Sadie As Your Girlfriend Hcs ✿⋆.˚⊹

arthur in his journal after talking to mary linton:

hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

vi finally has you.

cw — wlw, oral sex (f! receiving), strap usage, strap is referred to as ‘cock’, overstimulation. men and minors dni.

after so many visits to a particular bar to see a particular person, she finally has you exactly where she wanted you. finally.

with stolen glances, sly and slick smiles, flirtations exchanged had you laying on her bed, legs thrown over her shoulders as she ate you out like you were her first meal out of prison. like she could survive off of your sweetness alone.

you all but writhed under her touch, your sniffles and whines filling the room while vi messily ate your pussy accompanied it. a long and sensual lick from your slit to your clit has you arching your back from her, your attempts of backing away from her touch falling short as two strong and calloused hands held firmly around your waist. “don’t run. taste so fuckin’ good right now. been waiting f’this…” the vibrations of her voice made you tremble, having no choice but to sigh and buck up her hips to your touch, desperate to feel more of her tongue-fucking you.

as if she heard your silent plea, her nose rutted up to your clit, tongue delving deeper into your hole to find more of the delicious results of your arousal, begging for the taste like a starved man. “ooou fuucckk vi..” you whined, throwing your head back as tears blurred your vision. she took that as a chance to take one of the hands that were holding down on your waist to take your swollen clit, her thumb prodding and rubbing experienced circles on it that’s guaranteed to give her those sweet mewls that make her throb. with the same hand that was working on your clit, she teasingly slides a finger from your slit and sinks one in your pussy. so tight, so warm—it could get her drunker than any amount of alcohol.

she knew she had you when you arched as her long finger easily finds and presses firmly against a squishy spot, taking it as a sign to add another finger. “pussy’s sucking me up so good, gonna be as good for my dick, yeah?” she smirked as she pressed and moved even deeper, causing you to cry out her name like a devotion to her, to a woman you only just met a few days ago at a stupid bar you worked. “mmh— yes, yes, vi! gonna be just as good f’you..” you babbled out. you didn’t even know what you was saying for real. as long as she kept on finger-fucking you through it.

“yeahhh, i know you will.” she dipped and gave your clit a nice kiss, like an reward to you for clenching around her fingers, feeling you getting closer and closer. “can feel you baby, squeezin’ me so tight. you wanna cum? c’mon..” she egged you on. but all you can do is nod pathetically as the knot in your stomach became unbearably tight, searching for release at the precipice when her thick and long fingers abused your insides, your juices messily coating her fingers, mouth and even the sheets.

“i got you, baby. c’mon, let go for me. i’m right here.” she mumbled against your sex, eagerly lapping and slurping up your juices. your chest heaves and you swear your vision got even blurrier, “d-don’t stop! fuuckk please don’t stop,” your thighs practically squished her head as she brought you there. she didn’t mind it through. why would she? she would die if it meant a pretty girls thighs crushed her head open as she came on her tongue.

“cumming, ‘m cumming vi, fuck—!!” you braced her as you threw your head back, beads of tears falling from your eyes as you came impossibly hard. gripping the sheets tightly as spots of white clouded your vision. strings of clear and cloudy ropes glazed her fingers and mouth, having her chuckling against your clit as she eagerly lapped and took it all, having you turned into a pathetic, melted mess.

after she was done, she kissed you up to your stomach, your neck, journeying all way up until she found your lips. when she finally made it back to your mouth, her lips and chin were glistening in your essence, so much so it made you a little flustered and self-conscious, but that all quickly disappeared as her lips captured yours. when you moaned into her mouth, her tongue slickly slipped inside your mouth, making her taste you on her tongue. she pulled back slightly, speaking against your lips, “y’taste that? taste so fuckin’ good, huh?” you could only nod weakly as a response, not letting you reply verbally as she kissed you again, making sure you tasted all of you.

you feel her fat cock slide against your slippery and wet slit teasingly, earning her a weak mewl against her lips. “yeah? you want it?” you feel her shit-eating grin against your lips, having you sniffle under her. “a-ahuh, want it so bad vi, please..” she kissed just right besides your lips before she angled her hips in a way that her tip would tease your entrance but not going quite there yet. she wants to feel you squirm first. she quickly got what she wanted, of course. “please—please, vi..” you pitifully bucked up your hips, desperate for any type of friction. your begging brought a chuckle out of her, standing up fully as she grabbed your thighs, folding you like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

“alright, alright, i’ll give ya what you want. you don’t gotta beg no more, i got you.” she spreads your thighs further, wanting to see her slide into your pussy and watch her cock slowly disappear in it. “look at that..” she murmured under her breath, the sight giving more heat to her core. you bit your lip down, tilting your head back slightly as you failed to keep your voice leveled as she filled you up so good, inch by inch. “oh my gods, vi,” you breathed out, barely even having the time to actually react as she fully sheathed in you, filling you up impossibly good. she groaned as she slowly thrusted into you, getting off at your pussy making sweet squelching sounds that filled up the room. it spurred her on, making her increase her pace so that the noises of wet skin smacking contributed to the nasty sounds that surrounded the room as well.

you squeezed your eyes shut despite looking at you through it all. having vi so deep inside you just felt so, so right. you could get used to this. “mmh, been thinkin’ about this for so long..” you repeated her past saying to her. she rocked into you more, pulling out a little more than wanted before she slammed back into you again, earning a delicious cry from you. “you wanted this so bad, doll? thought about it a lot?” she tilted her head at you. “s-so bad, vi..” you sniffled. “yeah baby?” she panted out, “how much? tell me.” you mewled, your back taut at her words. you were too turned on to care about the potential embarrassment of your confession right now. “nngh, ‘til it hurt— fuck!”

vi let out a low growl, her fingers gripping your thighs a little tighter. “you're gonna kill me," she panted. she took it as a sigh to go harder, deeper, making sure she can do better than your pesky fantasies.

“haah.. yeahhh, that’s it, take it just like that baby..” she moaned, her grip on your thighs growing more firm as she increasingly went harder and deeper, grinning when she heard you moan under her. “oh fuuuckk, vi—!! in s’deep, s’full..” you cried out. you felt her hand graze your tummy before slowly pushing down on it, making you both feel her cock poke through your stomach, your breath caught in your throat. “yeah? y’feel that? feel me deep inside you?” you nodded pathetically, your pussy clenching around her at her words. “ahuh, so deep, feels so…” she leaned in closer at your words, the action making her angle her hips better so that she can hit the spot that makes form tears in your eyes. “mhmm, feels so what? tell vi allll about it.” she pressed a soft kiss right besides your lips as she continued to drill into you, such a vast contrast knocking all of the words from your mouth. babbles of her name spilled from your lips as if it was the only word on your mind right now. mind full with just vi, vi, vi.

