#also. i know this one is ANOTHER 2nd person pov but i swear it's the last one. probably. it just flows better this way. trust 😌

[happi-tree]

are we out (of the woods yet)

You look down.

Well, this explains the pain, you think, eyes darting over a body that you inhabit but do not recognize in the slightest, in colors that you can scarcely remember seeing.

Father is going to kill me. Then, Where am I?

Or: Henry Oak, and being destined for two worlds and when you've only ever walked in one.

ao3

Here’s my fic for day 3: werewolves. Like day 1, this is part of a supernatural au that @kaseyskat and @llumimoon masterminded alongside me, although this one takes place chronologically before day 1's. Hope you like it!

Life is good for you. Great, even! At least, that’s what Father wants you to believe. 

Below your feet, the leaves crunch in shades of silver and gold, compounded into tiny bits that fly up around you as you sprint through the dense forest, and life is… as good as it can get, for the time being.

The sky is becoming clearer by the day, more and more pieces of azure heaven made visible by the ever-growing gaps in the canopy, carrying with it relief and distress in equal measure.

The sun lances to alight on pale golden fur, warming you through, unfettered by the leaves as you bound from shadow to shadow, light to light. At the same time, you feel the autumn’s chill on the breeze; though it is not yet cold enough for the grass to don their frost-coats at the gray-gold-blue dawn (scarcely ever is, these past few years), there is a weariness in your bones that belies the winter ahead, aching in joints that have not shifted right in quite some time.

It tugs at the back of your mind, the turn of the seasons, the shifting of moons, the shedding of leaves that regrow with the promise of spring. But there isn’t much you can do about it - not without it getting back to Father in some way or another (it always does, and you have long since learned that this corner of the wood has eyes beyond those of the white birches), and that is the last thing you want - so you growl under her breath, clench your jaw, and run harder, as if the ache is just a muscle you can stretch simply by outrunning it all. 

You bank around the trunk of an old, gnarled dogwood and think of winter. They’ll need food stocked up at the Commune, soon. 

(Commune, a name that Father has given your number, because Pack is too much too animalistic, too barbaric, too laughably simple for what you are. For your purpose. For your community.)

(You would personally like to tell Father where he can shove his community.)

(Well, most of it.)

The sun will be setting soon, you know, and as you bask in golden hour you dread the encroaching indigo-tinge of twilight that will bring you to Father’s side, ever the obedient daughter. There is not much you can do, though, except to attempt at grasping ephemeral joy in your hungry jowls, to crush the dead growth underfoot until you are expected back within the heart of Commune territory. 

<Hen!> a familiar mind-voice calls out to you. <Hey, Hen, over here!>

Well. You suppose that maybe there is something else you can do.

The careless footfalls of your partner approach from behind, and you whirl around.

<Goose,> You sigh, half-exasperated, half-fond. <What in the moon’s name are you doing over here?>

<Could ask you the same question, Hen Ry’,> he chuffs, trotting over to brush against your flank. 

<Plus, you always head over to this part of the outskirts when you’re all moody,> he notes, gesturing with his muzzle at your surroundings.

The cliff-wall before you is a massive, towering thing, all craggy rock and silvery moss. You could spend hours following the striations in the stone, nosing at the peaks and valleys, following them to the edge of Father’s influence. You have spent hours doing just that, following the winding currents within the rock, stripes of light and dark that squirm organically like the veins of some giant, petrified creature. 

The trees thin out, here, and you glance sidelong at Goose.

<I’m not “all moody”,> You argue rather pointlessly, staring at the ribbons of light-dark in the stone before you.

<Please, babe, you’re always moody. I can smell it from miles away.>

Goose Sy’ is a gangly, wiry thing, with dark fur that looks lit from within in the dappled sunlight. He hunches lazily now, but there is strength and power and quickness beneath his pelt.

<What’s on your mind?> He asks, and you let him touch his nose to your cheek, an affectionate gesture that is a rarer and rarer treasure, these days. <Is the old man on your ass again?>

<When isn’t he?> You respond simply, growling a bit as you kick up more debris.

You sigh. <He keeps asking if I’ve thought about a mate,> you confess, and you scent his agitation and the slightest bit of worry as he turns his golden eyes on yours.

<He’s not, like, suspicious or anything?> Goose asks.

<Moons, no, thank goodness,> You respond, seeing him untense before you. <Could you imagine?>

<I could, actually,> Goose says, his laughter resounding in your brain. <I’d love to see the look on his face when he realizes his perfect paragon pup has been fraternizing with a mangy commoner. You know, before he kills me.>

You nuzzle against his side, let his scent wash over you. You’ll have to roll around in muck and mire for quite awhile to erase it, but as you bury your face into his ruff, you think it’s worth it.

There’s an ache in your heart that matches the ache in your unshifted bones, and you often wonder which came first.

<Killing is against his own rules, and my Father surely wouldn’t debase himself to such levels. It is beneath our glorious, enlightened kind,> You sniff mockingly. 

<I dunno, Hen, I think I just might send him over the edge.> He bumps his side to yours, snorting.

Father… has been getting very insistent about settling you down. Perhaps a part of you always knew that pups were the only things he judged you as being good enough for, but your stomach turns at the very principle. You feel trapped, miserable here in his territory, heir to his kingdom of oak and earth. To bring more of yourself into the world, to force them to endure as you have…

You scent a chill on the breeze, and it ruffles your fur, causing a shiver to run down your spine. The ache intensifies, and you can practically feel the creaking of your bones beneath the sinew.

You hear yourself whine before you can stop it, and Goose presses closer to your side.

<Have you thought about Changing?> He asks, mind-voice lowered to the slightest of whispers.

You balk. <Are you insane? Father would actually kill me. Just because you can get away with it doesn’t mean I could just - >

<I know, I know,> Goose says, trying on a soothing tone like an ill-fitting coat. <It’s just that - > he snarls, low and angry, and you flinch.

<Sorry,> He cuts himself off. <But you’re hurting, and it’s his fault. Him and his stupid fucking rules.>

It’s not the sun against your fur that makes you feel warmed through, now.

<I hate him,> Goose tells you.

<I know,> You reply, instead of the me, too that lies just below your speech-thoughts. 

<Does it hurt?> You ask him. <The Change, I mean.>

<A little,> He answers. <Well, a lot, at the beginning. But then, the pain goes away a little, I guess. Shrinks. You could try it, you know. I’d take care of you.>

<Absolutely not,> You say. <My Father would have both of our heads, and you know it.>

Your heart says something different, as it always has. You ponder for the briefest moment the concept of running away from it all, of a full-moon sunrise where you awaken in a body that is still yours but also not, side by side with him. You imagine the shift-ache unfurling into a new shape before shrinking dormant below your reformed skin.

You wonder if he would drag you to the treeline outside the nearest town, dress you in human things until you could masquerade among them. If he would teach you how to walk on two legs. 

You wonder what he would look like. Instead of brushing against your side, you wonder if he would hold your hand.

Wondering is a pointless thing, though, Father says, and running is cowardice.

Staying feels even moreso, but you know nothing else.

<Well, if you change your mind and wanna stick it to the old mutt, you know where to find me,> Goose’s voice echoes softly between your pointed ears, breaking you from your thoughts.

<Thank you,> You respond, trying to wrangle your mind-voice into something that sounds less morose and forlorn. You fail, judging by the way Goose presses his muzzle against yours. 

You wish you could go, just pick up and leave, but there are things that keep you. Mother, for one, though she grows more and more distant by the day, ever colder, like the Autumn she is named for, as Father sinks his claws into you both, bleeding you of your heart and your strength and your freedoms until nothing is left but exhaustion and ache and apathy.

Mother belonged to another Pack, once, you know, even though she has never spoken of it. A real Pack, in name and in function. She has known what it feels like to move between forms, between worlds, transient like the phases of the moon.

You would’ve liked a life like hers, a name like hers, one that feels equal parts human and beast.

Instead, you were named in Commune tradition. The first moons of your life you went nameless, in order for your parents (your Father, mostly) to judge what name would best suit you.

You think of Father’s name: Bear, a towering, massive presence compressed into lupine form that looms over you even when he is not there. Strong, masculine, predatory.

Goose was named this way, too, and the name suits him well - your partner is flighty, a free spirit, but brash and loud and quick to bite and clamor at whatever displeases him.

Even your childhood tormentor, Horse, suits his name. Proud and haughty and ornery and loud in his own right, skittish beneath Father and Mother’s glares. 

You do not have to wonder why Father chose Hen for yourself. You are a livestock, a thing to be kept in a wooden cage, with clipped wings incapable of flight, legs unsuited for traveling too far from his reach. Your children and your children’s children will feed the gaping maw of your captor, and there is nothing you can do about it. 

Your name chafes at you, scratches at you like brambles upon your hide. Meek and feminine and prey-animal and all the things you are but wish not to be.

<Sun’ll be down soon,> Goose’s mind-voice resounds in your brain, and you startle, cocking your head to dislodge your useless spiraling.

You look around, noting the yellowish light stretching the tree-shadows longer and longer across the ground. 

<You’re right,> You agree.

<Lost you for a minute, there,> He says.

Goose doesn’t press for answers, but the flicking of his ears gives away his concern.

<Just thinking,> You respond, glancing at the deepening blues on the horizon.

<You were thinking pretty loudly,> Goose remarks with a light press against your side. <You gotta get back, yeah?>

<Wish I didn’t have to,> You grumble, already turning to the depths of Commune territory, pawing forward even as you think it.

<Offer’s always open,> Goose replies. <Full moon’s only a week away.>

The pain within you seems to increase at the reminder.

<I know. Thanks. Don’t forget to get rid of the scent.>

<I know!> Goose exclaims as your paths begin to diverge - his, to his home on the far reaches, yours, to whatever Father has awaiting you tonight. <Thanks. See you soon?>

<Soon,> You agree, and hope you can make good on that promise.

“Hello?”

The first thing you register as you awaken is that your body hurts. 

Bone-deep, marrow-deep, cell-deep, all over. It feels like your limbs have scrambled themselves, ground themselves to dust, and then attempted to piece themselves back together from the rubble. It is as if every muscle fiber within you has been stretched past breaking point, as if every nerve ending fell prey to one thousand claws, one thousand fangs. 

Your very soul yowls in pain, and it is only because your teeth feel so wrong and foreign in your own jaw, because your vocal cords scrubbed raw, that you do not vocalize it beyond a shaking rasp. 

The second thing you register is a presence right in front of you. 

You open your eyes, and the third thing you register is dazzling, dizzying, scintillating color. 

Your hands (hands?) scrabble at the rough earth in a vain attempt to ground yourself as you look around half-dazed and hurting, and the soft, uncalloused flesh of your palms smarts and stings against jagged bits of debris.

You look down.

Well, this explains the pain, you think, eyes darting over a body that you inhabit but do not recognize in the slightest, in colors that you can scarcely remember seeing.

Father is going to kill me. Then, Where am I?

You don’t recognize this part of the woods - the scents of the Commune are all but nonexistent, and the area around you is well-trod, devoid of grass, human odors lingering and overlapping.

A human hiking trail?

You blink rapidly, taking in the fuzzy dawn light and its myriad of hues.

Mother had taught you about colors, once, when you were a very young pup and the world was still bright with more than shades of yellow and cerulean and she was not yet as poisoned by oppressive bear-weight of cynicism. 

She had told you their names, even, though you struggle to remember them. 

You test them out, now, forming their mouth-shapes with a slow clacking of newly-blunted teeth. 

Green, the color of moss and grasses and foliage at the height of solstice. 

Orange and her deeper sister red, the colors of the fallen leaves underfoot, the colors of the sky as evening starts its slow descent toward dusk. 

The coveralls that the human woman before you wears are purple, you think, a flower-color, a dusk-color, a dawn-color. A spring-color, a beginning-color. 

“H-ello,” you attempt, your voice creaking and throat constricting at the novelty of speaking aloud. 

“Hello, again,” the woman responds, slowly and frowning, but… not unkindly, you think.

You inhale, and her scent is tinged with something sparkling and warm and cold all at once. Magic-smell, you realize. There is worry there, as well - not for her own safety, but for yours. 

There is not even the tracest amount of falsehood to her - her demeanor, her expression (though, that, admittedly, is mostly guesswork), her scent. 

It’s a novel concept. 

You cannot remember that last time anyone had had honest intentions with you (apart from Mother and maybe Goose), let alone went as far to show genuine concern over you. 

It takes you aback, strikes you nearly as harshly as… whatever it was that has left you feeling so crippled. 

“My name is Mercedes,” the woman says, gently, softly, as if speaking to a wounded prey animal. 

The comparison is… not without merit. 

“What can I call you?” She asks. 

Smart, this woman is. Or incredibly stupid. To lend her own name like that knowing full well the risks is either an intense show of trust and compassion, or…

There is a glint in her eye, you notice, and the magic-scent sharpens. 

Well… best to repay a kindness with a kindness. 

“Hen,” you croak, trying to get the shape of your name to form on your clumsy, human tongue. “Ry’Oak.”

“Well, Henry,” the woman (Mercedes!) says, and you splutter at the way that she slurs the first two syllables together rather than the last. 

“Are you okay?”

Moons above, no, you are not. 

Your body hurts like it never has before, and your eyes sear with a kaleidoscope of hues you haven’t seen since you were a young pup, and the way this witch has butchered your name might be the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard. 

Henry, you mouth to yourself, running it together. It sounds rather plain, achingly human. Father would hate it. 

You quite like it. 

“I think… I will be,” you tell Mercedes. 

“Good,” she says, extending a hand. “Now, let’s get you cleaned up.”

[fandomhopped]

first love/late spring

pairing: fwb!logan howlett x fem!reader; 2nd person pov

summary: logan and reader have been sleeping together for a while with an unspoken rule to keep it casual, but that goes to hell when logan catches feelings. however, reader is an independent boss bitch and hates men<3

warnings: heavy swearing, hella mentions of sexual situations, substance abuse, brief sexual content(nothing serious fr), creepy guy in a bar, blood, bar fight, mentions of sex trafficking and resulting trauma, daddy issues, fluff, angst asf, lowkey scott slander (i dont mean it i love him)

word count: 9.1k

a/n: reader has light manipulation abilities but theyre not mentioned that often lol, also reader takes a lotta shots at jean just cuz she pisses me off. side note: idk the true meaning of the song i used as the title, there are many different interpretations. i found the song after i had alr written the story and the lyrics resonated pls don’t jump down my throat if it doesn’t align <3

there’s not a millimeter of space between you and logan as he holds you against his body. you’re sleeping soundly, and he watches you breathe all night, not bothering to even think about sleep for himself. the sun came up three hours ago, he felt it on his back.

when you drink, you always wake up early the next morning. you two drank a lot together last night. and like every time you drink with logan, you ended up in his bed.

he tries to block the sun from your face with his body so it won’t wake you up. he knows when you finally do, this little illusion that you're his will all be over. everything you said last night won’t matter. you’ll go back to your room. he’ll stay in bed. you’ll both go back to acting like it never happened.

you always leave him swiftly. you always go downstairs and drink coffee from the same mug and act like nothing happened. without a stutter, it’s a routine.

since he moved into the mansion, he wasn’t ignorant to the fact that the female teachers were attractive. and, of course, he was first drawn to jean. he won’t deny that he still harbored some feelings for her when you came to his room all those months ago, but she made it abundantly clear that she loves scott.

then one night, you slipped a bottle of whiskey into the mansion and invited him to join you in drinking it. you said some things that made him sit closer to you. that was just the beginning. he woke up the next morning to an empty bed but distinctly remembers you falling asleep next to him, so he assumed you woke up and left.

logan is a pro at acting like some things never happen, but he wasn’t expecting you to act the same. he dismissed it as a one-off, drunken night.

then it happened again… and again and again, and you continued to act like it never happened.

which, he was fine with. this wouldn’t be the first time he’s had a with-benefits situation, but there’s something different about you. you’re badass. you’re beautiful. he really respects you. you fit him perfectly.

and you’re mean. you don’t smile all that much, really only when you’re drinking is what logan soon found out. you’re not always outright mean to people, it’s usually deserved. you don’t take anybody’s shit. you’ll let people know when they’re in the wrong or they’re pissing you off. you’re sarcastic and rudely witty.

that was just another thing that attracted him to you. but, God, were you the meanest in the mornings, especially when you’re hungover.

unfortunately for logan, he has developed a small, tiny, itty bitty, barely-there crush on you. just catching a scent of your perfume has him rolling his eyes in the back of his head and white-knuckling whatever is directly in front of him.

the thoughts of you under him, on top of him, in front of him, on your knees for him plague his mind all. day. long. then last night, you had him rock solid from just a few drunken words.

“you’ve ruined all men for me,” you said as he kissed down your neck.

“hmm?” he hummed as his hands roamed your body under your shirt.

“nobody could ever fuck me like you do,” you told him, pulling at his hair roughly. he lets out a deep groan at the feeling.

he’s never picked up his pace of getting someone’s clothes off so quickly. he ripped your favorite pair of pj shorts in the process, mumbling that he’ll buy you a new pair.

with him deeply inside you, one hand wrapped around your throat and the other sending you over the edge with his mouth leaving marks all over your chest, you say breathily, “fuck, you’re perfect for me.”

the moment hasn’t left his mind since.

“i’m hot,” you mutter, pushing the sheets from your legs. “you’re hot.”

“oh, yeah?” he whispers in your ear, his lips turned up.

“i’m about to have a heat stroke,” you return, squirming around and shoving his arms from around you.

he lets go of you and gives you some space, lying on his back and staring at the ceiling. a deep sigh leaves him.

“i’m gonna throw up,” you tell him, groaning and curling up into the fetal position.

“are you serious? don’t puke in my bed,” he says, leaning up to look at you.

you roll your eyes. “no, i’m not serious,” you snap at him.

“‘you wanna take a shower?” he asks, his lip curling up at the thought of you ruining his sheets (and not in the way he usually prefers).

“i feel like shit right now, logan. i don’t want to fuck you in the shower,” you tell him roughly, sitting up and glaring over at him.

he watches you stand up out of his bed and put yout shirt on. “‘s not what i meant,” he grumbles, looking away from her. he throws the sheets off his body and grabs his jeans from the night before.

he runs his hands down his face and then looks up only to see the door closing behind you as you leave him. again.

“whew, late night?” ororo asks you as soon as you walk into the kitchen, changed into some presentable clothes rather than the ripped shorts and oversized tshirt you walked back to your room in.

you ignore the woman as you open the cabinet to grab your mug. the same one you use every morning.

but it’s not there.

“where’s my mug?” you ask, glancing around the kitchen to see it’s not just ororo but also jean and scott there.

“is this yours?” scott asks, holding up the mug in his hand.

your gaze darkens. “yes,” she grits out, tightening her jaw.

“that’s my bad. i didn’t know this was yours,” he says, standing up and walking over to the sink. “i’ll wash it and you can use it.”

you feel your skin crawl as he turns on the hot water. “stop,” you say lowly, walking to him and turning off the water. “you can’t—.” you stop yourself as you breathe heavily. you rip the cup from his hands.

“hey, it’s just a mug,” ororo says to you, “what’s up?”

“it’s not—,” you cut yourself off again and take a deep breath, shaking your head. you turn on the cold water from the sink and carefully wash the mug.

“seriously, what’s going on with you?” jean asks as scott rejoins her side.

you roll your neck. “i’ve been here for years, and you don’t know which one is my mug?” you ask scott, not looking anywhere but your mug until you’re sure it’s clean.

“i never noticed before, ‘sorry,” he says then turns to jean with a shrug.

the light beaming in through the window shines a little brighter as you continue to shake your head, muttering things under your breath that the others can’t make out.

“it really is just a mug,” ororo says carefully, looking over your figure in concern.

“except it’s not,” you retort, attentively drying off the ceramic with a towel. you then pour some coffee into the mug and hold it close to your chest, turning back to the other mutants.

“what—,” jean begins but logan walks into the kitchen just as she starts and she stops herself.

her surveys everyone’s demeanor then looks at you. “what’s wrong with you?” he asks, walking to the cabinet and grabbing whichever cup is closest to his hand when he reaches in. he pours himself some coffee and turns back to them expectantly.

“scott was using my mug,” you tell him, leaning against the counter.

“why?” he asks scott, eyeing the man.

“to drink coffee. why does it matter?” he asks in return, scoffing.

“it’s hers,” logan returns, his stare hardens and he looks at scott like he’s an idiot.

ororo laughs humorlessly. “what does that mean? it’s just a mug,” she asks, looking between you.

you glare at her. “it was my father’s and now it’s mine.”

“the same father that sold you?” jean asks, her face contorting. you shift your weight uncomfortably. “why would you want that?”

“why don’t you just back the fuck off, bitch?” you snap at her, stepping toward her.

“woah, girl, calm down,” ororo intervenes, holding her hand toward you like you’re a wild animal. you scoff. “we get it. it’s special to you. that’s all you had to say.”

you roll your eyes at them. you leave the group and return to your room. logan watches you go then turns back to the others with his eyebrows raised. “did you say sold her?” he asks jean.

“when he found out she was a mutant—,” she begins.

“jean,” ororo interrupts her, shaking her head at the girl.

jean continues, “—her father sold her into a mutant sex trafficking ring,” she reveals, looking only at logan, “that’s where we found her and then brought her here.”

his face contorts, and he looks down into his coffee. “shit,” he comments.

“she doesn’t talk about it to anybody, and, out of respect, we don’t talk about it either,” ororo says pointedly at the telepath.

logan is seething all day over the new information. he hates to think you went through that for God knows how long.

after the incident, logan doesn’t see you for a while. he doesn’t know how. you’re a teacher and you live down the hall from him, yet he still doesn’t even catch a whiff of your perfume.

“logan, meet me in my office,” he hears charles’ voice in his head. he obeys and within a minute, he’s standing before the professor. “you should leave her alone for a bit.”

her brow furrows. “come again?”

charles says your name and logan clenches his jaw. “she’s destructive right now. you should let her be.”

“is she okay?” the wolverine asks, concern growing in his stomach, and it makes him feel sick.

“she’ll be just fine. this happens from time to time,” he tells him, pressing his lips into a thin line. “you know of her circumstances.”

“her circumstances?” logan growls, scowling down at the old man, “you knew what she went through and didn’t think to tell me? you know what’s going on between us and didn’t think maybe i needed to know that? what if she had a breakdown when we were together? i wouldn’t have known what was happening.”

charles’ lips turn down into a small frown. “that’s not my information to tell.”

logan storms off in a huff, muttering under his breath.

that friday, he’s smoking a cigar in his bed, looking out the window at the moon, which is shining rather bright tonight. he hears a few quiet knocks on his door. he opens the door, expecting it to be a student.

“hey,” you say, waving a bottle of jack in his face before pushing past him into the room. “'hope you don’t mind, i got started without you.”

“you always do,” he comments, closing the door, putting out the cigar, and following you to sit on his bed. “listen —.”

