... It's been a while," Jack began, his voice hesitant, the words hanging in the air between you like a delicate thread.

"Yeah, it has," you replied softly, your voice barely above a whisper. The memories of your shared past lingered like a ghost, haunting the space between you with their silent presence.

Luke looked a Brie with a knowing look, taking her hand warmly and glancing between you and Jack. "I think me and Brie are gonna get some drinks, we'll be right back."

Before anyone could reject, Luke pulled away your best friend to the bar and she turned around with a sympathetic smile and a shrug. You cursed the younger Hughes as you sighed. Now you have to face Jack alone, without the comfort of your best friend.

You and Jack once again found each other's gaze, staring into each other's eyes with warmth and recognition. His eyes were still as blue as you left them but he looked more mature, facial hair growing on his chin and his hair a little longer but you thought it suited him. But he still has the boyish charm to him, the thing that made you fall for him in the first place. His mouth curved up into a small smile as he watched you observe him.

"How've you been?" His voice echoed and that was another that hadn't changed. You had forgotten his voice on the course of the couple years of separation, you forgot how sweet and smooth it was.

"I've been..." You trailed off, not knowing what to exactly. "I've been good. You?" You settled for a simple answer, not knowing exactly where you stood yet.

"Can't complain." He responded with a shrug, take a sip of his beer. Silence once again filled the space between you as you gazed at each other.

In the absence of words, your gaze held a conversation of its own. The warmth and recognition in Jack's eyes mirrored the emotions swirling within you. For a moment, it was like you were seeing him for the first time again—his features bathed in the soft glow of recognition, his smile warm in the rest of world's darkness. The years had etched lines of experience onto his face, sculpting the contours of his features into something familiar yet different.

And yet, beneath the surface, there remained a sense of familiarity—a connection that defied the time itself and the hurts of the past. It was a reminder of the depth of your shared history, the moments that had shaped you into the people you had become.

You couldn't help but wonder what thoughts raced through his mind, what memories stirred beneath the surface. Did he too feel the weight of the past, the pull of unfinished stories waiting to be told?

"You grew your hair out." He stated softly as he examined your new look. "It looks good."

"Looks like you did, too." You smiled softly and he let out a warm laugh, and it was infectious. The memories, rushed back into your mind at the happy sound and your stomach did a flip. Another thing that hadn't changed, the sweet sound of his laugh.

"Yeah, that's what hockey does to a guy." He explained, his eyes glowing beneath the warm light of bar.

You chuckled, a mixture of emotions swirling within you. "Guess it comes with the territory. You always did love the game."

Jack's gaze softened, a flicker of sentimentality in his eyes. "Yeah, some things just never change, I guess. Hockey's been a constant in my life and I don't think I'll ever stop."

The shared memories of watching games together, the thrill of victories, and the hurt of defeats lingered in the air, connecting you both in a shared history that time hadn't erased.

"I remember how you used to explain the rules to me, as if I was clueless," you teased, a playful glint in your eye.

Jack laughed, the sound a symphony of familiarity. "Hey, but you caught on quick. Besides, it was a good excuse to spend time together."

The mention of spending time together cast a gentle shadow over the present moment, a reminder of the shared past that had once been the foundation of your connection. The complexities of life had woven a tapestry of experiences, leading you both on separate journeys, yet the threads of your history remained intertwined.

"But hey, the hair suits you," you replied, your voice soft with sincerity. Despite the years that had passed, there was a sense of ease in the way you spoke to each other, as if no time had elapsed at all.

Before he could respond, you were suddenly pushed from the back and flew right into the arms. You were shocked and turned around to see a drunk man stumbling. Suddenly, Jack's arm twisted around your shoulder, a protective stance.

"Shit, sorry." He slurred before walking away into the crowd.

The sudden proximity between you sent a jolt of awareness coursing through your veins, the closeness igniting a spark of familiarity that lingered in the air like electricity.

As the chaos of the moment subsided, the realization of how close you two had been struck you with a sudden clarity, leaving your cheeks warm and your heart racing. You both stared into each other's eyes before Jack spoke softly. "Let's go somewhere quieter, yeah?"

With a nod of agreement, you instinctively reached for his hand, fingers intertwining in a silent pact as he led you through the crowd and out into the cool night air. The sounds of the bar faded into the distance, replaced by the soft murmur of the night.

He let go your hand, the cool night air hit the warm area that his hand once was. He gazed out into the night as you looked to the side of his face, a warm feeling filling your body in spite of it being cold outside.

"So, you play on the same team as Luke?" You spoke, breaking the silence between you two.