“vi— shit! getting close, ‘m getting close..” her cock reached impossibly deep, making your legs shake around her. you didn’t even know that you could get as deep as this until vi came around. thank the gods for leading her to you. her abdomen clenches, feeling herself slightly quivering from her own pleasure. she could cum just like this, deep inside you and hearing pretty wanton moans fall from your pretty mouth. every ridge finds comfort in the home of your pussy, fitting like a puzzle, like the gods lined you together just for you to take her cock. “yeah? you getting close f’me baby?” she breathes out, punting her cock deeper and harder, determined to bring you to that edge again, splitting you open with every jarring snap of her hips.

“cum, pl-leease vi, need t’cum so badly, baby please—“ she looked down at you, and fuck weren’t you ruined. tears lumping up your pretty eyelashes, drool from your pretty mouth, cheeks stained by your tears. you were so beautiful. “c’mon, give it t’me, cum alll over my cock, i got you, fuuckkk…” with a few final thrusts, you crying out her name and the both of you cooing out dirty praises, you came harder than last time, spoiling her cock with creamy cum that even gave a pretty white ring around the shaft.

it didn’t take long at all for her to cum right after you, trembling slightly as she moaned out your name and fucked you through your orgasm. she started kissing all over your face, each kiss followed by sweet nothings against your skin. she never pulled out fully, only slightly as she raised herself up, grinning and looking down at your fucked out expression. no way she was going to stop now.

“think you can give me one more?”

© 7KH 2024, all rights reserved — do not claim, modify, copy or translate my content.

arthur is rude to that one sex worker because the guys are fucking around as they oughtn't be and he actively wants the source of their distraction to go away. that is how he operates through the entire game: deliberate, utilitarian intimidation and strategic unpleasantness to achieve a goal. it is an early game commentary on arthur meant to position him as a big dog that barks. it is not a commentary on his views about women which are clarified many times afterward. you guys realize that right

anyways, don't forget your daily click to help palestine!!!! 🇵🇸

the love of your life is a weird and off-putting girl on tumblr

um sorry for moaning when you stabbed me. it's been a really long time since anyone touched me like that

in tears after this that was so beautiful oh my god ): <3

WHERE IT’S SAFE.

ellie williams x reader | fluff & a little bit of angst ♡ patching up ellie. wc: 1782

contains: descriptions of violence, disassociation, panic responses, emotional intimacy, intimate nudity (non-sexual).

a/n: im weeping and screaming

Enjoy ♡

The door slammed behind you as you locked it tight, your chest heaving. Ellie stumbled in after you, barely upright, her hoodie soaked in blood and something worse. Her hands were shaking. Her face was pale. And she wouldn't look at you.

"Sit," you said gently, guiding her toward the chair without waiting for a reply. She moved like she was in a daze, limbs stiff, haunted eyes still scanning the room like she wasn't convinced it was safe.

You crouched in front of her, already digging through your first aid kit with trembling fingers. "Ellie," you whispered. "I need to see."

She gave the smallest nod, and you peeled back her jacket—slow, careful not to jostle her too much. That's when you saw it. 

A long, raw gash along her ribs, blood crusted along her arm, scrapes up her neck. Nothing too deep, nothing infected—but it was bad enough.

Your heart clenched.

"They were everywhere," she rasped. "I—I almost didn't get out."

You swallowed hard and dipped a cloth in warm water. "But you did get out."

She didn't respond. Her gaze was locked somewhere far away.

Not just far—gone. Like she wasn't really in the room with you anymore.

Her eyes were glassy, unfocused, staring past your shoulder at nothing. Breathing shallow. Shoulders tense like she was still there, still fighting.

You dabbed at the blood carefully, your touch featherlight despite the tension in your chest.

She flinched.

"Sorry," you murmured.

"Doesn't hurt," she said quickly—too quickly.

You paused, watching the way her jaw clenched, how she wouldn't look at you.

Even like this—bleeding, trembling, barely pieced together—she was still trying to pretend she wasn't falling apart. 

Like if she said it enough, it might be true. Like staying tough meant she hadn't just survived hell.

But then... it happened again.

You saw it in her eyes first-the way the light dimmed, how her gaze slid past you and fixed on nothing. Her shoulders went rigid. 

Her breathing turned shallow, uneven. It was like someone had flipped a switch and pulled her under.

"Ellie," you breathed, softer now, familiar with the signs.

No answer.

She was dissociating again.

Her hands were still, fingers slightly curled, her whole body frozen like she was somewhere else—back in that alley, or that house, or wherever her mind had fled to escape the weight of it all.

You dropped the cloth. Moved closer.

"Ellie... hey. You're doing it again," you whispered, touching her knee gently.

"Come back to me."

You brought her hand to your chest, pressing it flat against your heartbeat.

Steady. Real.

"That's me. Right here."

Still nothing.

So you reached up, cradling her face in both hands this time. Her skin was cold.

Her lips slightly parted, breath shallow.

"Ellie," you said again, firmer now—but still soft. "Look at me, baby. You're safe."

Her eyes twitched. A small flicker of something passed through them. Then, slowly, finally, she blinked—and her focus shifted back to you.

"There you are," you whispered, thumb brushing along her cheek. "It's okay. I've got you."

Her voice broke the silence, barely audible.

"I thought if I died out there, no one would even know I was gone."

Your breath hitched. She wasn't crying, but her voice trembled like she was holding back a flood.

"I kept thinking about you. Wondering if you'd be waiting... or if you'd just think I disappeared."

You leaned in and pressed your forehead to hers.

"I'd never stop looking for you," you whispered. "Not ever."

You stayed there for a moment, just breathing together. Then, gently, you reached for her other hand—still bloody, scraped raw— but you didn’t care. You brought it to your lips. You kissed each knuckle, one by one.

"I like your hands," she murmured, voice small.

You smiled softly. "Yeah?"

"They're warm. Not like mine."

"I like yours too," you said. "They're strong. They saved us both more than once."

You went back to cleaning the gash on her side, slower now, more careful.

Every time she winced, you soothed her with soft words. When you finished, you pressed the last gauze into place and leaned in to kiss just above it—gentle, reverent.

Then another kiss. One at her temple.

One at the corner of her mouth.

And finally—when she leaned into you— you kissed her lips.

It was slow and tender, her breath catching like she wasn't used to being touched so softly. Her hands gripped your shirt, grounding herself, and you could feel the way her whole body trembled—not from the pain anymore, but from letting go.

When you pulled away, her eyes fluttered open, glassy and unsure.

"I missed you," she whispered.

"I'm right here," you said. "You're safe. You did everything you could, and you came home."

Her forehead dropped to your shoulder.