“i think i like that vodka more than this. this one makes my mouth taste weird,” you tell him, taking another sip out of the bottle before handing it to him.

he holds it and sighs. “look, we should—.”

“—take our clothes off?” you finish his sentence, smiling darkly at him. “i mean, it’s a little early, but i agree.”

“that’s not what i—.”

“—was going to say?” you guess his words, cutting him off again. “look at us finishing each other’s…” you trail off, looking at him expectantly. he sends you a deadpanned glance. “this is the part where you say ‘sentences.’ i think i’m better at this game than you are.”

he takes a long sip from the bottle before he looks at you. “can you be serious for a second?” he asks.

you scoff and take the bottle from his hands. “i don’t come to you like this to be serious, logan,” you say, putting the whiskey to your lips again.

“why do you come to me at all?” he asks quietly and gruffly.

you take another sip and place the bottle on the floor, scooting closer to him. “because you’re hot,” you say in a sultry voice, putting a hand on his thigh and slowly dragging it up, “and you call me ‘princess’ and ‘darling’,” you continue, reaching for his belt buckle. he doesn’t do anything to stop you, “and your hands.” you push the buckle out the way and unbutton his pants, dragging down the zipper slowly. “and your tongue.” you reach your hand into his pants. “and this.”

he breathes heavily, completely lost in the euphoria that is you.

he forces himself to snap out of him and shakes his head. he pushes your hand away and stands up, taking a few steps away.

“what’s wrong?” you ask him, grabbing the bottle and standing also. “do you need some more?” you ask, holding the drink out for him, confusion written all over your face.

he holds his hands out in front of him as if to deny the offer. “it’s…,” he trails off, pushing a deep breath through his nose.

your shoulders drop along your face. you tilt your head in disbelief. “oh, my fuck. they told you,” you conclude. you turn around and sit back down on the bed. he stays silent, just looking at you. “okay, so what now? you don’t want me anymore ‘cause i’m used up?” you ask, slurring your words a little.

“no,” he denies without hesitation.

your sober personality is back even though you’re still drinking the whiskey like you’ve been in the dry desert for weeks without water.

“then what is it, logan? you don’t wanna do this ‘cause my hair isn’t blood red?” you ask next, raising your brow and looking at him expectantly.

his face contorts. “what’re you talking about?” he asks gruffly.

you chuckle at him. “i’m not a fucking idiot, old man. i know you want jean so bad, but she doesn’t want you so i'm second choice” you say, then you shrug with one shoulder. “i’d’a gone with ororo, to be honest. have you seen her? i’d show her a good time,” you add.

“that’s not what this is,” he tells you, taking a step forward but not within arm's length of you.

“then what is it? just fucking tell me,” you say loudly, the room lights up as the moon shines brighter. “d’you want me to tell you ‘bout how i was a good, little daddy’s girl until i almost blinded my brother when i first got my powers? how about how my dad gave me away like he didn’t love me? d’you want me to cry in your arms about how i was passed around by mean men like a blunt when i was 14? why do you think i can only let you fuck me when i’m drunk?” you ask him sarcastically, but your voice breaks on your last words. you let out an unsteady breath. logan watches you cautiously, unsure of what to do. “is that what you want, logan?! you wanna be the big, strong man here?!” you ask him, crying now as you yell at the man in front of you.

your body slumps forward as you let the tears drop from your eyes, and you grip the bottle in your hands like a lifeline. you feel the bed dip beside you and the bottle pulled from your hands. you move your hands to your face, trying to pull yourself together.

you feel his big arms envelope you and pull you into his chest. that’s when the waterworks really break out.

logan’s never been to best with tears. he hasn’t had to deal with them too much, but his first instinct was to hold you as close as you would let him. he hates to see you like this. in all honesty, he wants to hunt down every man that ever put a finger on you and rip them to shreds. but, for now, he’ll hold you. as long as you would let him.

you wake up with araging headache. you’re hot, burning up, actually. you kick the blankets from your legs and turn over in the arms of the incredibly attractive man in bed next to you. you look at his sleeping face and sigh.

this is the part where you leave, but this time, you just snuggle into his chest and fall back asleep.

logan wakes up later than he usually does after nights like the last one. it’s normally the sound of the door closing wakes him up. but, this time, he sees your cute face smushed against his pec. he doesn’t fight the smile on his face.

you stir quickly after he wakes up. you rub your eyes and look around the room, then to logan. “i’m gonna puke,” you tell him, the remnants of the smile fall from his face. you pull away from him as your face blanches. “seriously,” you add and sit up quickly.

he reaches for the trash can beside his bed and holds it in front of you just in time. he holds your hair back with a look of absolute disgust while you clutch the bin close to your face and your body jerks with each gag.

once you're done, you wipe your mouth with the bottom of your shirt. you groan loudly and stand up from the bed. “i’m gonna take this with me,” you tell him, holding the can in your arms and moving toward the door.

“keep it,” he remarks, his lip curled up.

monday morning rolls around quicker than anybody wants. you walk into the kitchen and grab your mug, pouring coffee and looking around at others in the kitchen.

they’re talking amongst themselves, mentions of grading papers and some stupid answer a kid put as their answer on an assignment.

you just listen and sip your coffee peacefully. that is, until logan walks in. you move from in front of the coffee pot for him to get some. he nods in thanks as he joins your side.

“this coffee is awful,” you comment, pouring it out in the sink next to you. he chuckles at your comment but doesn’t say anything. “scott, did you make the coffee this morning?” you ask him. the three look over to you, almost as if they didn’t see you come in.

“yeah,” he answers.

“don’t do it again,” you tell him, filling the mug with water and leaving the kitchen.

as you watch a group of students take a test, you see logan walk back in his jacket he usually only wears when leaving campus.

“hey,” you call out. all the students look up at you. “keep taking your tests. i’m going to the hallway for a second,” you tell them and move into the hallway. “logan,” you call and he turns around, walking back toward you. “where are you going?”

“to pick up some more cigars,” he answers, gesturing over his shoulder.

“will you pick me up a pack of cigarettes?” you ask him, reaching into your pocket for some money.

his brow furrows. “you smoke?” he asks.

“sometimes, yeah,” you reply, handing him $20.

he shakes his head. “i’ll cover it,” he answers.

“thanks,” you reply, placing a hand on his forearm before returning to your classroom.

he looks down to his arm and blinks. that’s new.

“brad, i know you’re not talking during a test. are you begging for a failing grade?” he hears you say before he turns back toward the front door of the mansion.

logan returns a while later, after the school day is over and the students are training. he finds you in your classroom, grading papers.

“hey,” he greets. you look up at him.

“hey,” you return, eyes dancing all over his body.

“these are for you,” he says, holding out the page of cigarettes.

“right, thanks,” you say and reach for them, your fingers brushing his as you grab them.

“‘you need any help?” he asks, looking at the papers before you.

“do you know anything about math?” you ask him, pursing your lips.

“uh, no,” he answers, shaking his head. “don’t you have an answer key or something?”

“i have to check their work to make sure they didn’t just get the answer from the person beside them,” you reply, looking back down to the papers. “some of these kids are dumbasses.”

he chuckles. “no kid wants to do math,” he comments.

“how would you know? weren’t you born before there were schools?” you ask him without looking up. there’s a beat of silence before you eventually glance up at him. “was that insensitive?” you ask instead.

he just shrugs. “i’m not that old,” he says, sitting in the desk in front of yours.

“sure,” you respond and go back to grading.

the two of you sit in without a word as you grade, and he watches you in complete admiration. after a while, he stands up and walks toward the door.

“you’re leaving?” you question.

“‘didn’t think you wanted your room smelling like cigars,” he replies.

“i’ll join you,” you say, grabbing the pack he bought you and putting the tests in a drawer. he doesn’t object and you two walk outside, to a bench in the gardens, away from the students.

the two of you sit in silence as you inhale smoke and slowly release it from your lungs.

“i’ve never seen you smoke before,” he comments after a while.

“i only smoke when i give up drinking, i only drink when i give up smoking,” you answer, tossing the burnt cigarette onto the ground and stepping on it, then picking another one from the pack.

you pick up your lighter and flick it a few times but it won’t light. you put your head and lighter inside your shirt to block the wind, trying again and failing again.

“motherfucker,” you mutter as you try to cover the lighter.

“here,” he offers his lighter with the fire shining brightly above it. with the cigarette between your lips, lean toward the lighter, looking up into his eyes as you do. he meets your eyes and clears his throat, closing the flame into the top of the lighter and shifting his eyes to the cigar between his fingers. you let a small smile rest on your face afterward.

“so you’re not drinking anymore?” he asks you.

“figured i should go on a sobriety cleanse for a bit,” you reply, “‘t’s probably for the best.”

“probably,” he adds and silence takes over again.

he glances over at her for a second and he sees you bite at the skin of your bottom lip the way you always do when you’re thinking, contemplating. he’s tempted to ask what’s on your mind but before he can break the silence, you let out a hard sigh.

“i don’t apologize for things,” you begin and pause, biting at your lip again.

“okay…?”

“i don’t apologize for my actions or words because i stand by every decision i make,” you continue and pause again. he’s looking at you and you’re looking directly ahead of you. “i’m not good at apologizing,” you sigh again, “but i’m…sorry for some of the things i said the other night. there’s no excuse. i apologize. take that how you will.”

“you don’t have to apologize,” he replies.

you huff. “so i just said all that for nothing? you could at least accept the damn apology,” she snaps at him then rubs the crease between her eyebrows out.

“you called me an old man. i don’t know if i want to accept your apology,” he teases with a crooked smile. you send him a look that turns into a hint of a smile before turning your head away.

“i need to get back to grading those tests. i’ll see you later, logan.” you stomp out another cigarette and stand up from the bench.

“see ya, sweetheart,” he says lowly but you still hear it.

as you look over tests, ororo enters your classroom. “ooh, what’s got you all smiley?” she asks as she strolls in.

the previous smile you didn’t even realize you were wearing falls when you look up at the mutant. “huh?”

“don’t try to deny it. i saw that smile,” she says teasingly. you just roll your eyes lightheartedly. ororo’s brow furrows as she sniffs the air. “are you smoking again?”

“yeah, i quit drinking,” you answer, “what’s up?”

“i was coming in here to ask you if you wanted to go out with the rest of us friday night. we’re planning on going that bar we always go to,” she says, “but if you’re not drinking, i don’t wanna make you go.”

“yeah, no. that’s okay,” you decline the offer.

“alright, if you change your mind, you’re welcome to join us. sober or not,” she adds before leaving out.

the week drags on painfully slow. it’s a week of tests and starting new units in all your classes and you really just want to bang your head against a wall and tell the kids class is canceled.

by the end of it, you actually do want to join your colleagues in going out to that bar in town that they love so much. you offer to be the designated driver, not trusting anyone but yourself to drive you anywhere.

“are you going with us to the bar?” you ask logan as he rummages around the cabinets for something to eat.

“no,” he answers, opening the fridge, “are you?”

“yeah, i’m driving,” you tell him. there’s a beat of silence before you add, “you should come.”

he turns toward you at your words with a crooked smile. “oh yeah?” he questions, “why? ‘you want me there?”

you scoff with no heat behind it. “i was just trying to be nice,” you say.

“you? nice?” he asks, raising his eyebrows in disbelief.

“what? you don’t think i’m nice?” you ask him defensively, crossing your arms.

“no,” he replies, not skipping a beat.

“i’m very nice,” you counter.

“no, you’re not,” he denies again, also crossing his arms.

in his white beater, crossing his arms makes his arms flex and you can’t help but let your eyes wander to the veins of his biceps.

“you have nice hair. there, nice,” you compliment, then add right after, “you’re not balding or anything, which is quite common for men your age.”

“you’re not good at this,” he tells you, looking at your plate to see what you're eating.

“do you want some?” you ask him. you hold your plate across the counter for him to pick off of. he grabs one of your chips and eats it.

“thanks,” he mutters.

“look at me being nice,” you comment and he chuckles deeply.

“shut up,” he returns playfully.

the five of you go to the bar that night, logan joining at your request. he sits at the bar, ordering drink after drink and scanning the bar every so often to make sure you’re alright.

you spend most of your time at ororo’s side. before long, you’re accompanied by a couple of men. you and ororo share side-eyes as they continue to tell stupid jokes. ororo excuses the both of you to go to the bathroom only to move next to logan at the bar.

“having fun?” he asks sarcastically, looking at you then glancing to ororo.

“they could’ve at least been funny, but they weren’t. there terribly unfunny,” you tell him, sitting next to him on a barstool and ororo laughs.

“yeah, that was awful,” she comments and sips her drink. “oh, i see jean and scott. i’ll be back later.” she leaves the two of you. you order a club soda and turn to logan, who is hunched over his drink.

“you have really bad posture,” you tell him as the bartender hands you your drink. he just shrugs and refills his glass with the bottle the bartender left in front of him. you dig your finger into his spine and he straightens up, looking at you wildly.

“why?” is all he asks.

“it’ll help you look more presentable. you’re not looking for anybody tonight?” you ask and glance around the bar for women.

“no, i’m not,” he answers and slumps back down. you dig your finger into his back again and he looks down at you. “stop,” he says seriously.

“oh, what’re you gonna do? stab me?” she asks him challengingly. he looks back down to his drink and shakes his head dismissively. “oh, come on. you’re good-looking, you’re good in bed, you’ve got this hot, animalistic thing going on. why not look for somebody?”

“‘cause i don’t want anybody,” he answers. “did you say i’m good in bed?”

“well, yeah,” you confirm with a one-shouldered shrug.

he stares at you for a beat. this is the first time you’ve ever mentioned it before. you don’t talk about the things you two have done. ever.

“i would know,” you add after he stays quiet.

“you would know what?” ororo asks as she rejoins you, along with scott and jean. they all stand directly behind the man, looking at you expectantly. logan’s waiting for you to make up a lie.

“that logan’s good in bed,” you answer, gesturing to the man next to you. his eyebrows raise and he looks directly in front of him, a smirk playing on his lips as he drinks down all of what’s left in his glass and refills it again. you surprise him more and more every day.

“he’s what?” ororo questions, shock written all over her.

you roll your eyes. “you don’t have to do the clueless bit. jean reads minds and i know she’s told you two,” you state, pointing between ororo and scott.

“what? i haven’t—i didn’t—,” jean stutters over her words, laughing through them.

“liar,” you clock it in a high-pitched tone, sipping your drink. “i’ve heard you talk about it before. i’m just surprised you haven’t mentioned it yet.”

the three of them exchange glances. “okay, yeah, we knew. we thought you would deny it anyway so we didn’t bring it up,” ororo admits.

logan stays silent, drinking like he’s been thirsting for days. why are you doing this? “so…you two are…,” scott trails off. you shrug as your answer. “hmm.”

“hey, sweetheart, you never came back,” the guy from early comes up behind you and wraps an around your shoulders. you tense up at the feeling.

you remove his hand from you. “don’t touch me, and don’t call me sweetheart,” you tell him. he laughs and looks at your colleagues.

“why not? looks like everybody’s got a matchup here but you. let me help you fix that,” he says and runs the knuckles of his finger across your collarbone. he points at scott and jean, then logan and ororo. “i can make you feel good,” he whispers in your ear.

“seriously, don’t touch me,” you tell him firmly, pushing his hand off your shoulder and shifting your seat away from him.

logan doesn’t watch the encounter but he’s squeezing the glass in his hand so hard it’s about to shatter. he feels the red-hot rage crawl up his neck as he does every time he encounters some asshole in a bar.

“don’t be like that, sweetheart,” the man continues and reaches for the strap over your shoulder. chills cover your arms and legs and a shiver runs down your spine. you grab his hand roughly and shove it away from you.

“touch me again and i’m gonna break your fucking nose,” you tell him.

“ooh, i got a feisty one,” he comments to the rest of your group, laughing. “i like that.”

scott takes a step forward. “you need to lay off, man,” he tells him, trying to keep this civil and contained.

the man only laughs harder. “what are you gonna do, glasses?” he asks him and slings his arm over your shoulders. “come on, baby, let’s get out of here. i got a real nice spot for you in my bed.”

“she already told you not to touch her, bub,” logan chimes in, still looking straight ahead and not sparing the boy a glance. there’s a tightness in his shoulders as he uses all his self control to stay in his seat.

“woah, tell your bodyguards to stand down,” he says to you but your only response is to rear back and deck him directly in the nose.

he stumbles back, holding his nose as blood drips into his hand. “you dumb bitch—,” he lunges toward you but logan whips around and grabs him by the front of his shirt, shoving him up against a wall.

“what’d you say?” the mutant asks him lowly, a growl deep in his throat.

“hey, take it outside!” the bartender yells at the man.

“why don’t we do that? you wanna take it outside?” logan asks the scared man in his grasp, shoving him harder into the wall.

“logan, let’s go,” ororo tells him as she walks with you toward the door. he doesn’t move. “logan!”

he drops his hold on the man and turns his back to him. he doesn’t even take a step before the dumbass says, “yeah, listen to your bitch.”

logan turns back around and absolutely socks him in the jaw. the man falls to the ground. logan walks after his friends, rolling his shoulders.

when logan gets out to the car, he sees you in the driver's seat, holding your hand closely to his body. he sits in the passenger seat and looks at you.

“are you okay?” he asks you carefully.

“did you kill him?” you ask him flatly without meeting his gaze, and he shakes his head. “you should’ve,” you say coldly and start the engine, driving out of the parking lot and back to the mansion as quickly as possible.

when you arrive, logan accompanies you to the lab for jean to look at your hand. he wasn’t going to say anything but watching you cradle your hand makes him change his mind. “are you alright?” he asks you.

“fine,” you reply sharply, clenching your jaw tightly. he watches you bite at your lip.

“speak your mind,” he tells you, just outside the hidden elevator. you just shake your head at him. “if you don’t, you’ll take it out on jean.”

“why can’t i just do that?” you ask lowly.

“‘cause she doesn’t deserve it,” he reasons.

you take a deep, frustrated breath. “what happened tonight was stupid,” you say, “dumb fucking men thinking they can get whatever they want whenever they want. now my hand might be broken because i couldn’t—,” you cut yourself off and take another deep breath to steady yourself. “i’m done talking about this,” you say and open the door to the hidden elevator.

he blocks your path. “no, you’re not,” he says and waits for you to continue. that’s when the dam really breaks and you last out at him.

“it’s stupid. all of this is fucking stupid. i could’ve handled myself back there. i didn’t need you to step up and be my big, strong savior,” you tell him angrily, voice rising.

“i know,” he returns.

you’re shouting now, “then why couldn’t you just let me do it? i could’ve stopped him. i’m stronger now. i know how to fight now. i don’t need anybody to save me. i can save myself. i don’t need you. i don’t need any of you.” your voice cracks as the anger starts to shift into the feelings you hate to feel. “i’m not gonna let anyone take advantage of me ever again. and i’ll break every bone in my body before i let some drunk narcissistic man ever put his hands on me again,” you say your peace and breathe heavily and unsteadily.

there’s a long pause, the weight of your words hanging between you. logan doesn’t interrupt, giving you the floor to get it all out.

“i know,” he repeats himself deeply, “but you shouldn't have to.”

you feel that familiar ache in the back of your throat as tears threaten to spill out. you squeeze your eyes shut tightly, pushing all the emotions back down. “my hand really hurts,” you tell him quietly, not trusting your voice. he puts his hand gently on your back and leads you into the elevator then into the lab.

by the time you’re in front of jean, you’ve pulled yourself together and let her examine your hand. you did break your hand. she wraps it up for you and sends you to your room with some pain meds.

logan doesn’t leave your side until you’re at your bedroom door. “i don’t want you to come inside,” you tell him quietly. he stays silent. “it’s just that you’ve never seen my room before and this is mostly where i use my abilities and it’s messy right now and—.”

“‘t’s fine,” he interrupts your rambling. “i don’t have to come inside.”

“right,” you mumble, hand gripping the doorknob. “good night.”

“‘night.” he doesn’t make his way to his room until you slip into yours, locking the door behind you.

the next mid-morning, logan walks into the kitchen to see jean scolding you like a child. he’s surprised you’re just sitting there and taking it without a word.

“i’m serious,” jean says, finishing her tongue lashing.

“i know,” you mumble before jean offers logan a soft ‘good morning’ as she leaves.

“what was that about?” he asks you, moving over to the table where you sit with paper spread in front of you.

“i need to grade these papers but my hand is broken and dr grey told me it would only cause more damage,” you explain, sighing heavily and holding the pen in your healthy hand.

“let me help,” he says, snatching the pen from your fingers and the paper from in front of you. the numbers on the sheet are all greek to him. he doesn’t know what the hell he’s looking at.

“you can’t,” you tell him, pulling the paper from his hands. “you don’t know how to do it.”

“then tell me,” he offers, moving his chair next to yours. “tell me what’s wrong and i’ll write it down.”

you shake your head a few times before giving in. “fine,” you cave and look over the student’s work. you place the page in front of the man and point a certain part of a problem. “okay, so he should’ve foil’d here but he didn’t so the rest of the work is wrong. put a line through it and write ‘foil’,” you instruct him and he follows your orders.

“like that?” he asks, showing you. you nod in approval.

“your handwriting actually isn’t that bad. i was expecting a lot worse,” you comment, leaning into him as you look over the next problem. “that one’s right, so put a check,” you tell him and he follows.

the process continues on. every time there’s a gap of silence as you examine the math that he would never even try to understand, he watches you in complete admiration. there are practically hearts in his eyes while the gears turn in your brain.

as the next few days progress, you and logan spend more time together than you ever have. whether he’s in your classroom during your free period or you watch whatever movie’s on tv together on the couch, if someone’s looking for logan, you’re right beside him and vice versa.

of course, the others have taken notice of it. it’s new and after you confirmed you had been sleeping together, they draw their own conclusions about the two of you.

“‘y’know what i would like to see?” you prompt logan as you watch a show with a lumberjack in it.

“what’s that, darlin’?” he asks, not taking his eyes off the screen.

“you chop wood,” you tell him, looking up at him from your spot under his arm.

“chop wood?” he questions.

“yeah, like, axe, wood, outside, shirtless, sweaty, and muscly, chopping wood,” you tell him, “lumberjack style.”

“lumberj—.”

“with the cigar,” you add excitedly, cutting him off. “maybe add in a little dehydration too.”

“i think you’re drooling a little bit,” he tells you, pointing at your mouth as a lazy smile rests on his face.

“probably, that’s hot,” you tell him, looking back at the screen.

as the credits roll, logan looks down to see you sound asleep with your head resting on his chest. he carefully picks you up in his arms and carries you to your room.

he opens the door and pauses his movements, eyes dancing across your room. there are no personal touches on the walls or shelves. it looks exactly like his did when he first got to the mansion. well, except for one obvious difference.

your room looks completely dilapidated, like an abandoned home that the sun and time have destroyed. the dark color of the wooden floors and furniture has faded, every surface dry and brittle. in some parts, mostly near the window, the wood is completely bleached of its color.

he lays you in your bed and covers you up, taking in the room once more before he leaves.

