#He really took a good thing and had to ruin it

[atzloverr]

Our unsaid truths - chapter 2

previous chapter - next chapter

series masterlist

pairings: poly!ateez x reader, atz x atz

cw: polyamory, teasing, mentions of sex, jealousy, use of Y/n, reader is flustered lol, that’s like it, I know this is really short but I promise next chapter will have more!!!!

The sun had just begun to peek through the curtains when you started to stir awake. An unknown but comfortable warmth surrounded you, and it took a few seconds for your sleep-fogged mind to register why you felt so… crowded.

Wooyoung’s arm was slung lazily over your stomach, his face nuzzled into the crook of your neck, while Seonghwa’s leg was tangled with yours, his deep and even breathing tickling your shoulder. You stared up at the ceiling, your heart beating faster than it should for someone who had just woken up.

The events of last night hit you like a truck.

“Oh my god…” you whispered under your breath. You tried shifting slightly, but Wooyoung pulled you closer to him, groaning softly in his sleep. Your cheeks burned as you realized the position you were currently in: pinned in between the two.

“Morning, beautiful.”

Seonghwa’s voice was smooth, carrying a teasing lilt as he looked up at you with half-lidded eyes. His hair was disheveled, and the smirk on his face made you feel butterflies in your stomach.

Before you could respond, a soft yawn escaped Wooyoung, his body stretching slightly against yours. You averted your attention towards him. He looked up at you and grinned. “Morning, gorgeous.” His voice was husky from sleep.

“Um… good morning,” you stammered with a small smile, feeling heat creep up your neck.

It was surreal, waking up sandwiched between two men who now seemed equally interested in you. As the moment stretched on, you started to wonder what this would mean for your relationship with not just Seonghwa and Wooyoung, but with the rest of the boys as well. You bit your lip anxiously at the thought.

The worst thing you could imagine was ruining something that was so perfect between them, so perfect between you and Seonghwa.

”Whatcha thinking about sweetie?” you heard Seonghwa ask, snapping you out of your dazed state of deep thought. You simply shook your head. ”Nothing special.”

Seonghwa and Wooyoung exchanged looks, was your lie too obvious? ”Whatever, I’m hungry,” Wooyoung said before groaning loudly, finally letting you go to stretch out his entire body.

”Will you let me borrow your clothes, hyung?” Wooyoung said, trying his best to use his puppy eyes, a large pout on his lips.

Seonghwa sighed but eventually gave in with a tired ’sure’. You figured he probably didn’t want Wooyoung to walk out completely naked. The thought made you pause.

Would the others know what went down last night? You knew the walls weren’t exactly thick, but would you have to walk out to being humiliated this morning? You decided to speak your mind, worry brimming within you.

”Do you think they’ll know? I mean, not that there would be anything wrong with that, but—” you stammered nervously. ”Hmm, maybe,” Wooyoung giggled, getting dressed in one of Seonghwa’s sweatpants.

”I don’t know baby, but I’m sure they won’t mind if they do know,” Seonghwa reassured. You sighed in relief at those words. It was sometimes as if Seonghwa knew exactly what you needed to hear and when.

You quickly threw on one of Seonghwa’s shirts, not bothering to put on pants, before the three of you started to make your way to the dining area. As you heard the sound of voices from the kitchen, you felt nervousness starting to creep up on you. Seonghwa’s comforting hand on the small of your back sure helped though.

As you entered the kitchen, you were greeted by the sight of Hongjoong and Yeosang cooking something by the stove, as well as some of the other guys spread out around the room.

“Well, well, good morning, Y/n,” Hongjoong greeted, his lips curving into a smirk. Yeosang gave you a knowing look, one brow raised as if he already had several jokes lined up.

“Morning,” you said, trying to sound natural, avoiding their gazes, pulling down the shirt to somewhat cover yourself.

“I see someone’s had an eventful night,” Yeosang said lightly, eyes focused on the food he was cooking. His words made you freeze, heat rising to your cheeks.

Before you could reply, Wooyoung’s voice chimed in from where he was standing by the fridge, getting some yogurt. “Why do you sound so jealous, Yeosang?” He said with a smug grin plastered across his face.

“Jealous? Of what, you being the loudest person in the building?” Yeosang shot back. You swallowed, feeling the embarrassment inside you grow for every word and glance the two exchanged.

“Loud?” Mingi suddenly piped up from the table. You turned your head to see his face filled with faux innocence. “Oh, they were definitely loud.”

You groaned and sank into the nearest chair, burying your face in your hands. “Can we change the subject?” you pleaded.

“Aw, don’t be shy,” Wooyoung teased, sliding into the seat next to you with his yogurt in hand. “I think we made a great team last night.”

The sound of someone clearing their throat aggressively made everyone pause. Seonghwa stood up, his expression calm but his voice sharp. “Wooyoung.”

Wooyoung cowered slightly, glancing at him sheepishly. “What? I’m just saying—”

“Don’t make her uncomfortable.”

Seonghwa’s tone left no room for argument, and Wooyoung held up his hands in surrender, though the playful glint in his eyes remained.

“Sooo, Y/n,” Jongho said casually, trying to break the awkward silence that had come to be. “Are you planning to make your rounds with the rest of us, or are you sticking with these two?”

You choked on your own breath, flabbergasted by his question. You felt your cheeks burning hotter for each second that passed. “Jongho!”

“What? It’s a valid question,” he said with a shrug. You heard Yeosang giggle at the man’s words.

“You’re unbelievable,” you muttered, sinking further into your chair.

Yunho entered the room then, his hair messy from sleep and eyes still not completely open. “What’s unbelievable?” he asked, walking up to Mingi who had already prepared a cup of coffee for him.

“Y/n’s, well… expanding her social circle,” Mingi quipped, earning a chorus of laughter from almost everyone.

Yunho glanced between you, Seonghwa, and Wooyoung, piecing the situation together almost immediately.

His expression softened as he set his mug down and came to stand beside you, gently patting your head. “Don’t let them tease you too much,” he said kindly.

You gave him a grateful smile, only for him to add with a wink, “You’ll need your energy for the rest of us anyway.”

The room erupted into laughter, and you groaned. “I swear,” you glanced at the amused faces around you, “you’re all going to drive me insane.”

As breakfast continued and everyone eventually sat down by the table, you felt as if something was slightly off, or rather, someone.

You looked over to San, who silently ate his breakfast, and a thought struck you. He hadn’t uttered a single word this entire morning, which was very unlike him. He would always cling to someone, that someone usually being Wooyoung or Yeosang, but today, he seemed distant.

While the teasing had dialed down, Yeosang and Jongho still left some remarks about how much they heard and how they couldn’t sleep, but every time when the table erupted into laughter, you saw San sitting there, not even cracking a smile.

You were seated in between Seonghwa and Yunho, at the same spot you would usually sit at, and Yunho seemed to notice that you were deep in thought about something. ”What’s up?” he silently asked, making you blink when you returned to reality. ”Huh?”

Yunho giggled at your confusion, before a comforting smile coated his lips. ”What are you thinking about?” he asked, placing a hand on your shoulder. You looked around, and everyone was still caught up in their own conversations. ”Is San alright?” you almost whispered. You made it look casual though, not wanting someone to ask what you guys were talking about.

”Oh, so you noticed too huh?” Yunho smiled, pulling his hand through his hair. ”Hmm, I think he might be a little jealous, that’s all,” Yunho said quietly, still smiling widely.

”Jealous?” you echoed, starting to feel worried all over again. ”Don’t worry, Y/n. He gets like that sometimes, and you haven’t done anything wrong,” Yunho comforted, his hand rubbing circles into your shoulder. You took a deep breath while nodding, hoping that Yunho’s words were true.

”Who’s on dish-duty?” Hongjoong asked, grabbing everyones attention. You silently volunteered, but was immediately shot down by everyone else saying that you shouldn’t. ”You had a rough night, don’t you think you should rest?” Jongho said with a wink, making you roll your eyes before finally leaving the kitchen, still feeling flustered by the events.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

A few hours later you found yourself outside of their house, Seonghwa’s arms wrapped tightly around you. Seonghwa always got pouty when you were going back to your place. He wished you could always stay with them, but he also understood that you might want some alone time, where you’re not constantly the ”ninth wheel.”

He never wanted you to feel that way, and although you assured him that you didn’t, he still noticed that you still hesitated before staying at their house, even though he tried to assure you that you weren’t a burden.

”Hey, how are you feeling about all of this? With Wooyoung and everything? I feel like we haven’t gotten a chance to talk it through,” Seonghwa said, his hand rubbing your shoulders. You sighed heavily.

”I don’t know… I don’t want to complicate things for you guys, you know? I don’t know what they all expect from me now and—” Seonghwa noticed the shift in your emotions, and it made his heart ache.

”Shh, baby,” he brushed your hair away from your face, looking deep into your eyes. ”Take your time. There’s no rush into anything that you might not be ready for,” he reassured, placing a small kiss on your cheek. ”Just do what feels right.”

You nodded, feeling at ease from his comforting words. You placed a hand on his shoulder before kissing his lips. He pushed deeply into you, not wanting the moment to end. ”Call me anytime,” he reminded, watching you pick up your bags to leave.

”You’re leaving!?” the intimate moment was suddenly cut off by Wooyoung’s voice as he came scrambling out the door. You raised your eyebrows with a smile at his panicked expression.

”It’s not like I live here, I’m just going to my apartment, that’s all,” you laughed as Wooyoung wrapped you in a hug as if you were never going to see him again. ”You’ll come back right?” he asked, looking up at you with pleading eyes.

You ruffled his hair with your hand, finding his face adorably funny. ”Pf course I will.”

You were about to take off when Wooyoung opened his mouth again. ”A—And Y/n?” you looked back. ”Can I kiss you too?”

Your eyes widened slightly at the question, as you immediately looked at Seonghwa. The reaffirming smile on his face told you everything you needed to know. ”Yes.”

And with that Wooyoung rushed towards you to give you a short but sweet kiss on the lips, before you finally made your way to your car.

On the way home, you thought about everything that had happened. It felt so surreal, to now receive the same kind of affection that your only used to from Seonghwa, from Wooyoung too.


Maybe you had liked him this whole time, but you were just too scared to make a first move. Maybe you had liked them all this whole time, you couldn’t tell. But once you parked your car in your driveway, you had made one thing clear for yourself. You were more than happy to expand this relationship, however far it would eventually do so.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and that you’re excited for a brand new series!!! Love you guys💕

taglist: @wooyoungsbrat @dawn-iscozy @fairy-jojo

those who requested a part 2: @nightcat101 @oreoqueen @the-belching-toe @stolasisyourparent @freyaphoria

tell me if you want to join the taglist!!!💕 part 3 is already written and will be posted very soon!

masterlist

[rekino2114]

Can you do something with fem!kaiser meeting male!reader's abusive ex before a match since she's in the team they're going against. The ex tells kaiser something about y/n that pisses her off, and that results in her and you going way harder than normal and completely destroying the team.

Also, since you said you liked childhood friends to lovers kaiser can you make that reader's parents abused him too, and that's how they bonded

Fem!kaiser meeting your abusive ex

A/n:so you know how I said I'd do blue lock post every week? Make that twice a week cause I got so many requests (I genuinely love you guys so much) and have so many ideas and I can't contain them. I chose this request cause I really liked the prompt and am in a kaiser mood this past few days

Kaiser took a deep breath as she heard all the cheers. It felt so nice to have all the people cheering for her and you, sure she stared a bit too much at the girls yelling about how hot you were and rolled her eyes at the few people who cheered for isagi. But the majority of the yells were for her and you, and she loved it. It felt so good to be loved and adored by all the fans. It felt so good to finally be someone, a sentiment she was sure you shared

As soon as your face appeared in her thoughts, kaiser started searching for you on the field, and she found you talking to isagi and Ness. Normally, she'd scoff and pull you away, scolding you for just talking with her enemy, but ever since noa announced who bastard would be playing against, you had been distant even to her. Whenever she tried to ask you what was wrong, you just dismissed it and told her it was nothing, so she didn't pry further, no matter how much she was worried about you.

She tried to go up to you but was stopped by someone tapping her back

"It's been quite a while, Michelle"

"What do you-"

The moment kaiser turned around and she saw who was talking to her, a look of pure hatred appeared on her blue eyes

"......what are you doing here?"

"I just wanted to say hi to-"

"Answer me"

"So you really became as cruel as people say, I really don't see what he sees in you"

Kaiser, now fully turned towards the mysterious girl, glared at her with the deadliest glare she ever gave anyone

"I said....answer me"

"If you really have to know, I got into football too, I'm the captain of this team you know?"

"Ah, makes sense, a team of losers I've never heard the name of captained by you"

"You better watch your mouth blue rose empress, I'm here for one thing and one thing only"

"A mediocre career that will get you nowhere?"

"I think we both know what i'm talking about"

Kaiser's eyes widened as the girl's gaze started drifting away from her and going to you

"I'm here to make y/n mine aga-"

Before she could even finish her sentence, the collar of her jersey was grabbed by kaiser who now was fully killing her with her glare

"Listen here, you waste of dna. Don't you ever dare utter his name again. You don't deserve to walk the same ground he walks on. You don't deserve to breathe the same air he breathes, you just think you can walk back into his life and ruin him again? I'll admit you have guts, or more probably you're just a brainless idiot who only does what she wants without thinking of the consequences"

She let her collar go which caused her to back down a bit and look up at kaiser

"The only reason why I haven't kicked you in the ribs yet is because this is being broadcasted and I care about my reputation"

The new gen 11 member looked again at the girl like she was nothing more than a bug she could step on at any moment because that was exactly what she was to her

"Y/n is my emperor, and I am his empress. If you dare come close to him again, I will murder you. That's a promise"

The girl gulped a bit in fear, knowing that kaiser was 100% serious, but still kept her smug smile on her face

"I guess you're not so cruel with your boyfriend after all"

"Of course, I'm not you"

"Whatever"

"I'll make you a deal. If you go kneel to him right now, I'll go easy on your team, by which I mean I will only score twice"

The girl now started laughing as kaiser's annoyance grew

"Kneel? You were serious about that emperor stuff?"

"Of course"

"As if! I'm sure he'll be the one kneeling to me by the end"

Kaiser's rage was now at it's limit but instead of snapping she just smiled and turned her back on the girl

"Thank you"

"Huh, for what?"

"I really didn't wanna go easy on you, plus"

She turned her face towards the girl, grinning menacingly and with a blue light coming out of her eyes

"Seeing your crying face as all your hope is crushed during this match and you kneel to y/n will be so amazing"

The girl started sweating at kaiser's menacing words, but the empress didn't give her any more attention as she started walking towards you

"Oh michelle-"

"Listen ness. In this match I want you to pass to y/n as much as you can, even if I'm free pass to him"

"Hm ok"

"Hey wait a second, what are you trying to do shitty rose-"

"Shut up, yoichi. I have more important things to do now"

She told them to get into their positions (ness basically dragged isagi) and approached you, her expression softening as saw how worried you were

"I'm sorry for not telling you she was on the team"

"It's fine"

"I know how much you hate her, I'm still sorry for all the pain I must have caused you, choosing her over you at first"

"I already told you it's fine, I should have beaten that bitch's ass when I found out what she was doing to you. I'll just settle for doing it in football"

"No, I understand why you didn't, you had.....your own issues"

Kaiser went to grab the ball and put it in the center ready for kick off

"Hey Michelle, can I ask you a favor?"

"Anything for you schatz"

You raised your head and looked at your girlfriend with fire coming out of your eyes and an aura enveloping you

"Can you help me destroy her?"

Hearing those words, kaiser smirked and matched your energy her own blue aura coming out of her even making her tattoo glow

"Did you even have to ask?

The match was an absolute massacre. It ended 8-0, 4 goals made by you, and 4 made by kaiser.

Speaking of kaiser, she was an absolute menace during the 90 minutes. It was like her objective was not to win but to demolish everything in your name, you genuinely thought you saw the ball go on fire with how many kaiser impacts she threw.

She also kissed you every time you scored, which wasn't something new. She always does that. But this time,her kisses were much more intense and passionate than the ones she usually gave you during matches, it was like she was was trying to claim you and make your ex mad, which you 100% agreed with so you kissed her back with just as much passion, enjoying the anger on your ex's face.

While you weren't as flashy as the blue rose empress, you still dominated the match too. It was simple, you just put all the hatred you felt for your ex and all the years of pain she put you through in your plays and kicks, and most of them resulted in goals.

When the referee blew his whistle and the match ended, you were immediately hugged and kissed by kaiser again. When she stopped the kiss she looked at you and grinned

"We won schatz, isn’t it wonderful? Not that I ever doubted that"

"Yeah, I never thought beating one of the people who ruined your life would feel so cathartic"

"Oh we haven’t fully beaten her yet"

"Hm?"

Kaiser pulled away from you and told you to follow her as she went on to approach your ex, whose eyes widened once she saw you

"Y-y-y/n!?"

"........how does it feel?"

"E-eh?"

"How does it feel knowing you're so inferior to us now"

"S-shut up! You just-"

"That's no way to talk to your emperor. Remember what I said before"

"H-huh?"

"Kneel"

"You seriously think i'll-"

"I don't think you understand the situation you're in"

Kaiser grabbed the girl by the hair and dropped her to the ground at your feet

"That wasn't a request or a question, kneel!"

The girl now with tears in her eyes just stayed on the ground. Looking at her now, a crying sniveling scared mess, you felt nothing but pity

"I can't believe I actually dated you and let you do what you wanted with me, you're so pathetic now, no, you've always been pathetic, I just needed someone to open my eyes"

You looked back at kaiser, who just gave you her signature grin back......and then kicked the girl in the stomach as soon as you turned your back for good measure

You went over to a bench to calm down and think about everything, kaiser immediately followed you and sat near you, ordering ness to bring you two bottles of water, when he came back kaiser handed one to you as you thanked her. When you took the first sip, your eyes darted over to your ex, who was still crying on the ground

"That was pretty brutal of you"

"Are you feeling bad for her or something?"

"No, I was just thinking that this was broadcasted. What are the media gonna say?"

"That we put another bitch in her place"

"Or that you made another girl cry. I just think you should have went easier on her"

"Schatz, I was going easy on her, you have no idea what I would have done if I ran into her in the parking lot"

"Knowing what you did to those police officers I can hazard a guess"

Kaiser giggled and started drinking again. She opened her eyes when she felt your hand intertwine with hers. She put the bottle on the bench and looked at you.....you were smiling at her

"Thank you"

"It's nothing, really"

"No I mean......thank you for loving me"

Kaiser felt your hand wrap around even more around hers

"I think you're the first person in my life to actually love me"

The blond and blue haired girl held your hand even tighter and looked at you once again. Your smile was so beautiful. It made her wish you smiled more so she smiled back at you, an equally beautiful and genuine smile

"The same goes for me"

Kaiser always knew you were the same as her. That's a big part of why she loved you so much. You two could empathize so much with each other. You were just like her, a person whose life was nothing but abuse, who wanted nothing more than to escape that hell. A person who, after years of hate and abuse, deserved to stand at the top of the world and be the best, you deserved to rule everyone else alongside her. She wanted you to be her emperor and be the best with her, because you deserved it, because even after more abuse than her, you still loved her.

She knew how much you completed each other, how much you needed each other to live and be happy, and she would never let you go, you were her emperor and if anyone wanted to hurt you ever again they would have to deal with her.

She gently pushed you towards her and kissed your lips passionately again. You obviously kissed back while your hands were still intertwined and your other arm instinctively made its way to the back of her neck

Your hands on her neck had the opposite effect of her father's. They were gentle and soft. You weren't choking her, but caressing her. It was like every touch healed her of one of the scars that piece of shit gave her. She couldn't have known it but her hands and lips had the exact same effect on you

Your lips parted away, and you smiled at each other again. In that moment, you thought the exact same thing, and you didn't need any words to communicate it

'I'm so glad you're in my life'

Kaiser already knew, maybe subconsciously, that the wishes from her childhood came true, that right now everything she wanted was right here because of you, but looking at your smile reminded her of how lucky she was to have you, because now what she spent all her childhood asking for was right on front of her.

She was free, and she was loved, all thanks to you, just as you were free and loved, truly loved, all because of her

[corkinavoid]

Obsessed With You by Cosmicandy

Theater gothic/Phantom of the opera

(For some horrific reason I couldn't think of a trope)

DPxDC Phantom in the Opera

9/2 sat

Went to Gotham City Opera to see Eugene Onegin with B & Dames. The performance sucked ass (as modern takes on classics usually do), but during Tatyana's aria, some tech guy dropped a rubber chicken from catwalks right on stage. I bet it was on purpose since the lead's voice sounded much similar to the sound that chicken made. Wish I could shake the dude's hand, that was truly the crescendo of the whole scene.

15/2 sun

Came by GCO on the way to WE. Had some time to spare, so decided to go in and find the rubber chicken guy to thank him for the laugh last week. Thought he might appreciate the positive feedback since he was defo yelled at for the stunt. Turns out everyone blames it on a 'ghost'. Using 'Phantom of the Opera' as a cover story is poor taste, in my opinion, but on the other hand, it worked, and who am I to judge.

17/2 mon

Got curious and pulled up the records of GCO employees. No one matches the guy I've seen on the catwalks.

18/2 tue

Blackmailed Damian into drawing the guy. No match through the face recognition program. Should have expected that, really; the one cute guy with a sense of humor I meet (or see, actually), and he doesn't exist.

20/2 thur

Can't stop thinking about the rubber chicken guy. Might have to go back to GCO and ask about the whole ghostly rumor. Last time, no one bat an eye at the 'ghost' excuse, now that I think about it. Has it happened before? Is it a go-to explanation for any prank no one wants to take credit for?