His lips curved into a smile as he nodded, "Yeah, isn't that funny? We always talked about playing together again but it's cool that we can actually do that now."

You couldn't help but marvel at the twist of fate that brought them together again. The bond between Jack and Luke was woven with shared memories and childhood dreams, all coming true.

"It's amazing how things come full circle," you remarked, a small smile playing on your lips.

"Yeah and Quinn's finally got the captaincy, it's perfect." Jack continued. He looked happy and content with the way things were turning out with his career and his family, it made you happy seeing him happy. "What about you? Anything exciting?" He turned his attention to you, his blue eyes gazing into yours.

You smiled. "Not as much as you, definitely. But I'm about to graduate and get an apartment, all by myself up in New York. Found the perfect one yesterday and I'm driving up there to see it."

"Just like you always wanted, huh?" Jack's smile grew at that. He was comforted knowing that you hadn't changed too much and you were still same old you, despite how many years that had passed.

"Yeah, it's right in the middle of the city, with windows everywhere so I can watch the city move."

Like you had always wanted, Jack thought in his mind with a big smile. "So we are both chasing our dreams, then?"

"Yeah, something like that." You laughed and he joined along. The warmth of his laughter filled your lungs and you felt like you were out of breath just by laughing along with him. It was perfect. The laughter had died down and you both still were locked in gaze.

For a moment, it was as if the world had faded away, leaving only the two of you suspended in the quiet intimacy of the night. The warmth of Jack's presence enveloped you like a comforting embrace, grounding you in the present moment amidst the chaos of the world.

His smile slowly dropped as he kept looking into your eyes. "Why'd we ever break up?"

The bluntness of the question had taken you aback. And you started thinking back to why you broke up. As you searched for an answer, the weight of the past pressed down upon you, a heavy burden that threatened to consume you whole. The reasons for your breakup lingered on the edges of your consciousness, fragments of half-forgotten truths waiting to be unearthed.

You were moving away to college and he was getting into the NHL, the only logical way to go about this about was to break up. Long distance wouldn't have worked and plus, you were both growing up and getting into new worlds, you didn't want him worrying about you while he was out there, pursuing his dreams.

But deep down, you knew that the choices you had made had led you to where you were now, standing face to face with the echoes of your past and the possibilities of the future. The memory of your break-up was clear in your mind, with all the anger and resentment both of you had in that one moment. But something you had said suddenly stuck out to you, "If we are meant to be, we will."

And we did. You thought to yourself as you stared into Jack's eyes. "We were both growing up and moving away, and I-I guess... I didn't wanna burden you."

Jack's expression softened. "Burden me?"

Silence filled the air once again but this time, you felt embarrassed. How could that have led to the break-up? It seems so small but it felt so big before, like it was the end of the world.

"Yeah," you admitted, your gaze dropping for a moment before meeting Jack's eyes again. "I was worried about holding you back, about becoming a distraction when you had this incredible opportunity in front of you. I thought breaking up was the right thing to do, to give you the freedom to chase your dreams without any restraints."

Jack's expression softened, his eyes reflecting understanding. "Y/N, you could never be a burden to me," he replied softly, his voice filled with sincerity. "We were in it together, remember?"

"I'm sorry, Jack," you whispered, the weight of your words hanging heavy in the air. "I... I wish things had been different."

He immediately shook his head and slowly took your hand. "Don't apologize. If things had been different you don't know how that would've worked out, but right now, everything that led us here is perfect." He said sternly as you nodded slowly.

With a nod of agreement, you allowed his words to seep into the depths of your heart, a gentle reminder that the journey you had embarked upon together with twists and turns but ultimately, it had led you to this moment and that was enough.

"I believe that too," you whispered, your voice tinged with hope and conviction. "Every step we took, every choice we made, brought us here, to this moment."

Jack's gaze softened, his eyes reflecting a depth of emotion that mirrored your own. "We found each other again for a reason, don't you think?"

You nodded softly as you gazed back at him, warmth filling your whole body. Before you could answer, you felt a buzz in your pocket and sighed. You were ripped away from this perfect moment and back to reality. You took your phone out and saw the caller ID: "Brie <3"

You answered it, "Hey, Brie."

"Hey, so where are you? I just remembered I have a 9am lecture tomorrow."

You sighed before shaking your head. Brie and her bad memory, "I'm, uh, outside."

"Great, I'll meet you at the car. We have a lot to debrief tonight."

"Oh yeah, a whole lot." You laughed as you stared back at Jack's face with a warm smile. "'Kay, love you."