“why don’t you have another name like everyone else?” he asks as you sit next to him on the bench where you now regularly take your smoke breaks on.

“like a last name? i do have one,” you answer, flicking the butt of your cigarette onto the pavement.

“scott has cyclops, marie’s got rogue,” he elaborates, glancing over at you. you’re sitting right beside him, his arm thrown over the back of the bench in a way that your head rests on it.

“i don’t know. i guess i never understood why i have to change my name just because i’m a mutant. i am who i am, human or mutant,” you answer, messing with a loose thread on your pants. “plus, seeing the way you made fun of the others when you first got here for their names—i’d never even try to think of one now,” you tell him, making him chuckle. you smile proudly at making him laugh. “you looked so cute when you first got here.”

“are you saying i’m not cute anymore?” he asks in mock offense, looking at you sideways.

“i mean, when i first saw you, you had that big jacket on and you were so clueless. a little less muscle too,” you recount, poking his toned stomach to which he curls to the side. your jaw drops. “are you ticklish?” you ask him, a smile growing on your face.

“no,” he replies sharply and gruffly, straightening his posture.

“oh, my fuck. you so are ticklish,” you accuse and dig your fingers into his ribs, attempting to tickle him.

a deep laugh leaves him, and he grabs your hand in his, his facial expression dropping quickly. “stop,” he tells you in warning. you just laugh in his face, reaching toward him with your other hand, cigarette still between your fingers. he grabs your other hand before you touch him, cigar between his fingers. “no,” he denies you.

you look toward the mansion and see the sun reflecting off a window. you bend the light so it’s shining directly in his eyes, almost burning them. he shuts his eyes tightly and brings one of his hands up to his face. as quickly as you can, you reach back into his side.

he quickly stands up and looks down at you. “enough,” he says and points a finger in your face.

you stand up also, but you’re shorter than him so he’s still looking down at you. you decide to stand on the bench, now a little taller than he is. you don’t say anything, just look down on him with a straight face.

logan can’t help the smile that breaks his scowl. “you’re an idiot,” he tells you, raising his eyebrows at you.

you mimic his gesture then flick the cigarette butt onto the ground. “you are cute, wolvie,” you say and ruffle his hair. “i get the whole towering over people know. this is a power trip for sure,” you comment.

“oh, really?” he questions and puts the cigar between his lips. he grabs you around your waist and throws you over his shoulder like you’re as light as a feather.

you let out a surprised squeal as he walks away from your bench with you in his hold. “put me down. bad boy, bad dog,” you chastise him hitting his lower back. he doesn’t listen so you just hang over his shoulder as he drags you into the mansion.

you grab his ass abruptly and he stops in his tracks. he places you on the floor and tilts his head as he looks into your eyes, taking the cigar from his mouth. “‘bad dog’?”

“yeah, wolverine,” you say, gesturing to him.

“a wolverine’s not a dog,” he tells you, smiling down at you.

your brow furrows. “yeah, it’s like a small wolf, right?” you wonder and feel like an idiot when he laughs at you.

“no,” he answers, shaking his head.

“liar,” you accuse.

he tells you, “go to the zoo. there’s some there.”

you look up at him in disbelief. “you’re fucking with me,” she states and he shakes his head in complete amusement. “if you’re lying to me, i’ll—.”

“what? try to blind me again?” he asks, cutting you off.

“maybe i will,” you challenge, crossing your arms.

he pauses for a moment, considering. “maybe i want you to,” he says and his tone drops, like, two octaves when he says it.

you’re suddenly aware of how close the two of you are, how his hands gripped your waist just a moment before, how effortlessly he carried you. the playful atmosphere shifts and you feel heat creep up your neck and across your cheeks. you don’t blush, especially not around him.

“logan,” is all you say softly. he notices the change in tone. he notices everything about you, every detail, every flaw, every perfection.

for a moment, neither of you speak. the air between you is charged. your eyes travel all over his face. he really is such an attractive guy. and when you peel back the tough guy layer, he’s a sweetheart.

“thanks for the ride,” you say lightly, trying to break the tension.

he nods, gaze still locked on you. “anytime,” he remarks, his voice rougher than it was a moment before.

you both stand there for a few more seconds, not really sure where to go from here. his eyes shift from yours to your lip as you chew on it. his jaw tightens and he looks away from you, taking a step back to give you some space.

your heart pounds against your chest unfamiliarly. everything about this feels so new to you.

“see you around, pup,” you say, your voice back to its teasing tone.

“yeah,” he adds, watching as you turn away and walk back toward the mansion.

more days pass and you spend more time with logan. he notices that you make fun of him more, teasing him for small stuff.

it’s only when he’s in the laundry room that ororo catches him alone. “hey, logan,” she greets. he mumbles something of the same. “so…you look pretty cozy with a certain mutant.”

“huh?”

“you know what i’m talking about,” she says, leaning against a washing machine.

“it’s nothing,” he tells her, starting the machine he threw his clothes into haphazardly.

“‘doesn’t look like nothing,” she returns.

“leave it alone,” he grumbles, turning to leave the room.

ororo steps in front of him, placing a hand on his chest. “please, don’t hurt her, logan,” she requests.

“she doesn’t want me the way you think,” he tells her.

“you can’t seriously believe that,” she says, looking back and forth between his eyes.

at that very moment, you turn the corner and your eyes widen. you ignore the sting in your chest as you let out a loud “woah.” ororo quickly turns around and takes a step away from logan. “i didn’t mean to interrupt,” you tell them with your hands up in surrender, but that was exactly your intention when you spoke up.

“you weren’t interrupting anything,” logan tells you, watching you move past him to grab a laundry basket.

“i’m not judging,” you reply, walking back to the door. you turn back last second and look at ororo. “hey, if he asks you to wear a red wig, say no,” you tell her with a wink before leaving.

“i never—,” logan cuts himself off, shutting his eyes and shaking his head. “i never did that,” he says to her.

“God, i hope not. what the hell,” she remarks, shoving his arm. “she was jealous. you need to go tell her nothing happened.” he sighs deeply and takes a step forward. “‘you really still think she doesn’t want you?”

he doesn’t reply and follows after you. you’re walking as quickly as you can up the stairs when he catches up to you. “hey,” he calls after you.

“don’t worry, buddy. secret’s safe with me,” you tell him, picking up your pace as you reach the top of the stairs but he keeps in step with you.

“there’s not a secret. we were just talking,” he says.

you place a hand on your bedroom doorknob. “really, you don’t have to defend yourself to me,” you say and open your door, slipping inside. before you can shut it, logan stops the door with his hand. you look at him through the crack in the door, pushing your lips into a thin line. “uhm…”

“there’s nothing going on between me and storm,” he tells you.

“i’m not gonna tell anybody,” you return, frustration rising in your tone. you push against the door but your strength is in no way comparable to his.

“i’m serious,” he tries again, almost pleading. “i don’t want her, i want—.”

“jean? look at that, finishing each other’s sentences again,” you cut him off with a false laugh.

“come on, darlin‘,” he says, tilting his head to the side.

you groan. “i just thought—,” you stop yourself, sighing. “it doesn’t matter what i thought.”

“it does matter,” he tells you, pushing the door a little wider. you move into the space between the doorway and the door, trying to block his view into the room. “tell me,” he encourages, getting closer to you.

“i thought you weren’t a whore,” you retort, giving him a hardened look.

“that’s not what you were gonna say,” he states lowly, looking deeply into your eyes. “what was it?” you pull your bottom lip between your teeth, biting into the skin. he reaches his hand to your jaw, his thumb pulling the lip from between your teeth. “don’t do that. you know it drives me crazy.”

“i thought maybe you wanted me for more than sex,” you admit, feeling embarrassed as the words slip out. you clench your jaw, preparing for the rejection. a smirk slide onto his face and you drop your head. “okay, bye.”

you move back and push against the door again, but this time he pushes the door all the way open. your eyes widen as he takes a long stride toward you and pulls you back to him by the back of your neck. he presses his lips against yours feverishly to which you obviously reciprocate.

he pulls away and rests his forehead against yourself, breathing heavily. “i want you in every way possible, sweetheart,” he says.

you swallow thickly, putting a hand on his chest and pushing him away. “you don’t want me,” you tell him. he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you back into him, your chest pushing against his.

“i do,” he counters.

“you don’t,” you respond.

there’s a beat of silence. “i do,” he says again. you just look up into his eyes. “i want you. i’m not the best person for you, i know that. i’m older and unhappy and i probably can’t be there for you emotionally,” he lists then shakes his head at you, looking at you like you make the world go round. “but i want you, i want every part of you—the good, the bad, the hot and sexy, and the rude and snappy. everything.”

you’re quiet. you don’t know what to say, what is there to even say? in your head, he’s always wanted jean and you were just a place filler. you’ve been under the impression that you caught feelings and he didn’t reciprocate them at all. maybe you’re wrong just this once.

“i want you too,” you tell him in a whisper. he watches your brow furrow as you look away from his eyes. his face falls. “but—.”

“no ‘but.’ don’t say ‘but’,” he begs, loosening his grip on your waist.

“logan, i can live with you not being there for me emotionally, but i don’t know if you can live with me not being for you sexually,” you tell him. dread takes over your body. this beautiful, morally grey, perfect-for-you man is in the palm of your hand and you’re letting him slip through your fingers.

her visible confusion deepens. “you’ve been perfect for the past few months,” he tells you, misinterpreting your words as insecurity.

you shake your head. “i meant it when i said i can’t fuck you sober,” you tell him slowly, avoiding his gaze completely. you feel his hands move from his loosened grip to a hover over your hips. you can’t read his mind like you usually can. logan wears his thoughts on his face, perfectly readable when he’s mad or happy or just his normal grumpy. but now, it’s like trying to read a book in a language you didn’t know existed. “i’m sorry,” you add when his silence becomes too much.

“i don’t care,” he tells you as soon as you finish the last syllable.

“you know i don’t apologize for shit and you don’t care that i’m sorry?” you ask him. you go to push him off again but he pulls you back in, this time wrapping his around your neck, smothering your face in his burly chest.

“i don’t care about sex,” he tells you as he rests his head atop yours. you return the embrace and hold him around his ribs. “i don’t care if you never touch me again. i love you.” your eyes widen and he feels your body tense up. he chuckles, pulling away and smiling at you. “too soon?”

“a little,” you tell him, nodding. you then smile back at him.

———

a/n: i haven’t written in a long time . pls don’t rip me up if u hate this🙏

[kalimarinus]

offerings from the unnamed.

[ summary : a mystery person is leaving gifts for 141? ]

[ relationships : tf141 x gn!reader (platonic) ]

[ warnings : 3rd person & 2nd-ish pov , gn reader 🤍 , use of y/n (your name) & c/n (codename/callsign) , unedited & not proofread , i know nothing about the military once again ]

[ word count : 2,392 ]

[ notes : back after another long while , yeah!!! this was fun <3 i can't believe this is 2k words what ?!@?!>@/ that's longer than my previous fic & this was just like a spitball idk..., also the 141 might just have memory loss why is everyone forgetting everything!! (y'all idk why i got so into it w gaz and price's section like why is it so long and soap and ghost's are so short???. but more the merrier, right...?) ]

John Price:

he was pretty surprised at first, he did not expect to see a bouquet of roses on his desk. though, he doesn't question it? 

—until he walks up closer to examine the flowers, just to see a little tag with a note on it that reads: 'for my favorite captain. -a/n.'

now he's a little confused. could it be one of his sergeants? his lieutenant? hell, it could be so many other people.

the only hint is the handwriting. he swears he can recognize it. 

but suddenly price reminds himself he actually has work, so never mind the flowers, for now, he needs to get back to doing his paperwork and such. 

as he works away and whatnot, the thought of the roses is lingering in the back of his mind and slowly creeping up to the front, and he can't seem to ignore the questions.

"why roses?" "whose handwriting is that? i swear i know it." "for me? why not anybody else?"

he's utterly perplexed at this point, so he quickly finishes up whatever he needs to do and turns to the bouquet he left sitting on the other side of the desk long ago.

after many, many minutes of just trying to grasp the mysterious person whose handwriting looks the same as on the tag, he gives up.

gives up on trying to figure out this anonymous roses bullshit by himself, anyway. the captain goes to his two closest buddies, unsurprisingly nikolai and laswell.

he questions them, he tells them everything. to the point he walked through the door and saw the bouquet and to the point where he was now asking them for 'help'. but it just ends up being just a lot more questions and inevitably no answers.

he goes to his lieutenant. his two sergeants. nothing.

now he gives up fully. nobody knows anything about this or who it might be. not him, his best friends, or his own task force.

time passes quickly until it's the end of the day (and he's surprised he's almost spent hours trying to figure this puzzling gift out), and he's trying to come to terms with this.

'it's intended to be anonymous, he shouldn't be trying to figure this out, and he shouldn't lose sleep over this.' is what he tells himself when he gets back to his barracks.

he looks down at the mysterious bouquet in his hand that never had left him alone since he'd come across it, like a fungus that had grown on a damp and and won't let go, and he lets out a sigh.

but john supposes he doesn't mind keeping it. if it really is someone he's friends with (which he's sure), he shouldn't just throw it away. he'll keep it.

which is what he does. preparing and cleaning a random glass jar big enough to fit the flowers, found somewhere around his barracks. it's now put to better use instead of just collecting dust, now filled up with water, the stems of the roses inside.

he sets it on the nightstand next to his bed, and for some reason the room feels a little more homey. oh and don't forget the tag, which he sets next to the jar of blossoms, just in case he does remember who's handwriting that is, he'll be 100% sure who it is and won't be doubting himself if he checks it.

he has come to terms with it now. he's comfortable in bed and he won't be asking himself or anyone else questions that'll lead to nothing. he's sure the one who gave him the bouquet will reveal themselves soon enough. like he told himself, 'he won't lose sleep over this.'

and he is about to drift off into sleep— until suddenly he remembers, and he jolts, sitting up.

he turns his head to look at the roses as his brain is overwhelmed with inquiry. price knows who it is. it's c/n. it's y/n. and now he just has more questions, some the same as previous ones but with the added confusion that it's you that got the flowers for him.

he is going to lose sleep over this after all.

Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish:

when soap first heard about the captain's situation, he thought it was hilarious. he got roses from an unknown individual? that's silly. he almost even started laughing seeing price so frustrated and baffled over a bouquet of plants.

though, after he said he didn't know anything about any flowers and price walked away in disappointment to go question his other sergeant, perhaps he was a little jealous. don't look at him like that. what's so wrong about maybe wanting a secret admirer?

unbeknownst to him, he would get a gift of his own in no time. when he got to the mess hall, he immediately spotted a box of something right on his table. he quickly went to the seat he always sits at, because of course he has a specific place to eat every day— and he hopes it isn't too obvious to the other soldiers nearby that he's resisting the urge to dash over and admire the supposed present.

when he finally gets to see the gift up close, he practically has stars in his eyes. the note on top of the box catches his eyes first before anything, a simple sentence of 'heard you had a sweet tooth.' typed on the printed out paper.

he has to resist a giddy grin creeping onto his face as he carefully slides the note aside, looking at the box of assorted chocolates in front of him. ultimately, he breaks, and a smile is instantly plastered on his face, already taking one of the sweets and plopping it into his mouth, humming contentedly.

he has the urge to dig into all of them because the candy is remarkably delicious and has his body tingling with dopamine, but fights it and chooses on savoring the gift, taking time to relish in each pieces' flavor.

he enjoys the way the first layers of chocolate slowly melts on his tongue and the taste of the equally chocolate-y syrup inside hits him like a freight train— it makes him appreciate the person who gave him this even more so.

don't worry though, johnny isn't too greedy. he saves the other half of the box for later.

eventually, he does lift his glued-on gaze from the gift to around the mess hall. though, he's met with the other soldiers giving him weird looks. and it does look kind of odd to be fair. a grown man, another soldier, in the mess hall eating a randomly fancy box of chocolates by himself.

despite the little awkward situation and the slightly unpleasant, silent walk out of the mess hall with the box in hand, you know he's walking around with a broad grin on his face for probably the next few days.

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick:

to him, the similar occurrence between his captain and sergeant friend was strange. he'd heard identical stories from both of them now— the same concept of a mysterious offering given to them by a mysterious person.

he was wondering if the lieutenant got one too, and just hadn't told anyone. he was also questioning if he would get one as well. was this individual giving gifts to everyone in the task force?

well, he'd find out soon enough. the answer is most definitely yes.

he'd been dragged away by soap just right after a briefing, into a mostly empty hallway. and after a measly, short conversation and or slight argument about why gaz had been dragged here in the first place, and also why soap looked like he was holding in a giggle fit, the latter pulled out a box from his pocket. so he is getting a gift as well— same note and everything.

soap explains that he'd been requested by this 'anonymous person' to deliver him one as well, like a damn messenger pigeon.

so gaz takes the container carefully in hand before soap snickers and scurries away to do whatever.

he's pretty interested in what's inside as he properly takes a look at it. the box is flatter than your average box, black and sleek with of course, a small, yellow sticky note taped on top. 'this is one of our favourite memories. -unknown.'

he glances around the empty hallway for a moment, feeling a bit weird standing in a quiet hallway, opening a present by himself, alone. but nevermind that— he opens it, and kyle is met with.. a necklace. a silver necklace with a heart locket attached to the bottom.

he moderately cocks his head at the sight of the locket, then picks the necklace up with his right hand, the box still resting on the surface of the other. he opens the heart and squints, a mini photograph of himself and.. another recruit, wearing a mask, so he couldn't see their face. his hand was slung over their shoulder and they were doing the same to his, and despite them covering their face, he could still see a small smile on their face and his own.

he can remember this. he thinks he knows this. it was a group photo of the whole task force. there's the other soldiers in this photo too, but the photo is cropped in a way that you can only see him and the other comrade.

but he doesn't seem to.. remember who he was next to? something in his memory is bugged, like when you forget that one word but you also somewhat remember at the same time, or you forget what you were going to say while having a conversation with somebody.

it almost makes him as frustrated as price when he got his gift, but he wants to push those other emotions aside and just focus on the gratefulness he feels. to be honest he adores the necklace. he's sure he would think it suits him if he wore it and looked in the mirror.

and the picture.. he's still thinking about it. still looking at it. he finds the memory charming and sweet, even if he can't remember this soldier properly. he likes the way he can still see both of the happiness and smile in their eyes despite how tiny the image is. he likes the way he can see the shine and colour in their eyes in the dim light where the photo was taken.

the more he admires the jewelry the more he falls in love with it. the more he wants to cherish it and the mysterious fella who has gifted it to him.

after a lot of staring, and smiling at the present in hand, he finally closes the locket and slips the necklace on, briefly feeling the cold silver around his neck before it turns warm from his body heat.

and then he just walks off casually just like soap, who's probably waiting around the corner to ask "what'd you get?"

he now holds the box close to his chest as if he might keep that too, nearing the end of the hallway.

kyle's mind goes to the photo again, and his brain starts whirring with the thoughts of who it is.

but he's sure he'll remember later. he'll know who the person is soon enough, maybe if he sees them walking through the halls with that same mask. but either way, he knows he'll remember, and he'll thank them for this gift.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley:

now, he already knew he was going to get a gift as well, seeing as everyone in the task force but him has gotten at least something. he's heard price's predicament, johnny entering a briefing a little too happily with small bits of chocolate syrup near his lips, and kyle proudly walking around base wearing a necklace.

but he has some assumptions that the person didn't get anything for him. he's.. well, simon 'ghost' riley, after all. spooky, intimidating to most, tall dude.

but it seems his assumptions were incorrect, because he came back to his barracks after somewhat of a rough mission just to notice a a small, dark box oddly left on top of one of the shelves near his bed.

after easily retrieving the container, he examines it— and there's the typical 'note' from them, a few words written on top of the lid with a white marker. it reads, 'saw this and it reminded me of you. from a soldier friend of yours.'

.. but what if this 'soldier friend' has actually left a bomb inside of this? will it explode right now? a spy camera? is anybody watching?

you can't blame him for the skepticism. a strange box randomly appearing on one of your shelves? you would be hesitant to open it too.

after a few shakes he gives to the box to hear if anything suspicious is inside, he decides that it isn't a miniscule explosive or a secret camera or any other funky gadget.

simon opens it, and one of his eyebrows raises as an automatic response. a bracelet? specifically, a bracelet made of small, shiny, white pearls with a single flower charm.

but he's not ungrateful or doesn't like it, per se, he's just.. confused. as everyone else was.

confused that somebody thought to get him a gift. bought something for him that he never asked for or mentioned or even thought of himself.

it's not what he was expecting at all. a bracelet. really? for him? but why? he stands in that spot for a good minute, trying to make sense of this. but he's also trying to tell himself he doesn't care about this.

but there's a little creature in his heart or in his brain or something whispering to him that he actually kind of likes it.

he won't admit any of this— but he does end up keeping it, box and all. and he does like the gorgeous glossiness of the pearls and the intricate details and carvings of the charm.

he likes the way it feels on his wrist when he slides it on. it has a nice, cool feeling, but not cold enough for it to be uncomfortable. like the way a cold pillow feels nice against your head.

and from that day forward, if you look closely enough, you can always see a glimpse of a shiny piece of jewelry peeking through the bottom of ghost's sleeve.

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + one

authors note: hi! this is a complete rework from another roman story i wrote but needed to redo. it's a mafia au, so understandably super dark. a 'blink and you'll miss it' bit of a beauty and the beast retelling. not meant to be anything groundbreaking or unlike most mafia stories.

i've found that my writing is best when 2nd person pov, so i wanted to challenge myself to make this third person to better my writing, thus, bear with me, ya'll. :)

if any cw/tw's are missed, please let me know, and i will add them!

cw/tw: language, violence against women, mention of parental death, vague hinting at past sexual trauma

song inspo: 'looking through your eyes' by leann rimes

words: 5.2k

Through trial and error, mostly error, a lot of error, Solana Miller has learned and mastered most of the things that upset her father. 

Speaking out of turn. Meals not being ready on time. The house being a “mess.” The actual list is a living breathing thing that grows with each day and every unfortunate occurrence, but always at the very top of this list is lack of punctuality. 

There’s nothing Xavier Miller hates more than lateness. 

And that’s exactly what she is. 

Solana nearly faceplants into the three steps leading into the house with how fast she’s running. Her shaking hand and sweaty palm make it take longer than usual to unlock the front door, and the force in which she slams it shut behind her should be enough to knock the nearby family photo off the wall.

The photo that she is not included in, of course. 

She’s brushing off invisible lent as she rushes into her father’s office. “I’m sorry, there was an—” Her panting mouth snaps shut when she reaches the doorway, hand holding onto the frame of the door. “—accident.”

The minute Solana saw the flashing police lights and array of red brake lights was the moment she realized that she was in for a brutal punishment. She’d started to mentally prepare for such, trying to recall if she’s restocked the first aid kit kept in her bathroom and frequently retrieved. But, it’s not until she’s standing in the doorway of her father’s office, an office that’s filled with not only him and her brother, Wes, but other men that she realizes the ferocity of this punishment may be unlike any she’s received in some time.