26/2 wed

Visited GCO at night. Seen the guy, but the cam footage came back corrupted when checked downstairs. So maybe the fact that his hair was floating and glowing in the dark was not a hallucination.

27/2 thur

Definitely not a hallucination! Good news: got a sample. Bad news: after analysis, the data also came back corrupted. Weird news: the hair keeps glowing even after it's been cut off.

2/3 sun

The guy's name is Danny. Ghost story confirmed. I'm having a crisis.

4/3 tue

I'm not sure if I want to know absolutely everything there is to know about him or I want to forget everything I've already learned. But then, I've already got so far. Might as well commit to the bit?

8/3 sat

Was invited to see La Traviata tomorrow. Can I still call that reconnaissance, or am I in date territory?

10/3 mon

...it was a date. On an entirely unrelated note, Teddy Hyde ruined all my attempts at coming prepared.

18/3 tue

Heard a new rumor among GCO staff members. They suspect the ghost in their opera is having a crush on Red Robin. Not sure where they've got that idea, but it sure took them some time to notice.

19/3 wed

Damian keeps staring at me at dinners. Maybe I should take that portrait of Danny that he did down from the wall over my bed.

22/3 sat

Going on a date today, and this time, it's definitely a date! Feels like I should be having a crisis over dating a ghost, but somehow, I'm only having a crisis over outfit choices.

61/0° gBs

hEy, yoU're keEEpinG a DIary¡ aboUt Me!¡ ThAt"s cuTe FUCK OFF DANNY THIS IS PRIVATE INFORMATION GET OUT heHeheEhe no~

~•~•~•~

The thing is, I loved the song. And I loved the aesthetic. And I had such a goddamn hard time figuring out how to fit them together; I went through at least three different setups before deciding fuck it imma write silly boys being silly and wish for the best.

Dare I say it turned out cute as fuck, even though I still missed the mark on theater gothic aesthetic for the most part. Anyway, have a few pictures for general vibes!

[Just so you know, if you enter 'sex with a ghost' into google, the first few results will be the lyrics to 'Sex with a Ghost' by Terry Hyde, which is why Tim's research has been rather fruitless]

[octuscle]

Exchange student: Berlin, Germany

October 01, 2024

Brad had come to Berlin as an exchange student because it was supposed to be the party capital of Europe. He was looking forward to a semester of spring break. But he quickly became disillusioned. There was hardly anyone walking around at the Technical University who looked anything like Spring Break. Most of them were dressed in black, with short hair and pale faces. Brad stood out like a sore thumb. And apart from that, Berlin was very different from what he had imagined. He had been told that Germany was so incredibly clean. Berlin was dirty and run-down. The people were unfriendly. The weather was terrible. By the time he moved into his room in the run-down student dormitory, which had probably last been renovated in the 1980s, he was homesick for Providence.

Tonight was a faculty welcome party. The building was an old factory hall, a ruin. The music was just one thing: deafeningly loud. The people at the party were all stoned or high on pills. It stank of sweat, cigarette smoke and sweet energy drinks. Brad wondered whether he could still change universities. Munich was supposed to be much more civilized than Berlin. Someone gave him a funny-looking pill. It was about 02:00 when Brad left the party. His sweater had disappeared. But it had been better than he had feared.

November 05, 2024

Monday was the day Brad recovered. There weren't usually any really good parties on Mondays. And if there were, he could make an exception. In fact, Brad was the go-to person for many of his fellow students when it came to where to go anyway. Brad was usually extremely well informed. Not necessarily about life at university… He had let his attendance at lectures slip a little in the first month. But hey, there was still ages until exams. Tonight was encore.une.fois at the OX! Of course Brad was on the guest list. From 21:00 he was in the gym, pumping up his muscles. And from 01:00 he was on the dance floor. Shit, he had expected something like Springbreak. How boring Springbreak was! Real life was raging here. All it took was a few pills, Red Bull and the right beats. And that was definitely the case today!

At 05:00 the music went off and the cleaning light came on. Brad checked his messages to find out where the best after-hours party was. There were no important lectures on Wednesdays anyway. And he was still far too wound up to sleep.

December 20, 2024

Uni was over until the new year. Actually, he should have been back in Connecticut by now. But Brad wanted to take at least this weekend to Berghain. Moritz had become his friend and business partner. The two were the shooting stars of Berlin's party organizers. Brad had collected 39K followers in the last four weeks alone. His party outfits defined what bouncers wanted to see in the clubs. Normally, DJs had groupies. Or musicians. Moritz and Brad always had a whole cluster of guys and girls hanging around them, basking in their presence and hoping to get shagged by one of them. Particularly lucky ones claimed to have been fucked by both at the same time. Whether this was true was debatable. But as a legend, it was certainly a cool story.

Their gas masks were elaborate custom-made masks that gave off a well-dosed mixture of poppers and laughing gas. Not that the two of them needed it. But it made the intoxication of a party night perfect. There were always two spare masks and the necessary cartridges in their rucksacks. To recharge their gas masks. Or to let very privileged fans share in their intoxication. It was 03:00. Too early to decide whether anyone would get that privilege tonight. Now it was time to dance. The way they only danced at Berghain.

[imblueeforyuu]

yandere frontman x male player reader

a/n i wrote this when i was high as shit and had to spend to much time editing it i want to kms

Your hole in the wall corner store was going bankrupt, you were millions in debt and your life was falling apart. This store has been in your family tree since forever, it was your family's pride and joy. And you were ruining it,  Of course you were. the one thing you had to live for was being taken from you. You were ashamed and embarrassed. Why did you have to be the one to ruin your family business? You felt hopeless, there was no way you could continue to live like this, i mean it wouldn’t be selfish to kill your self, right? You have no family to take on the debt you created, so it’s fine. Maybe it was best to take the cowards way out. Someone stopped you though, on your way back home a strange business man stopped you and offered to pay you if you played a simple game of Ddakji, you couldn’t turn that down, no way. In the end you managed to make half a million won, which was not nearly enough but you were out of options. The strange man gave you a card and went on his way. 

With nothing better to do with your already broken life you decided to join this game. You didn’t expect to win, god no, you just wanted to try something so you could say you really did attempt to make some money, and you didn’t just give up. 

You woke up with a quick breath, you look around quietly, you notice a 002 on your uniform. Interesting, were you the second person to join this game? Whose the first, they had to be more desperate than you to join so fast. You had a personal mission now, to find this number 1 guy.. You crawled out of your bed to start your search. Everyone was either waking up or still asleep. This would be your perfect opportunity to find this guy, or girl. You looked around for a good while and found nothing. It wasn't until the masked guards took you to the first game you gave up. You don’t know why you're so interested in this man you're sure it’s just some boring fat old man. you were so incredibly focused on finding this guy you didn’t realize people were dying around you. Well you did but it really didn’t matter to you. On the walk back you noticed something, your number 001! And two guards leading him to the line of players, why was he with them? Maybe he got separated but you doubt it. You are definitely going to keep an eye on him now. 

“Hey your number one,” you stated, you really weren’t good with interactions. your dad always used to tell you that your awkwardness was what was going to run the store to the grave, and it really did. 

“Oh, yes I am,” he said looking into your eyes. You stare back looking at every detail of his face. He was older but definitely still attractive. He didn't look like he belonged, he had the look of someone more well off. You glare slightly before continuing walking. You felt his stare bore into the back of your head.

Next was voting, you pressed O, you did want to continue the game. Why would you want to stop here, it was fun, and easy. It was just kid's games. It had been awhile since you were a kid  but you're sure you still had it in you. You went back to your bed and sat observing, there was a group of people surrounding the person claiming they’ve played this before, You can’t blame them who wouldn't be intrigued? you also noticed a purple hair guy and his little minion pick a fight with some other guy. Boring, what wasn’t boring was the reaction of a certain number one. He was really interesting, first he supposedly worked with the guards and now you've learned he's really good at combat. Maybe he was secretly a guard, or some type of spy, you needed to gather more information on him. You look around the room and notice player 456, the crazy one. Maybe he knew something. 

Your chat with him was unsuccessful, player 001 came back, the very person you wanted to gossip about. Maybe you didn’t want to talk about him exactly, still if he was someone important and noticed you trying to get more information you're pretty sure he’ll have you killed. Unintentionally you’ve found yourself part of 456s group. You tried to slip away when 001 came back but you were too slow. Fuck now you were stuck interacting with this creep. 

The time the second game happened you’re so done with these people. Player 001 whose name you've learned to be Young-il especially, he made you feel nervous, it’s probably all in your head that he’s a spy or something. You’ve done this before; get it in your head someone’s out to get you when they're really innocent. But there's definitely something off about this guy. 

6 legs was pretty much boring, you split away from  gi-huns group as soon as the opportunity came. You don’t dislike the group by any means but they were loud, you've always been so introverted.  Maybe you were just jealous, you probably were.

“002,” 388 came up to your bed with the rest of the group following behind . You peel your eyes open, god you're not ready to talk to them.

“Yes?”

“Where did you go?”

“I lost you guys,”

You probably shouldn’t make them hate you especially because they were your ticket to a good amount of money, even though they were against the games they were smart. And strong. Perfect for victory. They started talking about voting and you could care less. you wanted to keep these games going. 

Mingle was annoying, you were the last pick of the group. When it finally was time for two players, young-li grabbed your Hand. You expected him to pick gi-gun who was practically his boyfriend, but no he picked you. When you got to the room you didn’t expect someone to already be there. You were at a loss. Maybe it would be best if you just walked out. But young-il can never not shock you? He grabbed that poor man and snapped his neck. You were shocked but that proves your suspicion, this man was not who he seemed. 

It was Time for gi-huns master plan. To fight back, you didn’t have the heart to tell this delusional old man there was no way he would win but you did have a use for this. Finally proving that number one was evil. You were going to wait and see him betray them, but You decide to join the raid and follow in the back. When it was time to go to the front office you joined young-il and the group that went with him. You said you were going to stay with 456 and 390 but secretly followed behind him and his group. You saw everything, him shooting the people with him, him pretending he died and his smirk at the camera. You smile. perfect.

“Got you.” You raised your gun to face him. He didn’t seem to take you seriously, he smiled softly before moving closer. You glare.

“Back up,” you yell, you clutch the trigger. 

You shouldn’t have let your guard down so quickly, you saw him reach to put his gun down. Seeing him submit you released your grip on the trigger just a little bit. He must have seen you relax, because Out of nowhere he grabbed his gun again and shot your leg. You fall over unable to hold yourself up. You saw young-il move closer towards you until he was standing right by your head. He crouched down before smiling even wider. You look into his eyes, you were expecting anger not pure bliss in your bloody weak body. Your world went black.

When you woke up you noticed you were on an uncomfortable leather couch. Your head was propped up on a pillow. Your eyes were still somewhat blurry. You reach to rub the blurriness out but you notice your hands were tied. You try not to panic just yet but that fails miserably. You look around desperately and wiggle around, unintentionally knocking something off a table, ouch now your leg hurts. You freeze for a moment, damn it now your kidnapper knew you were awake. The elevator door dings causing you to flinch, fuck time was running out. Quickly you rush to hide somewhere. Unfortunately your feet and hands were tied so there was not much you could do. Of course besides rolling. You quickly roll under the couch which fortunately was tall enough for you to fit under but damn, rolling off the couch must have reopened your gunshot wound , you almost scream in pain. You heard the clicking of dress shoes come closer, they stop for a moment before continuing. They stop right at the front of the couch before the owner of the pair of expensive shoes starts to talk

“You know your feet are showing,” young-il, if that even was his name, said. You kept quiet even though you knew it wouldn’t help at all. 

“You can come out,” he paused before continuing. “I’m not going to hurt you, I just want to talk.”  

Talk my ass. There is no way he just wanted to talk, if so why would he kidnap you? Yes, maybe you held a gun to him but still. You crawl out from under the couch, Or well wiggle out. When you finally managed to get out you saw young-il he was drinking a glass of whiskey. You were still on the floor wiggling around trying to free yourself from the rope. Young-il stood up and crouched by you. 

“What happened to all your confidence? You were so sure of yourself with that toy gun of yours,” he smirked and started to pat your head. You flinch and scrunch your face. 

“Fuck you,” you glare.

“Sh [name],” your eyes widened, you don’t remember telling him your name. But if he was the mastermind behind this you guess he would know your name after all. It still did disturb you. He disturbed you. The way he smiled, the way he crouched, and how he patted your head. There was something off about him, I mean of course there was. You felt helpless, he had tied you up and was treating you like a child. You spit at him, what else could you do? You were helpless, ok? That seemed to make him mad, good. He stood up abruptly and stared down at you. He kicked you swiftly. the middle of your back hit the leg of the couch. You winced and curled up into a ball. 

“What the fuck do you want from me,” you glare at the floor. You were still in the ball and your voice was low. You're not sure he could hear you. 

“Hm, you.” you heard the leather of the couch crinkle as he sat. What did he mean by you? Why Did he want you? You were just a failing business owner, you were about to end it when you were invited to these games. Maybe he liked that stuff? You hugged your legs closer, being careful of your wound. Why the fuck did you have to be so interested in him? 

[charliedaltonswife]

Crack of A Gun

Henry Winter x reader (The Secret History)

Summary: okay so instead of Richard getting shot you do, that's it, its a long one.

Warnings: getting shot?? Henry doesn't off himself in this one. Like the tiniest charles/reader if you squint like really hard. POV change as well.

master list found here

Richard POV

The door slammed open with a violence that ricocheted off the walls, startling us into silence. Charles stood in the threshold, gun in hand, his face flushed and wild, the air around him charged with the tang of whiskey and adrenaline. He staggered slightly, but his grip on the gun was disturbingly firm, his knuckles white against the polished metal.

“Jesus, Charles, you've brought a gun?” you said, stepping forward slightly, your tone firm but not unkind.

His eyes flicked to you, and for a moment, something in his expression softened, his grip faltering. But then Camilla spoke, her voice calm and steady. “Charles, you’re drunk. You’re not thinking straight.”

“And you think you are?” he snapped, rounding on her. “You think any of you are? We killed Bunny! We’re all just sitting here, pretending like it’s fine, like he’s not at the bottom of that ravine - rotting - and it’s fine.”

"Charles, put the gun down." I piped up, for some reason compelled to say something. Charles turned to me and I intently regretted it. The gun pointed lazily in my direction sent me into a state of paralysis.

"Henry's gotten to you as well, like he does with every one of us. Ruined our lives." Charles slurred, drunkenly turning towards Henry.

“So you’ve come to kill me then, and you suppose that will make things better?” Henry’s voice cut through the tension, cold and measured. He didn’t move from his seat, his sharp gaze fixed on the weapon in Charles’s hand, as if daring it to waver.

Charles let out a humorless laugh, his chest heaving. “Better than your stupid ideas,” he shot back, his voice slurring at the edges. “What are you doing, Henry? Sitting there like everything’s fine? Like, like we’re not completely screwed?”

Camilla took a step back, her composure slipping. “And you’re going to screw us even more if you kill another person Charles.”

“Can’t you see it Milly,” Charles spat, his voice venomous. “We can't act like this was the right thing. Bunny’s dead because he wouldn’t play along with Henry’s psychotic little games.”

Henry stood then, his movements slow, deliberate. “Bunny’s dead,” he said evenly, “because he was going to put us all in jail. All of us. Including you, Charles.”

Charles laughed again, a bitter, hollow sound. “Oh, you’re good, Henry. Always so calm, so rational. But what happens when this falls apart, huh? What happens when Richard cracks, or Francis decides he’s had enough of this madness?”

“That’s enough,” Henry said, his voice sharp now, a command.

But Charles didn’t back down. If anything, he seemed to feed off Henry’s anger, his grip tightening on the gun. “No, Henry. It’s not enough. It’s never enough with you. Always planning, always controlling-”

“Charles, stop, you’re too drunk to be holding a loaded fucking weapon,” you said, stepping forward again, your hands raised slightly.

“Y/N, don’t,” Henry said sharply, his gaze flicking to you.

But it was too late. Charles’s attention was on you now, his expression twisting with something unreadable. “And you,” he said, his voice quieter now, more dangerous. “Always defending him. Always standing by him, like you’re his little, his little disciple.”

“Don’t be a prick Charles, you know that’s not true,” you said evenly, though your voice shook slightly. “We’re all stuck in this together.”

“Oh, are we?” he said, his tone mocking. “Funny, because it doesn’t feel like that. It feels like I’m the only one who sees how insane this is. Maybe you're too blind by this perverted infatuation you have with him.”

You faltered, "Well aren't you brave when you're drunk. Come on, say what you really want to say Charles."

He opened his mouth to speak, but his sister cut him off before he dug himself a hole. I had no idea what you meant, nor did you ever tell me after what you and Charles were talking about.

“Charles,” Camilla said softly, her voice trembling. “Please. Just put the gun down.”

He looked at her then, and something in his face crumpled, just for a moment. But then Henry stepped forward, his movements careful, calculated, and the fragile truce shattered.

“Give me the gun,” Henry said, his voice low, commanding.

“No,” Charles said, his voice rising. “No, you don’t get to-”

Henry lunged then, his hand closing around Charles’s wrist, and everything happened at once. The two of them struggled, the gun swinging wildly, and you moved instinctively, reaching out to help. 

Then a crack.

The gunshot shattered the air, louder than anything I had ever heard. For a second, everything froze, the sound of it still ringing in my ears, the acrid smell of gunpowder cutting through the room.

Then I saw her on the floor, clutching her side, her breath coming in shallow gasps.

“God,” Francis whispered, his hand flying to his mouth. “Oh, my God.”

“Y/N-” I choked, but Henry was already there, dropping to his knees beside her, his face pale and rigid.

Charles staggered backward, the gun hanging limp in his hand, his face twisted in horror. “I didn’t-” he stammered, his voice cracking. “I didn’t mean to-”

“You idiot,” Henry snapped, not even looking at him. His hands were pressed against her side, blood seeping through his fingers. “Get me something to stop the bleeding.”

Camilla moved first, grabbing a towel from the side table, her hands trembling as she passed it to him. “Here,” she said, her voice shaky.

Henry snatched it without a word, pressing it firmly against the wound. “Keep pressure here,” he ordered, guiding her hand to the towel.

“Henry,” she murmured, her voice faint but steady.

“Don’t talk,” he said sharply. “You’ve already lost too much blood.”

“I’m fine,” she insisted weakly, her lips curving into a faint, wry smile.

“Shut up,” he said flatly, his eyes flicking to hers for a brief moment before returning to the wound. “You’re not fine.”

Across the room, Charles was pacing, his hands in his hair, his breath coming in short, panicked bursts. “I didn’t mean to,” he kept saying, his voice rising. “I didn’t mean to - she just - why the hell did you move Y/N?”

“Oh yes, blame the woman that's been shot Charles. Why the hell were you holding a gun in the first place?” Francis snapped, his voice cutting. “Are you completely out of your mind?”

“Oh, don’t start, Francis,” Charles shot back, his voice trembling. “You’ve been sitting here pretending like everything’s fine, like we didn’t, like we didn’t,”

“Enough,” Henry barked, his voice slicing through their argument like a blade. “All of you. Make yourselves useful. Richard, get some water.”

Charles hesitated, his hands shaking, but the force of Henry’s glare seemed to pin him in place. He sank into a chair, his head in his hands, muttering to himself as I scurried out of the room as fast as I could to the kitchen.

I grabbed a glass of water from the tap and brought it over. “Here,” I said, my voice softer now. “What can I do?”

“Well, you did a year of med school, you tell me.” Henry responded before I knelt down next to you, trying my best with the little resources I had and faded memory of that year in med school, to try to help you.  

“Henry,” Y/N said again, her voice a little stronger this time.

He looked down at her, his jaw tightening. “I told you to stop talking.”

“I’m okay,” she insisted, her eyes meeting his.

“You’re not,” he said bluntly. “You’ve been shot. Don’t be ridiculous.”

Her lips twitched, the faintest hint of amusement in her expression despite the pain. “You’re awfully bossy, you know that?”

He didn’t answer, his gaze dropping back to the wound as he adjusted the pressure on the towel. His hands were steady now, but there was a tension in his shoulders, a rigidity that betrayed the effort it was taking him to keep his composure.

“Henry,” Camilla said quietly, hovering nearby. “Should we call someone?”

“No,” he said immediately, his tone leaving no room for argument. “We handle this ourselves.”

“Handle it ourselves?” Francis repeated, incredulous. “She’s been shot, Henry. She needs a hospital.”

“And when they start asking questions?” Henry shot back, his voice cold. “What do you suggest we tell them? That our friend was so guilty for killing our other friend that he accidently brought a gun and shot her?”

Francis fell silent, his mouth pressing into a thin line.

Henry turned his attention back to her, his voice lowering slightly. “We’ll take care of this. You’ll be fine.”

She gave a small, shaky laugh, wincing at the motion. “You’re very reassuring.”

“It’s just a graze,” I muttered, pulling the towel back to inspect the wound. The words should have been a relief, but my tone was clipped, like I was more annoyed with the situation than anything else.

“See?” you murmured, your voice a faint tease. “I told you I’m fine.”

Pressing the towel back against your side, he replied “This does not qualify as ‘fine.’”

“It’s not that bad,” you insisted, though the sting of the graze and the throbbing ache spreading from your ribs told a different story.

Henry didn’t dignify that with a response, his focus sharp as he shifted slightly, one knee on the ground beside you, his hand firm but careful against your side.

“Christ, I think I’m going to be sick,” Francis muttered, backing away from the scene and collapsing into a chair, his head in his hands.

“You’re not the one who got shot, Francis,” I responded

“I promise Y/N, I didn’t mean it,” Charles’s voice rose again, panicked and defensive. He stood suddenly, knocking over a chair in the process, and ran his hands through his hair. “I swear, I’m so sorry.”