You held her tightly, burying your nose in her hair, breathing her in. Blood and salt and the faint scent of her skin beneath it all.

"Don't let go," she said.

"Never."

You stayed there like that for a long time

—just holding her. Letting her come down. Letting her remember she was still alive, still loved.

And when you finally pulled her close and helped her onto the bed, she let you. Curled into your chest like she belonged there.

The world outside could wait.

Tonight, all that mattered was that she made it back to you. And you weren't letting her go.

You helped her lie down on your shared bed.

You kissed every bruise. Every scrape.

Her fingers found yours and didn’t let go.

She curled into your chest like it was the only place she could breathe.

“I keep thinking…” she whispered against your neck. “What if I never get to grow old with you?”

Your heart cracked open.

“Don’t say that,” you breathed, holding her tighter.

“I think about it all the time, every time I’m out there. Fighting.” She said. “That one day I won’t come back, and you’ll be here. And I’ll just be—gone. And I won’t get to see what you look like with wrinkles and grey hair. Or how your voice sounds when you say still love me after fifty years.”

You kissed her hair.

“We’ll get that,” you said. “You and me.  Even if it takes the world falling apart.”

She buried her face in your neck. “Promise me.” She said while her hand reached for your waist.

“I promise.”

A long silence.

Then: “Can I touch you?”

You blinked. “Of course.”

Her hand slipped under your shirt—not with lust, but reverence. She traced your ribs, your waist, the soft skin of your stomach like she was trying to memorize every inch.

“I thought about this when I thought I was gonna die,” she murmured. “Not sex. Not anything like that. Just.. this. Feeling your skin. Knowing you’re alive.”

She reached for the hem of your shirt. “Is it okay if i..?”

Your eyes met hers, all softness and trust. “Yeah.” You breathed.

You let her take your shirt off. Then hers. Just warmth, skin to skin.

Her lips brushed your collarbone. 

“I love you,” she said, voice shaking. “I love you so much it hurts.”

“I know, Els.” You whispered. “I love you.”

She kissed your sternum, then the side of your chest, her hands roaming gently. Then she hesitated, her fingers hovering over your inner thigh. 

“Can I?” She asked again, quieter. 

You nodded.

She let her palm settle there, her thumb tracing delicate circles on the inside of your thing. Not near your center. Just close enough to make you whimper.

Not from desire.

From how good it felt to be touched like this. Like she knew you. Like she cherished you.

“Shit,” she whispered. “You’re so soft here.”

Your breath shook. You squeezed her hand. 

“I didn’t know being touched like this could feel like.. breathing.”

Her head dropped against your shoulder. 

“I almost died thinking I’d never get to lay here again. Just like this.”

You didn’t speak. Just kissed her temple. 

Then her voice cracked, slurred with exhaustion.

“I don’t wanna be a ghost in your life. I don’t want you to remember me—I want to be here. With you.”

Your throat burned.

“You’re not a ghost,” you whispered. “You’re here. You’re mine.”

She looked at you then, eyes wide and wet.

“I would’ve come back from the dead just to hold your hand one more time.”

And you let her. Let her explore your body like it was the only thing keeping her sane.

Let her kiss the hollow of your neck, the curve of your stomach, the scars you never let anyone see.

Her breath hitched. Her mouth hovered lower, pressing the faintest kiss over the curve of your chest—just above where your heart beat loud and steady beneath her lips.

Not sexual desire.

Not need.

Just longing.

Like she was trying to tell you something she didn't know how to say. Like kissing you there might be the only way to make you understand.

You felt her exhale shakily against your skin.

Her hands didn't wander. They just held you.

And still, that kiss burned.

You let her love you.

Not with lust.

But with every ache in her chest. Every brush of her fingers. Every shaky breath she took against your skin.

She pulled back just enough to look at you-really look at you. Eyes dazed, reverent, like seeing you this close had unraveled something in her.

"You're so fucking pretty," she whispered, voice hoarse, like it physically hurt to hold that truth inside any longer. "Like—it hurts to look at you. I don’t deserve it.”

And before you could answer, her mouth was on yours.

Not rushed. Not hungry.

It was slow. Deep. Endless.

The kind of kiss that felt like falling into the center of the earth.

You whimpered into her mouth, and her breath hitched. Her hand cradled your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek as she tilted her head and kissed you deeper.

 You could feel the tremble in her fingers. The ache behind every movement.

"Fuck. Ellie," you breathed against her lips—her name breaking out of you in a soft, shaking moan.

She gasped at the sound. Pressed closer.

She kissed you again, harder this time, but not rough. Just full. A kiss like gravity. Like a tether pulling you both back to the earth.

She moaned your name into your mouth, voice breaking with it—like saying it too loud might shatter her.

You didn't know how long you stayed like that, tangled in each other, your mouths slow and warm and desperate with affection. But when you finally pulled away, your breaths were fast and shallow, hearts thudding like drums.

Your foreheads stayed pressed together.

"I love you," she said, wrecked. "God, I love you so fucking much."

You kissed her once more-soft and slow— then eased her down into the blanket, tucking her against your chest. Her breath hitched once, then began to steady. Your hand moved gently through her hair as her body relaxed, piece by piece.

She fell asleep there, wrapped in you like a lifeline.

She didn't flinch in her sleep this time. Just breathed. Soft and steady. Like she was home.

whew.

Critcism and ideas are heavily appreciated (˶ˆᗜˆ˵)

thank you for reading! ♡

Kid?

Logan Howlett x fem!mutant!reader A/N: I haven’t watched X-Men since I was a child, so I can’t promise this is going to be canon-compliant. I haven’t watched DP & W either, I’ve just been influenced by that one gif where Hugh Jackman shakes his head like a dog. I feel FERAL Also, I am not good at superhero names or coming up with creative powers. So you’re a mutant with matter manipulation and they call you Flux. I mean, superhero names are inherently ridiculous so I think this works. (Don’t judge me, I’m just here for the sexy man) Summary: You walk in on Logan and Jean in a compromising position and feel your heart break. You really thought he loved you, you were so wrong. (Or were you?)

It was your own fault, you should have knocked before you busted through the door. You only have yourself to blame as you struggle to catch your breath and swallow down the lump in your throat. The image of Logan standing between Jean’s bare legs is going to haunt you for a while. Their faces will keep you awake at night, cringing at yourself while you remember the humiliating moment. 

You rush towards the door, a stupidly giddy skip to your step. You were a mutant, a superhuman, and getting a chance to talk to your crush should not have you giggling like a schoolgirl. Still, you’re blind to all logic when it comes to Logan. 

You turn the corner, spotting the medbay and nearly ramming into the door you know he’s lurking behind. Charles had told you where to find him. Of course, you hadn’t paid attention to the odd tone of voice when he had very clearly warned you to knock. All you’d heard was Logan’s name and you’d zoned out for the rest of the conversation. 