Not only is she late, but she’s now interrupted some sort of meeting that he wanted her present for. 

Xavier’s eyes land on Solana with faux happiness that conceals flames she recognizes as a precursor for what’s to come. Naturally, like he’s not imagining all the cruel ways he can hurt her, in a way that only he can do, he slaps on a tight smile. “Ahh, there she is.”

Solana also realizes how almost everyone’s gaze is on her, and that doesn't make for a good response because she finds herself asking, “what’s going o—”

Xavier’s smile is very much unlike the ice in his voice. “Silence, child.” 

The sharpness of his command evokes an immediate response. Her shoulders slump and head drops. The displeasure just keeps growing. Solana can already feel the bruises forming, the sting of the ice on her busted lip. 

One of the men, an oversized, middle aged white man with a sharp gaze speaks. “I take it, this is your daughter?”

“It is,” her father confirms. If she didn’t know any better, Solana could almost swear she hears a hint of proudness. “Please forgive her lateness. She knows the importance of obedience.”

And the repercussions of obedience. Repercussions Solana knows await her once this meeting ends.

“I hope she does.” The same white man clears his throat. Solana hears the ruffling of papers but refuses to look up. Her gaze is better served focused on the ground, her silence and submissiveness certainly music to her father’s ears. “We received the requested medical report, and it appears you weren’t lying, Miller. The girl is still a virgin.”

That….that is the moment where it takes all willpower for Solana’s head not to snap up, eyes wide with both confusion and partial recognition. She’d wondered why her father asked her to schedule her yearly check-up with her GYN when she wasn’t due for another couple of months but knew better than to question, so she went ahead and did it. 

And she wondered why this checkup was so….different. Labs were taken, more questions asked, and a vaginal exam that had her leaving more uncomfortable than she’d ever been with Dr. Boyd. Not that seeing the woman was ever an enjoyable time in the first place. She's cold, stoic, an obvious doctor on the mafia payroll, but she's still a woman. 

Solana can't have a male GYN. She can't have a male doctor in any sort of specialty.

The confusion, however, comes into play at this man’s words.

“The girl is still a virgin.” 

That couldn’t be farthest from the truth.

“Her blood work also indicates she should have no problems conceiving a child.”

Emotions overpower reason as Solana breaks her silence and lifts her head. “What?” One furious glance from Xavier, and immediately, she knows that she’s fucked up.

She also realizes that she’s failed to notice one very important member whose sheer size takes up almost the entirety of her father’s onyx black loveseat.

Solana has heard the name Roman Reigns more times than she can keep track of over the years. It’s inescapable to live in this life and not know of the brutal ruler of the Bloodline, one of the most notorious mafia bosses in the underworld. But never in any of her 28 years has she seen him in person. Maybe somewhat in the same vicinity but never in close proximity, not like now where he’s sitting mere feet away from her.

He’s reclined back into the seat, thick legs spread, a blank expression on his handsome, bearded face. His features are sharp and predatory, yet there’s something about his eyes, a beautiful, light shade of brown that’s such a contrast to the cold blooded killer he is. Bulging, rippling muscles seem to be at battle with the plain black shirt he wears, and she notices his silky black hair is pulled back into a surprisingly neat bun of sorts. 

Solana knows that she shouldn't stare, but it’s hard not to. The man is objectively beautiful. He’s also staring directly at her. 

Panicked, her head drops down, eyes returning to continue counting the amount of beige swirls in her father’s persian rug. 

“Shut up…. ”Wes speaks from the other side of the room. He’s leaned up against the column near the bookshelf, lazily spinning around the pocketknife he never goes anywhere without. 

It’s the same knife that’s cut into her skin at least more than a couple of times over the years, drawing various amounts of blood depending on the extent of his anger.

Wes is always angry.

“I’m a man of my word, Mr. Heyman.” Solana doesn’t even need to be looking up to know her father has his hand over his chest, that faux sense of honor painting his harsh features. “I would never disrespect the Tribal Chief by wasting his time.” Solana’s throat goes tight. “My daughter is a worthy candidate.”

Candidate. Heir. Virgin.

It doesn’t take long with these major clues for Solana to piece together what they’re discussing, why her presence was required when never before has her father wanted her anywhere near one of his meetings.

Arranged marriage.

They’re discussing a possible arranged marriage between Solana and Roman Reigns. 

Her fingers flex and suddenly start to rub nervously against the soft material of her dress. Any appetite she had prior to entering the home is no longer present, vacated, replaced by a thick, heaping layer of anxiety.

Arranged marriages are far too common in this life. There’s not a week that’s gone by since she became of age that she doesn't hear about some union between two members of rivaling or partnering families. It's just how these things are done.

However, at 28, much past the typical timeline that daughters are married off, she’d accepted that that was not her fate. And she was okay with that, more than okay. Is okay with that.

Solana has a……complicated relationship with men, anyway. With people in general, but especially men.

The thought of her being paired off to Roman is so bad that it’s almost laughable. Their compatibility is in the negative range. He would never give her a second look, not even a first. A man like him needs someone who matches his prowess. She isn’t even on the radar.

And yet…..

And yet her father has somehow garnered interest, provided his counsel with her medical information “proving” her worthiness, and secured a meeting.

Circling back around to the medical report has her chest feeling tight and heavy. Lies. Her father has clearly paid off Dr. Boyd to write up whatever he believed needed to be said to increase his chances of locking in this deal.

She doesn’t know about the fertility portion, never really bothering or concerning herself with that part of her health. Someone has to have to have sex to conceive a child, and as far as Solana is concerned, that's never going to happen.

Not....not again.

But the virgin part is most definitely a lie. The physical exam certainly would have confirmed that.

And yet, the exact opposite was stated. 

Chills instantly move down her spine. Her father is perpetuating a fraud. Even more, he’s perpetuating fraud to a man who’s rumored to have a body count in the thousands. The same man he’s trying to pawn her off to.

This….this is not good.

It’s not good at all.

—----------

“She’s weak.”

That’s the first thing to leave Roman's mouth since they entered the Miller Manor, and it’s not announced until they're back in the SUV and on their way back to his estate.

Checking emails and clearing notifications that piled during the time his phone was tucked away, he continues. “Too young. Has no backbone. It’s embarrassing.” Roman’s tone, much like everything else about that pointless meeting, reeks of boredom. 

“Her father clearly has her on a tight leash,” Rikishi adds. He brings the handkerchief he keeps in his shirt pocket and swipes it across his forehead, dapping up the light sheen of sweat that’s already formed in the walk from the house to the SUV. “But, a very pretty girl.”

Roman cannot and will not disagree on that. She’s undeniably beautiful, but everything else about her is unappealing. And saying Miller has her on a tight leash is an understatement. She’s terrified of him. The brother too,  and Roman would take a solid guess that one of the two is responsible for the slightly faded but still visible bruise he noticed on Solana’s upper forearm. 

There’s some conflicted emotion present at that piece of information, though he mostly leans in one direction.

Women and children should be off limits. Specifically, women and children who aren’t already indoctrinated into the life to the point of training. Roman knows plenty of kids who completed their first kill while still in single digits and women who fight better than some of his men. For them, it’s free game. They’ve proven they can handle themselves.

Solana doesn’t fall in any of those categories, and he’d be shocked if she even knows how to hold a gun.

Thus, in his mind, she’s off-limits.

Nonetheless, his family is full of fighters, regardless of sex.

So there's the other part of him that can't understand her passivity, that believes she's just weak. 

The thought process generates a list of other, much more adequate options. “What about Belair?”

“Engaged to be married in the Montez family.” Roman rolls his eyes. That fucker is an irritating prick. Seems like a desperate match. 

“Cargill?”

“She….” It’s slightly comical for Roman, watching the older man work his hardest to explain what was inarguably a disrespectful rejection. “---is not interested.” 

A dark chuckle leaves his throat. “She said fuck off, didn’t she?”

“More or less.” 

Roman smiles. He would expect nothing less. Cargill is a beast of a woman, a sure fun time in the sheets if she would ever remove the stick from up her ass.

“If I may, my Tribal Chief….” When Roman remains quiet, he takes that as his cue to continue. “The girl may be young and docile, but that also makes her moldable. She will do whatever you want with no protest. Is that not a possible advantage?” Roman continues to look out the window, allowing Paul to add on, “and she will have no problem giving you an heir, which is inarguably the most important thing at this point in your life.”

“He brings up a good point, uce,” Rikishi chimes. “With your temper, it’s probably best for you to take a wife who is more passive than dominant.”

Logically, it makes sense, but the idea of a stuttering, stammering wife who can’t even maintain eye contact for more than a minute doesn’t appeal to him in the slightest. 

“And as far as age, she’s closer to 30 than anything. You go for any older, and you might run into fertility struggles. This is the perfect age.” Rikishi’s crooked smile is followed by a small chuckle. “You ain’t so young yourself anymore, uce. Gotta have an even balance.”

There’s a difference between a balance and a child. Roman is prepared to say as such when Jimmy speaks, deciding to add his two cents from the passenger's seat.

“Look, Big Dog. All you need is for her to give you a kid, and you heard Paul. She can do that. Ain’t no need in making this bigger than what it is.” His insertion and contribution to the conversation ends up being valid. Granted, if he was anyone else, the delivery would have resulted in a maiming. But, this is Jimmy. He’s like a brother to Roman. Him and Jey. Hence their privilege with speaking so bluntly. “Shit, and did you see that body? Mannn, I’d never pull out of that.”

Also a valid point. Her dress was fitted around the chest area, accentuating heavy breast he could most definitely see himself palming as he fucked her from behind. The rest of the dress wasn’t as contoured, but it flowed against her shape when she walked in, and he could make out the curves he was certain she preferred to keep hidden. It’d been a while since he’d taken a woman to bed with a body like hers, a preference, but also not as easy to find in his world of fit assassins and killers who spend more time in the gym than anywhere else.

His latest set of women were on the slimmer side, moderate thickness, nothing like this girl.

But sexual desirability aside, her passivity indicates she’d be….that kind of woman. The woman who expects words of affirmation and quality time. A “gentle” kind of woman who’d want him to be sweet and patient in the bedroom, to make love to her. Roman is neither and none of those things.

He fucks, and he fucks hard. Subsequently, his wife should be cut from the same cloth. 

“Just….think about it, my Tribal Chief, hmmm?” Paul’s voice is tentative, laced with that tone that indicates he believes the decision should be made sooner rather than later. Granted, he values his life and standing in the bloodline, so he opts to not implement time constraints. 

A wise decision. 

“The scars.” Roman counted eight of them total, the one most pronounced on her face, slashing across her right eye and into the top of her cheek. The type of scar that’s embedded into the skin. And the soul. With a few of his own, it’s one of the first things he noticed. “What’s the story there?”

Paul quickly pulls out the portfolio from his briefcase, hurriedly flipping through papers when he settles on the one he’s looking for. “Ahhh….” Paul clears his throat, a telltale sign that’s he uncomfortable with what he’s about to say. “2005. It was a hit. Her mother was killed in the attack. Knifing. Solana survived, clearly.”

Roman turns his attention from the passing cars to look at his Wise Man. For the first time since this whole interview process began, Roman is intrigued. “She was there?” Paul confirms as such and says something else, but Roman’s attention is out the window again, haphazardly watching the flow of traffic, assimilating and accommodating this new piece of information. 

This may be the one and only thing he can understand about this girl. Something…something he can relate to. 

Survival

One doesn’t go through something like that without coming out on top or letting it bury you. Unlike him, she’d clearly gone the latter route. Granted, just making it out alive, physically, he knows better than anyone, is a feat in and of itself.

“Give me her file.”

—-------------

Dear Mom,

I’m sorry I didn’t write yesterday. It was…..a day.

I’m not even sure where to begin, because I’m not sure what to even feel at this moment to be honest. Dad is trying to marry me off to a mafia head, which would be fine, except….except that head is Roman Reigns. He’s….he’s a monster, mama. Has no soul. Not that many men in this life do, but there’s something about him that’s even more terrifying than the others. To make matters worse, dad had Dr. Boyd lie in my medical report. She wrote that I’m still a virgin, I guess something about my hymen still being intact. Mama, that’s a lie. There’s no way that’s possible. 

Not.....with what they did to me.

I’m trying hard not to panic, because there’s no way Roman would go for me. He’s a monster, yes, but even Lucifer was God’s most beautiful angel. He’s a very handsome man. He would never want someone like me.

I don’t know any man who would.

“Solana.”

Solana quickly snaps her journal closed, using the pen in her hand to mark her spot. She’s met with the gentle smile of 73–year–old Meryl Jensen, a widow who’s worked at this library for almost forty years.

Solana still remembers the first day she met Mrs. Jensen. She was 6-years-old, and her mom was looking for a certain book she’d read about in the newspaper. A book that she hoped would further and better her English speaking skills. A native of Mexico, Nina Miller taught herself English by immersing herself into American literature, film, and music. 

Similarly, Nina taught her Solana Spanish by immersing her daughter in Spanish literature, film, and music. A secret among the two as an always hostile, paranoid Xavier “banned” Nina from teaching their daughter a language he couldn’t understand.

If he couldn’t control it, it was a no-go.

But it was when Mrs. Jensen was helping Nina locate her book, Solana noticed another book sitting near a kids display. Goodnight Moon.

If Solana tries hard enough, she can still remember the warm smile her mother gave her as she allowed her to check out the book, her very first "purchase" from the library. It started a love of books, aided by Mrs. Jensen who always provided appropriate recommendations to Solana and her mom.

Not that Solana tries to think too much about memories with her mother. They’re almost always ruined and replaced with the sounds of the butcher knife slicing into her mother’s body as Nina used the last of her strength to shield and protect her daughter from the violent assault that would end up taking her life.

Solana’s smile, however, does dim and her stomach drops when she realizes that Ms. Jensen isn’t alone. 

“This girl is always writing, I swear.” It’s only when the older woman refers to her book that Solana quickly closes up her journal, shoving it to the side.

Her eyes never leave Roman though.

And his certainly aren’t leaving her, even as Mrs. Jensen places a hand on his arm, laughing at her own joke.

Mrs. Jensen then squints her eyes and leans over the counter. “Child, did you fall again?” It takes a second for recognition to dawn. She’s then hit with the memory of her father backhanding her across the room, the force sending her to the floor after the dispersion of yesterday’s meeting. A truly pale punishment compared to some of his prior assaults. “My goodness.” Mrs. Meryl laughs, shaking her head. “An everyday klutz I tell you. I can’t think of one day she hasn’t come in here without some kind of mark from her clumsiness.”

Roman’s staring directly at Solana while acknowledging the older woman’s casual observation. “Interesting.” He then darts his eyes, offering a smile that, if one didn’t know any better, could be considered genuine. But Solana does know better. She knows much better. “Could you give us a moment?”

Of course, Mrs. Jensen obliges, saying something about hushing up some boisterous high school students on the first level before it’s just Solana and Roman. 

She has a million and one questions, starting with why the hell Roman Reigns is at her job. Whatever the reason, it can’t be good. A man like him only brings about chaos and mayhem.

And death.

Swallowing and powering through the onslaught of anxiety, she starts off in an unsurprisingly soft voice, “if you’re looking for my father, he’s—”

“If I wanted your father, I would be speaking to him right now.” Roman’s interruption is dangerously calm, but Solana detects a hint of irritation. “You’re the one I want.”

Oh.

What in the world this man could want with Solana is beyond her. To make matters worse, Solana catches his gaze on her bruised cheek again. Makeup could only do much, but she's really starting to wish she went for heavier coverage. She drops her head, focusing on the denim of her jeans to avoid his burning stare. “I—umm.”

Solana’s body registers before her head does that Roman is lifting his hand to touch her. She responds accordingly, jumping back and away from the interaction. He chuckles, darkly, lowering his hand to his side. “That was some fall.”

Solana unconsciously brings her hand to hover over her cheek. “I’m—clumsy.”

“No, you’re not.” It takes a second for Solana to register his blunt comment and another for her to digest that he’s calling her bluff. “But, you are a terrible liar.”

He’s not wrong on either note, but she’s unsure just how to respond. “What—what do you want from me?”

Roman straightens up, and just the sheer size of him makes her swallow in fear. He’s a beast of a man, more beast though than anything else. “To make sure you understand what this is. It’s obvious Miller didn’t inform you about the meeting, and I won’t go into anything with anyone unless they’re fully aware of what they’re signing up for.”

If he’s waiting for Solana to acknowledge the first part of his reason for showing up at her job, he does a poor job waiting because he goes straight into his disclaimer. 

“I have no desire to be with you or any other woman for anything more than a sexual release. We’ll ensure my bloodline continues, but that’s it. Financially, you’ll want for nothing, and I can assure you, your clumsiness won’t be an issue. But, I will never love you, never see you as anything more than a business arrangement because that’s what you are.” He’s studying her facial expressions, reading all of the emotions oscillating around. “Do you understand?”

There’s a couple of different thoughts racing through her mind at this moment, but the dominant thought is wondering just what in the hell would possess someone like him to ever even consider someone like her? He is the definition of brute strength in all areas. She is beyond broken. There can’t be anything appealing about that.

But then….maybe there is. Roman knows she will not cause him any trouble, can recognize this brokenness and sees it as an easy way to get what he needs while still having the freedom to do whatever, and whoever he wants. It’s a bit of a win-win. 

And as far as the love aspect…..

Solana learned a long time ago that all of the fairytales lied. There is no prince that rides in and saves the damsel in distress. No one to swoop in and save you from the monster. It’s either killed or be killed, and her death already occurred on August 7th, 2005.

As ironic and fucked up as it is, Solana recognizes this is the best deal she’ll ever get in her life. 

With quite literally nothing to lose, she acknowledges him.

“I understand.”

—---------

The minute Solana steps into the house, she’s immediately shoved into the freshly painted wall behind her. A strong hand is on her throat, restricting her breathing.

“What did you say to him!”

Fingers foolishly grasping at the hand suffocating her, Solana tries to speak even with knowing that it’s impossible when she can’t even breathe. This only pisses her brother off even more. He bangs her head into the wall, causing the nearby pictures to shake. “Answer me, you stupid bitch!”

“Let her go, Wes.”

Xavier’s command is followed with a delayed acquiescence. Solana falls to the floor, coughing and gasping violently. She brings her hand to the back of her head to check for any blood, but her gaze is soon on the black leather shoes her blurred version is able to make out.

Solana cries out when her father grips her hair, yanking her head back and forcing her to look at him.

“We know Reigns came to see you at your job today.”

At some point in her life, Solana would be stunned and partially disturbed this, by how her father is aware of this piece of information.  But, this is no longer that time in her life. That time when she was naive enough to think that she could ever escape this life, ever leave and never look back.

She’d tried once. Foolishly. And it landed her in the hospital for two weeks. 

Solana can still remember her father’s dry, cracked lips pressing an insincere kiss against her temple as he said in the calmest yet coldest voice. “You ever try to leave this place again, and I’ll make sure to finish the job.” 

That was the last time she ever fooled herself into believing better waited for her.

“Now, what did you say to him?”

“I—I—nothing.” It’s not a lie but not the entire truth. She didn’t say anything that should have pissed him off. Then again, with a man as temperamental as Roman, anything and everyone could piss him off. Look at her dad and brother. “What did he—”

A phone ringing possibly saves, or just delays, the next set of hits. And even better, it’s Xavier’s phone.

He pulls it out of the back pocket of his pants, eyes lighting up. With a mischievous smile, he taps the screen twice, answering, “my Tribal Chief.” Solana’s eyes widen. “To what do I owe the honor?”

“Cut the bullshit, Miller.” Roman’s deep, baritone voice is powerful and authoritative, even when he’s not even in the room. “You know why I’m calling.” And before her father can further upset him, Roman jumps straight to the point. “We have a deal.”

It’s been some time since Solana has been so thoroughly surprised by something she’s heard that she briefly loses awareness of where she is. But this….this is one of those moments. 

He can’t…..he can’t have said what she thinks he just said. Her acknowledging understanding was just a formality. She didn’t think he was actually considering marrying her.

Xavier’s smile is broad, signs of a man who just got exactly what he wanted. “Wonderful. We shall start planning.”

“Two weeks. The wedding will be two weeks from today.”

The tightening in her chest has returned. Solana is certain she’s about to start hyperventilating. This….this can’t be happening. 

Xavier and Wes share a look as he stammers with a response. “Uhh, yes, of course—whatever you wa—”

“Oh, and Miller?”

Irritation flashes in Xavier’s eyes, but he shoves it back for a polite acknowledgment. “Yes, my Tribal Chief?”

“You or your boy lay a single fucking finger on her again, and I’ll gut you both where there’s nothing left to bury.”

Solana is almost certain there’s not a single one of them that’s not taken back by Roman’s icy warning. However, she swallows when her father’s fire gaze lands on her. She knows immediately she’s in for a matching bruise on the other side of her face.

Xavier laughs quietly. “That girl has always been so clumsy. I assure you—”

“One.”

Xavier is understandably confused by Roman’s single-word response. “Pardon?”

“Everyone gets one chance to lie to me. You’ve just used yours.” For the briefest hint of a second, Solana believes she sees fear flash in her father’s eyes. “Consider yourself warned.”

The phone disconnects. 

Silence settles over the three of them, but it doesn’t last. 

“I–I don’t understand.” Solana finds her voice, unable to stay quiet in a moment that’s completely just changed the course of her life. “I–I can’t marry Roman.”

For a lot of reasons. Many reasons that she can list out and defend if given the chance.

Solana is consumed by her thoughts and pending mental breakdown, so much so that she misses when her brother stalks across the room. He throws her back up against the wall, and the minute her eyes land on the silver, she’s frozen in place.

His grin is predatory and satisfactory as he murmurs, floating the knife in front of her. “It seems you’ve finally made your existence have some type of purpose.” Solana has to close her eyes. Just seeing knives sometimes brings her back to that night, and having one pressed against her….

Wes knows exactly how agonizing that is to her, hence his favorite method of torture. 

Swallowing, she weakly protests, “you—you told them I’m a virgin.”

That’s a major reason why. Her father has made her out to be some chaste, pure woman when she’s anything but. And to lie to Roman, of all people, about something like that.

They’ve more or less signed her death decree.

“No. Dr. Boyd’s medical reports confirmed you’re still untouched, and you’ll go along with it for however long is necessary.” Xavier’s rebuttal is smooth and to the point, like he doesn’t see the issue with his actions.

He never does. 

“Don’t you understand?” Wes lazily slides the knife up and down her skin, smiling at the terror in her face. It’s his greatest motivation, witnessing the extent of her fear toward him. “We’d let Reigns and his entire bloodline fuck you if that’s what it took to get what we want.”

Solana has no shock value at his words. Wes stopped caring anything for her the minute she got their mother killed, and it’s not as if she can entirely blame him. 

Nina would still be alive if not for Solana. It’s something she accepted ages ago, an undeniable truth. 