“Stop, it’s quite alright Charl-” you had started but was interrupted by Henry. 

“No one cares about your excuses right now,” Henry said flatly, not even looking at Charles. “What matters is fixing this mess.”

“Mess?” Charles spat, his voice cracking. “She’s not a mess, Henry.”

“Not her,” Henry said coldly, finally glancing up at Charles. “The situation. Which you made infinitely worse.”

“You didn’t exactly stop me, did you?” Charles shot back, his face flushing.

“Stop it,” Camilla interrupted, her voice trembling but firm. She stood between them, her hands outstretched, trying to contain the fraying tension in the room. “Fighting isn’t going to fix anything.”

“Camilla’s right,” you murmured, your voice softer now. “Everyone just... take a breath.”

Henry didn’t respond, his eyes narrowing slightly as he adjusted the towel again.

“God, he’s insufferable,” Francis muttered from the corner, earning a faint laugh from you that turned into a wince.

“Don’t make her laugh,” Henry snapped, his voice cutting through the room.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t realize we were in the operating room,” Francis retorted, his sarcasm barely masking his nerves.

“Enough,” Camilla said again, her voice cracking this time. She glanced down at you, her expression softening. “Are you sure you’re okay? Really?”

“I’ll live,” you said, your gaze flicking to Henry. “As long as Dr. Winter here doesn’t strangle me with his bedside manner.”

Henry’s lips twitched, just barely, but his hands remained steady as he worked. “If you stopped talking, I wouldn’t have to.”

-

The group’s arguing eventually fizzled into an uneasy silence. Charles had retreated to a corner, his head in his hands, while Francis lit a cigarette with shaking fingers, the smoke curling around him in faint spirals. I stayed seated on the couch, having done what I could. 

It was Henry who broke the silence, his voice low and firm. “Camilla, Richard, clean up the blood. Francis, help them out. Charles—” He didn’t even finish the sentence, just sent him a withering look before turning his attention back to you.

“You should lie down,” he said, his voice softening slightly as he helped you to your feet, his arm steady around your waist.

“I’m fine, Henry,” you protested, though you leaned into him as he guided you toward the couch.

“Would you stop saying that,” he replied bluntly. “You’re not.”

-

3rd person POV

Later, after the others had reluctantly left - Camilla, Francis and Richard dragging Charles outside for fresh air - Henry stayed by your side, his presence solid and unwavering. His expression, usually so inscrutable, was softer now, though still laced with the faintest trace of tension as he continued to tend to your wound. His movements were purposeful, precise, and somehow calming, each gesture meticulous as if he had done this a thousand times before.

“You didn’t have to stay,” you said, watching him as he cleaned the graze on your side with careful attention.

Henry’s gaze lifted to meet yours, sharp yet tempered with something else. “Don’t be foolish,” he replied, his voice clipped, but beneath it, you caught a flicker of something less harsh. “You’re bleeding, and I’m not about to leave you to suffer in silence.”

You managed a faint smile, despite the ache in your side. “I’m really fine, Henry. I don’t need a personal nurse.”

His lips tightened, as if he was ready to dismiss your words, but instead, he said, “I know you’re fine. It’s not about that.” His fingers brushed the bandage, a subtle tenderness in his touch. “I want to be here.”

The simple truth in his words hit you harder than you expected. It left you silent, the weight of the moment sinking in, more than the pain from your side ever could. His hands continued their work, efficiently securing the bandage, the silence between you thick with unspoken things.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, his voice quieter now, the question delicate despite the sharpness in his eyes.

“Not really,” you admitted, swallowing the lie. “It’s just a graze.”

He didn’t believe you. The slight narrowing of his eyes made it clear that he saw through your attempt at masking the discomfort. He said nothing, though, his hands stilling briefly as his gaze dropped to your wound, his expression unreadable but full of quiet concentration.

“It shouldn’t have happened,” he muttered, his voice tight, the words laced with self-directed guilt.

You reached up, your fingers brushing his wrist, the contact small. “It wasn’t your fault,” you said gently, your gaze steady on his.

Henry looked at you then, his gaze darkening, sharp and intense. “It could have been worse,” he said, voice rough. “I should have stopped him sooner.”

“There was nothing you could have done,” you interrupted, your voice soft but firm, squeezing his wrist just enough to catch his attention. “It was an accident, Henry. You didn’t cause this.”

His jaw clenched, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he exhaled slowly, his gaze flickering to your side, his eyes dark with frustration, and maybe something else - something quieter, almost protective.

“He’s reckless,” Henry said, his voice rougher now. “And stupid. And you…” He cut himself off, his expression tightening even further. “You could have died because of it.”

“But I didn’t,” you said, your voice quieter this time, but no less resolute.

For a long moment, he didn’t respond, his hand still resting near your side, his fingers lightly brushing against the fabric of your shirt. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter, tinged with something you couldn’t quite place. “You scare me sometimes.”

You looked up at him, eyes searching. “Me?” you asked, surprised. “Why?”

Henry’s gaze met yours, his expression guarded yet open in a way it rarely was. “Because you’re you,” he said, his voice strangely vulnerable. “I can’t imagine a world where something happens to you.” He stopped, shaking his head as if trying to shake the thought off, but it lingered between you like something tangible.

You felt a sharp twist in your chest at his words, but instead of speaking, you reached up and touched his hand gently, squeezing it lightly, as if that simple gesture could offer reassurance.

“Sadly, it seems you’re stuck with me,” you said quietly, your voice soft but certain.

Henry didn’t say anything immediately, but his grip on your hand tightened, steady and grounding. It was a wordless acknowledgment, his hand warm and sure against yours. For a moment, everything else faded, the tension, the fear, the pain, leaving just the two of you in the soft stillness of the room.

He glanced down at you then, the faintest trace of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “You should rest,” he murmured after a while, his tone strangely gentle, though it still carried that underlying command that you’d come to recognize in him.

You tilted your head slightly, meeting his gaze with a mix of affection and stubbornness. “Henry Winter telling someone to rest?” you said with a half-smile. “How rich.”

A small, fleeting smile tugged at the corner of his lips in response, almost imperceptible but enough to soften the sharp edges of his usual demeanor. “Consider it a rare moment of concern,” he said, his voice low, but with the faintest trace of humor that made your heart skip.

You shifted slightly, trying not to wince as you moved, but eventually, you settled your head carefully in his lap, your body aching but the warmth of his presence grounding you. His hand remained steady, hovering above you for a moment before finally resting lightly on your arm. He didn’t pull away, though his posture was stiff for a moment, as though unsure how to proceed.

“Are you comfortable?” you asked, your voice soft but teasing.

Henry’s lips quirked just enough to be noticeable. “You should be the one asking that,” he muttered, but it was clear the tension had eased between you.

His hand rested firmly against your arm, and for the first time in hours, the rest of the world outside that room seemed to disappear. The soft crackle of the fire blurred into a gentle hum as he absentmindedly traced light patterns on your arm.

“You’re worrying about them again, aren’t you?” he said eventually, his voice laced with amusement, though it was quiet.

You sighed, a soft breath escaping you. “They’re all just... shaken up. Charles more than anyone,” you murmured, your eyes drifting closed. “He never meant for this to happen.”

Henry’s fingers paused for a beat, but he didn’t speak at first. Instead, his gaze softened as he stared down at you, his eyes heavy with something that might have been concern—or something else entirely.

“You have a habit of doing that,” he said finally, his voice steady. “Worry about everybody else except yourself.”

You opened your eyes briefly, catching his gaze. “Liar.”

He smirked slightly, the faintest trace of that signature Henry Winter teasing slipping into his expression. “You know it’s true,” he said bluntly, before his gaze softened again. “You’re going to worry yourself to death before the bullet can.”

For a long while, neither of you spoke. The weight of the world seemed to have lifted, leaving only the two of you in the quiet cocoon of the room. It was strange, this comfort between you, but undeniable. Finally, you leaned up slightly, meeting his gaze with a quiet certainty.

“Henry?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He looked down at you, his expression unreadable, but his grip on your hand unwavering. “Hmm?”

“Thank you,” you said softly, your words simple but sincere.

He didn’t respond immediately, his gaze lingering on you as though considering his answer carefully. When he spoke, his voice was quieter than before, softer, more genuine. “You don’t need to thank me,” he said. “I’m just glad you’re safe.”

a/n: sorry for the pov change, i find it awfully gross. double post today, your girl felt productive and didn't want to continue writing her essay

[mqriuss]

03 | Now playing: Dream Boy

from 'bad girls that haven't been caught' series

playlist | series masterlist

rindou is never not confused by you. he can never tell what mood you're in because of your consistent deadpan expression. you had two faces that you wore often—focused and resting. occasionally, you'd show some frustration but that's all he's ever seen.

the first day he started teaching you to play basketball after school was the day you asked him to. he remembers asking, "why do you want me to teach you all of a sudden?"

and he remembers you saying, "'cause you're the best basketball player in our class."

"that's not the answer i wanted."

"you asked why i wanted you to teach me, not why i wanted to learn. i don't think i'm misunderstanding anything." you shrugged, dribbling the basketball as best as you could.

rindou remembers standing, looking like a bathroom sign and gaping at you. "okay, smartass. so you did understand what i actually meant."

"shut up and help me already. i forgot how you said i was supposed to hold this."

on the second day he teaches you basketball, he didn't even know he was supposed to.

"this is a regular thing?"

"yes, i said i wanted you to teach me after classes."

"okay, but the plural form of class doesn't clarify you wanting me to do this everyday," rindou said, and he mentally cringes at how much like you he sounded.

"so, are you going to do it or not?" you asked with your arms crossed, foot tapping against the floor.

rindou looked you up and down and sighed. "i don't really have a choice, do i?"

"actually, you do. i've done your homework and you've taught me once. if you don't want to keep this up, it's fine."

he had no words. just, looked at you like you ruined the script of the movie of his life. and you did actually, with no emotion whatsoever. were you a robot? rindou took his glasses off, rubbing a hand over his face before putting them back on.

"so, you don't want to-"

"no, i'll do it."

the third day he teaches you basketball is today. curiosity is still eating at him and you were still avoiding telling him the actual reason why you wanted to learn basketball.

"you're not even, like, terrible at the other sports. you still learn for a good grade," he says. "so what's up with you and basketball?"

you shoot the ball towards the basket, and it successfully goes into the hoop—after several failed attempts.

"i don't like basketball, so i don't normally get a good grade for it. luckily, the bare minimum is enough," you answer him, but again, it's not quite the answer he's looking for.

"wait," rindou furrows his eyebrows. "now i'm even more confused. if you don't like basketball, why do you..." he trails off, seeing your gaze wandering.

members of the school's basketball team come entering. he tilts his head, "you said we could use the indoor court today."

you don't answer him, your eyes fixated on the group and he wishes he knew who exactly you were looking at.

rindou doesn't know most of their names, but he does recognize the point guard. hayashi fumio, the smartest guy in the class and also your academic rival. he sure is chatting it up with the pretty first year manager, rindou thinks to himself.

"guess i was wrong," you remark in response after some delay. "we'll just have to continue outdoors."

fumio looked like he was going to wave at you, but stops when he sees that you're not sparing him a single glance. for a moment, he makes eye contact with rindou but doesn't get enough time to react when their manager calls out to him again.

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[the-witty-pen-name]

ou need more igor x reader… in a drought

You ask and you will receive! Sorry it took a while!

Little Glimpses (2)

Igor (Anora) x F!Reader

Word Count: 1.4K

Warnings: insecurity; alcohol consumption; fluff

Part One

You couldn’t shut your brain off, you’d been tossing and turning all night. The noises of the city outside would distract you when it became too loud and then you longed for it when it fell silent. You became fixated on the little bit of light from the street lamp that shone in through the blinds. You were so tired and your body ached for sleep. You felt like you were so close, but no matter what- you remained restless.

“You okay?” Igor stirs awake beside you. You feel immensely guilty for waking him up- even though it was unintentional.

“Can’t sleep,” you grumble, trying to burrow into your pillow, shifting your body once more to find a comfortable position. You glanced over at the red numbers on your alarm clock face, suddenly feeling like the light from it is too bright. 3:23 AM You were fucked for how early you needed to get up for work.

He’s always so good at reading you- anticipating your needs, sometimes before you even know the problem yourself. He rolls onto his side so he’s facing you and he strokes your hair softly. It does wonders for you. You yawn softly, feeling your eyes finally get a little heavy. He kisses your forehead, and then the tip of your nose, and then your cheek, until he places a soft kiss on your lips. His large hand runs along the length of your side before settling on your waist.

He closes his eyes again, and pulls your body in closer. Your face rests against his strong chest and his chin rests on the top of your head. Like this, the outside factors that were bothering you had deafened. You felt grounded when he would hold you like this.

You’re snoring softly almost instantly, and he makes sure you’re up in time in the morning before he leaves.

You love him, you love him so much that it hurts when he’s not around, and it fucking scares you. Everything you have with him is so goddamn wonderful that it’s maddening. You get in your own head. You haven’t loved anyone like this before, and you are so scared of fucking everything up. You can’t tell him- it would just ruin everything. It makes this beautiful little thing suddenly something so painstakingly real. He’s been so patient with you- letting you take this at your pace. You feel like eventually you will get in your own way and fuck everything up.

He’s so nonchalant about it that if you didn’t need that from it, you’d find him infuriating. You’re sitting on the front steps of his grandmother’s house, waiting for him to get home from his shift. You anxiously tap your foot against the pavement. You needed to tell him before it completely tore you up from the inside out. When he pulls up to the curb, he gets out of the car- surprised but still very happy to see you.

“Hey you-“

“I love you!” You blurt, panicked and wide eyed. You shouted it before you lost your courage. It was not ideal, but you give yourself credit for doing it. You feel yourself spiral, trying to gauge his reaction as he says nothing the first few agonizingly long seconds. He smiles. How dare he.

“I love you too,” he states, crouching down to be eye level with you seated on the first step. He holds your face with his hand and kisses you. It’s so absolute, he says it like it’s just a fact. It is, in a way, really. Of course he loves you, he loves you every day. He shows you every day. He’s so sincere with his affection for you that you should know how much he loved you without needing to hear him say it. But he loves to say it just the same.

When you’re at the bar together, he doesn’t take his hands off you. It’s not in a douche-y possessive way like one would assume. He just loves being near you, and touching you helps keeps him grounded from his own anxieties. He doesn’t love the bar scene, never has. He deals with it all night when he works. But, he’ll go with you when you need a night out.

His hand will stay on the small of your back. Or, he’ll keep his arm wrapped around your shoulder or your waist, rubbing small circles on your skin. He’ll wrap both of his arms around you from behind and kiss the exposed skin of your shoulder before resting his chin there. He’ll hold your hand, or even just link his pinky with yours. He’ll kiss your temple as you catch up talking with your friends.

As you’re sitting on your bed, he’ll take care of you when you’re too drunk when the two of you get back. Kneeling between your legs, he bites his lip in concentration as he takes off your makeup gently with your pack of makeup wipes. He’s so focused and all you can do is stare at him, awestruck at just how pretty he is. He helps you out of your heels, kissing your sore ankles. He helps you shimmy out of your dress and into your most comfortable pajamas that you love. He has you sit up, your back flush to his chest, and he’ll brush out your hair and he can mimic how you get it ready for bed having watched you do it a million times.

In the summertime months, when its too hot to even think straight- you’ll go to the beach. Sandy towels laid out next to one another and you both just lay in the sun for hours. The sun is the kind of bright that makes it feel like your sunglasses are doing nothing. If you didn’t have them on, maybe you would have noticed the way his back was beginning to burn. He has to drive in such a way that his back doesn’t rest back against the driver's seat.

He’ll lay on his back, shirtless and miserable, spread out on your bed. You’ll be slow and methodical, rubbing the cooling aloe vera across the expanse of his back trying to be as gentle as possible. He softly groans in relief as he feels your hands run down and up his skin. If the burn didn’t hurt so bad, maybe this would’ve led to something more.

You’d been feeling insecure, down on yourself, and you couldn’t shake it. You know he loves you, you trust him more than anyone, yet your mind isn’t always your friend. He’s still working as a bouncer- and you know he hates it- can’t stand working nights. You get in your own head when you think about how many girls he sees every night. How many of them must flirt with him to get in when the line is long? What if he ever met someone else? He’s done nothing to make you think that has happened or would ever happen. It doesn’t make it bother you any less.

It stings when he pulls away from cuddling with you on your couch when he needs to go to work. He hated leaving, he’d much rather stay with you than stand outside in the dark and the cold for the next several hours. He’s been dreading having to leave, seeing if he can push it back one more minute, two more minutes before he absolutely has to leave. You pout and if he could skip his shift he would. He kisses you, pulling you in for a kiss that’s so sensual and sweet- like sealing a promise for what’s to come when he returns.

“I’ll be thinking about you the whole time,” he admits, and you smile ear to ear because you know it’s true. You’ll be here, waiting for him, but he knows you’ll probably be asleep. That’s alright, he’s got his own key now. His shift will end at 2 or 3 in the morning, and he’ll come right back to you- feeling completely drained.

Someone tried to give him a hard time, arguing or trying to fight for god knows what reason. It doesn’t matter, he’ll forget all about it the second he’s able to just walk back up to your apartment. He knows the door creeks, so he does his best to open it slowly not to wake you. He’ll find you asleep on the couch, movie or show playing on the tv- he can tell you tried to wait up for him. He’ll shrug off his jacket and leave it on one of your kitchen chairs before joining you back on the couch. He’ll lay down behind you, and pull you close against his chest. He moves the blanket to cover the two of you, and he’ll drift off to the sound of the TV.

[mischievouslittlecreature]

Part 26: Do You Love Me

Summary: The hits keep on coming, and the darkness surrounding them continues to surge.

Word Count: 7,257

Warnings: Angst, insecurity, smut, wet dream, suicidal thoughts, violence, and torture.

Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Chapter

Chapter 15: Lost Without You

Her hands were in his hair, hips moving with jerking, frantic motions as she rode his cock. Tommy moaned wantonly, face burying in her neck, hands clenching tightly at her waist. He inhaled the sweet scent of roses and vanilla, teeth scraping along her skin, laying sloppy kisses all the way along the slope of her shoulder to her throat. 

“Lucy,” he breathed out in sharp warning, feeling his balls tighten. It had been so agonizingly long since he’d had her, it was a miracle he’d lasted more than a few pumps. She moaned, back arching a little against him, head tipping to give him better access to her neck. Her walls squeezed around him in a vice grip, and then he was gasping out her name, white spots appeared in his vision at his cock swelling and exploding inside of her. And then he was holding onto her for dear life and telling her that he loved her and kissing her and trying to mold them together into one being so they would never be parted again and opening his eyes and–

And coming copiously all over the insides of his white shorts.

It took a moment for his head to right itself and entirely process what had just happened. And then he was rolling over, legs tangled in the sheets. Burying his face into the pillow, groaning perhaps a tad overdramatically. 

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

Finally, his head started to clear itself of post-orgasm flutters and the lingering arousal left over from the dream. He raised his face to examine the damage, cringing at the realization that his shorts were as good as ruined. 

Sitting up, he reached blindly for a cigarette, lighting it while rubbing at his face. 

In hindsight, he supposed it shouldn’t be that surprising. He hadn’t had sex since the time with Lizzie in the cupboard at her birthday party, and he’d been so preoccupied that he hadn’t had the time nor motivation to wank one out either. Not to mention his continued longing and pining for Lucy from afar. 

Coming in my sleep like a fucking teenager. Fucking hell. He shook his head. He and Lucy had never been ones to keep their hands to themselves. Outside of that time he’d been recovering from his head injury, or the time she was healing from being tortured by Luca, this had to be the longest dry spell they’d ever had. 

Gonna have to get used to it, aren’t you, Tommy? Since she wants next to nothing to do with you anymore, he thought to himself, leaning back until his skull thumped against the headboard. His hands threaded together over his stomach, chest heaving with a miserable sigh. 

God, he was so completely and utterly lonely without her.

There was no one to talk to. No one who understood. He thought that maybe that was what he missed the most. The simple understanding between them. On almost everything. Lucy had been his person. His best friend. Not just his lover. 

A sudden swell of agonizing sorrow washed over him when he glanced at the empty space beside him. Tears welled in his eyes, and rather than fight them back like he had been for so long, he finally gave in and let them slip down his cheeks, ragged sounds emitting from his throat while he sobbed quietly. Leaning down, he buried his face in her pillow, crying openly. The scent of her–renewed somewhat from the night that she’d spent back there after the ballet–was starting to fade. But he still had a bottle of her perfume that he could spray onto the sheets if needed. 

Chris, when did he get so pathetic? 

Missing her was a pain he had never thought he would have to experience. He supposed that he’d always assumed, without even really thinking about it, that the only thing that would separate them would be death. And even then, he knew that if Lucy were gone, he would not be long in following her.

It was not even a question, or something to consider. Just a simple, clean cut fact. 

He could not live without her. 

∗ ∗ ∗

Lucy turned over a slip of paper that had been ripped from her notebook. The information scrawled onto it seemed about to burn through the paper to singe her fingertips. She was lounging back in her chair at her desk in the London office, waiting patiently for Tommy to finish his meeting with Churchill before speaking with him. 

When she’d gotten in from her outing to a phone booth down the street–she didn’t trust that their phone lines in the office weren’t tapped–it was to find Churchill and Tommy already seated and talking in his office, the double doors open. While she removed her cap and stuffed it into her pocket, she didn’t bother taking her coat off before sitting down. It was dark out and they would be heading out once this meeting was wrapped up. 

“There are some times, some nights, when I don’t see the point in carrying on with any of it.” Tommy’s voice rumbled from his office. Lucy’s fidgeting with the paper momentarily ceased, alarm shooting through her.