And, of course, you don’t knock. You grab the door’s handle and bust in, “Hey!” Your eyes widen and your stomach plummets with a depressing plop to the floor. Your eyes nearly bug out of your head when you see the way Jean and Logan are entangled in each other. He’s leaning over her, the muscles and veins in his neck pulsing with strain. Normally, that sight would have you nearly drooling. 

Instead, all you can see is the flush on Jean’s cheeks and the way her pupils are dilated with want. Her nails are digging into his back, bare legs twined around his waist. There’s no way to misinterpret this. No way for you to later assure yourself that this was all just a misunderstanding. 

The words stumble out of your mouth in a disjointed mess that even you can’t decipher. You stand there, jaw opening and closing like a fish out of water before you finally get it together. “Charles,” you stutter out, his name sounding like a question. You wince and finally tear your gaze away from them. “Sorry,” you chuckle, trying to play off your hurt as humor. “Charles needs us all for a mission.”

You don’t give them a chance to respond, you slam the door closed, ignoring what you think might be someone calling your name. 

You shake off the mortifying memory and groan. Your head falls into your hands and you grip at your face until the pain distracts you from the embarrassment. It’s not too hard to push it all down, to pretend what happened didn’t make your heart crumble away into nothing.

Maybe it’s because you’re a mutant that you’re so used to rejection. You’re used to constantly being disappointed by people around you. Your childhood was nothing but cruelty, your crush not liking you back can’t compare to half of what you went through. 

That’s what you tell yourself, at least, to try and pretend it doesn’t hurt as much as it does. You shove it down until you think you can’t feel that dull ache anymore. And when Jean and Logan walk into the room, looking more put together, you smile at Logan like you always do. It doesn’t turn down at the corners, your eyes don’t water. You take in a deep breath and look utterly unaffected. 

He sits down beside you and leans towards you. “I can explain-”

You cut him off and shake your head. “Forget about it. I should have knocked.” You turn towards Charles who wheels himself to the front of the room. You dismiss Logan and ignore the way his stare burns into the side of your head. 

Charles looks to Jean and Logan, a smile starting. Then his gaze drifts towards you and your chest deflates when you see the look on his face. He knows, the old miser probably coasted over your thoughts and he knows. He sends you a sympathetic look that makes you feel like a little girl who just got told unicorns don’t exist. “Jean, Logan, glad that you’ve finally joined us.”

Logan nods and leans back in his chair. But his eyes remain fixed on you and it makes you wish you could stab a fork into them. You let out a short, irritated huff of air and frown at yourself. Maybe you were a little more angry than you would like to admit. 

You blame Logan for that. You never would have fallen so deep into infatuation if you hadn’t believed there was even a sliver of a chance with him. Always speaking so kindly with you when he would barely spare anyone a second glance. Constantly doing checkups on you after a particularly harsh training session with Charles. 

Your mind runs over all the small things with him, everything you’ve done together. And you’re hit with a sudden nauseating thought. Oh my god, what if he sees me paternally?

You force yourself not to physically react but inside your throwing up and fucking freaking out. You feel a sudden spark of alarm from Charles and quickly do your best to fortify your mind so he doesn’t see your major mental freakout. 

You’re not that much younger than him. Well, it’s not illegal, your crush on Logan. But what if this entire time, when you’ve been falling harder and harder for him, he’s just been platonically taking care of you? You’ve seen him do it plenty of times for the younger kids, as reluctant as he is to admit it. 

You’re spiraling further and further into panic. So much so that you have no idea what’s even being discussed or what’s going on. You get onto the jet and have to ask Storm what you’re doing. She gives you a confused look but tells you nonetheless. Just some recon on a potential mutant trafficking ring. Nothing out of the ordinary, as depressing as that is. There shouldn’t be much violence, which is why your group is particularly small today.

You nod your head, moving like you’re in a daze as you throw yourself onto a seat. Logan sits beside you, an alarmed look on his face. “You alright, kid?”

The nickname, which is used to make your stomach flutter, makes you want to throw up. How have you missed it for this long? It was laid out so plainly before you. Of course, he doesn’t want you. Not when he has perfect Jean. Bile rises in your throat with a vicious ferocity when you glare over at Jean. 

There’s a sudden petty, vindictive rage fueling you. The type you should have abandoned in high school, especially now that you’re grown. Instead, you feel like giving into Logan’s idea of what you are. You feel like reacting to all of this petulantly. 

You ignore Logan and instead catch Jean’s eyes. Slowly, and with as much intention as you can force into your gaze, you look from her to Logan and then Scott. Her eyes widen and Logan scoffs beside you. She shakes her head minutely, silently begging you not to say anything. You smile at her and stand up.

You take a step towards Scott and Logan calls out an irritated, “Kid.” You ignore him and Jean eyes you warily as you approach. She stands like she’s ready to fight you and take the jet down just to keep you quiet. You reach Scott and can hear the way Jean takes in a sharp breath. 

“Scott,” he looks up at you with his brows raised. There's a pause before you speak. Dragged on too long for Scott not to realize you’re planning something. 

Jean takes a step towards you and you grin, “Mind checking my cuffs?” Scott gives you an odd look and his confusion only gets worse as Jean slumps onto the seat beside him. She’s not even trying to hide her relief. Scott shakes his head and holds his hands out, fingers gently probing around the cuffs on your wrists. The ones that keep your powers in check. 

You’re still new to welding them. And they’re too entwined with your emotions for you to just have free range with them. If you hadn’t had the cuffs on this morning, you’re afraid you might have just turned everything around you into nothing but dust.

“They look fine, Flux.” His tone betrays his thoughts. He doesn’t know why you’d come to him for this when it’s Charles who usually deals with it. But this stupid, petty little display wasn’t for poor oblivious Scott. It was for the woman sitting next to him. The redhead whose still drilling holes into your skull. 

You’ve got leverage over her that you’ve never had before. Scott wouldn’t take her little foray with Logan very well. And all it would take is a flick of your wrist to give him a very clear image of exactly what you’d seen. Then, her picture-perfect relationship would be over in a matter of seconds. You’re sure Logan would be more than pleased. But he doesn’t seem to understand that Jean just wants to have fun with him, she’d never choose him over Scott. 

“Thanks,” there’s a bite to your tone that you’re not used to. You usually keep your emotions relatively in control. That way you won’t have to wear these cuffs one day. But you feel volatile today. You’re channeling your hurt and turning it into misguided anger. 

You drop your wrists to your sides and stalk toward the front, hovering behind Charle’s and Storm’s chairs so you don’t have to look at the others. It doesn’t take long for you to feel the floor trembling under heavy booted steps. 