However, she does have to ask in a pained voice, “what do you want?”

Xavier supplies, taking a hit of his cigar she didn’t realize he was holding this whole time. “We want and will have control of the bloodline.”

If not for her current situation, she’d laugh. Control of the bloodline. That’s….that’s not even a dream. That’s a delusion. Still, there’s an undertone to his voice and words that alarm her. In a quiet voice, she protests. “That’s—that’s impossible.”

Solana hisses as Wes presses the knife deeper into her throat, nicking her skin and drawing blood. “No, it isn’t, not anymore. Because we have a way in.”

And it’s with widened eyes and a constricted throat that Solana finally understands what’s happening, what they plan to have happen. 

Her voice is barely above a whisper. “No….”

Xavier answers with a cruel, wicked smile. “You’re going to kill Roman Reigns for us.”

[pigcowboys]

Hi boo(i hope that was not too cringe)! Could you pls do a percy jackson, enemies to lovers! story? Like in everyone in the Camp knows their hatred against each other but then they get send on a quest together and end up kissing each other to disguise their quest?!

I would really appreciate it!

Have a good Day!

pairing: percy jackson x gn! reader (2nd pov is used but someone does say 'chick')

summary: much to your displeasure, you find yourself on a quest with the one person you hate the most.

warning(s): BICKERING. mutual pining (they just don't know it yet.), kissing, swearing, enemies to lovers.

a/n: IT WASNT CRINGE DWW HAHA, i tried my best!! school starts for me pretty soon so im trying to write as much as i can before i have to go back.. (also im sorry abt the images i dont know whats going on with my computer.)

you hated them, everyone of them.

that wretched camp and it's obnoxious staff oh, and don't even get you started on that stupid oracle. she set you up! they all did.

gods, why of all people did it have to be him?

perseus jackson - most of the time shortened to just percy jackson, maybe even peter johnson at times. what an ass he was.

believe it or not when you first came to camp half-blood you had actually taken a liking to him. he was cute, full of energy and full of endless bravery, your exact type.

you weren't sure when it begun, your hatred for him, that is. it kind of just..started. when? not sure. your exact guess must've been that one valentine's day when he accidentally sneaked the last muffin at breakfast. yeah, that must've been it.

to be honest though, you didn't need a reason. you just did, and you weren't exactly quiet about it either. from the day you started to hate his guts all his advances to be nice to you were met with a glare or a huff. sometimes you'd just straight up walk away from him.

so, it basically didn't take him long to send you back the same glares or huffs or even the smallest mutter of 'geez, not this chick again..' everyone hoped the feud would dissipate, that the two of you would grow the fuck up and call a truce.

too bad their prayers didn't help.

infact, you were pretty sure that even if the gods themselves came down from olympus and said 'get along or die right here' you'd pick the latter in a heartbeat.

so, when you'd initially been called into chiron for some 'great news' you'd expected him to tell you that percy had finally decided to leave camp - or that you'd won the lottery. fuck, you wished that was it.

"hey, stay on your side, bucko!" you said, nudging percy to the side aggressively. "i'm not on the market, especially for you."

"can you be serious for second!" percy snapped back, his eyebrows furrowed in frustration. "we have to prove to chiron that we can do this." he turned back to face the front. "or...we're in for another lecture."

"i wouldn't mind, really," you grinned. "i've perfected the art of sleeping with my eyes open."

"if only you could perfect the art of silence.."

you glared at him.

the two of you were submerged underwater at the moment in one of percy's bubbles. chiron had asked of you to go to queens in order to do..something? you didn't really pay attention to chiron at the time - besides, you were thinking about drowning yourself in the nearest lake when you'd heard the percy going on the quest with you in tow. the only thing you could remember was that it was super important to not let anyone see you.

something about the appearance of two demigod children to monster being dangerous? you weren't sure why he thought the things wouldn't be able to sniff you out anyways.

the bubble wasn't even your idea to be fair. you'd suggested just taking the train, as it much easier but percy disagreed - as usual. said it would be quicker to just swim over via bubble transfer and although you wanted to disagree, you settled on the idea that the station at this time would be packed as hell.

so you bit your tongue and allowed yourself to be trapped in a bubble with percy for about a half an hour or so.

"ugh, how much longer..?" you asked, adjusting your clothes uneasily. the bubble wasn't by any means uncomfortable just..kind of warm? weirdly enough. percy didn't spare you a glance only opting to shurg his shoulder slightly as he focused on the vast ocean in front of the two of you.

you glared at him from your spot in the bubble, uncomfortably crossing your legs as you turned away from him, jumping when you realized a never before seen fish was staring into your soul from outside the bubble. it wasn't a surprise to you to see the fish, percy was the son of poseidon, you expected him to go full aquaman one day and pull up to camp half blood with a stream of wild dolphins and squids.

still, the beady little dead eyes scared the shit out of you. and in your natural knee jerk reflex, you moved back, inching into percy and bumping his shoulder. he turned to face you with a distasteful look, face contorting in confusion when he noticed the small school of fish now gathering.

your face morphed into one of uncomfort as you gazed at the tons of fish that seemed to spawn out of nowhere. "uh..can you call your friends off?"

percy seemed to share a look with the fish, a look of embarrassment flashing over his face briefly as he glared at them intensely. you looked on at the exchange in silence because, was he really talking to fishes? the fish eventually scrammed after a while and you and percy were back on your way. silence fell over the two of you before you spoke up suddenly.

"i didn't know you spoke fish.."

"drop it."

"i think we're here." percy annouced as the bubble started to drift closer to shore. were you guys there? you weren't sure at all. you were just happy to be out of that bubble - the close proximity was making you break out.

you were in fact there, somehow. and it was by then it hit you that this was a quest - a really important mission for a demigod and since it was assigned to specifically you and percy, it meant you had to deliver.

your duo walked towards the city, looking around for any suspicious looking civilians or any sign of irregular activity. it would've been an easy task to scope out the objective of the mission if it wasn't for percy's loud breathing.

seriously, you could hear him practically breathing down your neck as the two of you walked. him and his stupid big nostrils - you couldn't focus.

"mind breathing a little less loud?"

percy blinked at you. "these requests are starting to get literally concerning." his face contorted in confusion. "how the hell does one 'breathe a little less loud' ?"

"they not be percy jackson."

"that wasn't even english??"

you were about to say something else smart when a couple of people ahead caught your attention, they weren't inherently weird looking but, you got this vibe from them - that they weren't completely human. your mind raced as you looked around as nonchalantly as you could.

there were people here. to your right, 2 parents and their one hyperactive son who clawed at the ice cream in front of him with his tongue, a bright smile on his face and to your left a group of younger looking teenage girls who were chatting brightly. most likely about hair dye because their highlights were so bright they were giving you eye cancer.

you thought fast. pulling percy by his wrist as you dashed down the street, rushing into the nearest store slash tourist attraction you could as you pushed him into the corner roughly, looking behind you to see if the people had followed you.

he gave you a completely surprised look, slight annoyance forming on his face as he exhaled heavily. "is there any reason you felt like dragging me into this.." he looked around, eyes landing on a random cowboy hat that was situated on a hook in the corner of the place. "slightly..cool place?" he finished, grabbing the cowboy hat and observing it curiously.

"i saw them, well - i think i did.." you mumbled out, looking around erratically as you watched out for any signs of being followed. percy quirked an eyebrow at you.

"the IRS finally caught you orr.."

"percy, this is serious!" you exclaimed, growing slightly embarrassed when the store owner shot the two of you a look. you smiled at the owner awkwardly, ushering percy into a corner with your hand.

"look, i'm pretty sure i found the guys we were going here for." you said, still stealing glances behind you. "i saw them..just now, when were walking."

"did they follow us?" percy asked, more seriously now.

"i'm not sure," you frowned.

percy thought for a moment before speaking once more."they wouldn't do anything with all these humans here - we just have to make sure we blend in."

"and how do you suppose we do that?"

percy grinned at you, reaching over to grab another hat that was right next to the one he'd picked up earlier.

you grimaced, who's idea was it to put you two together?

"do you think we lost them?"

"nah, we definitely still need the disguises."

the two of you were situated on the street currently, attempting to look as normal as possible. though, it was pretty hard to with these stupid cowboy hats percy insisted the two of you had to wear. claimed it would be "inconspicuous" but in reality it was extremely, eye catching.

you figured he just wanted you to wear it so he could laugh behind your back about how utterly foolish you looked. it didn't help that he'd picked out the hat with the corniest design for you - and it was bedazzled.

you let of a huff of frustration. "can we switch? this one's too big on me., i'm half blind here, man."

"you'll live," percy reassured. "besides, it's better if they can't see your face."

"what's the use? they'll just sniff us out eventually."

percy shot you a look. "you're no fun."

you opened your mouth to say something when percy's face changed as he locked eyes with something behind you. you barely had time to react when he pulled you into a brutal bear hug, turning you away from whatever it was that was behind you.

your muscles tensed as your face started to burn with embarrassment. a "what the fuck, percy?" was muffled into his shirt as you felt the presence of the monsters nearing closer. your heart sank to your feet as realized how near they were really.

"whatever i do.." percy whispered in your ear. "just promise you won't be too mad."

"what're you talk-"

and then before you knew it, you'd lost your lip virginity. i mean, it wasn't the worst first kiss story you'd have to tell people. boy kissed me in order to distract the bloodthirsty monsters that were tracking us down! wow, how romantic.

in all honesty, you knew percy just did what he had to do. you knew he just had to keep you to keep your disguises up. that was probably the rest why you leaned into the kiss, hands coming up to rest on his chest as his brutal bear hug eased into more a gentle hug, his hands moving the hold your hips.

the kiss had to look real - romantic. that's why you pretend to be so into it that you let out a satisfied hum. you weren't sure if the monsters had moved on from the two of you, you weren't even sure if you were safe at all in the moment. but, it was starting to get hard to think as your mind swirled with various conflicting thoughts that stemmed from your actions at the moment.

percy broke the kiss, his eyes gazing into your curiously as he removed his hands from your hips slowly. you removed your hand from his chest, pulling away gently. your eyes searched his own for any sign of discomfort or disgust as you started to grow weary of the fact he'd just stolen your first kiss.

yet, you were surprised to find that there was none - just confusion and surprise. you tore your eyes away from him, clearing your throat. as you fixed your outfit. "i..i think i saw them go somewhere over there." you pointed at the secluded alleyway not too far from where you and percy stood. "let's go - we can get the drop on them."

percy stared at you for a moment before nodding, slightly dazed and following you towards the alleyway silently.

the ride back home - or should you say float back home was silent, as it always was. though, something different seemed to be hanging in the air this time. a feeling of awkwardness that was mostly unnatural to you and percy.

you wanted to ask about it - the kiss, why did he do it? why was that first thing he came up with? why did he lean into you slightly? why did the world seemed to stop for a second when your lips met and most of all whyyy the hell did you want it to happen again?

you stole a glance at percy. the two of you were a few feet away from each other, on opposite sides of the bubble. maybe you were going crazy or something but did percy look..good? you swore it was just because of the mixed feelings you had about him being your first but you couldn't shake the thought about how beautiful he looked in the moment.

okay, something's not right.

"do you wanna talk about it?" you blurted out suddenly, shifting positions as you leaned forward slightly. percy turned to look at you, he wasn’t annoyed nor angry, not even suicidal. he looked, enamored — and slightly caught off guard by your question.

"talk about what exactly?"

your eyebrows furrowed. "you kissed me, percy jackson." you pointed at him accusingly. "and you liked it."

percy blew a raspberry, a slightly surprised look on his face. "what makes you think i liked it?"

you paused. had you read something wrong? you thought about dropping the idea but thought against it, deciding to die on that hill. "because your hands somehow found their way onto my hips," you started. "and your lips pursed — and your heartbeat picked up little by the little the longer it lasted."

you crossed your legs, inching away from percy as you gave him a small frown. "and..you looked at me weird." percy's face was flushed as he looked at you silently from his position on the other side of the bubble.

"how did i look at you..?"

you glanced at him. "like you didn't want to drown me in the lake and leave my body for the fishes." you joked. "like..you didn't hate me."

"i don't hate you."

your head spun towards percy, your eyes widened comically. you opened your mouth to say something but the words were caught in your throat. percy analyzed you before speaking once more.

"i don't think i ever have, it's just - you're very annoying." percy sighed. "and it sucks because you're more attractive than you think you are." you stared at him in silence. your heart pounded in your chest as you gulped.

"do you like me?"

"do you like me?" percy repeated with emphasis on the me.

you laughed, inching towards percy on the other side of the bubble. "i do." you stopped in front of him, a warm smile on your face as you watched a smile break out onto his face. "i like you too." he whispered, staring at you quietly before leaning forward slightly to test the waters.

you instantly took the bait, leaning forward as well as you locked lips with percy one again. a bolt of lightning shot through you as you leaned into his touch, placing your hand on his shoulder as you climbed into his lap. percy seemed more than happy to have you there, his hands coming to rest on your hips so he could keep you steady.

you broke the kiss, hands slithering around his neck as you looked down at him with a small smile. you were about to say something when your attention was brought to the sickly sight of a line of fish outside the bubble once again. you yelped in surprise, stumbling back slightly and if it wasn't for percy's grip on you, you probably would've busted your ass.

percy looked behind him, slightly annoyed at the presence of the fish. it lingered for a bit longer before dashing off reluctantly. at which point, percy turned to you with a frown. you eyed him curiously.

"what?"

"he's going to tell everyone about the '2 demigods getting it on in the bottom of the sea'. "

[biggestxsimps]

The Campbell Boy

Sal Fisher x Male Reader (Ashley’s Twin)

A/N: This was requested to us over on our Wattpad! Sorry, the first 200 and something words are just Sal falling for Ash, the other 1000 words are about Y/N tho I swear. Sal is so ooc omg, I haven't played the game in a hot minute so he's not at all accurate lmao.

Sal's POV:

I knock on Todd's door, I hear muffled words before he opens the door. He greets me as he opens the door. "Sorry it took me a minute to answer, I was wrapping up a tutoring session with Ashley, have you two met?" "Hey I'm Ash" I turn to see a beautiful girl, I feel my heart thump as she continues. "You must be Sally Face. I've heard so much about you!" I cough before responding "I.. Um.. me? You have?" "Yeah! All good things I swear. I'm glad I finally got to meet you."

"Me too. Er, you too. Um, I mean, it's nice to meet you as well." She sends a sweet smile my way. "I'd love to stay and chat more but I have to get going. Thanks for helping me out today, Todd." She walks to the door. "Enjoy the weekend, boys!" The door closes as I reply "You too".

"You alright Sal? You seem a bit anxious." "Oh, yeah, yeah. I'm good, I'm cool." I turn back to the ginger boy. "Okay so what brings you this way?" I completely disregard his question "Ash seems nice, is she a freshman too? What's she like?" "Her full name is Ashley Campbell. She's a freshman, like us, she also has a twin brother. She's overall a nice person." I don't seem to hear anything after that, until Todd asks "You didn't come here to talk about Ashley, though, so what's up?" "Oh, right..."

Timeskip

I was on the way to the basement, letting the elevator take me down. Larry had let me know Todd was over and asked if I wanted to hang out. It had been a while since the three of us hung out so I obviously accepted, what I didn't expect was to open the door and see Ashley sitting on a beanbag in the corner. My eyes trail from her to the figure standing beside her, his (E/C) eyes somehow more beautiful than Ash's. I felt like time had stopped.

"Sal?" I hear Larry call from beside me, I turn his way, clearing my throat. "Uh, I- yeah?" I hear the others chuckle before the taller boy walks over to me, hand out. "I don't believe we've met, you must be Sal. Larry and Ash can't keep their mouths shut about you." I look up at him, 'God, he's even more attractive up close'

"You.. Er I'm- Yeah, That- That's me."

He lightly laughs, 'I wish I could listen to that forever' he slightly tilts his head as he responds. "I'm Y/N," he quickly gestures to the brunette girl. "Ashley's twin." I nod slowly. "It's-Uh, It's nice to meet you." I finally shook his hand. "Nice to finally meet you too, Sal" I feel my face turn hot and I'm suddenly thankful for the mask covering my growing blush.

An awkward silence fills the room before Larry cuts it. "Okay, you two weirdos can stop shaking hands now." He lets out a hearty laugh as I quickly retract my hand from his warm ones. The (H/C) boy walked over to his spot next to Ashley as I sat next to Larry on the bed. 'I can't seriously be feeling this way for another boy, not that there's anything wrong with it. I'm just not gay.. right?'

Timeskip

It's been a few months since I met Y/N. I really expected my feelings for him to die off as easily as they did with Ash but I still feel just as strongly, if not more for him. 'I should probably talk to someone about this.' The first person that came to mind was Todd. He's had the most experiences with these sorts of feelings.

I quickly make my way to the 2nd floor, walking in, I greet his parents and bee-line for his room. I didn't bother knocking, the ginger boy sat in front of his computer. "Oh, hey Sal. What brings you here?" He turns the chair to face me. "Todd, I need some advice." His eyebrows furrow. "What sort of advice? What did you do?" I shake my head. "I haven't done anything. I need help figuring out some feelings." "Feelings? You're better off talking to Ash about that." I immediately shut down the idea. "Definitely not." He starts to smirk as questions me. "Why? Is she the one you have these 'feelings' for?"

"No, Um. Actually, I think I'm into her brother."

Todd's eyes grow to the size of saucers. "Y/N?!" I meekly nod. "I didn't know you liked boys." Todd laughs a little. "I didn't either." I exclaim. "That's why I need your help." Todd nods a few times before asking. "So what exactly do you need help with?" I go to respond but then pause, "I'm not sure. I guess I just wanna understand these feelings. I've never really felt this way for anyone before, and especially not for a boy."

"Sit down" He brings his arm out and gestures to the chair. "Let me help you out."

Timeskip

Yesterday's talk with Todd really helped me out. Though the idea of liking a boy is still pretty new to me, I think I'm ready to at least give it a shot. He told me that I should ask him out, that he thought he was pretty obviously gay. I couldn't be a hundred percent sure but I trusted Todd, and Y/N. I was sure that even if he were to reject me, he wouldn't make it a big deal, and would let me down slowly.

I take a deep breath before sending Y/N a text, almost instantly getting a response.

'want 2 hang?'

'ye whose place?'

'mine'

'lemme grab ash'

'hoping itd be jus u?'

'k all gud sys'

I stuff my phone into my back pocket before glancing up at the bathroom mirror. I fix up the pigtails before waiting in my room. It doesn't take long before I hear a knock on my bedroom door. "Come in." The door is slowly swung open, Y/N walking in and greeting me. "Hey man, why'd you call me over?" 'I really had to do it now, no backing out.' I shrug. "I kinda needed to talk to you." His wide smile slightly dropped. "What's wrong?" I shake my hands. "Nothing's wrong, I just.." I pause as he walks over to me, sitting on the bed, beside me.

He looks at me like he's waiting, not impatiently, just curious. I can't control the loud beats fastening, the loud thumps making their way up my throat. "Uhm-" my voice cracks, my head turning away in embarrassment. "You're all right, take your time Sal." His hand lays on my own as he gives it a reassuring squeeze. It wasn't the first time he had comforted me like this, it always made my heart jump but it really wasn't helping right now.

I don't know how long I was thinking before his gentle voice cut through my thoughts. "Sal?" My head turns back to his, quickly spurting out, "I-think-I'm-in-love-with-you!" I close my eyes tight as I wait for his response. It takes a few seconds before his thumb starts massaging my still held hand, his other resting on the porcelain mask at my cheek. I slowly open my eyes to see him grinning. "I feel the same, Sal."

My eyes widened. "You do?" He chuckles before nodding. "Have for a while. I was planning on asking you out too. Guess you beat me to it though." I lightly laugh as I lean in for a hug, his arms wrapping around my torso. "Does this mean we're- y'know?" I feel him nod against me, "If that's something you want?" "Obviously" I reply. We both share a laugh before he kisses my covered forehead.

A/N: After reading through it, it feels a little rushed, sorrryyy.

Masterlist    

- Written by Owner 1

[bibibbon]

MHA chapter 414

1)The memory sharing thing. Izuku and shigaraki sharing memories kind of came out of nowhere especially with Izukus memories being shared because last time I checked it was izuku giving his DNA to tomura not both of them recieving eachother DNA. I don't know if it's me but the memory sharing thing just felt like a very cheap way to try and build up the nonexistent dynamic between izuku and shigaraki but it fails horribly.

2) kudo's description of deku. I guess it isn't just that but kudo describing izuku as "someone who doesn't just follow orders" just left a bad taste in my mouth maybe it's because of the whole deku and wooden puppet and izuku continually being stripped off any INTROSPECTION but yeah this just rubbed me the wrong way. Also kudos whole disappearance or second death felt so anti climatic idk what I was expecting but for him to just disappear is disappointing for sure. I would of expected him to do some lasting damage with his vessel or ghost but all he did was basically take himself and quirk out of existence in its own way. Izuku full on becoming a puppet both literally and metaphorically is something that Iam not a huge fan of. I think it's kind of a great idea but the point of MHAs begining was a series of the greatest hero so logically speaking Izuku would continue forward and grow out and show that he isn't the puppet that his tormenter has claimed him to be but he is a person, a hero and a human. Sure the puppet idea could of worked but the way horikoshi tried to cement the idea and present it doesn't work it mainly feels like horikoshi is doing this as a cheap way to justify Izuku's lack of INTROSPECTION and POV.

3) the lack of izuku and shigaraki introspection. This goes for the whole series but I still hate that izuku barely gets to tell his own pov like I swear he was the narrator of the story back in chapter one so why is it that other characters are telling us how izuku should or is feeling when it isn't the narrator himself. Also shigaraki just stating the obvious for his pov just irritated me I guess I wanted and expected more. I expected to understand why shigaraki wants to destroy and why does he view Izuku in said ways I expected answers but we kinda got nothing 😭

4) did horikoshi forget some plot things? I thought that the vestiges could continually read Izuku's thoughts and see his memories so why are they so surprised in him implementing an idea like they haven't seen izuku quickly come up with battle Strategies all the time. To me it feels like the vestiges are acting the way horikoshi wants us to act and the vestiges are just there acting shocked when they figure everything out so we can understand which is all iffy to me. Like why couldn't we get this from Izuku's point of view what was stopping us from getting this from shigarakis point of view what is it that the vestiges are the ones narrating this bit when they should already be semi aware of what going on at the least.

5) WHY IS IT THAY IZUKU HAS TO LOSE ALL HIS QUIRKS? like seriously I feel like izuku should of just stayed quirkless. Why is it that izuku has to go back to square one while all the characters get to live a good life? Why just him? It seems like shigaraki is getting the damages of 2nd quirks but I still don't understand why seconds quirk causes this when in reality it shouldn't and I don't think this will even hurt shigaraki as much like the guy was experimented and tortured to handle this stuff?!?! Was it worth it? Like is it worth it giving shigaraki all these free power ups?