She’d thought that he was doing better since she’d moved out. What could have happened to change that? Ben and the ten year old’s death had hit him pretty hard. Maybe it was that. 

He always did feel so guilty about everything, even when it was something that was not really his fault. 

When Churchill finally stood to gather up his hat and coat, Lucy busied herself adjusting the lay of a few pens on her desk, trying to pretend that she hadn’t been eavesdropping.

“Good evening, my dear,” Churchill said when he passed her desk, smiling at her good naturedly. Lucy returned the smile in kind. She liked Churchill. And she knew that Tommy did too. 

“Good evening, Mr. Churchill.” She waited until the door closed behind him, then stood.

The paper in her hand was crinkled horribly at the edges, but the quick, slightly slanted lines of the words she’d scribbled down onto it were still there, plain as day. 

Slowly, she approached him where he was standing in front of his desk, shoulders curved in and head bowed. 

“Tommy?” she called, timidly, coming up on his right side, inching closer. When his face came into view, she could see that his eyes were closed. She lifted a hand to touch his shoulder, then thought better of it and let it fall limply back to her side. “Are you alright?”

He roused at the sound of her voice, eyes opening and lifting his head. With a slight heave of effort, he pulled himself back up to standing straight. “Yes, I’m fine,” he replied curtly, not really meeting her eyes. 

Her fingers twisted at her rings while she observed him, frowning,. But she knew that pushing him on the matter was unlikely to accomplish much. Especially considering the way that things were between them currently. 

“I found out who killed Ben,” she offered instead, hoping that maybe that would help pull his mind out of whatever dark place it had gotten lost in. 

Tommy’s head finally twisted towards her. “Who?”

“His name is Paddy Rose. He has connections to the Ulster Volunteer Force and now offers his services in exchange for cash. He’s in Sparkhill. He’s the one who planted the bomb.”

“How did you–?”

“I called the girls who work at the Digbeth telephone exchange.” She and Tommy were friends with them. “I asked them about any calls that were made around the time of the explosion. Thirty minutes before Ben died, the call to Paddy Rose was made,” she hesitated. “The number that the call came from was Micky’s.”

“The bartender Micky?” 

“Yes.”

Tommy’s eyes turned to the window, wide. Lucy looked down at the paper which contained her notes. They all liked Micky. He was nice. Helpful. He’d done a stellar job of managing the Garrison since they’d hired him. 

“I asked them about patterns in the calls he made. If I had to guess, he’s been informing on us for some time now.”

“To Mosley?”

“Maybe. But probably selling out information to whoever will pay the most for it. He’s the one who gave the Titanic boys the tip about Arthur’s trip to pick up the opium. That’s why they knew where to go to ambush him.” It was lucky that Arthur was a deranged maniac who was more than capable of chasing off a few rival gang members. Otherwise they might’ve had another funeral to attend.  

“Do you have Paddy Rose’s address?”

She held out the paper silently to him. He took it, squinting a little without his glasses to make out the words. 

“Shall I pay him a visit?” she asked. 

“You, me, and Arthur will,” Tommy smacked his lips together in thought. “I want to speak with him personally.”

∗ ∗ ∗

Paddy Rose screamed as Lucy traced the tip of her blade around the edges of his eyeball, nicking slightly at his eyelid when she did.

“Any more questions for our new friend here, boys?” she asked Tommy and Arthur. Both men were half hidden in the shadows of the bridge. Tommy was leaning against the wall, the glow of his cigarette casting shadows across his face when he raised it to his lips. Arthur was lingering by the edge of the canal, hands in his pockets. 

“No,” Tommy said, tapping ash out onto the ground. Lucy looked back in the eyes of the whimpering Paddy. Well, looked into one of his eyes; the one her blade was poised dangerously close to. The other was long gone, tossed carelessly into the water after she cut it out of his head, leaving nothing but a bloody socket in its wake. 

“Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Rose. You’ve been very helpful,” she crooned, and sliced his throat open from ear to ear. 

The three of them waited until he’d stopped gurgling and twitching, letting him bleed out slowly onto the cobblestones. Lucy cleaned her knives in the meantime, tucking them safely back into her coat.

“Let’s weigh him down,” Arthur finally said softly once the man had stopped moving entirely, no sound emitting from him save the soft drip, drip, drip of the blood running down his front to kiss the ground. 

The three of them worked together to tie the bricks they’d brought to the body. They dragged him to the edge of the canal, and with a heave, sent him rolling over to splash heavily into the water. The body floated only for a brief second before it sank beneath the dark depths.

“What are we going to do about Micky?” Arthur asked, the three of them standing on the edge, watching the water. Tommy took out another cigarette, offering his case to Lucy silently. She snagged one without even thinking and let him light it, wrapping her coat tightly around herself to hide the splatters of blood that had made their way onto the front of her shirt. 

“He’s going to have to go,” Tommy determined simply. 

“Tonight?”

He shook his head. “Tomorrow. After the family meeting.” 

“Right.” Arthur looked around. “Best get going. Before it starts raining.”

Lucy angled her head up. He was right. It did seem like it was about to rain. She could feel the weight of moisture in the air. As they started the walk back into the city, she trailed behind the two brothers, arms hugging her middle, eyes cast downwards. Every couple of paces, she sensed Tommy glancing back to make sure that she was still with them. 

She had made a decision, after her realization that Tommy was completely lost to her. She would stay until after the assassination was over. But then, she would leave. She had already bought the train ticket, hidden away under the mattress in her bedroom at Charlie’s. A week after Mosley had been dead, she would pack her bags, and leave for Liverpool to catch the first ship out of England.

Lizzie didn’t want her to remain in their lives. The kids probably didn’t either. Nor did the rest of the family. And deep down, neither did Tommy.  

She would not continue to burden him with herself, she decided. He had given her years of life and purpose. Far more than she probably deserved. She would not pay that back by overstaying her welcome and making things harder for him by continuing to linger on the peripherals of his life. Better that she was gone, so he could move on and enjoy his life without having to feel guilty. 

Her being gone, completely, was the best thing that she could do for him. 

∗ ∗ ∗

Lucy sat at the table in the corner, to the left of the fireplace, foot tapping on the floor and leaning back, smoking carelessly. She had been one of the first to arrive at the Garrison, earning an eyebrow raise from several of the other family members. She and Tommy rarely arrived at family meetings separately. Michael in particular had been eyeing her with a rather unnerving expression. 

There had been no time over the past few days for her to further investigate her suspicions that Michael was planning something. They had been too busy weeding out Micky’s betrayal and planning the assassination to focus on anything else. 

Arthur passed her a glass of whiskey after grabbing one for himself, earning a grateful smile from her. There was a tension in the room that she didn’t like; the majority of the family having occupied themselves with either smoking or drinking while they waited. Only Charlie and Curly were speaking, their voices lowered to hushed tones at their place by the door. Something about poor Charlie getting kicked in the leg by Barney, who was outside being watched over by a few Lee boys. 

The door slammed open and she let out a breath of relief she hadn’t even realized that she was holding at the sight of Tommy. He cleared his throat, and the meeting began. 

It was all going so well. Everything was happening according to plan. And then Michael interrupted Tommy in the middle of him announcing his official reinstatement to the company. Lucy tensed, even more so upon noticing the look of worried confusion on Polly’s face. If anyone would have known what Michael was up to, it would have been her. And yet she clearly didn’t. 

It seemed that the other shoe had finally dropped, then.

Michael met Tommy’s gaze unflinchingly. “Due to the amounts involved, I think that this company should be restructured.”

Holy fuck.

“Restructured in what way?” The look on Tommy’s face was dangerous. The kind of look he gave someone right before he ordered Lucy to blow their head off. She was suddenly greatly aware of the weight of her pistol pressed against her ribs in its holster.    

Michael stood, resting his hands on Gina’s shoulders as he began to speak, to outline his new plan for the company. The entire room was eerily silent save for Michael’s voice, everyone glancing nervously between him and Tommy.

“You see, I know, that the scars, and the wounds, they’re on the inside,” Michael tapped his temple. “Not on the outside. And as a member of the new generation, I am able to take that great burden off your weary shoulders.” Did the fucking kid just call them all old? 

Tommy’s eyes were so cold, she was surprised that she didn’t feel a chill in the air.

Michael soldiered on with the rest of his proposal, either not noticing or not caring how close he was to triggering Tommy’s wrath. Gina held out a file to him. He plucked it from his wife’s fingers, “Here is my proposal,” he set it on the table in front of Tommy, who looked down at it like it was a bug that needed to be squashed. “A full restructuring of the company. I will be managing director. And you can be non-executive chairman. But under an assumed name to protect your reputation. I found the name of a dead man. You will be registered as Mr. Jones.”

Tommy blinked very, very slowly. Oh, he was mad. Lucy had seen him furious many times over the years. This had to crack at least the top ten, maybe top five, of Tommy Shelby Is Pissed moments she had been witness to over the years. 

Michael looked around the room, turned back to face Tommy, and picked up the proposal, holding it out to him. “Take a look at the future, Tommy. At least read it with an open mind.”

There was a moment of utter silence, the only sound the soft crackle of the flames in the fireplace. The tension in the room was so tight even a simple whisper could have broken it. Lucy remained ready to spring, fingers itching towards her gun as she watched Tommy closely.

Just give me the order. Just say it and I’ll take care of this ungrateful, backstabbing, usurping piece of shit.

Tommy took the proposal from Michael, brows furrowing in mock concern.

“It’s cold in here, Michael.” In one fluid movement he turned, and tossed the proposal into the fire behind him. Johnny cackled from his place in the corner. Lucy smirked.

“Tommy, the Americans want to deal with me–”

“Item number three,” Tommy’s voice boomed over Michael’s.

Gina started egging Michael on–the girl had guts, Lucy could at least give her that–but before the conversation could escalate even more, there was commotion outside, and upon the news that Barney was giving their boys outside some trouble, the men in the room immediately leapt to their feet at Tommy’s order and filed out the door. Soon it was just her, Tommy, Michael, Gina, and Polly. Tommy turned, pinching at his brow. His hands came to rest against the mantle of the fireplace, head bowed towards the flames.

“I’m doing this for you, Tommy,” Michael placated. “It’s time. And you know it. Tommy, mum’s leaving. John’s dead. Arthur needs help. Lucy’s miserable. Ada’s man was killed in your own backyard because you fucked up–”

Tommy moved with frightening, almost unnatural speed, seizing a bottle of whiskey and throwing it into the fire. The bottle shattered, the flames flaring upwards in response to the alcohol. And then he whirled, seconds away from charging for Michael’s throat. Gina jumped back a bit in her chair. Polly spun away with her eyes closed. Lucy rocked forward, ready to help if he needed her. 

“C’mon, Tom,” Michael whispered, a pocket knife in his hand, held out to Tommy. “C’mon, cut me. Like the good old days. Or,” he lowered the blade, “see this for what it is. A natural succession. That someday must happen.”

Tommy licked his lips, eyes glancing away as he took a deep breath, shaking his head. “I gave you an opportunity, Michael. You betrayed me. Don’t be here when I get back. You,” he snapped his fingers at Gina, “you can tell your family–”

“Let me guess, ‘don’t fuck with the Peaky Blinders,’ right?”

Tommy stormed away towards the door. Lucy leapt from her position still seated at the table. 

“Get them the fuck out of here,” she commanded Polly, who was looking at her son as if she’d never seen him before. Shooting one last disgusted, disappointed look at Michael, Lucy followed Tommy outside. As soon as they were out the door and a few paces away Tommy groaned, leaning over with his hand braced on a lamppost. She pressed a palm between his shoulder blades.

“You alright?”

Tommy pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. “After everything that we’ve fucking done for him…”

“I can’t believe that he called us old.”

Tommy gave her a look that was both appalled and amused. “That’s what you’re upset about?”

“What? I’m not even forty yet! Not that forty’s old,” she added hastily at his raised eyebrow. Chuckling, Tommy took her hand, dragging her along with him and heading for the sounds of Barney yelling. 

She hung back with Charlie and Curly, watching Tommy calm Barney down from the unpredictable, frightened mess that the man had been a moment ago. It was quite sweet, really, to see how gently Tommy treated his former comrade, handing him off to Jeremiah to take to Charlie’s yard. She followed Tommy and the remaining men back inside, to finish up the last piece of business before Michael interrupted them. The pub was empty upon their return, Michael, Gina, and Polly had all vanished. 

Lounging back in her chair, feet kicked up while she smoked, she listened quietly to Tommy relaying the plan for Mosley’s assassination to the other men. Arthur slid another glass of whiskey to her.  

In response to Tommy announcing Barney’s role of shooting Mosley, Aberama raised an eyebrow. “That madman out there? Need I remind you, Tommy, that you already have an assassin who works for you,” he nodded towards Lucy. “Why not have her do it?”

Lucy glanced away, swirling the whiskey in her glass. There was still a sting at not being chosen for this assignment, even though Tommy’s reasons were frustratingly sound, as he explained to Aberama and everyone else. Lucy continued to sip her whiskey while the men discussed the details. She and Tommy had already gone over the plan thoroughly. She already had her instructions. 

Guilt roiled within her at Tommy’s bitter demand that anyone who wanted to leave was to leave now. Did he know about the train ticket? Or was it just a reaction to Michael’s words about them being an old fashioned backstreet razor gang? He had his back to her where he was standing with his hands braced against the bar. She couldn’t see his face. 

 She hoped that he would not take her planned departure as a slight. Or as judgment passed onto any of them for the life that they lived. Or as detest towards the gang. She had loved her life with them. Truly. It was breaking her heart to have to leave it all behind. 

No one–her included–moved at the offer of escape. 

Wrapping up giving everyone their orders, Tommy dismissed them all save for her and Arthur. Leaning against the bar, Tommy’s face twisted, brow furrowing.

“It’s time.”

∗ ∗ ∗

Much as he may have hidden it, the sting of the twisting knife of betrayal never really lessened. No matter how many times it happened.

He had known that Michael was up to something. But perhaps he had allowed himself to hope just a bit too much that it was nothing. That it was just his paranoia getting out of hand. And yet he had felt it, the creeping of hands reaching up to try to snatch away his crown, the vultures beginning to circle overhead.

He sank more heavily into his seat in the booth, face cradled in his hand as he tried to keep his head from exploding from the thoughts within. Michael’s words turned over in his mind. Beside him, Lucy fiddled with a coaster in front of her. Arthur was leaning over the bar with his head bowed. The Garrison was empty, save for the three of them. Until the door swung open and Micky walked in, humming softly to himself. All three of them tensed, a quiet resignation filtering throughout the room.

Here we go.

He kept his eyes focused sternly on Micky while he and Arthur explained their findings to him regarding his recent activities. 

“Me and my brother, and my assistant,” he nodded over at Lucy, who was watching them with dark eyes that seemed to glow like amber with the way the light hit them, “we spoke to Paddy. At length. He told us it was him that planted the bomb.”

With every word, Micky’s face drained of a little more color, until he was white as a ghost. He looked moments away from openly weeping. Tommy forced himself to think of Ada. To think of the child his sister would have to raise without a father. To think of the burning car outside his office, the charred figure that had been removed from it once the flames were doused. Micky had done that. He had to remember that. 

Arthur leaned forward. Micky began to sob. Tommy wished that he would fight them. Or deny it. Or be angry with them. Anything to help make what they had to do easier. But instead he just sat there, whimpering and crying, looking around before tilting his head up to the ceiling, murmuring what could have been a prayer under his breath. Sniffling, he pulled himself together, looking to him.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Shelby.”

Tommy looked away, towards the doors of the pub. Micky continued to stare at him.

“Don’t look at Tommy,” Arthur ordered softly, beckoning a hand at Micky until he fixed his eyes on him. Now. He needed to do it now, or he might not be able to. “The ceiling would be cheaper, brother.”

“Micky!” Fast as he could, Tommy pulled his gun from its holster, lunged forward, pressed it to the underside of the man’s chin, and pulled the trigger. The gunshot thundered throughout the pub, the wet splatter of blood and brains spraying upwards to coat the ceiling.

Arthur cringed away. Lucy turned her head to the side, eyes closed. Tommy slammed the pistol down on the table, hands bracing as he bent over it. A moment later he raised his hand to stare in amazement at the slight way that it trembled. 

“Fucking hell, Arthur,” he held it up for his brother to see. “Eh? Shaking like the hand of a normal man,” he straightened, wiping at his brow. He shot a glance at Lucy, checking to make sure that she was alright. She seemed fine, rubbing her balled up fist against her lips and eyeing Micky’s body where it was slumped over in his chair. Grabbing his coat, he began to pull it on.       

Then Arthur had to start in on pestering him about how maybe Michael was right…maybe they could stop…maybe it could be over…maybe, maybe, maybe…

Once upon a time, he had entertained thoughts of an after. A time when all the heinous shit they had to do would be behind them. When he would be able to rest. Be at peace.

What little lingering hope he’d had for that went up in smoke the day Lucy left Arrow House. Never to return. Not unless by some miracle he managed to win her back. 

Did he even dare? He needed her. But he couldn’t bear the thought of further ruining her life. The kind thing–the right thing–to do would be to let her go. That way she could finally be truly happy without being shackled to a mess of a man like him. He’d never deserved her anyway. 

He did his best to ignore Arthur, instead focusing on gathering up his cigarette case and lighter to stuff into his pockets. Lucy shifted, sliding from the booth to grab her own coat and shrug it on. Arthur whimpered, staggering backwards into the chair he had been sitting in, still babbling. Tommy kept his back turned to him, eyes staring at the floorboards as he exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face. Lucy was glancing between them worriedly. Michael’s voice, loud and clear, as if he was standing right beside him, rang in his ears.

Mum’s leaving.

Polly with her dark doe eyes, looking at him with that stern, yet motherly expression. An expression that these days always seemed to carry worry and disappointment in equal measures.  

John’s dead.

John’s body, cold and pale and full of bullets. The scent of the smoke from his burning burial wagon.

Arthur needs help.

The sounds of Arthur whimpering behind him.

Lucy’s miserable.

Her sad dark brown eyes. Her hands pulling away from him, even as he reached out for her desperately.

Ada’s man was killed in your own backyard because you fucked up.

The thundering boom of Ben’s car exploding right outside his office. Ada’s tears as he told her the news. 

All his fault. Each and every one of them.

It wasn’t the blue stone, Tommy. It was you.

“Michael…Michael could be right, we could go, Tommy. We could go,” Arthur babbled. “We could fucking leave this place. We could leave it to the kids. Michael’s…he might be right. He might be fucking right.”

It was you.

“Arthur!” Tommy exploded, “there is no item number five!” he roared, hand grabbing his gun where it was still sitting on the table next to Micky’s body. He stuffed it into his holster and straightened his jacket. “Go and check that Polly is still on our side,” he turned to Lucy. “Clean this up,” he gestured in the direction of Micky’s body. “Then check on Barney at the yard.” She nodded, eyes not fully meeting his while she adjusted the lay of her coat. “I have to go to Margate.” 

He ignored Arthur’s murmurs of affirmation, heading to the door. The space by his side where Lucy usually was felt gaping and empty, but he did his best not to dwell on it. 

∗ ∗ ∗

“Tommy,” Alfie said, before he could leave. “How’s Lucy?” 

He paused at the sound of her name. “She’s fine.”

“Does she know I’m alive?”

“Yes, I let her read your letter.” 

Alfie cocked his head, his good eye narrowing suspiciously. “Why isn’t she here?” 

“She was busy.”

But Alfie shook his head. “Where Thomas Shelby goes, the Red Demon is never far behind. That’s the saying, isn’t it?”

Tommy sighed, realizing that Alfie wasn’t going to let him get by with dodging the topic. “We’re…going through a bit of a rough patch right now.” Understatement of the fucking century. 

Alfie’s face immediately darkened. “What did you do?”

Tommy shot him a look of slight offense. “Why do you immediately assume it was my fault?”

Alfie just stared at him. Huffing, Tommy looked down at his shoes in silent admission that he was correct in his blame. 

“I saw you got married. Imagine my surprise when I saw that the bride’s name wasn’t Lucy’s.”

“It’s complicated.”

“Are you going to fix it?”

Shoving his hands into his pockets, Tommy looked towards the open doors leading out onto the balcony. “I don’t know if I can.”

“She was always too good for you.”

He let out a choked off, humorless laugh. “I know.”

“She loves you more than anything.”

A lump lodged its way into Tommy’s throat. “Yes.” She’d given him everything. Every little bit of herself. And he’d gone and been careless with it. Broken all the promises he’d made. Ripped out her heart and then stomped on for good measure. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t meant any of it. It had still happened. 

It would serve him right if she never forgave him.

“Do you love her, Tom?” Alfie asked.

Tommy looked up to meet his eyes. “Yes. Of course I do.”

Alfie examined him closely, then leaned back in his chair, seemingly satisfied. “Have you told her that, lately?”

Tommy opened his mouth to respond. To say, yes, of course I have. Because he told Lucy that he loved her all the time. Or at least he tried to. 

But then he thought about it. Tried to remember a specific time that he’d actually told her that he loved her. That his heart still belonged to her. 

To his utter horror, he realized that he couldn’t remember a moment recently in which he had. 

Fucking hell, no wonder she was pulling away from him. He’d so failed in nearly every capacity as a lover. Even he was amazed at how monumentally he kept fucking up with her at this point.  

He kept trying to figure out how it had all happened. And why it all seemed to keep collapsing further into disarray. All he could conclude was that he’d somehow gotten lost. They both had. In their own heads. Their own melancholies. Their own doubts and insecurities. Maybe it had happened after he made the deal with Lizzie, and the chasm started to open up between them. Or maybe it wasn’t until Lucy moved out, and he stupidly let her go. Without each other, they were…anchorless. Adrift. They needed each other. Otherwise–apparently–they lost their damn minds.  