Logan’s arms rest on the headrest of the chairs, bracketing you in between them so you can’t escape. He leans forward until his chest is pushed against yours and you can feel every ridge of his muscled torso pressing into you. You try not to suck in a breath, try not to play into the cliche of instantly forgetting why you’re angry when you’re faced with those muscles of his. It is hard, though, because he’s so handsome and so warm and you just want to melt into him. 

“Wanna explain what the hell that was?” His voice is so low, whispering against the shell of your ear so only you can hear. You feel the vibrations of it against your back, his tone more gravelly than it should be. 

You glance over your shoulder at him, face placid and blank. “What? Just needed some help.” Storm looks over at you both and rolls her eyes. 

Logan opens his mouth to say something but she cuts him off. “Put a pin in the lover’s spat, we’re landing.” Using just a bit of your power, you push Logan off of you and head towards the back of the jet. There’s a slight jolt as you land and then the ramp opens up and you’re practically running into the snowy forest. 

You don’t know where you are, mainly because you weren’t paying attention, you just know it's fucking freezing. The leather of your suit isn’t doing much to help fight against the chill. Charles stays on the jet and reminds you all that this is only meant to be recon. You’re partnered up with Logan, and as much as it irritates you, you’re not stupid enough to argue against it.

You have to put aside your personal grievances for this mission. You can’t risk the safety of mutants because the guy you like likes another girl. Logan seems pleased about it, stubbornly staying by your side even when you make it clear you want space. 

You both linger behind the other’s as Storm leads you through the forest. Jean is being more touchy with Scott than normal. Either to assuage her own guilt or to rub it in Logan’s face, you’re not sure which. You nearly gag as you watch them whisper to one another, you glance over at Logan to see if he notices. 

You’re startled when you see him already staring at you. His lips tick up into something mischievous when he catches your eye. That smug smirk on his face as he leans in towards you. “Wanna tell me what’s got you so pissed off?”

You roll your eyes and tamp down the rising tide of anger. “Nothing,” you bite out, jaw clenching the longer you stare at the back of Jean’s head. You’re surprised you haven’t chipped a tooth with how hard you’re grinding your teeth together. 

He scoffs, not believing you for a second. He doesn’t say anything, just gives you an expectant stare. You can taste the words forming on your tongue, an irritating urge to just spill your guts overcoming you. Before you can stop yourself you blurt out, “I’m a little surprised that’s all.”

“Oh yeah, ‘bout what?” You hate how amused he sounds, the chuckle just lying in wait under his words. Like your anger is funny to him, like he didn’t just break your stupid fucking heart. 

You stop walking, not feeling as intimidating as you want while you shiver and huddle into yourself. He seems perfectly at ease in his leather jacket and beater, still refusing to wear the uniform. He leans back and looks at you with a fondness that you can’t tell if you love or hate. “You and little Miss Perfect.” You spit the nickname with enough venom to make both of your eyes widen. 

Logan rolls his eyes and takes a step towards you, again, Storm interrupts you both. “Guys, really?” Everyone turns around to stare and you will the heat in your face away. “Not the time,” she scolds and you brush past Logan to catch up with the others. 

You come upon a warehouse, it’s nearly camouflaged under all the snow. You see two guards waiting outside the metal doors and you all disperse behind the trees. Storm glances towards Jean who focuses on the guards. They drop to the floor and you wave your hands, their guns melting into puddles of metal. 

Logan and Scott move forward, sliding the large metal doors open. You wince at the loud screeching as the rust flakes off the sides. There’s a collective quiet as you all hold your breath, waiting for them to give the all-clear. Once they run inside and run back out, you and the others quickly get to your feet and rush into the warehouse. Logan closes the doors again as you make it inside. 

“No one here?” Storm checks. Scott shakes his head and you frown. That doesn’t make any sense. Why would there be guards if there was nothing inside?

Your question is, unfortunately, answered a minute later. You find a pile of metal crates stacked on top of each other. A large beige tarp covers them. You tug at the corner, letting the fabric slide off. Your eyes flutter with disappointment, “Guys! Over here,” mutants sit inside the crates. Each of them stares at you with varying degrees of mistrust and fear. 

As awful as it is, you’ve gotten used to these quiet depressing missions. There aren’t usually many mutants in one place. They don’t like to keep the product in one spot for too long. There are only four kids here. The youngest is eleven and the oldest is seventeen. There’s nothing physically telling about their abilities so you assume it must be psychic powers. 

They don’t want to come with you until you all give them a demonstration of your powers. Proving that you’re not just trapping them and taking them somewhere worse. You’re nearly out the door when Charles's voice rings loudly through all of your minds. 

You wince at the volume, hands coming up to grip at your hair as he shouts, “Behind you!” A gunshot rings out, something hot rips across your wrist and you gasp in pain. There’s a clatter of metal as your cuff drops to the ground, the bullet having destroyed it. Without them both, they’re useless. One won’t work without the other. 

You glance up at Logan, a panicked look on your face. You can already feel the tidal wave of power thrashing and building in your chest. It’s been so long with the safety net that you forgot how bad it gets without the cuffs. 

“We need to get you out of here!” He shouts over the gunfire. He herds the group behind a cluster of metal shipment boxes. It provides enough cover for you all to try and figure out an escape plan. 

You listen to the other’s worried voices, each of them trying to console the kids. You don’t know their powers yet. Don’t know what might go wrong if they get too scared and can’t control their abilities. 

You can’t speak, breaths coming short and fast as you clutch your wrist to your chest. You know it’s delusional, hoping that if you keep a tight grip like the cuff you might be able to control yourself. You can already feel the energy leaking out of you, the ends of everyone’s hair stands on end. The wall in front of you warps and cracks like it can’t decide if it’s liquid or solid. 

You grit your teeth and look only at Storm. “You need to get out,” you force the words out. It causes physical pain to try and keep everything at bay. You can feel pressure building in your forehead, pushing out until you think you might explode. 

“We’re not leaving you,” Logan snaps. There’s shouting going on behind you, a pause as they all reload their guns. 

“Wasn’t a question,” you grit out. You look towards Jean and there’s a moment where you both put aside your differences. You both know how stubborn he is, how much he’ll fight against leaving you behind. Regenerative powers or not, it's dangerous to even be close to your gift now. You can see them all straining against the ebbing flow of your powers. Their skin shifts unnaturally like you’re already altering the atoms of their being. 

This is why you’re only allowed to train with Charles and Jean. They can get in your head, shut it down when you can’t. You’re not sure you’re going to survive yourself. Logan glances between the two of you and practically growls at Jean, “Don’t you fuckin’ dare-”

His words trail off into an unintelligible slur as he slumps forward, Jean having knocked him out with her powers. Scott grabs him and grunts under the weight of his body. “I’ll cover you,” you gasp the words out. Anything but focusing on your powers causes physical strain that makes you feel like you’re being tugged in a hundred different directions. “Just get them out,” you nod towards the kids. 