6) what's the point here? Like are they becoming the same person?!?! What do you mean by their memories merging together and becoming one? Why is it happening? This doesn't truly make sense because what is the end result are they gonna be all fine and dandy because they both saw eachothers lives or something? Also this feels like another way to develop a heavily underdeveloped dynamic like shigaraki has stated that he wants destruction so shouldn't he just destroy all the memories because he wants destruction and that's it. What does izuku or shigaraki benefit from this and wouldn't it just leave them with more damage than it should? Also I mentioned this before but how is this happening like I get shigaraki seeing Izuku's memories but why is izuku seeing shigarakis it's not like shigaraki has shared his DNA with Izuku so what's going on. Also the relations with the league is way too underdeveloped when it comes from shigaraki so what's the purpose of this? It feels like I stead of actually giving us more story we are going down in memory lane and horikoshi is just drawing better versions of his old manga panels

With all the criticizing over I must admit that I liked that this chapter had the vestiges especially EN realise how much izuku actually respects them and how smart he is for the way he uses their quirks. I also liked that we at least got some povs from everyone and how this was a very quirk focused chapter but that's about it really.

[thedelusionreaderbitch]

Jesper Fahey x gn! Reader - Efficiently spontaneous

A/n: Minors go away, read my other fics for your innocent eyes! (Also, this one has been sitting in my drafts for a while now, and I do remember editting it but I couldn’t be bothered to do it again. So I don’t know how proofread it really is!)

Summary: Jesper has too much energy before a job, you’re sent in to fix the problem

Warnings: MDNI, smut, begging, anal fingering, slight exhibition kink, dirty talk, slightly possessive reader, sub! jesper, dom! reader, edging, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, shitty aftercare, reader is neurodivergent and it written that way because I am neurodivergent, swearing, I think that’s it? You have been warned!

The Three P’s:

[Pronouns used: you/your] [Pov: 2nd person] [Pairings: (romantic!) jesper x reader, (mentions platonic!) crows x reader/jesper]

Jesper is babbling your name out like a baby as you fuck him ever so slowly with your fingers. You’ve managed to find that little glad not too long ago and it had him regretting the promise he made to you not to come. 

With your other hand you pulled his hair up as he moaned against the cold night. You were very thankful that Ketterdam had decided to rain today, sometimes Jesper could be shy, and you didn’t want him to be. Which for Jesper would’ve been weird if it weren’t for the fact you were in a shitty motel right now, on a job where anyone could hear you. 

Even for Jesper this was different, because sometimes he pretended like he still had dignity left to save. 

You were going to make him scream louder than the thunder. 

“Please, please, please!” He sobs as you press down on his prostate harder, before thrusting into it abruptly making him gasp. 

“I’m gonna-” 

You slapped his ass as he trembled on his hand and knees. “If you come Jesper, I won’t let you stop. I’ll make you come until you’re screaming at me to stop.” You lean down to nip at the cuff of his ear. “And then I’ll make you come some more.” 

Whimpering, Jesper shook his head, the dirty talk certainly not helping his situation. Then, at the same time you pressed against his prostate while gripping his cock. The moment you touched his dick he was gone, as he let out a low moan and his eyes rolled to the back of his head in ecstasy. You were sure he was seeing stars.  

Again, he’s left gasping as you rapidly rub at his cock and he falls to his elbows at the movement. 

It doesn’t take long for him to orgasm again, he was so sensitive after the first one. But then again, it doesn’t take long for him to orgasm another time after that too. 

When he’s gaining on four you know this might be his last, because right now he’s truly a blubbering, sobbing, moaning, mess. 

“Too much!” He screams, without uttering your safeword, as your fingers find his ass again. “I can’t-” He’s fucking sobbing at full volume as the rain starts to fall to a small drizzle. He’s too fucked out to care though, and it makes you grin coyly, the whole of Ketterdam was going to know who he belonged to. Jesper Fahey was yours, and you would never let anyone take him. 

“Tell me who you belong to.” You whispered in his ear, as tears ran down his cheeks. “Tell me!” You hissed with a harsh thrust of your fingers when he doesn’t say anything. 

Crying he bobs his head up and down as he screams. “I’m yours!” He screams, surely waking the people in the rooms around you. “Fuck- I’m yours, Y/n, I’m yours!” 

You a let out a sigh and run a hand down his cock, leaving him shivering at the contact. “Good boy.” You start to praise the man underneath you. “You’ve been so good, can you be even better? Can you cum for me one last time?” You question him, as you continue to spread him with your fingers, knuckle deep as your other hand is preoccupied with stroking him. 

He lets out a howl, before cumming all over himself and the bed sheets for the last time that night. In wonder you watch as all the pent up tension releases from his body, giving you time to admire every inch of Jesper. The sharpshooter never seemed to loose that glow, it clinged to him like sunlight to the moon. He was like a miracle, one you would never let go of. You were a criminal not a saint, you were going to steal every inch of Jesper until it was all yours. 

You wait for a few more moments, letting yourself gaze down at your lover for a few more minutes while he calms himself enough. When his breath finally even outs you let yourself speak. 

“I can I touch you?” 

Jesper only laughs, before replying with a quick yes, as you go to pull the man into your lap. 

“I’ll have to clean you up soon.” 

Jesper groaned, wrinkling his nose slightly at the mess the two of you, or well, mostly him, had made. Usually the both of you wouldn’t do anything without knowing you had the proper tools of cleaning everything up. You could be a clean freak, and didn’t like your routine to be broken. Even for sex, the one time Jesper tried to have sex with you spontaneously you had a nervous breakdown. Never again. 

Jesper lived spontaneously, jumping from one thing to the next, always acting so recklessly. Somehow the two of you fit together like missing puzzle pieces, sure, you still hated when your schedule was put off, and Jesper still had a bad habit of jumping too quickly, but the two of you together made it better.

“Ya, looks like we’re going to be having some limited options.” Jesper turns in your lap so he can raise an inquisitive eyebrow at you. “On that topic what brought all this on, you don’t usually like doing things on the go, so I’m very surprised.” 

You give a deadpan look towards your boyfriend. “Kaz knew you would have too much pent up energy before this job so he asked me to... deflate you. I’ve had this planned since last week.” 

“Kaz asked you to have sex with me!” Jesper shouted, as you rolled your eyes at him. 

“No, I just knew this would be this would be the most efficient way to see it through. Probably, Kaz wanted me to play a game of cards with you, but this is my revenge on him deciding I was bait last heist.” You shrugged your shoulders. “I also knew you had an exhibition kink, and I liked the idea of everyone knowing that you shout my name when you cum. So, I think I win.” 

Jesper blinked at you, once, twice, before letting laughter bubble out of him like an overflowing tub. 

“How do you give the worst, yet best aftercare? Saints, I love you.” He chuckles, while placing his head on your chest. 

“I love you too.” You respond, yet holding yourself back from finishing it with something even sappier. 

Don’t you ever forget it. 

Words 1074

-thedelusionreaderbitch

Grishaverse taglist: @kaqua @rika90 @thefandomplace @musical-theatre-obsessed-dumbass @gallysonegoodlung @navs-bhat @sumsebien @dontjudgeabookbythecover @brekker-zenik @alohastitch0626 @brekkers-desigirl @emmsamultifan06

(if smut’s not ur thing or if YOU ARE UNDERAGE please tell me to take you off the taglist and I can make two separate ones!)

[tmwcs]

Masterlist (Not for minors)

- Heeseung-

My Girlfriends Roommate / MGR (1st arc of series) Chapter 1 - Mmkay Chapter 2 - Oooooookaaaaay Chapter 3 - Getting there Chapter 4 - Almost Chapter 5 -Oh damn Chapter 6 - ........ Chapter 7 - Here we go Chapter 8 - Omg theres fluff Chapter 9 - Fluff, fluff, fluff, and fluff. Chapter 10 - OMFG Its finally happening!!! 18+ Only Chapter 11 - ...THE HELL!?!! O...M...G 18+ Only Chapter 12 - DAFUQ!!!? ERMAHGAWD!! JDASHWGEI!!!!! 18+ Only --End-

MGR SMAUS:

Vicky's Roommate

Knowing me, Knowing you Part 1

Knowing me, Knowing you Part 2

Its not enough Part 1

Its not enough Part 2

Frustration

Wont you say my name?

!!!!!!!!Netflix and Chill SMAU should be the very last smau to read after reading all the other smaus (to include in MRE and HHP) because the references in it will be too confusing. I highly recommending reading MGR at the very least before reading this SMAU as well. it's very sentimental and also..there's tension that hits deep that can only be felt once you read MGR. Enjoy.

Netflix and Chill Part 1 - Read after all SMAUS in all arcs first and MGR

Netflix and Chill Part 2 -Read after all SMAUS in all arcs first and MGR

Netflix and Chill Part 3 - Read after all SMAUS in all arcs first and MGR

My Roommates Ex / MRE (Sequel to MGR, 2nd arc of the same series/universe)

Chapter 1 - Oooooh the fluff be strong in this chapter

Chapter 2 - Drama, drama, drama.

Chapter 3 - Let the juiciness commence. 18+ only.

Chapter 4 - This made y'all go crazy a little bit, huh?

Chapter 5 - Don't say I didn't warn you. Let me know what you guys think of this chapter, its one of my favorites actually. (18+ only)

Chapter 6 - Let me know what you guys think of this one. This is the last chapter for this arc, working on the third arc of the same series as we speak along with MT. (18+ Only)

MRE SMAUS:

Olive Juice Part 1

Olive Juice Part 2

Say it again and move with me

What is "it" ??

Send me a selfie or else...

I worship you.

Why are you not answering?

I need you

You really wanna know?

One and Only...

Give and take back

Unknown Number

Group Chat Part 1

Group Chat Part 2

Car Door

His and Her Perspectives / HHP (Sequel to MGR/MRE, 3rd arc of the same series/universe)

Chapter 1 - Yay first chapter! (18+ Only)

Chapter 2 - Heeseung/Ethan POV on you, omg such a beautiful chapter. (18+ only)

Chapter 3 - Just another day in the life of you and MGR/MRE/HHP Heeseung. Only for those that are 18+ older. Adults, enjoy!

Chapter 4 - Enter beotch Tiff, you guys aren't going to like her at all and she is based off of a very unpleasant person that was rude to a friend of mine back in HS. so yeah. 18+ only for this chapter so minors, pass over on this one pls.

Chapter 5 Part(s) 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, and 10. - sorry this is divided into so many parts, tumblr was acting up and would not let me paste anything beyond 1k words at a time for some reason.

Chapter 6 Part(s) 1 , 2, 3, 4,

Chapter 7 -

Chapter 8 -

Chapter 9 -

Chapter 10 Part(s) 1, 2, 3

Chapter 11 Part(s) 1 , 2 , 3, 4 OMG......This chapter i swear to God.

Chapter 12 Part(s) 1, 2 .....aaaah...redemption.

Chapter 13 Part(s) 1 , 2, 3. (Part is adult rated MDNI)

Chapter 14 Part(s) 1, 2, 3. - PLEASE understand that this is a very dark and twisted chapter. Heethan is PISSED and he's not in the right mind and shit just got real. but read the warnings bc Eden even gets back at Tiff....in a very brutal way. (recall her warning to her in earlier chapter when Tiff tried to confront her in the campus building) so please read at your own risk (it's still a good read)

HHP SMAUS:

Come rain or shine

Vegan Food

Good at acting :P

The Sun and the Flower

Ethan's hungry

Jealous

Feeling a little lonely

Freaks

Blood and Carnage

MGR/MRE/HHP One shots

Halloween Part 1

Halloween Part 2 - coming soon

Jealous - coming soon

Needy

Shark Week

Mermaids Tale (New series)

Chapter 1 - Slay! You are the Daughter of the Seven Seas

Chapter 2 - Whoo hoo! Chapter 2! I really like this story guys.

Chapter 3 - Yay its finally here! there's alot to this chapter, please feel free to send anon asks or message me if you need me to explain because alot of historical (made up, mythological) references are in this one.

Chapter 4 - Coming 05/31

Upcoming:

You're a fan. I'm a fan. - One shot (maybe a couple chapters long) but is going to be good. Smut writers, this one is for you guys. (hintity hint hint)

[hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog]

Tell me about Dean falling in love with a girl who has long covid - maybe they met when he saved her from a monster and they became friends, she occasionally helps him with research or patches him up if he gets hurt. He doesn’t hear from her for a while, and when he goes to check on her, he finds out she’s in the hospital with Covid - a monster he can’t save her from. He realizes he loves her, but may lose her. After she gets out he keeps coming to check on her because he knows she tires easily/has trouble breathing at times.

@deans-spinster-witch thank you for this ask. Actually thank you all that submit asks or sent me story prompts, I am going to get to them all, but I thought this one would be a good place to start.

First let me start off with my disclaimers:

1) I haven't see the last few seasons of SPN, so I don't know how they addressed COVID, if they did at all. So think of it as alternative timeline, not really canon.

2) My COVID representation is probably not 100% accurate, either by the reader symptoms or that I don't mention Dean wearing a mask or that he was able to be in the hospital with the reader.

3) I just POV and I think I may have jump from 2nd to 3rd person writing? I did my best to correct it, but sometimes I can't seem to correct it. Also did my best with editing, but I am sure I missed something. Flashbacks are bold italic and internal thoughts are just italic.

4) I am not sure if this is 100% what you were looking for. It does end on a cliffhanger, so I will be posting a second part. It was getting hella long coming in at 7,500 words. 😬 sorry.

5) swearing, hints of past trauma that we may get more in the second part. Self doubt/hate. Angst heavy!

Okay think that's it. It's a Y/N x Dean focus story with Sam making an appearance via phone. Characters are not mine but the work is. So please don't post as your own.

Feel free to like, reblog, send me feedback in the comments. And if you have a story idea, send it my way via asks or message. Or if you want me to tag you on my work let me know.

Okay think I have stalled long enough. Here it is, my first story back from 3 year break.

JUST BREATHE-



"Excuse me, sir, you can't be up here." A female voice, strong, laced with exhaustion, mixes with the sounds of the hospital. Doctors are being paged, staff are going in and out of rooms, and machines are monitoring patients. All of it, white noise, too, Dean. Because he can't look away or tear his eyes from what is in front of him. Y/N is lying in a hospital bed, hooked up to a ventilator. What happened? How did it come on so strong and so fast? He had just seen you last week when he came through town on his way to his next hunt. Picking up research that you had done for him since Sam was working on another case in California. You were the best…no, are, you are the best researcher he knows…you have to get better; you can't…

"Sir! I will have to ask you to leave if you're not family. The ICU is only for families." The female voce, insistent on getting him to pay attention to her. Tired, she was just so damn tired of no one listing to her today; she had better things to do than police people about.

"How long has she been here?" Dean asks, his voice firm but slightly wavering. He can't look away, watching as the vent goes up and down, breathing for you. Y/N, come on, you have to pull through; I can't lose you, Dean thinks, trying his best not to break. He prayed to God if he thought it would help if he thought the ass would be listing.

"Sir, I can't give that information if you're not family." Dean looks away from you for a moment, noticing the nurse standing beside him. She is dressed in blue scrubs, her hair pulled back, and a mask on. He can tell she is on her last nerve with him, and he has to win her over. He can't leave you, not now. "So, are you family?" she asks again.

"Umm…" He knew he needed to lie. If he told her that you were just a friend, he would never get answers and would never get back to this floor again. It was dumb luck that he could get your room number out of the receptionist downstairs. He pulled himself together to give her his winning smile and wink. "She's my sister." Clearing his throat, he looked back to you.

The nurse looks down at the chart in her hand. "Miss. Moore didn't have a brother listed as next of kin, but then again, a neighbor brought her in." Looking back up to Dean, he doesn't respond. "How about we go somewhere a little more private to discuss your sister's condition?" She lightly grabs Dean by the shoulder and turns him away from the window and you.

********

Dean did his best to listen to the nurse, but all he really wanted to do was get back to you. It was driving him crazy that he couldn't do anything; this wasn't caused by a demon, monster, or anything in his wheelhouse. You were brought in about a day or two after he had seen you. Your neighbor had come over to borrow something and saw you in the window, passed out on the floor. COVID had hit you hard, and you just couldn't shake it; your lungs filled up so fast with fluids that you passed out.

That was a week ago; you had been in the hospital for a week and on a ventilator. The doctors feel that your body just needs time to fight off the infection.

"She seemed fine when I saw her last; how could this happen?" Dean questions, trying to be as respectful as possible without raising his voice and getting kicked out.

"COVID hits everyone differently; we really don't know why. Some people may never get it, and some…" Not finishing her statement, the nurse looks away from Dean.

"Can I go back and sit with her?" Dean asks, more like pleading with her. He just wants to ensure you're doing alright and stand watch until you wake up. He doesn't know what else to do.

"I am sorry, but no," the nurse replies as kindly as possible. Seeing that he will protest this, she quickly adds, "But, you can come back during visiting hours. You won't be able to go in the room; we have to keep it clean because of COVID, but you can see her from the window." Hoping this will be a compromise he can live with. She doesn't want him to get upset and have to call security and have him escorted out. She can tell he cares for her and is scared.

Dean will take it; he knows he has to. You're the strongest person he knows. You will get through this; you have to. "Alright, I guess I will come back then," Dean says, getting up from the table.

********

Walking out of the hospital, Dean calls Sam to tell him what is happening and that he wasn't leaving until you were back home. Screw the world, let the monsters run amuck, and let demons rain hell on earth; he had more important things to do. "I don't care, Sammy, I am not leaving again. This is the only number you can reach me at, and only you," he says, getting into the Impala and firing it up.

"Alright, Dean. I hear you. Do you want me to come? I am almost done here." Sam offers, knowing that Dean won't take him up on it.

"No, I am good, but thanks. You stay on the West Coast until the world calms itself down." Letting the engine run for a bit, Dean takes a second. This has been the longest they have been working apart. It's been hard on both of them, but at least Dean has you to talk to. He has been leaning on you more since Sam was in California. Could Dean have caused this? Was he asking too much of you?

"Dean, hey, you still there?" Sam breaks through his intrusive thoughts.

Clearing his voice, "Yeah."

"You know, she will get through this. She's going to be okay," Sam says, trying his best to reassure him and get him out of his head because even if they are miles apart, he knows his brother. Dean is blaming himself right now for something that he can't control.

“Yeah, I know… I just… what if I…..”

"No, don't think like that, and don't think you had anything to do with this happening." Sam quips back, knowing where his brother's thoughts are going, and he will not have him spiraling out.

"But I ask so much of her. You know she will never say no. Even when she has other things to do, she always drops everything when I ask for a favor. God, I am such a user…"

"No, you're not. Y/N is strong, and she said she would tell you if she didn't want to do something. She wants to help; she thrives on researching this stuff, and you know it." Sam states, "Come on, you know she would rather research lore or listen to one of your 'tales from the front lines,' as she likes to call them, any day of the week."

The thought of you saying these words to him as you patch him up, 'Alright, Dean, what tales to do we have this time?' or how your voice would be giddy when he called you about a case he found. "Yeah, you're right, Sam," Dean replies. Feeling a bit better after talking with Sam, he always knows how to keep him from spiraling too much.

"I know I am; now go get some rest. She's going to need you when she wakes up."

"Night brother"

After hanging up the phone, Dean didn't want to go to a hotel or bar, but he was now wired and needed to do something. Pulling out of the parking lot was second nature, and he found his way to your driveway.

Sitting there, looking at the modest, two-bedroom, two-bath house, he would consider a second home for as much time as he has spent there. It was odd to think about walking through that door and you not being there. When getting out of the car, the sound of the door opening and closing is the only noise that breaks up the silence of the night. Taking a few steps, Dean stops himself from knocking like he usually does. Habit, he thinks. Pulling his keys out, he flips until he finds the one for your house.

It was an argument you had won, not that he didn't want a key. Of course, he did, but he didn't want it to fall into the wrong hands should something happen.

"No, I don't need a key, Y/N," Dean protest, not wanting to have this conversation right now.

"Yes, you do; now take it." You say, holding out the key for him to take.

"I don't need it; you're always here. Why would I need to get into your place when you're not here?" he questions. Finishing off his beer, he gets up from the couch and heads toward the kitchen. "You want another one?" he asks, trying to change the subject.

You get up and follow him. "Don't change the subject, Winchester," you say, following him and sitting on a kitchen stool. What if I wasn't home tonight?"

Tossing the empty bottle in the recycle bin and turning to face her, he can tell by the severe look on your face that this is an argument that he won't win. But why make it easy on you. "But you were," giving you a smirk, he opens the fridge to pull out two more bottles. "Besides, where would you be on a Friday night? You have a hot date I don't know about?" he questions. Handing one of the bottles to you.

He struggles slightly to open the bottle with his left hand since his right is currently in a sling. After putting his shoulder back into place and stitching him up, you open the beer in your hand, hand it to him, and take the other one from him. "Maybe," you say cryptically, a twinkle in your eyes.

"Really? Didn't know you were dating anyone?" Dean is slightly put off by this. It's not that someone would want to date you; it's the opposite. You're beautiful, and he always wonders how you were still single after all this time. Intelligent and funny, any guy would be lucky to call you his. Heck, he would like to call you his.

"I am not," you say, putting him out of his misery and his slight spiral of another guy touching her, kissing her… But I could still be out. Do you want to be sitting out in your car waiting for me to get home?" you question, pushing the key towards him. "Just take the dam key. It's only a key. I am not asking you to move in with me."

If you asked him that, he would say yes in a heartbeat. But the reality of his life, what he and Sam do for a living, gives him pause to take the key. "I just don't want anyone else to get their hands on it."

"Who, like Sam? Of course, you can give a copy to Sam." You joke, knowing what he's getting at but trying your best to keep this conversation light.

"No, not Sam. I am thinking Crowley, another demon or monster, or worse, Lucifer. I would hate for anyone other than Sam or me to get their hands on this and come after you."

"Dean, that's not going to happen."

"But it could, you know it could."

Letting out a sigh, you decide to pull out the big guns to get him to take this damn key. "A key is not their first choice to get in. You have put up all the wards you could think of." You say, proving that you are as safe as possible. "Heck, you made me even get this thing." Snapping off your leather bracelet to show off the anti-possession tattoo. "and you know how much I hate needles." The black tattoo shows nicely against your light skin and hides the other barely visible scars.

"Yeah, I found out real quick that day. I think I still have scars on my arm from you digging your nails in," he jokes, bringing his hand up to his wrist to run his fingers around the tattoo and the scars he knows are there.

"Haha, that's real funny." You fake laugh. " Just take it, please. It will make me feel better if you have it." You do your best puppy dog eyes as you push the key closer to him.

Dean takes a moment before caving. "Alright, but I am only going to use it for emergencies." he conceits, taking his keys out and putting your house key on the ring with the rest.

Getting up from the stool, you smile at him, "Thank you, Dean," you say sweetly and hug him.