“I need to get back to Birmingham,” he said, suddenly desperate to see her. Maybe…maybe all wasn’t entirely lost yet. Maybe he wasn’t too late. “Thanks, Alfie.”

Alfie just hummed, mumbling something about putting relationship counseling under his ever expanding list of special skills while Tommy hurried out the door. 

∗ ∗ ∗

The phone settled down gently into its cradle. No one was answering. 

He could still see Polly’s cold, defeated eyes when she had handed him her resignation. Rubbing a hand over his face, his eyes were drawn like magnets to the gun resting on the table. 

Michael’s words bounced around his skull like a ricochet bullet.

Lucy’s miserable. Lucy’s miserable. Lucy’s miserable.

Lucy’s voice, from their argument in his office, had also been on a constant replay for the past four days.

It’s better this way.

You seem to be doing just fine to me.

You’re the one who made that deal with Lizzie in the first place without even thinking of me!

He swallowed roughly around the lump in his throat. And now he had Polly’s prophecy to worry about.

  There will be a war, and one of you will die. But which one I cannot tell. 

Maybe Michael would get lucky. Maybe he’d take himself out, and Michael could descend upon his throne like a vulture, pluck his crown from whatever was left of his head after he’d blown his own brains out.

He needed to get out of here. Needed to talk to someone. Or else he ran the risk of doing something rash.

∗ ∗ ∗ 

The seat by the fire across from Charlie creaked as he sat down heavily in it, leaning forward close enough to let the flames warm his face.

“I,” he cleared his throat. “I called. The phone for Lucy’s room. She didn’t answer.” Not that he could really blame her. If he was her, he wouldn’t want to talk to him either. Hell, he didn’t want to talk to him.

“She took Asher for a walk. They’ll be back soon,” Charlie explained. He took a swig from the bottle by his feet. 

“How is she?”

Charlie shot him a stern look. The same one he used to give whenever he caught Tommy doing something he wasn’t supposed to as a kid. “How do you think?”

 His shoulders slumped, frown deepening. Charlie watched him across the fire, eyes narrowed. “So what’s your plan?”

“What?”

“To fix things with Lucy. What’s your fucking plan, Tom?”

He shook his head, gaze shifting to the black abyss of night around them. “I don’t know.”

Charlie scoffed, shaking his head. “Well, you better come up with something.”

Tommy sighed. “I don’t…I don’t know if she wants me to, Charlie,” he shifted uncomfortably, not used to feeling so vulnerable.

“Please. ‘Course she does.”

He shook his head again. “I’ve tried to talk to her about it. Each time she pushes me away.” 

Charlie inclined his head. “She’s telling everyone who asks how you feel about this new arrangement that you’re happy with it.”

“I’m not.”

Charlie shrugged. “Well. She seems to think that you are.”

Tommy’s frown deepened as he tried to figure out just what the hell he could have done to make her think that. He thought that he had been quite openly miserable about the whole thing. Charlie must have seen something in his face, because he snorted, shaking his head.

“Why the hell did you even make that deal with Lizzie, Tommy? You had to know what it would cost you.”

Tommy coughed awkwardly. “Lizzie was going to leave me,” he finally admitted. “I saw an opportunity when she presented her deal to keep her around. And…I suppose that I felt guilty. About all that I’ve put her through.”

“And now, where there was once a more balanced arrangement between Lucy and Lizzie, the scales now tip considerably in Lizzie’s favor. Lucy’s not your partner or your lover under this agreement. She’s your mistress or your whore, there to entertain you whenever your wife isn’t around.”

“What?” Tommy sat up, the beginnings of anger bubbling under his skin. “That is not-”

Charlie held up a hand. “I know that’s not what you intended, Tom. But that's what’s happened.” 

He looked at Charlie silently, bowing his head so that the shadow of his hat hid his eyes. “It’s not weighted in Lizzie’s favor, though, Charlie,” he spoke softly. “And it never was fucking balanced either,” he coughed again and rubbed his eyes. “I told Lizzie the truth.”

“What truth?”

“That I’m not in love with her.”  

Charlie took a drag from his cigarette. “Do you think it’ll finally get through to her this time?”

Tommy shook his head. “I don’t know,” he hated how helpless he felt. Charlie tsked.

“You and Lucy are so caught up in your own guilt over not being able to give Lizzie what she wants, but why? It’s not your fault that you don’t love her. And it isn’t Lucy’s fault that you love her and not Lizzie.”

“I’ve been a complete shit of a husband, Charlie.”

“I’m not sure if you can ever be considered a good husband, Tom, considering that you don’t even love your wife,” Charlie shook his head. “You and Lucy have done all you could to give Lizzie a comfortable, stable, content life. She’s got the big house, a position in society, money, status, and a child. You have accommodated her as best as you can. Done what you could to get through to her and to make her accept the reality of the arrangement that she signed up for. That is the best that you can do. And by no means am I saying that you should be cruel or unkind to her, but…Tom, the scales are never going to tip in Lizzie’s favor. Or even be balanced for that matter. You and Lucy will accomplish nothing by wallowing in your guilt and making yourselves miserable in some attempt to make Lizzie happy. I know you both feel guilty and like you are being unfair to her. But it is also unfair for you to be expected to be unhappy for the rest of your lives so that Lizzie gets to play out some fucking fantasy. And I don’t think that Lizzie is that unfair. Or cruel.”

Tommy swallowed around the lump in his throat. “I know all that Charlie. It’s Lucy that won’t even talk about any of it.”

“She’s seen this whole situation with you and Lizzie drag both of you down, leaving you both bitter and resentful. You know how Lucy is. She always wants to fix things for people. And… she can have a bit of a martyr complex to her.” Charlie’s eyes bored into him from across the fire. “She wants you to be happy, Tom. And she thinks that by trying to fix things between you and Lizzie, she can accomplish that.”

“I don’t deserve either of them, Charlie.”

Charlie looked at him with deep concern. “You aren’t as bad as you think you are, Tom.”

“All I’ve ever done is hurt them.”

“You gave Lizzie a chance at a new life. You gave her a child; something that she’s always wanted. You gave her a family that loves her and looks after her. And what do you think would have happened to Lucy without you, hm? She’d be dead, Tom. Or sold off to that asshole in London to probably be brutalized and beaten everyday of her life. You gave her life a new purpose. And you have loved her very, very much. Probably far more than she ever thought would be possible.” At Tommy’s questioning look, Charlie shrugged his shoulders. “I saw how fucked up she was when she first arrived here from London, remember? They destroyed her over there, and you put her back together. And you do make her happy, Tom,” he gestured with a small wave, “this whole situation notwithstanding, of course.” He readjusted his injured leg. “Look, you two absolutely need to talk about all of this. It’ll probably be messy and a little painful, but in the end you’ll be fine.” The old man spoke with such confidence, truly zero concern in his voice that their relationship wouldn’t survive such a confrontation. “You love each other too much to let go of the other that easily.”

Tommy wanted to believe Charlie. He wanted to have that same belief that his relationship with Lucy could withstand practically anything. But the fear and unsurety remained.

“What if she wants me to let her go?” He hated the way his voice suddenly sounded. Small, like a scared child. Charlie snorted, flicking his cigarette into the fire. “I don’t know how to fix this, Charlie.”

“You’re Thomas fucking Shelby. If you want something bad enough, you could practically will it into existence. So,” the man who was more his father than his actual father regarded him from across the flames. “What is it that you want, Tom?” 

Tommy pulled his arms in tighter against himself. “I want…” everything; that was what he had told Lucy, that first night he’d properly met her. On the bridge overlooking the cut. And he’d had it. For a moment. For a while. Everything is mine, Lizzie, he had whispered to his wife after they’d sealed their new deal. Everything. And then Lucy was gone, and might as well have taken everything with her. 

There was the soft crunch of footsteps behind them, and then he was being ambushed by something big and black and fluffy headbutting him in the legs, tail wagging.

“Hullo, Asher,” he said, chuckling at the dog’s overexcited response to him. His hands petted over the dog’s soft fur. Lucy appeared next to Charlie, arms wrapped around herself. “Hi,” he murmured awkwardly, voice softer.

“Hullo,” she responded, holding out her hands to be warmed by the flames. Her coat and hair were soaked from the rain still falling heavily from the sky. Tommy wanted to pull her into his lap and wrap his arms around her like he always used to whenever she was cold.

“You know, Lucy,” Charlie stood suddenly, wobbling. “I think that those painkillers you gave me are finally starting to kick in.” He grasped a makeshift crutch to take the weight off his fractured leg. “I think I’m gonna go try to get some sleep. Big day tomorrow and all.” He waved a hand away when they both made moves to help him. “No, no. I can manage.” He gave Tommy a very pointed look as he hobbled past him, taking Asher’s lead from Lucy to usher the dog with him back inside. Tommy had to fight back the urge to snort. Subtle, old man.

For a long moment he and Lucy stood in awkward silence, the fire crackling between them, neither of them daring to speak first.

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[writememysticfalls]

Devour Me | Damon Salvatore

Summary: You're craving Damon... but you're marrying his brother.

Pairing: Damon Salvatore x Reader

Genre: Suggestive, Angsty

Word count: <1k

It was 11:30pm. You knocked on the door of Damon’s apartment, shivering from the night rain.

You gasped when you saw Damon. There were dark shadows under his eyes. He looked like he hadn't moved in days.

“May I come in?” you said, trying to lighten the mood with some vampire humour.

Damon stared into his whiskey glass. “If I say no, will that stop you?” he said.

“No,” you said, grinning and stepping inside. “You still haven't said if you'll be Stefan’s best man at the wedding. It's next week, you know.”

“I've been busy,” Damon said.

“Stefan really wants you there.”

Damon looked at you. “Really? Then why didn't he come and ask me himself?”

“He cares about you, Damon,” you pleaded. “He’s just worried you'll say no.”

“Three observations: it's nearly midnight, you clearly walked here, and Stefan has never asked me to be his best man. Therefore, I can deduce that you're asking me to do this stupid thing. Trust me, Stefan doesn't want me as his best man.” Damon downed his drink and got up. “Now get out.”

You crossed your arms. “I mean it, Damon. I'm not leaving till you agree to this.”

In a flash, Damon’s face darkened, and he slammed his glass down so hard it cracked. “What the hell do you want me to say, Elena? I’m happy you're marrying my brother*?* Congratulations*.* The damn gravy boat I bought you got lost in the mail.”

Damon put one hand on your shoulder and pushed you out of his apartment so fast you got a head rush.

He walked back inside and sat down. “The worst part is, Elena, you don't even have the guts to say that you want me there. So get out.”

You stood there in silence, fighting the tears that pooled in your eyes. You had lied to Stefan to be here, telling him you were visiting Bonnie. You had run in the rain, shivering, just to ask this one question. And now, all your effort was going to be wasted.

“I would-” you tried to say. “Stefan would regret it for the rest of his life if you weren't there.”

Tears fell silently down your face.

“Not good enough,” Damon said.

Finally, after a long pause, you said. “Fine, Damon. I need you at my wedding because… I need everyone I love to be there.”

Damon moved towards you so fast his body was a blur. He stood inches away from you, his pale eyes searing into yours. His hands slid instinctively up your hips to rest on your waist. He bowed his head, his forehead almost touching yours. His eyes fell half shut as he inhaled your scent.

“Damon…” you said quietly.

“Shh,” Damon whispered. “Don't ruin it.”

You knew that you should push Damon off, but you didn't. You told yourself you were just letting him live out his fantasy - but the truth was, you didn't want to disturb the moment either.

“You… love me,” Damon said, biting his lip and continuing to gaze at you.

His hand flashed up to your face, and he traced an invisible line over your eyelids, your cheekbones, and finally your lips. His unfamiliar touch was almost painful, like being stung.

He leaned in, like he was going to kiss you. You took a step back.

“Just… give me this moment,” Damon said quietly.

You nodded, your heart pounding. You took a step towards him.

Finally, Damon brought his lips to yours. His mouth met yours infinitely slowly, his lips moulding against yours like he was etching this kiss in his memory. You were slightly ashamed to find that you kissing him. His scent, alcohol mixed with the faint floral smell of vervain, was different to Stefan’s. His long body was hard and stubborn to the touch, like it was made of stone. And yet, the way his hands moved over you was skilful, liquid.

You were ashamed to realise that you were the one gripping his back to pull him closer. You would have to carry the secret of this kiss to your grave.

After the longest few seconds of your life, Damon stepped back, grinning at you.

“Someone's looking cheerful,” you said, rolling your eyes like nothing out of the ordinary had just happened.

“I'll be your stupid best man,” he said, trying to look annoyed despite the smile that lingered on his face.

You stepped back outside the door. “Thank you, Damon,” you said.

Damon frowned, leaning on the doorframe. His voice made it sound like he was telling a joke, but his eyes were serious. “Oh Elena… I think you're more dangerous than Katherine. I think you're the most dangerous woman I've ever met.”

_

MAIN MASTERLIST

Let us know what you thought in the comments or on anon! 💋

[ofgrenvde]

Calling isolation messy wasn’t just accurate—it was uncomfortably precise. She hadn’t danced around the issue; she’d gone straight to the truth, bypassing every excuse he’d worked so hard to keep in place. When he finally answered, it felt like admitting something he hadn’t even fully admitted to himself. “Maybe you’re right about the haunting part,” he said, the words emerging before he could overthink them. He tried to soften the moment by pushing back against her choice of words. “But I wouldn’t say I’m avoidant. Strategically distant fits better, don’t you think?” The phrase felt flimsy even as he said it, and he could tell she saw through it. Still, the way she teased him about packing himself into carry-on luggage earned a laugh from him—one he hadn’t expected to give. Humor, even sharp humor, felt safer than letting her insights sit too long. “I’d never assume anything about your luggage. You strike me as checked baggage, unpredictable, and probably carrying something that would get flagged at security.” The words came out smoother than he expected, though he immediately wondered if he’d gone too far.

Her feigned offense didn’t throw him off as much as he thought it might. She had brought up consequences and rewards, after all—he was just following her lead. But the speed with which she revealed her business card was almost disarming. He hadn’t expected her to push things forward so decisively, and the fact that he wanted to use it surprised him. “A trust fall? You'll just have to wait and see.” The suggestion felt foreign on his tongue, like he was trying to remember how to navigate this kind of thing. “Location’s a surprise,” he added quickly, almost reflexively. “Not because I’m being dramatic—just because it has good sightlines. And exits.” He caught himself too late, realizing how easily his usual thought process had slipped out. “I mean, great ambiance. Really nice wine list.” The correction felt clumsy, but her laugh at his expense somehow made it worth it.

As he took the card, he felt the need to temper her expectations. “Just so you know, I’ve been told I’m not the best company. Apparently, I ruin the mood by always keeping an eye on the room.” He wasn’t sure why he was telling her this, but it felt necessary. Maybe honesty made things easier—or at least more manageable. “But since you’ve already figured out I’m a bit of a downer, at least you won’t be disappointed.” He paused, running through whether or not to say the next part. “Text me when you’re free. I promise I won’t run a background check first.” The joke slipped out before he could stop himself. “Mostly.” He slipped the card into his pocket with more care than was probably necessary, like it might disappear if he wasn’t careful. “Having protective gear wouldn’t be a bad idea. Just in case tackling becomes a theme.”

“Well I for one find it messy.” countered Cynthia with a grimace settled on her lips. She knew he would want her to elaborate on that and so she explained further, “The idea of it makes it seem like it’s cleaner, but the way I see it—you’re an avoidant, you run from it because it’s the easiest option. You’re a mess at that point. You become your own worst critic, take in the doubts and the what ifs. Isolation is just a haunting lifestyle as it sticks with you until you come to terms with it.” Finishing up her drink, she set it aside as she sat up straight with intrigue. Things were about to get interesting as he spoke on his doubts about her. It seems like he knows more than he had led on. “You seem to know a lot.” she commented at first. “So you think I fit in a carry-on?” Now she was just fucking with him. 

Matching energies with each other, at this point the two were like a match made in hell. Like Ezra had mentioned, despite the two having their caffeine intake, this was becoming a bit of a complicated interaction. The tug of war that they were doing wasn't helping their case seeing as they were pushing their luck to see who would fold first. However, Cynthia wasn’t going to give in that easily. “And suddenly I’m the bad guy.” she announced with a scoff. “Deliberate my ass, again you wish. What’s there to ask? As much as I believe that everything happens for a reason, I wouldn’t force it to happen if it’s not in the cards.” There was partial truth to her words, but she’d be dumb enough to confess that she was snooping around the notorious Six Families’ territories for her own gain. 

Cynthia was at a loss for words when he decided on wanting dinner as his second reward. The look of disbelief with a touch of bewilderment soon disappeared as laughter erupted from her lips. "Is this like a trust fall exercise? And where exactly would that place be?" she teasingly asked when he mentioned no security cameras. Nodding in confirmation, she then pulled out her business card and a pen as she wrote down her actual number before handing it to him. "Alright then, here's my number. We can figure out when we're both available then, yeah?"

[ghosts-n-bones]

Error Sans x Reader - 𝓢𝓽𝓪𝓻𝓼

~*~

With a scowl on his face, Error sits idly on his spot on the couch in your living room.

Yes, his spot.

He spends so much time at your place that he had claimed the left side of your couch as his, not that you really minded. You happened to like the right side better anyway, or so you’ve told him. However, you had spent the entire evening up in your spare room, leaving Error without his couch buddy. At some point, he had even gone up to see what you were doing, but you told him he wasn't allowed to see yet.

Which is why he now sits on the couch alone, grumbling to himself.

Look, Error knew you were probably making something to show him, if the mischievous look on your face told him anything. You had told him before that that extra room became your hobby room when you moved in. He's seen it before. It was filled with miscellaneous art supplies and instruments. He... didn't like going in there too often. It reminded him of a certain skeleton he'd rather not think about. You had told him that you completely understood. After all, hating that rainbow bastard was something you two had in common.

Despite his hesitance, he still wanted to see what was taking you so long. He knew it was supposed to be a surprise, but that didn't stop Error from being painfully restless and incredibly curious. The tv in front of him became white noise as his mind raced with different possibilities. He didn't really like surprises, they tended to make him crash.

But he knew you would never do anything to scare him on purpose.

He flushed a bit at that thought, but he quickly shoved it away. Never in a million years did he think he would ever feel comfortable enough around someone to think that, let alone a human.

With an overdramatic sigh, Error flops sideways on the couch into a laying position, staring at the ceiling. Hopefully you'd be done soon... he's not sure how much longer he can be patient.

---

With a few more flicks of your brush against the canvas, you let it drop into the water glass with a satisfying plop. Taking a step back from the easel, you cross your arms over your chest. You squint, tilting your head sideways as you looked at the now-completed painting in front of you. With a satisfied grin, you sigh happily at the completed art piece. You were honestly worried that you wouldn't finish it on time. You wanted to give it to Error before the day was up, and you knew you were pushing it, but you were able to power through and create something you were rather proud of. You see, today was an anniversary of sorts. Today marked exactly one year since you saw the stars for the first time, and Error had been the one to show them to you.

You had lived in a busy city ever since you were a child, so you had never really been able to see the night sky. The combination of light pollution and your busy schedule prevented you from ever seeing the stars in person.

The night you first saw the stars happened unexpectedly. Error had come over again, like he usually did, and you happened to be watching a documentary about space exploration. Error surprisingly seemed to be really interested in the topic. He told you that watching a documentary would never compare to seeing the real thing. You offhandedly mentioned that you had never seen the stars in person before. He then proceeded to give you a bewildered look, asking how that was even possible. You shrug, saying you had never had the opportunity to see them. Without a word, he then wrapped a few of his strings around your wrist and opened a portal. He dragged you off of the couch, much to your displeasure, and through the portal. You were confused at first... the ground beneath you had changed from your carpet to what appeared to be rock, and the surrounding area was darker than it had been before. You remember asking Error where he had brought you and he simply pointed to the sky, saying "You said you've never seen the stars, so I brought you to the source."

You lift your head to the sky and let out an audible gasp. That's when you saw them. Millions of bright, glowing stars shining in all their glory. The stars were brilliant shades of blue, purple, and yellow, twinkling above you. It felt like your breath had been taken away. You had never seen anything more beautiful in your entire life. Error explained to you that this was another universe, known as Outertale. It quickly became a very special place for you and Error.

And the rest was history.

With a faint smile on your lips at the memory, you turned towards the door to your spare room. You couldn't wait to see what Error thought of your gift.

---

Error heard the door to the spare room creek open and he quickly sat up. You peeked your head around the door frame and looked around before calling down to the glitchy skeleton.

"Error, I'm do-," you began, but you were suddenly cut off by a familiar black blur appearing in front of you.

You let out a small shriek as Error chuckles to himself.

"Whoops, I didn't mean to teleport that close," Error says with a smug grin.

He totally did. What a dork. You shake your head with a small laugh, straightening yourself out.

"That excited to see what I made, huh?" you ask jokingly.

Error pinches his fingers together and squints.

"Maybe a little bit. You've been up here for the past two and a half hours, I can't help but be a little curious, you know?" he says with a noncommittal shrug.

You roll your eyes and chuckle.

"You are so impatient," you joke, as Error puts his hand on his chest in mock offense.

"Ouch, you wound me," he says dramatically.

"Come on, weirdo, do you want to see or not?"

"I don't know, I'll think about it."

You give him an unamused look, causing a smug smile to spread across his face. He lets out a loud laugh before walking towards the door.

"Fine, fine, I'll look, but only because you asked so nicely," Error says teasingly.