Storm nods and you slip out of cover. It isn’t hard to push your powers in one direction, to solidify the air in front of you so the bullets ricochet harmlessly off. You listen to the whine of the metal door and wait for the others to be gone. 

“They’re in the jet,” Charles's voice rings out. “Don’t do this,” he warns. You can’t think of a response, you’re not even sure what you would say. You never thought you would be able to approach death this calmly, or that this would be how you die. It feels almost pathetic, dying because you lost control on a recon mission. 

At least those kids are safe. It’s not a bad reason to die. Just not great. You glance down at the other cuff on your right hand, the air around it fluctuates until it melts off your wrist like liquid metal. With the last barely there tether off your powers, you close your eyes and release the tidal wave. 

It feels like a dam exploding. It doesn’t leak fluidly from you, it rips through you like a hailstorm of knives. Tears apart anything in its path and rewrites the molecular build of everything in its path. Screams echo through the air as men’s bones turn into brittle dust and their hearts morph into something inorganic. You’re blind to everything around you, vision clouded by the horrific release of energy. 

You can feel warmth leaking down your face. Blood still pours from the wound on your wrist, and fresh blood from other wounds you can’t even feel. You don’t know when the screams stop, or when you’re finally drained. But you feel like an empty husk as you drop to the floor, your head bouncing harshly against the cement as everything goes black. 

“I’m gonna kill you,” Logan says with a grin, glaring at Scott even though it’s Charles who is holding him back. He’s got a firm mental grasp on Logan, keeping him locked into place while he focuses on the warehouse. 

They’re waiting for the all-clear. The others know there’s always the possibility that they’re going to be collecting a body. But none of them are willing to say that, not with the look on Logan’s face. His muscles look ready to pop out of his skin with how much he’s fighting against Charles’s hold. 

Scott backs away from Logan with a scoff. He stands near Jean, but she can’t take her eyes off the restrained man. Nothing had happened this morning, Flux had seen to that. Interrupting them just as they’d started. Seeing the way he’s acting now, she’s starting to believe that nothing is ever going to happen. 

He’d looked like he was about to dismiss her when she started making a move. She can see the anger on his face, it seems he’s only ever pissed off. But underneath that, as much as he hides it, she can see the fear. He’s terrified that they're going to walk in there and you’re going to be dead. 

Jean can feel the fear of the others as well. They’ve only seen you lose control once and that had almost leveled the mansion. Charles had stopped you then, but the loss of the cuff had been so sudden Jean just barely had enough strength to keep the others blocked from your powers. She didn’t have enough time to shut you down. 

Jean, as much as she’s tried to deny it and dismiss her suspicions, can’t look Logan in the eye and ignore it anymore. It’s never been her that he’s wanted. The way he trails along beside you, always prodding and poking until you’re pissy and mouthing off. It’s not done because he finds antagonizing people fun, it's because he loves seeing you all worked up and passionate. He doesn’t view you through the same platonic lens he does the others. You’re something else to him, something she doesn’t want to name, afraid of the bitter taste it will leave on her tongue. 

Charles slumps back in his chair and Logan suddenly lunges forward. He looks a little surprised by the sudden freedom of movement, but before any of them can stop him he’s running out of the jet. “Logan,” Jean tries to call after him but he’s already a distant blur. 

Scott sighs and starts down the ramp. “Come on,” he mutters. He’s the last one who should be coming along. If anything is wrong with you, he’ll end up being Logan’s punching bag. Jean follows reluctantly, she’s not sure she wants to see what’s happened. 

Your powers are too similar in their volatile nature. The way they rule you and come so close to destroying you when you use them too much, is too familiar to Jean. She doesn’t want to see you lying dead on the floor and be reminded of her own mortality. But someone needs to make sure Logan is stuck on a leash. 

They reach where the warehouse should be. It’s nothing but a pile of rubble now. Throughout the wreckage, Jean can make out odd pools of liquid, some writhing, others still. She can only assume that these had been the men shooting at them. She doesn’t see your body, none of them do. But Logan isn’t giving up. 

He lifts different pieces of metal and tosses them off into the forest. Jean doesn’t sense your presence anywhere but she doesn’t have the heart to tell Logan to give up. After a few minutes of searching, she almost tells him to quit. But she can’t see him anymore. He’s disappeared somewhere behind a particularly large pile of roofing. A moment later, Logan stands up. His jacket is gone, wrapped around the body in his arms. None of them are close enough to see if you’re breathing. And he doesn’t say a word as he brushes past them, just keeps going back to the jet. Ororo, Scott, and Jean all share a silent look. None of them prepared for the potential fallout that’s going to happen after this. 

The first thing you feel is two familiar bands of metal around your wrists. The comforting feeling of the cuffs is enough to have you sinking further into the pillows surrounding you. Then you hear the beeping in your ear, feel the cool blow of AC, and become startlingly aware of the fact that you’re in a bed you don’t recognize. 

You groan, eyes peeling open painfully as your lashes get stuck on your skin. You reach up to rub at your face but your arms feel too weak to lift. You give up on the thought, instead staring up at the ceiling and waiting for your vision to refocus. 

A throat clears in front of you and you nearly jump out of your skin. Sitting at the end of your bed, arms crossed and a fierce glare on his face is Logan. His feet are propped up on the small table beside you. He quirks a brow and gives you a sardonic grin, “Finally awake, princess?”

Normally the name would have you up and doing somersaults, but there’s something distinctly negative and disappointed lacing his tone. It squashes any and all butterflies in your stomach. You grimace as you try and sit up. Logan is up in an instant, an annoyed look still on his face as he helps you up. 

You can’t help your dopey smile at how gentle his hands are on you. Even pissed off, he treats you so kindly. Maybe it’s the drugs relaxing you, or the fact that you almost died, but you can’t remember whatever made you mad at him. You can only feel the slide of his calloused hands against your arms, the way you shiver under his touch and crave more. 

He pulls the chair closer to you with a loud scratch of metal feet on the linoleum. You groan at the loud sound and he huffs, throwing himself down in the seat. “How do you feel?”

Your head sinks back against the wall and you finally realize you’re in the medbay. It’s why everything smells so sterile. “Like I got hit by a semi.”

He barely lets you finish your thought before he spits out, “What the fuck were you thinking?” He doesn’t ease you into this at all and you frown. You’re not sure why you would expect him to ever beat around the bush. That’s not his style, he’s always been blunt. Even when others wish he wouldn’t be. 

“What else was I supposed to do?” You ask, voice weak. Your throat feels like it’s been ripped apart. Idly, you wonder if you had been screaming in the warehouse or if this was just general strain from the whole ordeal. 