**

Dean shakes his head, trying to shake the thoughts from that night, as he shuts the door behind him. He stood in the entryway, just taking in the quietness of the house, holding his breath, waiting for you to come down the hallway, saying, ‘Dean, you look like shit; what were you up against this time? Let me get you patched up, and you can tell me all about it.’ Guiding him to the kitchen, you would pull the first aid kit and a beer from the fridge.

Watching these memories play out in front of him, it's not until he lets out a shaky breath that he had been holding that he feels the tears run down his face, "Fuck! Y/N, you got to get better, okay…." choking back, "I can't lose you." The thought of losing another important person in his life. Someone who should have a happy and long life and who, without them, Dean wouldn't be standing here today. He owes everything to you.

Dean can't bring himself to step past the entryway, feeling like an intruder. "I can't…" feeling pressure in his chest, he turns and walks out the door. Locking the door and making the short walk to his car, the pressure subsides once he is in the driving seat. Knowing he can't stay in the house. Too many memories of you and his dark thoughts will keep him up. He also can't put the car in drive and go to the motel just outside of town. It's like his body won't let him leave.

*******

Y/N POV

You were in the hospital for two weeks, and Dean was by your side, or somewhat outside your hospital room, every day, every hour he could be. At least that is what the nurse told you once you were awake. Your 'brother' Dean has been by your side. The first time they told you this, you looked confused, which caused concern from the staff.

"Your brother, Dean," the nurse says again, her voice laced with concern as she points to the window that looks into your room from the hallway.

You turn your head slightly, your body stiff from being in bed for so long, and the breathing tube just being taken out. There you see him, Dean Winchester, raising his hand to give you a short wave, and a look of relief washes over his face, which is covered with a slightly heavy five-clock shadow. You give him a smile and look back at the nurse. "Yeah, sorry, of course, he's my brother. Just didn't know anyone called him?" you reply, "Can I have some water?" you ask, you're throat feeling like sandpaper.

"Sure," the nurse says, filling a cup and handing it to you. "Well, the doctor will be in soon," she says, giving you a short smile and walking towards the door.

"Umm, can my brother come in?" you ask. Knowing that no matter what she says, Dean will make it in here one way or the other. The nurse hesitates. "It's just that I would like him to hear what the doctor says. I am still groggy, not sure I am going to remember everything he tells me," you add, hoping this will pull on her heartstrings just a bit.

Which does work, "Sure." she replies, giving you a smile and then walking out the door. She briefly talks to Dean before walking away, and Dean enters the room.

"Hey, sweetheart," Dean says, shutting the door behind him and walking towards you.

"Hey yourself," you reply. You try to sit up a bit more, but you struggle a bit.

Dean quickly gets to you. " Here, let me," he says, finding the remote for the bed, setting you upright, and then readjusting your pillows. "Good?" he asks once it looks like you're settled.

Feeling slightly embarrassed that he saw you like this, you’re sure you're a mess, bed hair, hospital gowns, and oh man…your breath has got to stink by now, right? Trying your best not to breathe out, "Yeah, thanks." you quickly reply. Dean sits in the chair next to your bed but doesn't say anything. Okay, guess you will start. "So brother, hum?" you quip.

He smiles at this and looks away from you to the bedding. "Yeah, I had to say something; otherwise, they would never let me back in." Then, looking back at you, a slight panic sets in that you might be mad at him for this small lie. " You're not mad, are you?" he asks.

"No, of course not," you reply, wanting to reassure him that everything is fine. This does, as relief washes over him a second time. You hold out your hand for him to take. "Just wonder what Sam will say about having a little sister, that's all. I am sure he will hate being the middle child," you joke.

Dean gives a short laugh: "Oh, Sammy will be all right with it. He will be happy to hear you're awake, is all." Dean's fingers rubbing your hand back and forth are nice.

"How did you know I was here?" you ask, trying to remember the day before you were brought in, but it's all a blur. Was he coming to see you? Was he working on a case?

"I was coming back through, and you had helped me with the case in North Carolina…" lowering his voice, even though you're in a private room," that Dinji." Dean recounts, seeing you not remember. He continues, "I stopped by your place, and your neighbor was out and said you were in the hospital."

None of that is registering at all, like last month, which is a blank slate. Fuck, what else are you not remembering? "And you have been here this whole time?" you ask, wondering what the state of the world must be like if he has taken himself out of saving the world for two weeks! Is Sam okay?

Dean's eyes, bright green, lock with yours, cocking his head slightly to the side, with slight confusion at your shock that he was here the whole time. "Of course, where else would I be? I wasn't going to leave you alone here," he says, a matter of fact.

You're about to reply to this, ask more questions, ask how Sam is, but before you can, the doctor enters the room. "Miss. Moore, welcome back," he says, looking at your chart and then at you and Dean. And this must be your brother?" he asks, holding his hand for Dean to shake.

Dean does, letting go of yours, the loss of him, his touch is apparent. "Hey, doc, when can I take my sister home?" Dean asks.

The doctor starts to talk, but you're not listening; your mind drifts to Dean. He put his life on pause for you? Wow, that's something, but you're sure he would do it for Charlie, Jody, Claire, or Alex, right? Yeah, of course. Dean sees you as family, which is what you are to him; that's what you will always be. Yes, you were close. He and Sam saved you from the vampire nest, explained everything about their world, and gave you a purpose.

You feel a slight pressure in your chest. Now that you're awake, how long will he stay before he leaves again?

"So I will get the nurse to start the discharge paperwork, and you guys should be out of there in a few hours," the doctor says. Giving you a smile.

Not hearing anything but that, you just smile back and look towards the window. You hear Dean thank the doctor, and he leaves the room. "nice guy," Dean says, filling up the silence.

"Yeah," you reply. You’re not sure what you are feeling; it's almost like a weight on your chest, pressure. Maybe it is COVID; it will be better once you get home. It has to, right?

******

You didn't know Dean could fuss over you more if he tried. He insisted that he be the one to wheel you out of the hospital, only after he made sure the car was pulled up as close to the door as possible so you didn't have to walk too far. Then, when he pulled into your driveway, he insisted he carry you the short walk to the front door.

"No, Dean, I can walk. My legs aren't broken; I had COVID, that's all." you quip back as he comes over to your side of the car to pick you up.

"The doctor said you shouldn’t over-exaggerate yourself, that's all," he replies, trying again to wrap his arms around your waist and pick you up from standing against the closed car door.

You block his hands again. As much as you would like his arms around you, have him cradle you; where is this coming from? You also don't want him to hurt himself, or God forbid the neighbors see him carrying you bridle style. "Yeah, walking the three feet to my front door is not going to kill me." This comment is like a punch in the gut for Dean; it's written on his face. Shit, was my COVID scare that much of an effect on him? But why? Trying to write your wrong, you try to play it off. "Come on, man, I have been on my back for two weeks and must move a little bit." You quip back. Playfully pushing him aside and walking towards the door.

You get to the door but realize you don't have your keys, you didn't have those, or your phone when you were brought into the hospital. You wait for Dean to come up behind you. He doesn't say anything, pulling out his keys; he opens the door and lets you walk in first. You shuck off your jacket and shoes and go to the living room. Sitting on the couch, you try to hide the sigh of exhaustions that you feel from the small activities you just did; but it slips past your lips and is not lost on Dean.

"Want me to make you some tea? You hungry?" Dean asks.

"No, I want you to tell me what's happened since I was in the hospital. Did all the evil in the world decide to take a break while I was out, and that's how you got to have some time off?" you question, motioning him to sit next to you on the couch.

Dean shrugs at this, "No. I just told Sam I was taking myself off the board, is all." he says casually.

"Taking yourself off the board? Hum, I didn't know you guys could do that," you ask, Giving him an intuitive look.

Dean is giving you nothing back, shaking his head, looking around the room, and clapping his hands together. He points towards the kitchen, "I am going to make that tea for you." He walks away before you can stop him, leaving you to your thoughts. Something else is happening, and you know who to call to get the truth out.

******

Making that call seem more complicated than usual since Dean didn't leave your side for anything. Three days, three days of hovering and mothering you, and as much as you care for Dean, and possibly secretly loved him. Let's face it, those chest tightening pains at the hospital, the loss of his touch was not COVID symptoms, it was your heart telling you what you already knew. You were in love with Dean Winchester, and the fact that he dropped everything for you made your head spin and feel like the most important girl in the world. But you are a realist, and Dean Winchester is out of your league. He sees you as the little sister he got settled with, not the girl he wants to kiss and do other things with.

On top of that, you are sure his opinions of you drop a few points since you found out really quick that to pass the time while he waited for you to wake up, he decided to clean your house from top to bottom. The sheer embarrassment when you found out had you want the couch to swallow you up right there. "Excuse me, you did what?" you ask, thinking you didn't hear him right when you ask; the following day, a book you usually had on your coffee table was now on the bookshelf that it was never on.

"I did some cleaning while you were…" Dean says, not finishing that statement while he grabs the few dishes off the coffee table and heads towards the kitchen. He never finishes that statement. Whenever he says it, he never says 'when you were in the hospital' or 'when you were sick.' After three days of the hanging statement, you get frustrated over that.

But knowing he cleaned your house, how clean is clean? Did he do your laundry? Yep! Did he clean under your bed and put stuff away on your nightstand? God forbid he did a deep clean in your closet—oh, the embarrassment. "Why?" you ask, now following him, waiting for an answer that you sure won't come.

Dean has his back to you, rinsing off the dishes before putting them in the dishwasher. "What? It's not a big deal. I had time, plus the nurse thought it was a good idea for you to come home to a clean hose." He says while wiping down the counter.

You try your best to breathe and calm down. Yes, all that is true, a clean house to come home too make sense. But having him go through your personal and private things, fuck, him cleaning your underwear. He will never look at you as desirable again, not like he did before. You look up from the floor to see him watching you, waiting for a reply. "thanks, I guess," you say, defeated. "I am going to go take a shower." You say, needing just a few minutes by yourself, shake off this feeling of rejection you know he doesn't realize he caused.

"You need some help?" he asks, approaching you and walking a step behind you.

You take a second, knowing again that he just wants to help, but God treats you like an old woman. Because you know that his offer of 'helping you out' in the shower does not imply sexy times; it's he saying he thinks you are weak and that you're going to get tired, fall, and hurt yourself. You get to the bathroom door. "No, I got it, thanks," you say, opening the door and shutting it before he can say anything.

*****

Dean POV

I know I am being overprotective, maybe even going overboard with not letting her do anything, and perhaps the deep clean was an overreach. But in my defense, I thought I could lose her, and if she was going to, no, when she was going to come home, I wanted it to be in a clean, COVID-free house.

I turn away from the bathroom door and walk towards the living room. I start to clean up, picking up the discarded blanket from my makeshift bed; even though she has a spare room, it's on the second floor away from her, and I want to be close in case she needs me in the night.

The rigging of my phone pulls me from my thoughts of her. Picking up, I see it's Sam. "Hey, what's up?" I ask, dropping the blanket and myself onto the couch.

"Just checking in, how's Y/N?"

"Good, still low energy, but I am just happy she’s walking and talking, even if I am annoying her."

"You, annoying her, I can't believe it," Sam says, with fake shock. "You know she can take care of herself; she has been doing that for some time now." Sam reminds me. Knowing that my hovering is coming for a place of love for Y/N, but it could be doing more damage than good.

"I know, it's just…" I pause briefly, looking back to see the closed bathroom door. "Sam, she just looked so helpless there lying in the hospital bed, hooked up to those machines…and there was nothing I could do…nothing that could save her…I just had to wait."

Sam knows that's not my strong suit, "I know, I get it, but maybe just ease off a little. I am sure it's making her feel like a burden, you doing everything for her."

"Yeah, you're probably right. I will try."

"I know I am." He clears his throat and paused briefly before asking what he knew I would not want to answer: "So when are you heading back to the bunker?"

I pause momentarily; the idea of leaving you hadn't crossed his mind. "Umm…" Hearing the door open, he looks to see you walking out of the bathroom and down the hallway to your room, wrapped in your navy-blue plaid robe, hair slightly damp from the shower. "Not sure yet, but I will keep you posted. I got to go." I say quickly, hanging up the phone. I know that she can take care of herself, but at the same time, I don't want to leave her again; what if I do and something happens, and there is no one here to save her again. Sam's right, though; I have to back off, or I am liable to smother her.

*****

Y/N POV (about a week later)

Something seems to have changed in Dean in the last few days. It was like the old carefree Dean was back. He hovered less, not watching my every move, and even went on a quick day trip to the bunker to pick up more books for me to read since I had read everything in my place twice, and if I was going to be stuck inside I wanted to do something productive. Granted, I had to ride shotgun on this trip, so although we got out of the house, I was still under his protective eye. But he wasn't babying me anymore; he cracked jokes, smiled, and even complained when I made him watch the same movie repeatedly.

Dean was going on a food run, and this was one outing he didn't let me go on. Too many people, could possibly get sick again, so he didn't want to risk it. But he also hated doing it, leaving you alone. "You're sure you're going to be fine," he asks again, standing in the doorway, you on the other side, trying your best not to push him out and lock the door.

"Yes, Dean, you'll be gone for an hour. I think I can survive." you quip, pushing him playfully, "Go, I promise, no running around the house with scissors or jumping on the bed. I will keep my butt on the couch until you get back."

Dean's worried face slightly softens, knowing that you will be fine, but that pit in his stomach—the thought of him walking out that door again and not having you in his sight—will never go away. "Okay, but call me if you feel off," he reminds you again.

"Yes, now go." You reply with a smile. Yes, he was getting on your nerves slightly, but you still loved the guy for it.

You watch as he pulls out of the driveway and down the road before you head inside. Walking to your room, you find your cell phone charging, and you quickly make the call you've been waiting to make since you got home.

He picked up on the second ring: "Y/N, everything alright? Dean texted me to say he was going on a food run. Do you need him? Are you not feeling well?…" Sam blurts out, a lengthy, run-on statement that has you slightly spinning.

Trying your best not to laugh at him. "Sam, calm down; I am good. I just wanted to talk to my friend. How are you?" you ask, wanting to ease into this discussion. Plus, you really did want to know how he was doing; ever since you came home, you only talked to Sam when Dean would call him and have him on speakerphone. Even then, Sam was instructed not to speak about cases he was working on. Dean had a theory that possibly COVID was stress-induced, but you know it wasn't.

"I am good, making my way back to the bunker. I have a case in Wisconsin, so I'm in your area. I was thinking of seeing you guys once it's done."

"Oh yes, please do, Sam. It's been ages since we've hung out together. I feel like a movie marathon is needed."

"Yeah, if you're up for it. Dean tells me you get tired easily. Is anything else not the same?"

"Umm…brain fog for sure; I lost all memory of the week before I went into the hospital. Some things don't taste the same. But honestly, Sam, can we not talk about me for a bit. Tell me about the case in Wisconsin; what are you hunting this time." You inquire, done talking about yourself, need a distraction, and avoid asking Sam what you want to know.

Sam, being the best friend, a girl could ask for, knew that a distraction from your symptoms was what you needed, and although it would be breaking his promise to Dean, he could hear it in your voice, the need for some kind of normalcy, at least what normal is considered for us. Giving you all the details, you can come to the same conclusion that it was a vengeful spirit and a simple salt and burn job is in order.

Once Sam is done talking about Wisconsin, a lull in the conversation forms, and you look at the clock to see Dean should be home soon. "Sam, can I ask you something?" You feel slightly nervous and try to figure out how to phrase your question.

"Of course, you can ask me anything."

Taking a breath, you wait a second before asking, "How was Dean when he found out I was sick? He said he 'took himself off the board' and has been hovering since I got home. He's gotten better, but those first few days, it was like he was a different person."

Sam can tell by the last statement that you're trying to bring some levity to an otherwise heavy question, a question that he is surprised you have to ask. taking a breath, he thinks about how to say, ‘You idiot, he loves you! and you love him!'

"I am glad to hear that he's lost up the reins a bit," giving a chuckle, "but honestly, Y/N, he was devastated. I know he's my big brother, and he tries his best to hide his emotions, but I could tell that night when he called to tell me what happened, he was scared. Scared that he was going to lose you, scared that he might have caused this to happen to you."

"How could he have caused COVID? I mean, I get he sometimes can have a big ego, but, come on, he can't cause an infection."

"No, but he thinks he has been asking too much of you, wearing you down. I can't say whether he's right or wrong. You and I know you occasionally burn the candle at both ends."

"Yeah, I am trying to get better at that. But Sam, he was treating me like I was 90 years old. He wouldn't let me do a thing around here. And did he tell you he cleaned my house—my whole house—before I got home? I mean everything."

"Oh man, I am sure you were not happy to hear about that."

"Your damn right. I wasn't."

"Look, it's not my place to say, but I will tell you this, remember that night when you and I got a little tipsy, and you might have let slip your feelings for a certain green eye hunter?"

Fuck, of course, he remembers that night; that was right after you had helped him and Dean take down a wraith, and Dean was out on a beer run. "Yeah, you asked me why I never seem to be dating anyone, and I said I can't be with the one guy I want, so why be with the wrong guy at all."

Sam waits for you to connect the dots, and although you're not sitting in front of him, Sam has a feeling you're making the connections: "Let's just say Dean has the same idea, and he has his eye on a hazel eye researcher that he thinks he can't have."

You're about to protest Sam's statement that Dean has no feelings for you other than sibling love, but before you can, you hear the front door open and Dean yelling, "Honey, I am home," sweetly.

"I've Got to go, Sam. Talk soon," you say, and hang up before he can reply.

*********

Sam's words kept rolling around in your mind all night, distracting you from Dean. During dinner, you were quiet, letting him lead the conversation and not making it known when he mentioned Sam might be stopping by in a day or two that you two had talked earlier. "Oh, okay, sounds good." you responded, still thinking, 'He has his eye on a hazel-eye researcher that he thinks he can't have.'

Dean went for girls that were the complete opposite of you, blonde, curves in all the right places without an ounce of fat to be seen, the girl that guys walk across fire for, not the girl that they run into fire to get away from. Not the girl who is socially awkward around strangers, who can put her foot in her mouth easier than anyone, and who has more of a backstory than is worth mentioning. No, Dean goes for simple, noncomplex girls, which makes sense, given his life is entirely of danger and complexity. Why go for a girl to add to it.

Dean can tell your mind is elsewhere, and he is slightly worried that you're lost in your head or that this might be another symptom. "Hey, space cadet, you with me? Because if you're not watching the movie, I will gladly turn it to something we haven't seen twice this week," he jokes, hoping to make fun of the situation.

His voice shakes you from your thoughts, and you look over at him; his eyes have just a hint of worry to them. The blanket across both of you, him in a simple white t-shirt and sleep bottoms, you in gray leggings, tank top, and open cardigan. Perfection, you and Dean cozy up on the couch, not a care in the world, him teasing you about your love of disaster movies, and you forcing him to watch the same one repeatedly, and he does; why? Because he loves you. He loves you like a sister, a friend, someone he cares for, just not someone he’s IN love with.

"yeah, sorry, I think I am just going to go to bed." You shake off that last statement: he's not IN love with you. God, you really know how to cut yourself deep, don't you? Getting up from the couch, you grab your water glass and head towards your room.

Dean gets up with you, "here, let me help you," he says, walking around the couch and placing a hand on your lower back.

This is the last straw, the final statement of his wanting to help you, again treating you like you're helpless. "Stop! Just stop!" you yell, feeling yourself boil with rage you knew you had been keeping at bay. You know his hovering is with the best intentions, but for you, it's blurring the lines between what you want from him and what you know he can give you. Your mind won't let it be accurate even after what Sam told you today.

Dean stops his hands from touching you, standing still like he is frozen in time. "Y/N, hey, I just want to help. You look tired, is all." His voice is soft and sweet.

He’s trying to placate you, like he would a child or grandparent, "Dean, I am fine; I can walk ten feet to my room on my own and not get lost or fall down, okay!" You lock eyes with him and see his face fall, and in that moment, you know that he's hurt; you've only ever yelled at him when you were injured and need him to find you. But that was screaming for him, not at him. You know that you should feel bad for your outburst, you do, but you know that this is not real, that this ideal version of him and you playing house can't last.

"What is wrong? Is this another symptom? Did something happen while I was out?" he asks, wanting to understand your sudden change since this morning. You start walking away from him, wanting to get into your room and away from him, knowing he will get the truth out of you. You don't want to hear his excuses or him placate you even more about why he and you will never be a thing.

You turn halfway down the hall to look back at him, standing there watching you. "No! It's not! I am a capable woman who can take care of herself. Stop treating me like I am dying, Dean! You saved me once; that should be enough for you." Turning back, you reach your door, hand on the handle to open it, when you hear Dean.

"What does that mean?" Dean questions, his footsteps pad against the hardwood floors, standing right behind you; you can feel his breath on your neck, "I know you are capable; you are the strongest woman I know." his voice low, sending shivers down your body, you feel his hand on your arm, turning you around to face him. He sees your tear-stain cheek, "Fuck, Y/N, talk to me; what is going on? Why would you say saving you once was enough?"

Your eyes, trying and failing to hold back the tears, are now on the brink of spilling out. He needs to just let you go. You lean back against the door, knowing he took that little movement as exhaustion, and you are. You are exhausted by talking about this repeatedly, tired that he just can't let you leave, won't give up, and will go back to seeing you only when he needs something. He needs to go back to his life and let you put him back into the box of things that you don't let yourself have. Taking a breath, you run your hands over your face, wiping the tears and pushing them back inside. Putting on your brave face, "You know, Sam will be here in two days. I think you should go back with him. Go back to the bunker, and 'put yourself back on the board.'"

Throwing his line back at him, telling him he needed to return to work and that you would be fine without him. Will you, though? In time, maybe? You turned the door handle and stepped into the room, never breaking your eye contact with him. He shut the door in his face and flipped the lock, not giving him a chance to speak, knowing that he would not force his way in.

To be continued

[svechnikovvv]

missing you

pairing: jack hughes x fem!reader

warnings: tooth-rotting fluff

summary: as much as jack loved the lake house, he loved you more and can’t wait for his vacation to end.

a/n: i keep making drafts and accidentally posting them 💔

masterlist: here

jack loved spending two weeks at the lake house with his family and friends every year, but he missed you. you were supposed to tag along with him and trevor, but something came up last-minute with family, so you had to head back home. luckily though, you arrived back in jersey two days before jack was supposed to return, meaning you’d pick him up at the airport.

the whole plane ride to jersey, jack was antsy. trevor had noticed, too, and kept reprimanding his friend.

“relax, hughes. you’ll see y/n soon.”

“i need her now.” trevor sighs, knowing that nothing he says will help the boy.

when the plane finally landed, jack could’ve screamed of joy. he was one of the first few people to rush off the plane, and trevor struggled to keep up with him. he stood anxiously at the baggage claim, wanting his suitcase to get to him as quick as possible. when he has it in his possession, he scouts out for you in the crowd. when he spots you, he nudges trevor.

“watch my stuff.”

“what? why?”