You roll your eyes again and snort out a laugh. Grabbing the door, you swing it open so Error could walk through. As Error started walking past you, you quickly stopped him.

"Wait wait, don't go in yet," you say briskly.

"Do you want me to go in or not? I'm getting mixed signals here," Error says with an amused huff.

"Yes, I want you to come in, but you need to close your eyes first."

Error quirks an eyebrow before squinting his eye sockets suspiciously.

"Why? Is something going to jump out at me?" Error says skeptically.

"No, nothing is going to jump out at you, I promise. I just want it to be a surprise," you say, shifting awkwardly in place.

Error's eye lights scan your face for a moment before he sighs.

"Fine, but if I crash, I'm blaming you," he says.

He uses a few of his strings and wraps them around your wrist, then he closes his eyes. He even puts a hand over his eyes for good measure. You giggle at this, causing him to smirk. He tugs at the strings attached to your wrist.

"Come on, lead the way," he says.

You gently pull him along toward the easel where the painting stood proudly. He shuffled slowly behind you, looking a bit nervous due to his lack of eyesight. You eventually come to a stop, tugging on the strings around your wrist.

"You can open your eyes now," you say, barely able to contain your excitement.

The strings fall away from your wrist and Error takes his hand off of his eyes. You watch as his eye lights look towards the easel and his slight smirk fades into a shocked silence. In front of him stood a painting of Outertale, with delicately painted stars scattered along the canvas' surface. His eye lights flicked to the bottom of the canvas, where, to his surprise, he saw himself, with you right next to him, looking up at the starry night sky. His feet carried him absentmindedly towards the painting, at a loss for words. Paintings usually bothered him because of how much they reminded him of Ink, but your painting felt... different. He could almost feel your heart and soul in every brush stroke. Every delicately painted star seemed to glow with warm intent.

And you made this for him.

"Do... you like it? I made it as a thank you for taking me to see the stars. On this day, one year ago, you allowed me to experience something people only read about in science books... I just felt like I had to repay you somehow," you say, albeit a bit awkwardly.

Error just continues to stare at the canvas, seemingly lost in thought.

"Error--?"

"It's beautiful," he says in a small voice.

You look at him with wide eyes.

"What?" you say, unsure you heard him correctly.

"I said it's beautiful. It's really beautiful," he says with a small laugh.

Your heart melted seeing Error so happy about your gift. A warm feeling flooded your chest, causing your face to heat up.

"I'm glad you like it. I... care about you a lot. You've made me happier in the past year than I have been my entire life, it was the least I could do," you say gently.

Now it was Error's turn to blush. He looked at you wide-eyed, a dark blue hue spreading across his face. You giggle at his dumbfounded expression, causing the blush on his face to increase. He pulls his scarf up around his mouth, trying to hide his flustered expression. He looks away for a moment, allowing the heat in his face to cool down before he turns back to you. His expression had softened considerably, looking at you with a gentle expression.

"You... really made this... for me?" he says quietly, almost like he didn't trust his own voice.

"Well, yeah. You always tell me how much you love Outertale, and it has a special place in my own heart. I just wanted to give you a gift to show you my appreciation," you say honestly.

His eye lights search your face for a moment, almost like he was trying to find some sort of ulterior motive. When he found none, a smile spreads over his face.

"I've never been given anything like this before. I... don't know what to say," he says.

"Well, your expression says it all," you say teasingly.

Error gives you a playful stare, shaking his head with an amused huff. His expression mellows and he looks at you again.

"Thank you," he says.

You give him a warm smile.

"You deserve it," you say gently.

You look at each other for a moment before you turn your attention to the painting again. Your smile suddenly turned sour when you realized something.

"I knew I was forgetting something," you mumble.

Error gives you a weird look as you glare at the canvas.

"What could you have possibly forgotten? It looks pretty good to me," he says jokingly.

You wave your hand dismissively with a small chuckle.

"It's nothing major, I just forgot to sign it. I usually sign my artwork when I'm done with it," you explain.

Error shakes his head with a chuckle. You were weird.

He didn't mind that, though.

"Actually," you say, bringing Error out of his thoughts, "Maybe this is a good thing. Now we can both sign it!"

Error whips his head around and gives you a confused look.

"Me? Why would I sign it? I didn't make it," he says.

"Well, without you, I wouldn't have even seen the stars, so it is only fair that the skeleton who inspired me gets to sign it too," you say with a wink.

Error can feel his face heat up again. God, you were really trying to kill him tonight, weren't you? He feels your eyes on him. He hears you snort out a laugh, making him want to hide in his scarf again.

"Come on, glowstick. Your blush is lighting up the room. Are you going to sign the canvas, or not?" you say, holding up a pen.

Error grumbles something at you before snatching the pen out of your hand. You chuckle at his pouting face as you gently take the canvas off of the easel. Placing the painting on the table, you show him where to sign. Error uncaps the pen, hovers it over the canvas, and stops. His eyebrows are knitted together as his hand shakes above the canvas.

"I'm going to mess this up..." he grumbles to himself.

"No, you aren't," you assure him, "No matter what you do, I'm going to love it, trust me."

He glances at you and sighs.

"Alright... here goes nothing," he says under his breath.

Hesitantly, Error puts the pen on the painting and begins to sign his name. You had never seen his handwriting before, but it was way cooler than you ever could have imagined. He wrote his letters in a blocky fashion, which, much to your amusement, looked like the font used on old CRT computers. When he was done, he looked at you nervously, almost like he was looking for your approval.

"That looks amazing, Error! Your handwriting is so cool!" you praise.

Error shrugs and glances back at his handiwork.

"It's nothing special... but, glad you like it," he says with a small smile.

Now it’s your turn. Error hands you the pen, careful to avoid accidentally brushing his hand with yours. Uncapping the pen, you brush your hair out of your face and place the pen on the canvas' surface.

"Don't mess up," Error says from beside you.

You look at him and give him a glare, which he gladly returns with a smug grin. You roll your eyes and place the pen back on the canvas, quickly signing your name in the best cursive you could manage. Error gives you a hum of approval as you take a step back to admire the newly signed painting.

"Now it’s perfect," you say with a satisfied smile.

You pick up the canvas and give it to Error. His eyes widen, gently taking the canvas and holding it as if it were made of glass. His eye lights scan over the painting as a smile creeps along his face. He looks back up at you and studies your face for a moment, contemplating something. You give him a confused look and he sighs.

"S-stay still for a moment, alright?" he asks hesitantly.

You nod, despite your confusion. You watch as he walks towards you slowly. Once he is right in front of you, he takes a deep breath, holds out his arms, and wraps them around your shoulders.

He was hugging you.

He had never even let you touch him because of his haphephobia, and now here he was, giving you a hug. You desperately wanted to hug him back, but you kept your arms at your side, so you don't accidentally spook him. So, you opted to rest your head on his shoulder instead. You feel him tense up for a moment, his body vibrating and glitching a bit more than usual until he eventually settles into the hug again.

"Thank you... for everything," he says in a soft voice.

"Of course, Error. I don't know what I would do without you," you say with a smile on your face.

You both stand there for a few moments in content silence before Error's hand shifts off of your back. You hear the clink of glass, but before you could question it, you feel a wet paintbrush brush across your cheek. You gasp at the foreign feeling on your face as Error pulls away, paintbrush and canvas in hand.

"That's for calling me a glowstick," Error says with a smug grin before he teleports out of the room with an evil cackle.

"ERROR!"

[blujaydoodles]

What's Aubree's coolest story about how she got one of her scars? (Besides the one she doesn't talk about)

"Although, really it's a bit of a stupid story if I'm being honest, but the scar's cool as hell and that counts for something, yeah?

“It was one of my first jobs with a trade caravan, just as an extra pair of hands-- green as I was, they wouldn’t have hired someone like me as an armed guard even if I’d thought to offer back then, but it’s easy enough to prove I can haul shit around, and not a lot of folks are keen to take the pass north of Stormridge in any case so they were happy for the extra help.

"We were five days into the Wildcrest Mountains-- about halfway through. It was just starting to get into nightfall, and we were trying to push through to a sheltered spot one of the guards knew was a little ways ahead to camp for the night, when we heard the howlin up in the ridges, and comin down toward us.

"Now, we get wolves out in Crickhollow, sometimes; usually just one by itself skulkin round the pastures, and if they can catch em in time it mostly only takes a few dogs to run em off back where they came. We’d spotted some goblin scouts makin eyes at the caravan a few days earlier and spooked em away easy enough with a bit of barkin of our own, so when we heard the wolves I figured I knew what we were in for. But let me tell you: wolves in the mountains are different than the ones you get round halfling country. It’s cold, and hard, and it makes em strong, and it makes em hungry.

"We had six armed guards with us, proper kitted with swords and shields and all, and of course I was out there with Corker, hangin back a bit just not to get underfoot of em. They were spreadin out to circle the wagons, but the wolves had the jump on us and came leapin out the dark before we were ready. Biggest godsdamned things I ever saw! One slipped through and went straight for the horses, but I was ready for him-- hit him midair and sent him reelin away, and I figured that’d be the end of it for that one. Turned around and saw another one was lungin and snappin at one of the guards-- skinny lad called Derek-- and had him in a bad way; it’d got him offbalance, and looked about to take him down. I was to em before I could even think-- well, what else could I have done? The wolf had got its teeth in him, but it didn’t see me coming-- I hauled off-- WHACK-- cracked him square in the face, must have damn near caved his skull in! Just as he was getting his bearings, and I was pulling back for another swing-- the bloody bastard I’d clipped earlier came in from behind and sank every damn one of his teeth into me, and dragged me to the ground.

"Well, Derek managed to get his feet under him in time to stop the other one from jumpin in and tearin my damn guts out, but only just. The one that had me by the shoulder had a death grip on me-- I was swinging Corker round like mad, but I couldn’t get any good blows in like that, on the ground and backwards and with only one arm. Still put in a fair fight, for all that-- I was snarlin like a beast myself, grabbin for its face with my left hand best I could. Then suddenly he dropped me, yowling somethin awful. Another guard, big fella called Radimir, saw him layin into me and ran him straight through. Good thing, too! If I’d been alone out there that would have been it for me. Stupid way to learn not to put your back to a wolf, but it’s always better to have friends to back you up anyway. Especially when you’ve got more muscles than good sense, haha!

"Anyway, the rest of the pack did take off after seeing we could put up more fight than they wanted-- they’re tough, not stupid. No one was hurt except a couple of the fighters and myself, and we made it to the outpost just fine. I hadn’t really imagined I’d be spendin my first couple weeks in Pelora laid up all in bandages with a broken collar, but hey, it gave me a good story for breakin ice at taverns. Bit more impressive to talk about than this-- [she points to one mark among many on her arms, brown with age]-- that I got trying to help with the bakin when I was six…"

[that-sarcastic-writer]

Too Sweet

Logan Howlett X F!Reader

Summary: you tell Logan not to hold back anymore. And who is he to deny his sweet girlfriend anything? This is just porn without plot

Wrote this with Xmen/X2 Logan in mind but you may picture whichever Logan suits your needs

Warnings: explicit sexual content, minors dni, piv, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it my children), oral (f receiving), fingering, soft rough sex, Logan talks you through it, creampie, choking, the claws make an appearance (duh), Logan is obsessed with his girl, established relationship

WC: 3.2K

A/N: SOMETHING SHORT SHE SAID. I need to be put down. I am feral over this man. Seeing DP&W got me acting tf up. It put me back into my Logan obsession so I rewatched all of his movies. And now I need him. So here you go. Might write more with him soon. For now is this.

Follow my reading blog to stay updated with my works if you’d like to see more @midnightreadinglibrary

You were sweet. You were, oh, so sweet. Such a pretty sweet thing. You were so going to be the death of him. Playing with the strings of his sanity, of his composure. Worst of all, you were doing nothing at all to make him go insane. Other than love and care for him that was.

He tried, he really did, he tried to keep himself under control when he was with you, and he was doing a pretty good job of it so far. But god, today, today you were going to make him loose his fucking mind. He had decided to visit you, unannounced he stopped by your apartment. And what did he find? You, in the kitchen, in nothing but a red flannel, his red flannel. Speechless, he was. 

Logan stood in silence, blinking slowly as his eyes took in every part of you with growing intensity. Your legs were bare, your ass barely covered by the length of his shirt and you seemed rather happy like this. Is this what you did when he wasn’t around? And why did the sight of you suddenly wake deep within him an overwhelming need to ruin you? 

Almost as if the intensity of his presence got your absentminded attention, you turned your head to find him standing in the entryway with an unreadable expression. And though a little bit flustered by his unannounced visit, you welcomed him with a soft smile.

“Hi Logan.” You greeted him with glee, all but skipping over to him to greet him properly, of course. You were standing on the ends of your toes and throwing your arms over his broad shoulders while he just stood in ominous silence, only a deep exhale leaving his lips. “Are you okay baby?”

“Yeah.” His voice strained with restraint as he fought the deep urge to throw you over the nearest flat surface. Instead he simply placed his hands on your hips, squeezing unevenly as he gave you an eyebrow raise. “New shirt?”

“Oh,” Your lips fell open in a bit of embarrassment and you laughed softly, flustered as you looked down at the shirt that was clearly not yours. It kind of smelled like him still. “Yeah so, my washer broke, I don’t know what happened to it, and I couldn’t find anything comfortable so… Does it bother you?”

Did it bother him? The only thing that was bothering him was his already hard cock straining against his jeans. 

“A pretty girl in my clothes? I would be fucking stupid.” 

The way his words left his mouth made you laugh. But the look in those hazel eyes was anything but humorous. Animalistic and full of need. Your lips curled up into a smile as he leaned down to crash his lips against yours. Messily and intensely his lips moved against yours as his hands squeezed and touched everywhere he could, as if he didn’t know which part of you he craved to feel more. 

“You’d look prettier on your back though.” He muttered against your mouth, lightly nipping at your bottom lip. You were more than happy to comply.

A string of giggles left your lips as his lips tickled over your stomach. You laid flat on the soft covers as Logan settled between the warmth of your thighs. He pried your legs open, fingers digging into your skin as his sharp canines lightly nipped at the plush flesh on your inner thigh. You gasped, though overwhelmed with excitement.

“Logan.” You scolded him, knowing you would have a mark there, but the sound of your voice turned into a delicious whine when he pressed his nose into your panties, inhaling that oh so intoxicating scent of yours. 

An almost animalistic growl rumbled in his chest, “I’ve been thinkin’ about this sweet pussy all day.” He pressed a hard kiss to your hole, the bridge of his nose bumping your clothed clit. The sudden pressure had you gasping for air, your chest pounding with anticipation.

Your panties were off your body and thrown over his shoulder in a split second, his lips latching on to your clit with reckless urgency. One would think this man hadn’t seen you in weeks, when he had seen, and taken you only two nights ago. Alas, that was one the things you loved the most about Logan, his unending need to touch you, to feel you, to be all over you. You thought he would get tired eventually, but his drive was almost animalistic. He never had enough, though he often held back for your sake. 

His tongue lapped at your pussy with abandon. From your hole to your clit, circling and sucking before diving back into your walls. Squirming, you were chasing his mouth with your hips, body overcome with pleasure as he worked your walls. It annoyed him at times, the way your hips moved and lifted off the mattress with sensitivity as he fucked you with his tongue, when his nose brushed against your clit. With a frustrated grunt, he grabbed a hold of your thighs and pressed your knees against your stomach, holding you down and spreading you open for him to do as he pleased. 

“You squirm too fucking much.” He huffed, but there was a slight bit of amusement laced in his tongue.

Your response came in the form of a whimper, a pathetic sound that only grew louder when two thick fingers replaced his tongue inside your wet hole. He looked up at you with pure primal need as his fingers worked your tight walls, crooking against that one spot that had you crying.

“Please, please Logan.” You didn’t know what you were pleading for. Mercy? Sweet release? To be ruined? You didn’t know. 

Logan raised an amused eyebrow at you, wet lips curled up into a tiny smirk as he moved his tongue back to your clit. He licked and sucked to match each delicious drag of his fingers. The sounds leaving him were just as filthy as the things he was doing to you, groaning and grunting into your pussy as he ate you like a starving man. 

It was no surprise that he had you shaking and crying, overcome with pleasure, eyes blurry with tears, your release rapidly approaching. You latched on to his hair, tugging and pulling at the strands as your pathetic sounds filled the room. 

“That feels so—ugh—feels so good—please.” Were you making any sense? No. Did he care? Fuck no. Seeing you so desperate, so consumed with pleasure, a complete and utter mess for him, it snapped something in him. Deep inside the most perveted and secluded corner of his mind, he liked it. And though he shouldn’t, he wanted more. 

Your release was hard and sudden, your loud sounds were almost as overwhelming as the feeling of his tongue still lapping at your sensitive clit. You were writhing on the mattress, nearly crying as you had no option but to take it, it wasn’t like you could run away, not with the way his free held you down, one hand of his was stronger than all of you combined. All you could do was sob and pull at his hair as he dragged out your orgasm. 

“L-Logan.” You pleaded weakly, throat dry as you pushed yourself up on your elbows, chest glistening with a layer of sweet, lightly clinging to the fabric of Logan’s shirt. All you could see was his dark hair before his eyes met yours. The look behind his eyes was indescribable but it had you clenching you around nothing when his fingers left you. 

Your thighs twitched in aftershock when his mouth left you. You felt him press his forehead against your thighs, his hardened breath fanning against your hot skin for a long second. He needed a second to calm down, keep himself under control, he couldn’t let his primal instincts get the best of him.

You ran your fingers along his face, threading through the hair along his cheek and you silently ushered him up. He complied, in an instant settling between your open legs to find your mouth again. You could taste yourself on his lips, on his tongue, it was all so much for your clouded mind. His fingers were on your hair as his mouth took yours with growing urgency. You could feel him through the roughness of his jeans, brushing against your clit in ways that made you dizzy. You needed him, and you needed him bad. You reached down, trembling fingers fumbling with his belt, but before you could undress him he was pulling back, rough fingers holding your wrist.

“Hold on, just hold on a minute.” He was breathing hard, chest pounding as he looked at your confused face. 

“Wait, why? What's wrong?” God, you were too sweet, too kind for him, he couldn’t do it. 

“I just… Shit.” He closed his eyes, jaw set as tried to control his clouded mind, but he could only do so much to restrain all of the filthy things he craved to do to you. The way you were looking up at him, eyes big with concern, gentle hands holding his face, preventing him from going anywhere. “I think we should stop. I should stop.”

“Oh… I mean.. We can stop whenever but.. Why? Did I do something wrong?” You were sitting up, and the sadness and disappointment in your pretty eyes made him curse at himself.

“No. No. Fuck, no. I’m the problem. I don’t think I can hold myself back anymore.” He finally admitted it, words leaving his chest with heaviness. Your face remained the same, confused.

“Well, why would you? I never asked you to.” It finally dawned on you what he meant, and you were unbothered, if anything the look on your face was of eagerness. With malice, you threw your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. “I don’t want you to hold back with me.”

“Sweetheart..” He was warning you, voice rumbling in his chest as he closed his eyes, one last attempt to keep his composure before it was inevitably too late.

“I won’t break Logan. I trust you. And I want it.” Your last words came out with sharpness, a grueling intensity that had him groaning under his breath. You pressed a kiss to his jaw, almost as if to emphasize your point. And it was like a switch flipped in his head. 

With an uneven breath he was sitting up on his knees, white undershirt thrown to be forgotten somewhere in your room. And you were happily delighted as you watched him toss his belt aside and undo his jeans. He pulled his cock out of his pants with a strained groan and you were holding your breath in anticipation, legs open and welcoming him. His eyes were dark with pure raw desire as he settled between your legs, cock hard and heavy as he kicked the rest of his clothes off like it had insulted him.

“Don’t fucking hold back.” You snapped at him as he held himself up on his forearm, his other hand holding himself against your entrance. Your words shot straight to his cock and his lips curled up into a grin.

“Hold on, pretty.” He rumbled, chest heavy as he sank himself into your wet cunt in one single thrust.

Your lips fell open, eyes instantly rolling at the delicious feeling of his thick and heavy cock splitting you open. It was an intoxicating feeling you couldn’t get enough of; you were fucking sure he had ruined every other man for you. Not that it bothered you. 

The pace he set was grueling from the start, one hand braced on your pillow beside your head and the other on your thigh, rough fingers feeling up and down the skin as he drove his cock in and out of your walls. Sounds of pleasure left your lips almost immediately as the sting of his cock had you dragging your nails up and down his back, leaving red angry marks that healed in a split second. He absolutely adored the burning sensation your nails left on his skin, over and over. 

It was brutal, the way his hips drove you into the mattress as he fucked the life out of you. You did ask him to, you realized that perhaps your lack of restraint when it came to him would indeed be the end of you today, but at least you’d die happy by his cock. His forehead touched yours, eyes on your chest as he forced the buttons of his shirt open. His hand immediately cupped your breast, squeezing and he forced your body up and down on the mattress with each relentless snap of his hips. You cried out, head thrown back as your cunt squeezed his cock, unable to do much other than take everything he had to give you. His hand traveled up your chest to your exposed neck, fingers sprawled over your throat but not putting pressure. 

“Yes. Please, yes, do it.” Delirious, cock-drunk, fucked out, you might have been all of those things, but you were perfectly aware of him surrounding you, caging you in, consuming you. And you wanted all of it.

“Fuck, pretty.” His lips brushed yours as his fingers lightly squeezed your throat. He could feel the air leaving your tightening throat, and the way you squeezed his cock in response had him creasing his eyebrows with pleasure. “This what you wanted? You just wanted it rough, huh?”