"Love you."

She hung up and you were met with Jack's gaze, pulled back into the moment. Again, there was silence before you spoke up. "Well, I gotta go."

"I figured." Jack spoke as a smile curved his mouth.

"I'll... see you, then?" Your voice came out in a quiet whisper as he nodded.

You turned around and started walking before you stopped. You couldn't leave without anything, right? It wouldn't be right. You turned around swiftly with a warm smile. "Umm... when can I see you?"

Jack's eyes lit up at your question, a flicker of excitement dancing in their depths. For a moment, he seemed taken aback by your sudden boldness, but a smile quickly spread across his face, warming the space between you.

Jack's eyes lit up at your question, a genuine smile playing on his lips. "How about tomorrow? We could grab coffee or something, catch up properly."

Your heart skipped a beat at his suggestion, the prospect of spending more time with him filling you with a sense of anticipation and joy. The thought of reconnecting with Jack, of rediscovering the depths of your bond, ignited a spark of hope within your soul.

"That sounds perfect," you replied, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

As you exchanged details and finalized the plans, the air buzzed with anticipation. The promise of tomorrow held the potential for new beginnings, a chance to explore the rekindled connection between you and Jack.

As you parted ways, each step carrying you closer to the promise of tomorrow, you couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude for the chance to rewrite the narrative of your story, to carve out a future filled with forgiveness and the prospect unfulfilled promises you once made, coming true.

-> make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated! <-

thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[behidethetrees]

Mike schmidt as your boyfriend hcs ꩜

Pairing: mike schmidt x fem! Reader

Contents: slight angst if u squint, Fnaf mention, Reader and mike are sooo cute hehe

.❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。 .❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。

-You and Mike met in 1983 when you were 15. Mike was smart in the things you werent, So you two made a deal that you could copy off of him . One day when you were walking down the halls you saw the meanest boy in school Trying to bully mike and it pissed you off.

-You pulled the boy off of mike and punched him with no hesitation, Mike was so sure there were hearts in his vision. You were brave and fearless, But you were also gentle and caring when you offered help if he was hurt, He wasnt but He had never wished he was more than on that day.

-Thats when you two started becoming close. At first it was small talk or friendly banter but it slowly turned into never being seen anywhere without each other.

- One lucky day in december of senior year he decided to tell you how he felt in the garden you had showed him. Mike was never romantic, He didnt know what to do or say, So he did whatever guys did in the movies he’d seen. He handpicked you some beautiful pink flowers and wrote you a cute but short letter and handed it to you.

-You accepted his feelings and looked at those puppy dog eyes that crinkled as he smiled.

-Mike is very loyal. He has your initial around his neck and he talks about you almost all the time. (Abby tells you all about it) He has even gotten into a few fights for you, He always defends you even if you aren’t there.

-As mike got older, He starting learning the old way of love. He opens all doors for you, The occasional flowers and cute poems he writes for you, the sidewalk rule, He really knows how to treat his lady.

-Mikes Love Language is definitely quality time. Youre the love of his life and he wants to be with you always! There are alot of times where mike doesnt know what to say or show you how much he loves you. But you know he does by the way he follows and takes you everywhere. How he offers to spend time with you when he gets off of that strange nighshift where he works, Even if it means he gets no sleep.

-Mike is a family man. He loves his little sister and you love her too. You and Abby have a bond that was fun and ‘girly’, in mikes words. (Mike wears bracelets you and abby make for him) When Mike opened up to you about his brother and his parents one day, You just put your head on his shoulder, letting him talk and not mentioning how his voice would wobble and crack every once an awhile.

-Mike struggles with his emotions and mental health. When he feels like its getting bad, He tends to distance himself but you reassure him you are there for him no matter what. You hold mike whether hes crying or not and whisper sweet words into his short curly hair.

-Mike is very jealous and protective. He tries to not to show it but its obvious. His arm slinged over your shoulder everywhere, Making sure everyone knew you were his. Even when you talked to people, He subconsciously glared at the people taking your attention away from him. Mike eyes, that could be so welcoming, were cold.

-Mike loves the date nights you plan for the two of you. Whether it was going out or staying in, He loves being in your presence.

-Mikes favorite part of everyday is at night when you two would cuddle while talking about your future together. He wants to spend the rest of his life with you and hes thrilled someone like you wants that with him too.

A/N!!!: happy halloween!! What are u guys going as? Me and my bf are going as mavis and johnny :3

Hope you enjoyed!

Requests

Taglist: @nowitsmissing