“Not put yourself at risk like that.” He leans forward, voice stern and bordering on shouting. You know he’s holding back. As much as he wants to lay into you right now, he’s stopping himself from going completely out of his mind. You appreciate it, but you almost wish he would just yell at you. You wish you had a reason to resent him, to finally get over him. “Not have Jean knock me out like that. You don’t get to make those decisions for me.”

It’s completely inappropriate and horrible timing, but you can’t help but scoff at the mention of Jean’s name. Can you not have one conversation that’s not tainted by the mention of the redhead?

Logan’s mouth snaps shut and he glares at you in disbelief. You squeeze your eyes shut, not willing to face him as embarrassment washes over you. No wonder he always calls you kid. You’re not exactly acting like an adult. You’re being a brat and for such a stupid reason too. 

Just because you like him doesn’t mean he has to reciprocate. You can’t just force your feelings on someone. “Logan,” you whisper his name, “Sorry. I’m sorry-”

He cuts you off before you can finish. Some of the anger, but not all, has ebbed from his expression. He almost looks like he’s smiling. “Jean? That’s what this is about? Jealous or something, sweetheart?”

You sputter, shocked little noises leaving you but no words. After a solid minute of restarting a sentence you don’t know how to end you finally land on a squeaky, “Who?” If you weren’t so mortified, you might have just thrown yourself out the window. Out of every cop-out you could have gone with you chose to just pretend you didn’t know who she was. Maybe you could make this work, like selective amnesia. 

Your shame only builds as Logan laughs. You cover your face and wish you could bury yourself six feet deep and never come up. You feel two rough hands wrap around your wrists, tugging your own away from your face. You don’t have the energy to fight back, so you keep your eyes on his chin. Too afraid to meet his gaze. 

“Come on,” he mutters, gently nudging your chin up until you’re forced to look at him. You're caught off guard by the look in his eyes. You recognize it, but you’d only ever seen it directed at Jean. It’s the same way you’ve always looked at him. Pure unguarded want and desire. 

The hand on your chin drifts back, fingers tangling in your hair and gently resting on your jaw. He tugs you forward until your lips are nearly touching, breaths mingling with every exhale. “Only ever wanted you, darlin'.’”

The kiss catches you off guard. It shouldn’t, deep down you knew it was coming, but the intensity behind it, the way you can practically taste how bad he wants this, wants you, catches you off guard. You lean into him, wrapping your arms around his neck and letting yourself melt into his hold. 

His free hand drifts to your waist and clutches the flimsy hospital gown until you hear it tear. You part your lips, deepening the kiss so you can finally taste him. It’s cigars and whiskey, something you should hate but is entirely intoxicating when he’s holding you so tightly. Fireworks are going off in your mind, sparks darting between your fingers as the cuffs struggle to contain all the energy suddenly pushing out of you. 

He can feel you holding back, squeezing you like it’s a promise he can take it. Take everything you throw at him. You let go as much as your cuffs will allow you. Let the energy blanket you both so you can’t hear your heart monitor going off like crazy. So you don’t feel anything other than each other. You think you’re going to devour each other like you’ll just keep kissing until neither of you can take it anymore. You don’t want to let go of him, don’t want to lose this moment. 

But you have to breathe. You don’t get to just keep living the way he does. You pull away from him slowly, every part of you dreading separating from him. His forehead drops against your own, his laughter playing along your lips as he finally hears the monitor going haywire. 

You groan, flicking your wrist and shutting it off so it can’t betray how flustered you are anymore. He gently nudges you aside so he can sit beside you on the bed. You don’t waste a second before you’re draping yourself across his chest and siphoning his warmth. He chuckles, arms coming up to wrap around you. 

“Can’t believe you were jealous of Jean.”

“Shut up,” you snipe. You look up at him and glare, “How else do you explain what you two were doing?”

He leans forward and gives you a smug grin. “She came onto me, sweetheart.” Your face screws up in distaste and jealousy. She’s going to need to learn to keep her hands to herself. He seems to feel the way you tense up, he huffs in amusement and rubs your back. “Relax, you’re gonna blow your fuse again.”

You glance down at your wrists and nuzzle further into him. You can’t believe you could have been laying on him this whole time. You never want to use a blanket again, not when you’ve got him. “I’ll be fine now that I’ve got my cuffs.”

His hand stills on your bicep. He squeezes it before his hand drifts up to your chin and he tilts your face up again. “I don’t ever want to see that again.” You’re a little surprised by the sudden shift in tone, but you knew this was coming. 

“I had to, Logan. I either took you all down with me or I went on my own.”

Logan frowns and takes in a deep breath. You place a hand on his arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. He smiles down at you, “Next time, take me with you. I’m not fucking dealing with Summers without you.”

You can’t help but chuckle. Your face grows warm and your chest expands with some odd gleeful feeling as he laces your fingers together. “Deal,” you whisper, still smiling at him. 

A/N: Okay, this might be shit, I’m not sure. I sort of rushed the ending because as I was writing this I had another idea for him. I guess I’m officially off my hiatus. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

you would be hearing correctly 😁

texts with silly gf ellie short smau

synopsis: no plot just texts with your girlfriend ellie williams and she's a dork!

cw: swearing, mentions of sex (pussy eating lolz), ellie loves adventure time fornite n roblox as she shoulddd, ellies a nerdy freak n readers kind of a mean freak (sometimes) they're inloveeeee

crying and throwing up /pos

first kiss with abby ୨ৎ

summary: after the romantic tension between you and abby reaches a peak, you two finally share a sweet kiss.

content: answer to this req and part two to this!! fluffyfluffyfluffy! ehehehehehe. i love fluff i love writing fluff. nothing nsfw. just lowk domesticity with abby and then super cutesy pie origami stuff and then a kiss 💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋 ok toodles enjoy

notes: three weeks of no post i’m sorry my children. i am back!!! classes just finished and now i have summer break so i just had to soak in my freedom from my fuckass med teacher. he can choke fr 💯

(wc 1.6k)

a series of vibrations from your phone rudely pulls you out of your sleep and you swipe your hand across the bed to silence the notifications. you find your phone connected to abby's charger on her vacant side of the bed, the sheets cold without the warmth from her skin to heat them up. she always ran hot—especially during the night—which usually resulted in her yelping at your cold feet pressed to her thighs and trying to absorb her warmth in the hours of the night. 

you raise your phone to your face and are met with four notifications from abby on your home screen. 

abby :p otw back with our loot  

abby :p two berry pastries for the missus and one cream cheese puff pastry for me 

abby :p and nadia gave us two chocolate croissants bc we're super cool 

swiping to unlock your phone, you head to messages and reply to her. 

you YAY thanks you're the best 

you we gotta get nadia a gift card or somethin

you or a bottle of liquor 

you head to the bathroom to brush your teeth with your toothbrush abby got for you for her apartment since you slept over so often. while you load your brush with toothpaste, your phone lights up with a notice from messages: "abby :p loved 'or a bottle of liquor.' " sticking the toothbrush in your mouth, you smile around the minty foam and continue freshening up before abby returns. 

around ten minutes later, you hear the jingle of her keys at the front door and practically skip to the living room to retrieve your pastries. 

abby unlocks the door and pushes it open, a brown bag with a cafe logo printed on it in one hand and a drink carrier with two coffee cups hanging from her ring and pinky fingers in her other. with her few remaining fingers grasping onto her car keys to not drop them, she nudges the door back shut with her hip and locks it. 

her blonde head donns a blue and white trucker hat, the brim of it blocking her from seeing you standing and sheepishly smiling a few strides away. she calls out to you to signal her return. 