You were nodding your head, breathless as blood rushed to your face, the lack of blood flow making you all the more delirious. Absolutely lost, so deep within your pleasure that your brain wasn’t working anymore. All that was consuming your mind was Logan, his scent, his sounds, the tip of his cock brushing that spot that had you squirming. You didn’t even realize tears were coating your cheeks, so lost that your moans had turned into cries. 

“Shh, it’s okay, you’re okay.” The hand on your neck moved to swipe away your tears as he leaned down to kiss your cheek in an attempt to bring you back to reality, the gentle gesture a juxtaposition to the ruthless drag of his cock. “There’s not a single thought in that pretty head of yours, huh?”

He adjusted himself above you, his chest pressed against yours, thick hairs tickling your skin with each deep stroke. There was a bit of smugness on his pleasured expressions, seeing you so utterly out of it, his cock being the reason. Seeing such a sweet little thing coming completely undone by his hand gave him a sense of satisfaction that made his cock twitch. 

He held your face, watching the way your eyes rolled back with pleasure, the crease in your eyebrows and your soft lips parted as filthy sounds left you. It was the prettiest of things.

“It just feels so good, huh? Can’t even talk.” he huffed a laugh, his nose brushing against yours as his free hand found your swollen clit and you were gasping as your thighs shuddered, sweet release building. “Talk to me, pretty girl. Tell me how good it feels. ‘Cause this sure feels so fucking good to me.” 

“Mhmm!” It took your brain a long minute to register his words, it was damn near impossible to focus on anything when his cock was making you feel so good, when you could feel your release so close. “Feels so good—Please, need it. Logan please.”

Who was he to ever deny his sweet girl anything? 

Logan moved his free hand to one of your thighs, holding it and bending it so that one of your knees was damn near next to your head. He drilled into you, fucking you into the matress and rubbing harsh circles on your swollen clit until you were nothing but a shaking, sobbing mess, filled with the neverending bliss of your release. 

“That’s it, atta girl.” He pressed his lips to your bruised lips, swallowing the pathetic sounds of your orgasm as he continued to chase his own. Your release seeped through his cock as his hand left your clit. He braced himself on the pillow beside your head he continued to fuck you into his release. “You’re doing so well sweetheart, take it just like that.”

Tears pricked at your eyes as you sobbed, the hairs at the base of his cock grazing your clit as he abused your hole. Desperate hands latched on to his hair as you held him, simply taking everything he had to give you. He was close, so incredibly close, composure completely gone from his body as he chased his release with selfish abandon. He dropped his face into your neck, sharp canines nipping at the soft skin, surely to leave a mark or two.

“Please Logan. Come in me. Please, I need it—” Though broken, in between pathetic whimpers you pleaded to him. And if he had any self-restraint left it was fucking gone.

The sound that rumbled in Logan’s chest was purely animalistic, a feral growl and the sound of metallic sharp claws rang in your ears next to your head. You gasped in pleasant surprise, moaning at the thought of him losing control like this. It should concern him, it should. But he couldn’t give one fuck. He coated your insides with his release, eyes closed and eyebrows creased into this twisted expression of rapture. With a couple final thrusts he pumped you full of himself until you were leaking around his cock. Only then did he still his pistoning hips. 

“Fuck.” You heard him grunt in your ear, followed by the sound of his claws sheathing back into his knuckles. Your eyes widened with aftershock and your wash chest was heavy as you panted. 

Logan lifted his head from your neck to look at you, heavy breaths leaving his chest as he tried to bring himself back to reality.

“I… I didn’t mean to..” He trailed off, though slightly apologetic as he caught a glimpse of the three punctured holes on your pillow, he did not regret it one bit. You were quickly shaking your head at him, a tired smile on your face.

“Don’t be. That was like, so hot.” You bit your lip, throwing your arms over his broad shoulders as you pulled him into a kiss. He hummed, hand beside your head as he brushed your hair out of your face. “You owe me some new pillows though.”

“Yeah? Might owe you more than that then.” A smug smirk replaced his concern as he rolled his hips, making you aware of his still hard cock, hot and heavy in your walls. You gasped, wide eyes meeting his own. “What? You thought I was done with you?” 

With a hold of your arm he flipped you on your stomach, the sudden movement making you whimper. But the thought of him taking you over and over sure had you eager in anticipation. Though as his cock sunk into your cunt once more you were beginning to wonder just how much your curiosity was going to cost you. Surely a whole day in bed tomorrow would be in order. He was so going to be the death of you. Little did you know, you were already going to be his.

[lov3notts]

"you what?"

ᥫ᭡Theodore Nott x F!Readerᥫ᭡

summary: accidentally drinking a lust potion, you asked your best friend Theo for help.

warning: smut, cursing, unprotected sex, size kink maybe? cream pie.

word count: 2.4k

18+only; minors don’t interact

Navigation; masterlist; request rules

“You what?” Theo’s eyes widened, you wanted him to do what? He wasn’t sure if this was a dream or not but if it was he didn’t want to wake up

Earlier that day , you had accidentally drank a lust potion. 

How, you might ask?

Well the boys (Enzo/ Mattheo) thought it would be funny to prank Draco by giving him a lust potion as payback for pranking them earlier that week

At lunch the 2 boys were there first, taking their usual spots they slip the potion to a bottle of Draco's favorite drink and placing it on the spot were Draco usually sits

One by one the group gets to the table ,leaving you and Draco left. 

Soon both of you walk in, but you seem to be in a rush

“Sorry guys I can’t stay and chat, I have to get back to studying, i’m just here to get some food to eat while studying” grabbing random things and the only drink you see left, you quickly stuff it in your purse

“Wait y/n!” Enzo saying frantically, giving Matt a worried look

You look up at Enzo as you start to zip up your bag. “Yeah?” 

“We were actually saving that for Draco, um- were having practice later and that’s his favorite”

“Omg I’m so sorry! Here-“ as your opening you bag Draco comes behind you , going to sit down 

“I actually got my own drink, y/n can have it” Dracos says while pulling out his drink from his bag,

Enzo’s and Mattheos’s eye widen.

“I- um, but we got it for you” Matt says with a bit of a shaky voice 

“Its fine, I don’t need it” as he waves his drink showing the 2 boys

“But-“ 

“Omg thank you Draco, I really have to go now guys see you later” you say as you're walking away before the boys have a chance to take away the drink.

Both Enzo and Matt try to call you back but you’re already gone, both freaking out inside. praying you don't find out what they did.

While studying in your dorm you couldn’t focus for more than 10 seconds. Thinking you might just be tired from all the studying you took a break. Getting up from your desk you head towards your bed. Laying in your bed you start to space out

At first it was all innocent thoughts, school, weekend plans but then they started to shift The only thing you could think of was pleasure. Thinking of a certain boy made your cunt throb, making your body hot

Your hand slowly creeps down to your shorts. Slowly playing with yourself imagining it was Theo’s fingers rubbing circles on your clit.

“Oh god Theo” you moaned 

but no matter how good it felt you couldn’t reach your climax. You were so needy and nothing was working. The rising heat from your body only made things more uncomfortable.

“God what is wrong with me, and why is it so hot” getting up from your bed you walk towards your desk, trying to find your drink, in hopes of it cooling you down . You picked up the bottle and before you can finish the drink you saw something written on the bottom of the bottle

“Payback- Enzo and Mattheo”

Your eyes widened with confusion. 

What?

Then you remembered how the drink was meant for Draco. 

everything started to make sense

This is why you were like this

You couldn’t even be mad at them, Your mind was clouded with the urge to get any satisfaction you could. all you wanted was any sort of pleasure but nothing was good enough. it started to get painful and a sudden thought popped in your head. Theo

he’d help right? He was really the only one you can go to. 

Your heart was racing at just the thought of Theo agreeing to help you out, being best friends all these years you had developed a crush on him, of course you never acted on it because you didn’t want to ruin your friendship 

Pacing back and forth your room, you finally decide to ask him for help. Nervously picking up your phone, you open Theo’s contact.

“Theo?”

“Hey Bella, what’s up?”

The nickname itself making you get butterflies.

 “Um- I need a favor, can you come over?”

“Of course, i'll be over in a few”

“Okay see you” hanging up the phone, your thoughts begin to consume you

What if he says no?

What if he laughs at your face and runs off

What if…

What if he says yes… 

Before you can continue, there was a knock on your door. That must be him. Slowly walking to your door, palms sweaty, you turn your door knob

“Hey, what did you need help with?” Theo goes in to give you a hug

Hugging him back, your nose is infused with his cologne  

God why does he always smell so good

He lets go and looks at you closely, he moves a strain of hair behind your ear to have a better look at you. His eyebrows frown, noticing your face is flustered and incredibly warm.

“Are you okay? Your face is warm” resting his hand on your cheek

“Yeah, um actually funny story-“ Quickly leading him to sit on the edge of your bed, holding his hands as you begin to explain

“Please just hear me out. I know it's odd ,but I have no one to go to,- just please-“ falling to your knees, begging.

“Hey hey, breathe. You know I'm here if you need anything. Now tell me, what’s up?” Theo's eyes looking at you with worry.

“Please I- I need you to fuck me” you blur out

That was the last thing Theo thought would come out of your mouth. 

You wanted him to what???

He was speechless, absolutely at a loss of words. jaw wide open

“Please, I'm sorry for asking you for this, I know it’s a lot and we’re best friends. But please I can’t take it anymore. I accidentally drank something that wasn’t meant to me and it had this effect on me. I’ve tried everything but nothing is working. I need your help please” your face heating up from embarrassment . I mean you only ever had the biggest crush on your best friend for years, but what you didn’t know was that so did Theo.

Theo had dreamt of the day he got to be with you.

How’d he spend hours pleasuring himself of the thought of you under him, on top of him and how good you’d take him in your mouth. God, was he hard the second you asked him to help you out.

How could he say no? 

Without another thought he picked you up from the floor. Sitting down back on your bed while you straddled his lap.

Looking into your eyes, moving a piece of your hair behind your ear, resting his hand on your cheek, he leaded in.  

Your soft lips on his, both whimpering into the intense kiss. Licking your bottom lip asking for access. You gladly gave it to him. 

Slowly rocking your hips on his clothed boner, trying to find any friction to satisfy you.

Slowly laying you down your bed, taking off your clothes until you were left in nothing but your matching black lace set. 

“Don’t worry Bella, i’ll take good care of you” Theo whispers as he starts to leave a trail of kisses down your body

“Theo please~” you pleaded, needing to feel something, anything.

“poor thing, you’ve must of been so uncomfortable for such a long time, don’t worry i’m here now”

He stopped to look at your lying body, face all flustered, messy hair. 

“God you’re so beautiful” he wasn’t lying, he’d always thought you were the most beautiful person he’d ever seen. Always jealous of your ex boyfriends because they got to be with you. But now it was his turn and he was going to give you the best you’d ever gotten, he was going to ruin every other guy you’ve been with. 

Slowly pulling your panties off, dick throbbing at the sight of your wet glistening pussy. Trying to ignore his throbbing cock and focus on you, he gives you a sweet smile. 

“You're soaking wet, so ready for me” leaving little kisses around your pussy, teasing. finally burying his face between your legs, painfully slow licks as he takes it in, savoring every moment. 

As soon as you felt his tongue, you became a whimpering mess.  

“Theo~ oh my god yes” moving your hand to his hair, giving it a little tug. 

Theo couldn’t hold it in anymore, he started to devour you. eating you out as if he’d never get this opportunity ever again

“You taste so fucken good” he groaned against your dripping core. The vibrations sending you waves of pleasure 

“More please, Theo! oh my god~” it felt so good, his tongue making you feel things you’ve never felt before with anyone else

“So polite, even when your so needy” Theo smirked as he sees how much of a mess you were for him

He starts so pump one of his fingering into you while eating you out. Soon enough you felt the feeling you were craving for

“M-so close, fuck Theo i’m so close”

He stops what he’s doing, getting up grasping on his zipper and undoing the button. Tugging his jeans and boxers off. 

“Theo? Why’d you stop? I was so close” you looked at him with teary eyes. you were so close, god why did he stop

“Sorry princess, I wanna be in you, want you cum on my cock” godddd was he hot

His cock strung out his pants hitting his stomach , you were lost for words. In no world was Theodore Nott small, he was big- huge even. you’ve never taken anything close to his size.

Theo noticed your starring

“Like what you see?” A smile tugged the corner of his lips

“Don’t worry you can take it, I know you can”

You nodded at his works 

He lined himself up to your pussy, tracing himself up and down, teasing you.

“You have no idea how long i've been wanting to do this for” 

“Fuck ,Theo please, please fuck me” you whined 

“Anything for you, love”

he slowly pushed himself into you. You both let out a loud moan. 

“fuck, your so tight” Theo was out of breath.

You felt so good around him that he never wanted this moment to end.

“fuck Theo your big” you said panting 

“You think you can take more?”

More???

“There’s more??” Looking at Theo with a disbelief face

He chuckled “i’m only have way”

“Don’t worry you can handle it, can’t you baby?”

“Mhm- yes yes, I can take it”

Pushing the reset of himself into you. bottoming you out. heavily breathing, getting comfortable with the feeling of him stretching you out. 

“good girl ,You’re doing so well for me, are you ready?”

“Yes! fuck-please move, please” you begged

Brining your legs above his shoulders and laying them there. Gripping your ankles to keep you steady as he started to thrust into you. Both a moaning mess

“Fuck fuck fuckkk, Theo-” your eyes roll back, arching your back.

“You feel so good Bella, oh god-“ panting 

“Your squeezing me tight- fuck”

One of his hands moving to your waist. fucking you harder now, unable to stop. His cock was so fucking good, hitting your g-spot every time.

“Fuck Theo just like that, don’t stop, don’t stop please!” Your hands holding onto your bed sheets as he rocks his hips.

“You like that huh? You like it when your best friend is pounding into you, god you look so beautiful, taking all of me like a good girl” he groans while leaving kisses on your ankle.

Your walls clenching at his words

He groaned again as he felt your cunt throb at his praise. 

“Oh you like being called a good girl don’t you?” letting go of your ankle to grip your jaw to make you look at him.

“Who's a good girl are you?” Theo says as he speeds up his thrusts

Looking at him with half lidded eyes “Yours, all yours!!~“ you moan

“That’s right all mine, no one can ever make you feel this good, isn’t that right love?”

 “Mhm only you, ah~ i'm so close”

“Cum for me baby, come all over my cock”

You were absolute bliss, god you’ve never seen fucked this good, yeah you’ve had other hookups but nothing can compared to this, to Theo

You moaned loudly, shutting your eyes as you reached your orgasm “im- im cumming!!” Your body shaking from the overwhelming feeling

The way your walls clenched from cumming made Theo on the verge of spilling. He continues to thrust into you through your first orgasm. He didn’t expect you make such a mess all over his dick, your cum spilling out of you as he thrusts into you

You felt Theo twitch inside of you, knowing he’s close you moved his hand from your waist to your breasts.

“Mmm so soft…” Theo whispered. leaning down, putting his tongue on your nipple, swirling it around. “Mmm Theo that feels good” throwing your head back from a little act. Theo was soon approaching his climax.  

“Fuckk- can I cum inside of you? please oh god I can’t hold it anymore, please? Fuck-” Theo begged as he tried to hold it in, waiting for you response 

“Yes!! fuck Theo cum inside me” you practically screamed as you felt you stomach tighten.

He let out a loud moan as he spilled his cum inside of you. You screamed as you felt his warm cum spilling in you, triggering your second orgasm.

Theo’s thrusts became sloppy, riding out both your highs. He pulled out and laid beside you. Dizzy and breathless, taking a moment to catch your breath.  Finally when you both got steady, you look up at Theo

“Thank you Theo, really”

“No need to thank me Bella, you can come to me for anything anytime” smiling at you.

crawling onto his lap you whispered into his ear “stay the night? I don’t think the drink has worn off just yet~”

This was going to be a long night for Theo.

ᥫ᭡reblog's & comment's are appreciatedᥫ᭡

a/n: Thank you for reading my first ever fic!! a special mention to @leona-hawthorne for being an angel and giving me feedback on my first rough draft. It helped a lot:)!! another honorable mention to @nottsangel!! Im that anon who mentioned writing their first story, hope you like it^-^ thank you both, your blogs have inspired me to start writing. xoxo

©lov3notts ,do not copy, translate or claim any of my writing or works as your own.

[imaginedisish]

My Girl (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Hey guys!! So sorry this took so long. Here is the secret relationship/breeding kink fic. I honestly really like this one...and I hope you guys do too. Was listening to "Juna" by Clairo while writing it, but went with "My Girl" for the title. ENJOY!

Summary: You and Logan have been in a secret relationship for months, but everything comes to a head when a new mutant visits the Institute, and won't leave you alone...Logan shows him, and you, who your man is.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI!!! SMUT!!! Thigh riding, Fingering, Unprotected PIV (wrap it up!), breeding kink, praise kink, possessive!Logan, jealous!Logan, unspecified/implied!Age Gap, established relationship, creepy!OC who hits on reader and doesn't lay off, minor violence, afab!/fem!reader, fluff/feelings, cursing, def some grammatical errors, I think that's it?

Word Count: 5,313 this is why it took so long also, smut right under the cut...

You remember the first time he fucked you, vividly. 

It was late at night, after a mission. You almost died in his arms. And that was what broke that thing inside him, the burden of time that he carries, that deep-seated pain that made it justifiable to stay away from you. He had held back for so long—had done his all to resist falling for you. He was screwed from the beginning, and he knew that. But he had become so terrified at the thought of losing you that he hadn’t realized it could happen all the same if he stayed away—if he forced himself to remain a friend. 

So, when he fucked you that first time, that first night, he fucked you like it’d be the last—the only time. 

“Goddammit, so fucking perfect,” he mumbled, his lips bruising yours, shoving himself deep inside—as deep as you could take him. “Needed you this whole time. Can’t live without you.”

“Logan,” you whined, his hips snapping against yours. “D-don’t stop, please.” “Never gonna stop, pretty girl,” he promised. “Can’t go back. Can’t be anywhere but here.”

For months now, you’ve been together—but nobody knows. There’s no doubt about commitment—nothing casual about the relationship in the slightest. You start and end every day in Logan’s bed. You’ve talked about running off together, getting married, and settling down. For the first time in his long life, Logan sees a future where he’s happy—genuinely happy. 

The sun peaks through the curtains. You curl yourself into Logan’s chest. His arms are wrapped around your back, holding you tight against him, even in his sleep. You listen to his breathing as the fall breeze creeps through the open window. Everything is calm and quiet in the morning, when everyone is still tucked away in their bedrooms, sound asleep. 

Logan groans, tugging you closer to him, nuzzling his face into your neck. “Go back to sleep.” His voice is heavy, laden with exhaustion. “Too early.” He kisses the spot just under your ear, and you moan involuntarily, feeling extra sensitive in the haze of the morning. He smiles softly against your neck, and kisses you again, his teeth grazing your skin. You moan louder this time, intertwining your legs with Logan’s. “Love those pretty little noises you make.”

“Feels good,” you murmur, his thigh slotting between your legs, pressing against your core. You can’t help but grind down on his thigh, rocking your hips back and forth. “Need you, Lo,” you beg. 

“You’re gonna ruin me,” Logan husks, his palms warm against your bare skin as he slips underneath your shirt—which is really his. 

He’s slow in the morning, pressing soft kisses on your bare shoulders, letting his touch linger longer than normal. He likes the peace of it all—waking up to each other, smelling you next to him, feeling the other side of his bed warm and full of you. When he fucks you, early like this, he takes his time. 

His fingertips trace the curves of your stomach, falling into your dips, gripping your flesh. Logan breathes you in, his lips softly melting into yours. “Still too early?” You mumble between soft, lazy kisses. 

“Never too early to want you,” Logan husks, dragging his thigh against your core again. “Always need you.” You can feel his erection through his boxers. “Gonna take care of my girl. Gonna make you—”

There’s a knock at the door. “Logan?” It’s Scott’s voice on the other side. He knocks again. “Logan, you in there?”

Logan tries to ignore him, his fingertips dragging down your sides, bumping into the hem of your panties as he trails wet, open-mouthed kisses down the hollow of your throat. You let out a breathy moan as Logan bites down on your pulse point. He smiles under your jaw at the soft sound, content that you can’t hold back. 

“Logan,” you whisper, running your hands up his arms, to his shoulders, your fingertips finding the nape of his neck. “He’s not gonna stop.”

Sure enough, Scott knocks again. “Logan, I know you’re in there,” he calls, banging on the door now. “Wake up. We have some tech guy on his way.” 

Logan groans into your neck. “Why do you need me, Summers?” Logan licks your collarbone teasingly, hiking your t-shirt farther up your body. 

“He’s…a mutant,” Scott explains. “He can speak with machines, computers, code—you name it, he can do it. He’s gonna fix some stuff around the mansion. Charles asked me to make sure you’re awake just in case…” Scott trails off.

Logan finishes Scott’s sentence. “In case everything goes to shit?” 

“I wasn’t going to say that,” Scott huffs, likely shaking his head on the other side of the door. “But yes. In case things don’t go as planned. I’m also looking for—"

But Logan cuts Scott off, saying your name for him. 

“Yeah, I can’t find her. Do you know where she might—”

“On a run,” Logan chimes in, and you suppress your laughter by pressing your face into his chest. “She’ll be back soon.” Logan’s arms wrap around your back, holding you against him. 

“Alright,” Scott says, shuffling, slowly stepping away from the door. “If you see her, let her know what’s going on, okay?”

“Trust me bub,” Logan husks, his fingers digging into your flesh, tickling you. “I’ll make sure she knows.” 

Scott mumbles something unintelligible as he walks down the hallway, his footsteps echoing as he disappears down the stairs. 

Logan’s lips are attached to your neck again, sucking playfully. “Where were we?” He teases, his nails grazing down your back. His palms settle on your ass, squeezing your flesh tightly in his hands. 