"hey, i'm back! and i come bearing gifts. i got-" it's then that abby takes her hat off and notices you inching ever closer. "oh, hi. i got you herbal tea. there weirdly was a lot of traffic today, even though it's, like, seven." 

she continues on as she unpacks everything that she got for you. "then again, i guess kids have school. man, i hated that about high school—waking up early and getting to class on tim- you know what? you're not listening anyway with your food right in front of you," she chuckles. "go on. release! free!" she pokes, using command words for a dog. 

you kiss your teeth and scowl at her, mumbling a "whatever" before tearing into the paper bag. you're met with your two fruit pastries first, then you spot the chocolate croissants abby mentioned under them. 

the two of you stand and eat in comfortable silence in the kitchen, you sipping on your tea and abby picking at her puff pastry. when you finish, you clean both of your spots and abby throws away the paper bag and pastry wrappers, washing her hands after.

after breakfast, you guys ping pong around her apartment, moving from her bed to the couch to the floor and then back to her bed again, all just to talk or scroll on your phones.

hours pass, and after a brief joint nap in her bedroom, you guys now sat on the floor of her living room, light filtering in from her large windows and warming your skin. the floor was littered in origami squares of all different sizes and colors, the origami book abby had gotten for you split open between you two. 

there was a village of origami figures surrounding you, from hearts to frogs to ladybugs to cranes. the book was flipped to a particularly challenging page of an elephant, and you looked over at abby in confusion. 

she was just as confused as you, if not more. her hair was tied in a messy golden knot at the nape of her neck, loose strands crazy and framing her face. her brows were pulled tight on her face, her eyes bewildered and looking at the same piece of paper in her hands as if she'd never seen it before. 

"what step are you on?" she asks, looking at the square in front of you that you were working on. 

"twelve. out of..." you flip the page twice. "god. thirty." you sit up straight to stretch your back out. "i get it, though. kinda." 

"what? show me. i’m on, like, seven. i swear they skipped a step. or forgot to add a picture. just something is wrong." 

you scoot over to sit next to her, pulling your leg to your body and propping your cheek on it. abby places her piece in front of you puts her hands in her crossed lap, her eyes wide and waiting for you to make sense of her issue. 

"okay, let's see." you pull the book closer to you to confirm the step she's on. "step seven is... rotating and folding the back of the elephant." 

"which i did," abby verifies. 

you rotate the piece and immediately find her mistake. "which you did not." 

"what?! where?" 

"here." you trace your finger along the missing crease. "you see how on mine, this part is creased and pointed? like a peak?" 

"uh-huh..." 

"and yours doesn't do that." 

she simply hums, so you look over at her to confirm that she's listening. her eyes are unfocused and locked on your face. they flit between your own and then drop to your lips for a second. the single second feels quite long, though, when she looks so deeply at you in the way that she does, or when her baby hairs draw attention to her blonde lashes, long and very slightly curled around her sapphire eyes. 

she seems to snap out it—whatever it was—and she deeply inhales, licking her lips and refocusing on the task at hand. 

"can you repeat that?" she asks. "sorry, i... i zoned out." 

it was your turn, now, to lose focus and examine her. you stare at her lips, rosy and still glossy from her just licking them. you stare at the corners of them and the ever so slight frown her mouth always pulls into when she's focused. you stare at the little creases in them, the dozens of lines that- 

"are you looking at my lips?" she questions, interrogative and almost paranoid. 

"oh, um, sorry. i was-" 

"why were you looking at them?" she interrupts again, her eyes wild and demanding an answer from you. 

"because, i- well, you just licked them, so- i don't know. because." you swallow, mumbling, "what, can i not look at them or something?" 

her stone stare softens after noticing your flustered state, and the two of you exchange a long and quiet look. 

abby held her breath nearly the entire time. she didn't want to assume anything or read the situation wrong, but your eyes were dilated. they were dilated from looking at her, and just from that. 

as if it were out of your control—like you were magnets—you started moving closer to her. abby could not seem to remember how to control a single muscle in her body, so she just sat and watched you move closer as her cheeks grew pinker and pinker. 

you stop right in front of her face, the tips of your noses kissing and your breaths shared. after a few seconds, you realized abby wouldn't initiate anything, so you leaned in and pressed your lips to hers, short and sweet. when you pulled away, abby's eyes remained closed for a few seconds before they slowly fluttered open. 

"you just kissed me," abby whispers in disbelief, pointing out the obvious. 

"i just kissed you," you echo back. 

it's abby who leans in for the second kiss, thick and intense with emotion, her hand sliding up your arm. her hand reaches the back of your neck, and she pulls you closer and deepens the kiss. 

you press your forehead to hers and stop kissing her, an infectious smile taking up your features instead. 

"are you.. are you seriously smiling right now?" abby gasps theatrically with mock offense. 

your smile breaks out into giggles and you press your face into her cheek to hide. 

"wow, i cannot believe this. you are laughing at our kiss!" she teases. 

"stop, no i’m not!" you plead, still laughing. 

"whatever you say." she grabs your chin between her fingers and pulls your face back to look at you. peppering kisses on your cheeks, she relents on her taunting.  

"are you gonna show me what i did wrong, or what?" she says, referring to the initial topic of her paper elephant. 

you smile back at her. "yeah, i will." 

"okay." she presses one last kiss to your temple and then waits for your instruction. 

"i was saying, there's supposed to be a crease here, on what'll be the back of the elephant." 

abby nods and hums like she's listening, but really, she smiles at your profile as you continue to speak. 

@abbysbug @abbyonmars @abigails-gf @picklesarenice69

heheheh all done!!!! this was so cute to write especially the end like i was talking to @abbyonmars while i wrote the end and we were fangirling over typed words and pixels. but what else is tumblr dot com for if not to fangirl!!!!