You moan, your chest flush with his. “Logan,” you whine. “We need to get up,” you insist, your hands pushing against Logan’s broad shoulders, your fingers digging into his muscular biceps. “Can’t stay in bed anymore.”

Logan grunts, his thigh still nudged between your legs, rocking into your core. You want him, and it’s tempting to let him take you right here, right now. But you can’t. And he knows it. He presses a chaste kiss to your lips and pulls you tightly into his chest. “Later,” he promises, his lips finding the shell of your ear. You smile at the thought. There was always a later with Logan.

You snuck out of Logan’s room, unnoticed, as always. It was still early—too early for the ruckus of a morning at the mansion to begin. You got ready for the day and slipped downstairs. You’re still shocked at just how oblivious the rest of the team is. Truly, no one knows about you and Logan. 

You’re in the kitchen now, nursing a cup of coffee, waiting for the day to start. Familiar, heavy footsteps approach, and you smile before you can even see his face. 

“Hi pretty girl,” Logan coos, standing behind you and wrapping his arms around your front. You lean into him, feeling the warmth of his chest and the strength of his heartbeat. He presses a chaste kiss to the crown of your head and walks over to the coffee pot. 

Scott enters the kitchen as Logan takes his first sip of coffee—one second earlier and he would have seen Logan holding you. “The guy is here,” Scott announces from the doorway. He looks at you and smiles. “Oh! Hey! How was your run?” He asks cheerfully. 

You almost spit out your coffee, remembering what you were actually doing this morning. “Great!” You say, doing your all to hold back your laughter. “Surprisingly relaxing.” Logan snorts and plays it off like he’s sniffling.

Scott smiles, none the wiser, and nods, cocking his head towards the hallway just outside the kitchen. “Come meet the tech guy!” He backs out of the doorway and into the hallway. Logan settles his coffee cup—which reads #1 Professor—next to yours on the counter and gives your waist a quick squeeze as you hop out of the chair. You walk shoulder to shoulder into the foyer. All the signs of your relationship are there—out in the open—and yet, still, no one seems to catch them.

You step into the foyer, and there’s Scott and the Professor by the front door, chatting with a younger man—who’s about your age. The man’s eyes find yours, and he smiles softly. “Hi there!” He calls, waving. “I’m Mark!” He strides away from Scott and the Professor and towards you. “But you can call me Techno.” He smirks and winks, extending his hand out, waiting for you to take it.

Logan grabs his hand instead, gripping it tightly, catching Mark off guard. “Wolverine,” Logan growls. “And you can’t call me Logan,” he adds, gritting his teeth. “So, you turn on computers, bub?” 

Mark grimaces, wrenching his hand from Logan’s grasp. “A little more than that,” he asserts, closing his eyes and bawling his fists. You look up as the lights flicker, and televisions turn on and off. Your cell phone rings in your pocket, and you pull it out. The screen reads: Incoming Call from Mark.

Your lips part. “How did you…” You trail off. 

Mark shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly. “My powers essentially let me communicate with electricity and tech,” he explains. You can practically hear Logan seething beside you. 

“A technopath,” Charles offers as he rolls over to join the three of you with Scott in tow. 

“Exactly,” Mark says, nodding to Charles. “Makes it easy to put my number into pretty girls’ phones.” Mark winks at you, and you press your lips into a straight line in response. 

You shake your head. “I’m not inter—”

You’re cut off by the sound of Logan’s claws unsheathing. “These,” Logan pauses, lifting his claws to Mark. “Make it real easy to hurt creeps who put their numbers into girls’ phones without asking first, bub.” 

Mark rolls his eyes, and the corners of your lips twitch up. You try to force down your smile, try to slow the rhythm of your heart. You secretly liked when Logan got possessive over you. He was inherently protective, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t turn you on just a little. 

“Let’s stay on course,” Charles reprimands, guiding Mark to the hallway to the left with a wave of his hand. “Let me show you some of the machines I’d like you to work on.”

“It would be my pleasure, Professor Xavier,” Mark says harshly, his eyes locked on Logan as he backs away to follow Charles and Scott.

Logan lowers all but his center claw, giving Mark the middle finger as he turns around. “Don’t mind Logan,” Scott says as they disappear into a room, the door shutting behind them.

“Logan,��� you whisper, now that everyone is gone. “Don’t worry,” you assure, bringing a hand to his shoulder. 

He turns to look at you. “He’s a fucking creep.”

“It’s going to be fine.”

 It is not going well, or fine.

Mark is something of a nuisance. He’s only been here for an hour, but he has already created multiple excuses to talk to you, to pull you away from whatever task is at hand. 

You’re in the middle of teaching an English class, discussing Mrs. Dalloway with a group of older students. “So, what are we to make of Clarissa and Sally’s relationship?” You ask the students, to no avail. 

This was your hardest class of the day—especially given the fact that you’re not even a decade older than most of the students. You had joined the X-Men in your early 20s, your powers having shown themselves a bit later than in most mutants, and only a few years have passed since then. Convincing the students who have been here their whole lives that you deserve to teach has been nothing short of a challenge. 

So, when Mark butts his head in on your class, annoyance burns through your body. You take a deep breath and swallow down your frustration. 

“Hey!” He chimes, his head poking through the open classroom door. “Mind if I take a look at your computer really quick?”

The class perks up, more focused on you than they were just seconds ago. You fake a smile, nodding and pushing yourself off the front of your desk so that he has space to access the computer. 

He slips behind the desk and smiles widely. “You didn’t have to move,” he remarks. “Would’ve been nice to have you close.”

You want to gag. You turn away from the students, whispering so they can’t hear. “Listen,” you chide, narrowing your eyes. “I am not interested, so could you please—”

“What are you doing in here, asshole?” Logan’s voice echoes against the walls of the classroom. For the first time all year, the class is paying incredibly close attention. “The Professor told you to check the computers in the lab down the hall.” Logan fully enters the room, striding over to Mark, his hands bawled into fists at his sides. “Beat it, bub.”

“Whatever,” Mark mutters, his head down as he exits the classroom. The bell rings, and the class stands, grabbing their things and filing out the door. 

You groan. “Please read the next twenty pages for tomorrow!” You shout over the hubbub and shuffling of students. “I know it’s a challenging novel, but I think you guys can…” The students are gone before you can finish your sentence. “Handle it.” 

Logan smiles sympathetically, closing the distance between you and him. His presence is comforting, warm, everything you’ve ever needed. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into his chest. “Sorry,” he apologizes, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. “Didn’t mean to make your class harder than it is already.”

You take a deep breath, your annoyance fading away. “You helped,” you whisper. “Mark is the one who ruined things,” you insist. “He won’t leave me alone.”

Logan chuckles. “You don’t like him?” He teases. “Don’t like a guy your own age flirting with you?” He’s egging you on, trying to joke, but you can tell part of him is a bit serious. 

You shake your head. “Only like you.” You press your lips to the hollow of his throat and Logan grunts. 

He reluctantly pulls away, the palms of his hands dragging down your arms, his fingers intertwining with yours. “Gotta get to my class,” he husks, his fingers slipping, tugging longingly as he steps to the door. “Meet me after?” He asks, but he already knows the answer. You’ll be outside his classroom door before the bell rings, waiting for him.

You nod, and he smiles, his hands gripping the doorframe like some invisible magnet is pulling him away, and he’d give anything to spend another second with you. He slips down the hallway, and into his classroom. 

You spend the next thirty minutes or so grading papers, waiting for the period to end so that you can walk across the hall to Logan’s class. Another few minutes pass, and you start to collect your things, readying yourself to meet Logan. Your heart thumps in your chest at the thought, even after all the months you’ve spent together. 

You grab your bag and head to the door, closing it behind you and locking up. You cross the hall and stand outside Logan’s door. He’s teaching a younger group of kids—ten to eleven-year-olds. You would trade places with him in a heartbeat if you could. The younger students loved you. There was no question of respect, no doubt of your power. But Logan was given the class as a challenge—Charles wanted to test his patience. 

And, honestly, seeing him with the children did something to you. You loved watching the way he doted on them, carefully explaining material in a way they’d understand. He was an excellent teacher, and one day, you’re sure, he’d make an even better father. You find yourself falling into fantasy: Logan, late at night, a baby—your baby—on his chest. You can see it now—him changing a diaper, teaching the child to walk. Your heart squeezes in your chest, your eyes falling closed as you daydream about the future—your future together. 

You’re so distracted that you don’t hear Mark walk up to you—don’t feel his hand grab your shoulder.

You yelp and jump. “Oh my god,” you mumble, turning around and coming face to face with him. 

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, his hand lingering for far too long on your shoulder. He finally peels away, his arms falling to his sides. He leans against the wall, trying to appear casual and cool. “What are you doing tonight?”

The bell rings before you can think of a polite way to shoo Mark away, and the students exit Logan’s classroom, happily shouting greetings in your direction. You stood outside Logan’s door every day, and the students were always excited to see you.

A few of them run up to hug you, complaining about Logan’s gruffness. When they hear Logan’s footsteps approaching the door, they bolt down the hallway, their laughter booming against the walls. 

Logan steps out into the hall, and he groans audibly when he sees Mark next to you. But Mark ignores Logan, his eyes trained on yours. “Got plans?” He asks again. 

You roll your eyes. “Dude, I’m not interested!” You groan, too irritated to pretend to be nice. Mark smirks and parts his lips, ready to persist like the creep he is.

Logan steps in front of you, his claws already out. “Listen, bub,” he growls, his claws just inches from Mark’s chest. “If you don’t fuck off and stop harassing my girl, we’re gonna have a problem.”

Mark scoffs. “My girl? What are you, her father? You can’t possibly be dating her.”

You can see the anger in Logan’s eyes, the honest rage. “Lo,” you soothe. “Don’t do it.” But you know it’s too late. His decision is already made.

Logan shoves Mark against the wall, his claws pressed against his throat. “I’m her fucking boyfriend, bub,” he grunts as Mark squirms helplessly under his hold. 

“Oh, her boyfriend?” He teases, despite the fear in his eyes. “Aren’t you too old to be a boyfriend?”

Logan shoves him harder into the wall, and Mark yelps pathetically, like a small dog. “More serious than that,” Logan asserts. “Guessing you wouldn’t know anything about that though, would you?” 

“Alright, break it up!” Scott’s voice echoes from down the hall. He runs over, Jean and the Professor by his side. Rogue and Gambit follow close behind. But Logan doesn’t budge, the tips of his claws almost digging hard enough to draw blood. 

You bring your hand to Logan’s shoulder. “He isn’t gonna hurt me,” you whisper to Logan. “I could handle him easily if he tried.” You slide your hand to the nape of his neck, trying to soothe him, to relax him. “Nothing’s going to happen, okay?” 

Logan retracts his claws and lets go of Mark, who stutters away from Logan and into the center of the hallway. “I’m getting the fuck out of here!” Mark shouts, but Logan doesn’t react. He simply intertwines his fingers with yours. 

“You okay?” He asks, his thumb brushing circles into the side of your hand. 

You arch a brow. “Are you okay?” You smile and lean into him. 

“So…” Scott trails off, interrupting. “You two are…”

“Together.” You finish his sentence, your eyes still on Logan’s. You can feel the tension in his shoulders stretch down to his hand. He’s rigid, still on edge. You know he needs to get out of here, needs to be alone with you. 

“How long has this been going on?” Scott asks, genuinely caught off guard. “Did anyone know about this?” 

You turn to the team to see heads shaking side to side—save for the Professor. “I did, of course,” Charles confesses. “But I felt it was best left a secret until the two lovebirds decided otherwise.”

Rogue shakes her head, the corners of her mouth twitching up. “I can’t believe you never told me!” 

“Told you what?” Jubilee calls from down the hall, approaching the group. She blows a bubble as she stands next to Rogue, her eyes trailing down to where your and Logan’s hands connect. Her eyes widen and her bubble bursts. “No way!” She cheers, jumping up and down. 

“Settle down,” Charles laughs, extending his hand down the hall to where Mark was just moments ago. “Scott, make sure our technopath friend makes it out the door alive.” Scott nods and heads down the hall. Charles turns to you and Logan. “As for the two of you,” he pauses, winking. “We’ll discuss more at a later point.”

You smile in understanding, and Logan squeezes your hand—another sign it’s time to go. He’s still worked up about Mark; he needs to get this out of his system, needs to relieve all the built-up tension. 

“Got something I need to take care of,” Logan says to the group, tugging you down the hallway.  

He strides through the mansion, practically yanking your arm out of your socket. “Logan,” you whisper, trying to catch his attention. You’ve never seen him like this—rage and jealousy like fire in his eyes, dripping from his pores. He leads you up the stairs and towards his bedroom, and it suddenly dawns on you what exactly he needs to take care of. 

Logan pushes the door open and slams it closed the second you’re inside. His hands are immediately on you, grabbing at the pillowy flesh of your ass, pinning you to the door. His lips find yours—hungry and rough, the wiry hairs of his beard scratching your face. He tastes you, his tongue seeking more of you as it swipes across your lower lip. You open your mouth, inviting him in, your tongue tangling with his.

Logan hoists you up without breaking the kiss, and you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist. You can feel his erection straining inside his jeans, pressing against your heat. He grinds into you as one hand slips under your top and drags up your back, holding you tightly against him. 

“Need you,” he mumbles against your lips. “Always fucking need you.” He tears you away from the door and towards the bed. He throws you onto the mattress and climbs over you, slowly, like an animal stalking its prey. “Tell me you need me, pretty girl.”

“N-need you,” you stutter as he settles on top of you, grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head. 

“I’m not too old for you?” Logan teases, one of his hands loosening its grasp on your arm and trailing down your body, settling on the hem of your shirt. “You don’t wanna be with anyone else?” He hikes up your top, pushing it above your breasts. 

You can feel the heat pooling between your legs. “No,” you whine, arching your back as his fingertips play with the bottom of your bra. “Only wanna be with you,” you breathe as Logan slowly, teasingly pulls your bra up. “Please,” you beg, spreading your legs wider. “Want you to fuck me.” 

Logan smirks, finally tugging your bra and top over your head and casting them to the floor. “Gonna take care of you, sweetheart,” Logan soothes, palming your breasts with his free hand, rolling your nipples under his thumb. 

“Fuck,” you moan as he pinches a nipple between his thumb and forefinger. 

Logan hums, his fingertips trailing across the valley of your breasts, doing the same on the other side. Logan pinches harder, and you moan louder this time. “That’s it,” he coos, his lips finding your pulse point, sucking roughly. “Don’t be quiet, darlin’,” he demands. You whisper his name, your voice whiny and needy. “Show me how much you need me. Keep making those pretty little noises, baby.”

“Feels good,” you whimper as his hand traces down your stomach, to your hips, gathering the fabric of your skirt in his fist and yanking it up to your waist.

He chuckles darkly. “You wore this just for me?” He asks, his thumb hooking inside the waistband of your panties, pulling them down your legs. “Wanted to make it easier for me to fuck you?”

“Fuck, yes, just for you,” you pant, watching as Logan lifts himself off you, tugging his t-shirt up and over his head. He dexterously unclasps his belt buckle and throws the leather to the floor. He balances on his forearm as he unbuttons and unzips his jeans, pushing them down his thighs along with his boxers. “I’m all yours, Lo,” you promise as he presses his forehead to yours.

Logan’s hand glides down your side, slipping between your legs and finding your folds. You moan as his fingertips prod at your entrance, spreading your slick. “Fuck, all this is for me?” He pinches your clit before swiping through your folds again. “You’re soaked already, princess.” His fingertips brush your clit, tracing achingly slow circles into the bud. 

You rock your hips against Logan’s touch, searching for more friction. “Logan, need you,” you whine, squirming underneath him. “I’m yours.”

“All mine?” He whispers, his touch suddenly disappearing. You groan at the loss of contact. “Say it again, pretty girl,” he demands, guiding his cock to your folds. 

“All yours,” you answer, trying to move your hips lower to feel just an inch of him. “Please just—”

Your eyes roll into the back of your head as he slams into you, down to the hilt with one thrust. He throbs against your walls as he works you open, his hips still, his cock splitting you in two. “Fuck,” Logan grunts. “So fucking tight. Perfect little pussy. Wanna stay right here forever. Maybe I won’t even fuck you. Maybe I’ll just make you sit on my cock.”

But you need him to move, need him to take you. “Logan, f-fuck me,” you choke, trying to move your hips. His hand grips your waist, stopping you from sliding up his length. “Please, move,” you plead. 

“So impatient,” he chides, kissing you bruisingly, biting your lips. He finally pulls out and slams back in, bottoming out again. His hand slides down your waist and slips between your legs. “You gonna be a good girl and let me fuck you the way I want?” 

His hand is just above your clit, inches away from where you need him most, waiting for your answer. You nod emphatically. “Yes,” you say with pleading eyes. “Anything. You can do anything just please—oh fuck!” Logan pinches your clit and starts his machinations, swirling around the bud. He pulls out and pumps back in, setting a ruthless pace. 

His hips snap against yours, taking all of you with reckless abandon. His lips swallow your moans, consuming you, drinking you in. Of all the times he’s fucked you, it’s never been quite like this. There’s a hunger in Logan’s eyes that you’ve never seen before, an undying need you’re not sure can be satisfied. Something feels different about this time—more intense, fervent, and feverish. 

Logan thrusts in and out of you, bottoming out with every pump, still stretching you out. His fingertips stroke your clit roughly, your walls already fluttering around him. He curses under his breath, his chest heaving against yours. 

“Look at you,” he groans, fucking into you. “So beautiful like this. Always so beautiful.” You can feel his cock twitching inside you. “Wanna make you mine, sweetheart.”

“I-I already am,” you stammer, his fingers drawing tight, rapid circles into your clit, pushing you closer to the edge. “Always gonna be yours.”

“Want more than that,” Logan grunts, his hips rocking, his pace quickening. He’s so deep inside you—hitting exactly where you need him most with every thrust. 

“Whatever you want,” you pant, your chest pressing flush to his. “It’s yours. I’m yours.”

“Yeah?” He growls at the shell of your ear. “You gonna let me fill you up? Gonna let me stuff you full of me?”

“Yes, please,” you cry out as he pumps in and out, shoving himself as deep inside as he can possibly fit. You feel so full, so complete. Nothing compares to having Logan this close, to having him be so connected to you. You’re already coming undone underneath him, falling apart. “Want you to stay inside.” And then the words fall from your lips without a second thought. But you mean it, and you want it more than anything…

“Wanna have your baby, Lo.”

Logan groans at your words, his cock throbbing with need. “Fuck, don’t tease me like that, sweetheart.” 

“N-not teasing,” you stammer. “I mean it.”

“Shit,” Logan growls, his skin slapping against yours, your words spurring him on. He’s letting himself go, letting himself plunge deep inside you, fast and hard. “Such a good girl,” he praises, his length dragging against your walls, pushing deeper still. “You gonna let me fuck a baby into you?”

“Yes!” You cry out, the fire burning in your belly spreading up to your spine, coursing through your veins. Your walls flutter around his length, squeezing him tightly.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” Logan coos, rutting into you, his hips stuttering. “Want you forever.”

You throw your head back as his fingers swirl around your clit. “You have me Lo, always gonna have me.” Your walls clench down around him, and the tension snaps. Electricity shoots up your spine as your orgasm crashes into you. It’s intense—more intense than anything you’ve ever felt. Pleasure washes over you in waves, heat blooming across your chest and up your neck.

Logan is right behind you, whispering a string of praises as he finishes inside you. “Did so fucking good for me. Always so perfect, beautiful.” His thrusts slow until he’s still inside you, but he doesn’t pull out. “Don’t wanna move, princess,” he husks, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. 

“You don’t have to,” you say, your voice hoarse. Logan rolls you onto your side, hoisting your leg up and over his hip, keeping himself deep inside your cunt. You close your eyes, your heartbeat finally steadying, your chest still heaving in time with Logan’s. 

The silence is comfortable, calming. You listen to Logan’s breathing as he runs his hands up and down your back. “You okay?” He asks, pressing a chaste kiss to the crown of your head. 

You hum. “I’m perfect,” you mumble, burying your face into his chest. “Do you really…” You trail off, suddenly nervous to ask the only question on your mind, despite everything that just happened. 

“Yes,” Logan answers immediately. “I meant it. Wanna be a family. Wanna be with you forever.”

You melt into him, wrapping your arms around his back. You can feel his cock growing hard inside you as you move to get more comfortable. “I want that too, Lo,” you sigh. “More than anything.” You smile against him, thinking about your future, thinking about how all this started because some asshole wouldn’t leave you alone. You can’t help but giggle at the thought.

“What’s so funny?” Logan asks. You can hear the smirk in his voice. 

You look up at him. “You’re crazy, you know that?” You joke, your smile widening. “You could’ve hurt that guy.”

Logan’s smile widens too. “Just crazy about you,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. He flips you onto your back and hovers over you, his cock still deep inside you. “Should’ve kicked his ass.” You bite your lip, waiting for his next move. “You’re my girl,” he groans, sliding out of you slightly. 

“Yours,” you breathe as he thrusts back in. “All yours.”

tags: @cosmiccandydreamer @alsoprettyinpink @alastorssimp @1800-fight-me @iamburdened @chaoticweirdogeek @loganobsessed @seasonofthenerd @witch-lemon @the-occasional-artist1125 @https-murdock @afw5 @wolviesgirl @the-ruler-of-death @xtwistedchaosx @wittyjasontodd @galacticglitterglue @silversprings-mp3 @zxaera @spiderset @figsnpassionfruits @prettyseaveins @ilysmdovie12 @evasmlp @derbygracie @rammakela @honeyfewr @ricefordays-blog1 @manipulatour