“i need to say hi to my girl,” he responds in a ‘duh’ tone. jack then runs over to you and picks you up, spinning you around. he didn’t care how many people were giving him looks, he missed his y/n. you were laughing at his eagerness and he swears he could listen to your laugh forever. he then sets you down and rests his head in the crook of your neck.

“hi j. i missed you.” he hums against your skin

“missed you so much more.” you two bask in each other’s embrace. you both weren’t one for pda, but being away from one another for two weeks made you needy.

“yeah, just leave me in the dust.” trevor grumbles, you pull apart to look at him.

“z!” you say, giving him a side hug, which he reciprocates.

“hey y/n. everything okay with your fam?” you gave him a nod, then returning back into jack’s arms. your back was to his front as his arms were around your neck.

“you boys hungry?”

“mm. i could kill for some pizza right now.” trevor says and you look up at jack. he breaks out of his trance.

“sorry, what?” both you and trevor laugh

“are you hungry?” he nods

“okay, pizza it is.” trevor rushes out the airport, eager to get his food and you and jack linger behind.

“i’m so glad you’re home.” you tell him and he looks down at you, smiling. he holds up your entwined hands to his lips and presses a kiss to the back of your hand.

“me too.”

tags: @goldenbrokenheart @lhugh @alhanna05 @i-padfootblack-things @fanboysfangirl @hughesx3 @austinbutlerscaresme @theywantedplayer @l0veforhugh3s @jackhues

a/n: 2nd person pov is growing on me. also, nico and jamie have been added to the tag list google form!

[ultfreakme]

Can I ask, what songs that come to your mind when you think of ItaJun, AkaFuri, and ZukKa?

I am SO GLAD you asked I have songs specifically for them and I have so many.

ItaJun

THEY HAVE A(basically) OFFICIAL ONE!!! It's:

Stand in The Darkness ft. Steve Memmolo:

I don't even need to explain this one, this is 100% Yuuji's POV on Junpei and it is SO ROMANTIC WTF just listen to it Anon you will see.

"But you and I'll be

As one forever

It's not goodbye

Never was

Swear that you'll still watch over me

I know I can do this"

I WILL BE WALKING INTO THE OCEAN WHAT? The entire song is exactly about Yuuji failing to save Junpei and his new goal of finding a proper way to die and give people proper deaths. "Swear that you'll watch over me"???? ITADORI YUUJI START EXPLAINING.

Sunset and Whale by Zhang Yuan and Vicky:

I don't know the exact meaning of this song, I can't find good translations anywhere but the gist of it is, it's about the beauty found in brief moments that you want more of but doesn't linger too long .

A whale surfaces for air in sunset and admires the light reflected on the waters, but the whale is tethered to the ocean, it cannot stay and watch the sparkle for long, and the sun will have to sink. Whatever beauty is found is fleeting, the universe and the people go on, without ever pausing to care, time doesn't stop, but that moment existed and it's real and you are always asking for more but there isn't.

I think that sums up ItaJun quite well doesn't it?

I Really Want To Stay At Your house by Rosa Walton:

It's technically a break-up song, but it's also used as an OST after a person dies so it works. I am interpreting it as about being too little too late to help someone and desperately trying to fix things to being back the way they were.

The singer notices signs of their lover having problems, but they reminisce about better times, trying to bring their lover out of whatever is dragging them down by asking their point of view,asking to stay beside them, to leave behind whatever is eating at them. But it doesn't work. Reminded me of Yuuji and Junpei's talk at the riverside, and Yuuji going over to his place and for the briefest moment Junpei was reaching back.

Zukka

Untouchable by Taylor Swift

It's so on the nose. Untouchable because you're brighter than the sun? Oh yeah. The night and moon imagery are the Zukka staple imo. But I need to find another one T.Swift just irks me these days.

Moonlight by Johnald

This is more relevant to my fic. It's super angsty. The lyrics have absolutely no relation with Zukka but the vibes got to me. It's about the despair the singer feels but finding hope and moments if goodness in their lover. Feels very Zuko POV of Sokka.

I Don't Dance from High School Musical

Chad and Ryan are just a Zukka AU.

AkaFuri

Sukidakara by Yuika

Super cute, it's a duet but the main version is singular and its like "I don't like you because you're cool, you're cool because I like you ". Also there's another line about hiw the oerson they like is super cool in front of others bur becomes a total sap around little dogs. THAT'S AKASHI. It's so 2nd year AkaFuri. Also "I wanna see you on weekends and fall asleep on the phone with you" is every AkaFuri fic ever.

Achilles's Heel by J.Maya

Akashi POV no doubt. AkaFuri gives such "The Song Of Achilles" Patrochilles vibe. Akashi being afraid of falling in love, hating the weakness it brings not because of himself but because his father won't approve. Although ji wanna say Furi's probably a lot more self-possesed than TSOA Patroclus.

[bonesandthebees]

THE SONG U SUGGESTED IS SO INTNESSEFFGW OGKYGOD IM SO SCAREDDD

PHYTHIA WANNABEE OH FUCKFHALDHDPDJFLKSLRNFKNSD

OHMYFUCKINGGODDD

THATS WHERE U PUT MR BEASTSJFKFKLGLGKSKSFLGG

IM CRYIGNKDJSKG BEEEEE

I started reading it thinking "wow what a deep commentary about the glass society and in turn ours-" before realizing it was mr beast 😭

This song DOES fit so well damn wtf

You know, I think it's interesting that rn the pov is The Pythia rather than Wilbur, even tho he's running away from well "being" the Pythia

There's smth to be said here if i were a much smarter person... lmao

Maybe the pressure of everything and being faced with his old name makes him revert back to it

Also I just had to run to catch the bus, 10/10 running music, made me run faster i think LMAO

Oh no

THE LUNGS

OH NO

IS THAT WHAT YHE VISION WAS ABOUT?!?!?! OHMYGOD NOOOO

THE MSUCIDS GETITNG MORE ITNENSE THIS FITS TOO WELL

IS

IS TOMMY GOING TO SUGGEST

IS TOMMY GOING TO SUGGEST HE TAJES HIS BLINFOLD OFF HOLYSHTI OHMGYDO WHAYRJGUVK ISHFPEURKF

IM GONANA SCREAMMMSHFLDKF I CANT DO THIS IM ON A PUBLIC BUS OHFNUCMGNFIFJGOKDR

HOLY FUCKING SHIT OHMUGUPD

THIS IS DEF ONE OF MY FAV CHAPTERS OHKYGOD THIS IS SO GOOD BEE

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

OHMYFUCIJGIGOGOD I CANT DO THSI INCANT DO THIS

Im going to be sick. Im going to be sick IM GOINY-

BEE.

HOLFYCUKHIGODIDKPAOEFODPIDFOJFLDHFOFHSOFBDKFBDOFBFKGKFLF

THIS WAS NOY HOW I EXPECTED THE FIRST EYE CONTACR IN YEARS TO GO NOOO PHFJJGUDOS OHKYGOD I CANT I CANT IM GOING TO DIE OHMYGOS I AM GOIGN TO GET A HEART ATATCK AN DPERISH OHMGOD

HES WILBUR AGAIN

WHO THE FU--

OHMYGOD

THEYRE BACK ALREADY?@?$,%*=[*=%

God i can imagien how fucking smug u wrre writing this chaptehrffojgkgjfydofus

I LOVE HIM

THEY MADE IT BACK?!?! NOT WHAT I WAS EXPECTING TBH BUT I'LL TAKE, ILL FUCKING TAKE IT OHMYGOD

U DIDNT KILL HIM WILBUR ISTG ITS OKAY OUT OF EVERYONE FOR U TO LOOK IN YHE EYE HE WAS RHE 2ND BEST

I say 2nd best bc phil is pretty much dating death so- DHFKD

Im goingnto cry

THE UNDERWORLD

HES STILL WILBUR

I dont even know how i wanna react, idk if i wanna keysmash, scream, swear, or cry ohmygod

:( ive been waiting for this moment but also FUCKKK tbis is painful im gonna cry on this bus i can feel it sgfjfnf

I love tommy so much ohjygod

Glass tommy mvp :( i lvoe him hes so sweet:(*

And now during this emotional conversation i switch songs

Embarrassingly enough by boyscott is such a good song to listen to while reading emotional scenes in fics

FUCKK I DIDNT FINISH BEFORE CLASS oh well time to read in class amen, im almost done anyway

OOOHBH GOD THIS MIGUTVE BEEN A MISTAKE I WANNA CRY AT THEIR HUG OHHHHMJGODJDJFJDKD

Ohmygod

Tommy:(

Ohmygor

Ohmgydo

I am not okay

I am not okay

Ooooooohhhh my gosh:((((((

WHERE'S THEIR DAD, WHERE'S PHIL, HE'LL KNOW HOW TO FIX THIS, SURELY

Ooohmygod

ITS NOT THEIR FAULT!!!

Though, them not telling phil and tech about the vision is, but i dont think it would've changed anything ooohmygoodness my heart hurts:(

Bee blz how could u

(This was a fucking amazing chapter though holyshit, this is gonna be one of those scenes i reread over and over again ohmygoddd)

very glad you guys are all liking the song. it's such intense chase scene vibes and I think the electronic beats really makes it perfect for the glass universe. there was another song from the same movie soundtrack I debated listening to but then I tried to write to it and was like hmm no container park is a better track instead

well the mr beast moment is supposed to be an example of the dystopian capitalist hellscape that exists in the glass universe, and dystopian settings are meant to be exaggerated versions of the society we currently live in to point out the flaws so yeah it is commentary lol. I have a lot of feelings regarding mr beast and the contrast between the philanthropic work he does while simultaneously exploiting people's financial struggles for entertainment but that's a discussion for another day

LMAO not listening to the song while running to the bus 😭

I am so sorry for your heart rate very glad it invoked the right emotions though :) I was very smug writing this entire chapter

phil is out having a business meeting he'll get to deal with this mess in the morning

I'm so happy to hear you enjoyed!! I struggled a lot writing this bc I hate writing action scenes as you know, so I kept second guessing if the pace was good or not the entire damn time but I'm pretty happy with how it turned out in the end

[no-fate-but-what-we-make]

As Intimate As Chocolate Cake

Pairing: Sweet Pea x female!reader [2nd-person pov]

Word Count: 3.3k

Rating: T for swears; no warnings

Description: When Toni is put in charge of the new menu for the Whyte Wyrm, she decides to use the opportunity to set up two of her friends

A/N: Loosely based off a scene from Hart of Dixie season 4, episode 5: Bar-Be-Q Burritos, where George and Annabeth are set up on a date by their friend Lemon

Disclaimer: I’ve only seen up to parts of season 3 of Riverdale, therefore I know nothing about the current seasons and what has transpired, so there will be no spoilers. Also, this was written with minimal editing, so any errors are accidental. Gif credit to the owner, as it is not mine.

- - -

Cheryl Blossom walked into Pop’s, looking for Toni, but instead she found someone else.

Two someones, actually.

You’d been enjoying your strawberry malt and fries all by yourself when Sweet Pea had decided to join you without warning.

“Careful now - rumor has it if you drink too many strawberry milkshakes in one sitting, you’ll wake up as a strawberry.”

You couldn’t resist the urge to roll your eyes, dunking a pair of fries in the malt before bringing them to your lips. “Thank god this is a strawberry malt then, or I’d be fucked.”

He sat down in the booth across from you without asking, grabbing a fry before you could pull them away. “Milkshake, malt - same thing.”

“Nope,” you replied, popping the p. “Malts have malted milk powder; milkshakes do not.”

Sweet Pea pulled a face at that. “And why would you want that?!”

You shrugged. “Personal preference.”

“Weirdo.” 

You looked up to give Sweet Pea a piece of your mind at that, but found him smiling instead. It was rare to see a smile from the Serpent, and seeing it made something that felt awfully like desire pool in your stomach. You ignored it, taking a sip of your malt while you gathered your thoughts. “Wow, a compliment? If I didn’t know any better, I’d think the world was ending.”

Sweet Pea snagged another fry, popping it into his mouth, the smile turning into a smirk. “Who knows? It might be.”

“Guess we’ll find out.”

Before you could respond to that, Cheryl interrupted. “Well, well, well. Fancy seeing the two of you here. And looking chummy, no doubt. What’s so funny?”

“The end of the world,” you quipped, causing Sweet Pea to snicker and you couldn’t help joining him. 

“Haven’t you looked outside, Cheryl? Pigs are flying!”

Cheryl let out a huff, shaking her head. “Ignoring all that,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand, “have either of you seen Toni? She said she would meet me here, but I can’t seem to find her.”

“Whyte Wyrm?” Sweet Pea supplied. “You know she’s been spending all her free time there ever since she became part owner.”

“I just didn’t think she’d get so caught up in it that she’d forget about date night!”

“Have you tried calling her?” You suggested, regretting it when Cheryl fixed you with a glare.

“Of course I’ve tried calling! She didn’t pick up and I-”

Just then, the door to the Chock’lit Shoppe opened, the bell signaling a new customer. The three of you turned to see Toni Topaz making her way over, pulling Cheryl in for a hug and a kiss. “Sorry I’m late,” she murmured. “Got a bit caught up reviewing the new menu for the Whyte Wyrm’s grand reopening.”

“You’re here now and that’s all that matters,” Cheryl said, her smile returning. “Ta-ta, you two. Don’t get too cozy over there.”

You and Sweet Pea burst into laughter once Cheryl and Toni were seated at the opposite end of Pop’s. “God, she can be so eccentric at times,” you giggled, shaking your head. 

“I don’t know what Toni sees in her, but I’m glad the two of them have each other.”

“She sees in Cheryl what I have since elementary school: a girl with a lot of love to give who just needs someone to see her potential.”

Sweet Pea shot you a look as he grabbed another fry. “If you say so.”

“Hey, if I said the same thing about Toni, you’d be defending her, too. Cheryl’s my friend like Toni is yours - we go way back.”

“True.” You were almost taken aback when the Serpent agreed with you. He slid out of the booth before you could process what had just happened, but not before stealing a handful of fries off your plate. “Let me know when you’re here again - I can always get behind free fries.”

“In your dreams, Serpent!” You shouted at his retreating back, no malice in your voice at all. 

- - -

“See what I mean?” Cheryl whispered to Toni, the two of them tucked away in their usual corner booth that surveyed the whole of Pop’s, splitting a milkshake. “There’s definitely something there.”

“Maybe,” Toni drawled, narrowing her eyes as she watched Sweet Pea duck his head and smile to himself when his back was turned from you. “I haven’t seen Sweet Pea look this smitten in a while.”

“Do you think they’d have a chance if we worked our matchmaking magic?”

“What is it you’re always saying? Sometimes the craziest ideas are the most brilliant ones?”

Cheryl smiled, leaning in to kiss Toni. “You’re absolutely right, Tonikins! Shall we start plotting now?”

- - - 

“What’s up, Toni?” Sweet Pea growled into his phone, his frustration bleeding over from one phone call into the next. Fangs had been giving him shit for something and while he was glad to have Toni’s phone call as an excuse to hang up on his friend, he was still pissed.

“What’s up, Sweet Pea, is that I have the perfect solution to your dilemma.”

“What kind of solution?” He paused. “Wait. What’s my dilemma?”

“Nevermind that. Meet me for breakfast tomorrow morning so we can discuss.”

“Discuss what? I’m gonna need more details than that, T.”

Toni couldn’t help but let out a giggle. “All will be revealed tomorrow morning, Sweets. Riverdale Cafetorium at seven sharp - don’t be late!”

She hung up a moment later, leaving a stunned but obedient Sweet Pea in her wake.

- - -

“Cheryl? Is everything okay?” You asked when you answered Cheryl’s phone call. Before she’d met Toni, you and Cheryl spoke on the phone almost nightly; now she rarely called so you figured something had to be up.

“It will be. Meet me in the cafetorium tomorrow at seven?”

“Uh, sure? Why the phone call, though? You could’ve just texted.”

“Just wanted to hear your voice, YN. See you then!”

Nothing was said after that, the line going dead as Cheryl presumably hung up. “See you then,” you said into the void before going back to your nightly routine.

- - -

Toni and Cheryl were already seated at a table when you arrived, the two of them sharing a pastry as Sweet Pea looked on across from them.

“What’s he doing here?” You asked, unable to keep the harshness out of your voice. It was way too fucking early for this and you didn’t even have time for coffee.

“Calm down, dearie. Take a seat.” Cheryl was unusually perky but the tinge of obey me in her voice had you doing just that.

“Yeah, dearie. Take a seat,” Sweet Pea mimicked, and you couldn’t help shooting a glare in his direction. “But really, you two. What is it that was so urgent you couldn’t tell me over the phone last night?”

Toni sat up a little straighter, glancing at Cheryl briefly before she spoke, “Well, because Cheryl and I have a favor to ask. As you know, I’ve been stressing over the reopening of the Whyte Wyrm - particularly the menu - and I was hoping that as my friend,” she looked at Sweet Pea, “and my girlfriend’s best friend,” she looked at you, “that both of you would be willing to come over this weekend for a sample meal.”

“I knew she wanted something,” Sweet Pea leaned back, crossing his arms and muttering under his breath, and you couldn’t help but agree with that statement.

“Of course she did,” you said in the same tone before turning your attention back to Toni and Cheryl. “All you had to do was ask! Of course I will!”

“Me, too. But YN is right - next time just ask us. Not everything has to be a big scheme.” 

His statement shocked you. The two of you hadn’t ever really agreed on much since Toni and Cheryl’s relationship had started, and now you were both agreeing with each other more than once in twenty-four hours? It was almost too much for you to handle. Sure, the two of you were polite and cordial with each other - for the most part - but lately it seemed to be getting out of hand. 

“That’s really good advice, thank you,” Cheryl said, cutting in. “So, we’ll see you Saturday at eight? Oh, and dress real nice. Tonikins and I wanna see what the vibe could be like if we manage to bring in some fancier customers.”

And just like that, Cheryl and Toni stood up in unison just as the bell signaling first period rung, leaving both you and Sweet Pea stunned for the second time.

“Why do I feel like the scheming isn’t over yet?” Sweet Pea asked, turning to look at you.

Your eyes narrowed towards the doors where Cheryl and Toni had just exited. “Probably because it’s not…” Your voice trailed off as your gaze met his and you finally got a glimpse of his face up close and in broad daylight. A flash of his face from last night illuminated by the neon lights of Pop’s crossed your mind, specifically of him grinning as he popped a fry into his mouth. That same desire came flooding back and you knew you had to leave before you did something stupid and make a fool of yourself in front of the Serpent.

“See you Saturday at eight!” Sweet Pea called after you as he watched you walk away, wondering what the weekend had in store.

- - -

You sat in your car, putting the finishing touches on your lipstick and tugging at your dress one more time before taking a deep breath and getting out. After the ambush in the cafetorium by Cheryl and Toni, you’d spent more time than you cared to admit agonizing over your outfit, but in the end it was a no-brainer. You’d worn the dress you felt most confident in, pairing it with strappy heels and light makeup that accentuated your favorite facial features.

Seeing Sweet Pea all dressed up made you stop in your tracks. His version of ‘fancy’ was nice jeans and a button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms. His Serpent neck tattoo was on full display, standing out against the stark white of his shirt.

“Hey,” he said, crossing his arms and drawing your attention back to them. “You ready for this?”

“I guess so. There was never really an opportunity to back out now, was there?”

“Those two make it very hard to say no, don’t they?”

You huffed out a laugh, shaking your head. “Don’t I know it.”

Before either of you could say any more, the door swung open and out stepped Cheryl, clad in her signature red. “There you two are! Come on in! Welcome to the new and improved Whyte Wyrm!”

“You look…nice, by the way,” Sweet Pea murmured as he held the door for you, letting you in first.

A shiver of need raced through you at the feeling of his eyes on your body. You paused, looking back at him and meeting his gaze. “Thanks. You, too.”

Your mouth was practically watering as Cheryl set down a filet mignon in front of you. “And this is our bourbon-maple glaze filet mignon.”

“This looks delicious,” you said, smiling at Cheryl. “Give my compliments to the chef.” Toni stood off to the side, the first time you’d ever really seen her look nervous about anything.

“I gotta say, everything has looked fantastic tonight, Toni, and I’m sure the Whyte Wyrm’s reopening is going to be a huge success,” Sweet Pea chimed in, surprising you. You hadn’t really ever heard him give anyone a compliment, but you figured if anyone deserved a compliment from Sweet Pea, it was Toni.

“Thank you,” Toni murmured, nodding stoically. 

“Well, you both have exquisite taste buds and despite how much you both have grown and changed over the years, I knew I could count on you-”

“Okay, what is going on with you?” Sweet Pea asked, the two of you exchanging a suspicious look.

Toni laughed awkwardly, trying to drag Cheryl away.

“Yeah, what’s so funny?” 

“It’s just that we’ve all known each other for so long…” Cheryl trailed off, realizing her mistake.

“I knew it!” Sweet Pea clapped his hands, more excited than you’d seen him while he was stealing your fries at Pop’s. “I knew it!”

“Knew what?” Toni asked, her turn to look suspicious.

“You and Cheryl are out here trying to get YN and I closer so we can be some weird, messed-up version of the Breakfast Club.”

You let out a groan, shaking your head. “Seriously? Cheryl, you know how I feel about you trying to set me up with people! I thought we agreed you were going to stop doing that after eighth grade.”

Sweet Pea crossed his arms and your attention diverted to his delicious forearms once again. “And that’s why we’re here…this is a scheme within a scheme,” he tutted, giving both Toni and Cheryl a reproachful look.

“Excuse us for wanting to try to get the two of you to see in each other what Cheryl and I see in both of you!”

“This is just like that time Toni and Cheryl left us in the woods for some fucked up bonding experience over our hatred of Weatherbee.”

“Or when they sent us on that futile mission to the abandoned Southside High and we had to hide in the janitor’s closet until they were able to get us out.” Sweet Pea glared at them. “The two of you can be so annoying.”

“So fucking annoying,” you agreed, seething as more memories popped up where you and Sweet Pea had been thrown into situations thanks to Toni and Cheryl’s scheming.

“Do either of you want dessert or not? Cuz if you keep whining, Cheryl and I will just eat it ourselves.”

That shut the two of you up and Toni nodded, satisfied. “Enjoy your filet mignon.”

“We’ll be here,” Sweet Pea said, finally getting a chance to cut into his steak.

“Oh, fuck this is good,” you couldn’t help groaning at the first bite. “I had my doubts about a bourbon maple glaze on steak but this is…wow.”

“Mm-hmm.” Sweet Pea’s hum of approval sent another foreign feeling racing through you. 

You tried to think of another conversation topic, but all you could think of was yet another time you and Sweet Pea had been forced together by either Toni’s or Cheryl’s schemes.

Conversation flowed pretty easily after that, and neither of you paid any attention when Toni slipped in and cleared your plates while Cheryl served a single slice of chocolate cake between the two of you.

The cake was delicious, maple syrup infused into the icing, of course.

“Fuck, this chocolate cake…Wow. You’d think Toni would’ve splurged and given us two pieces,” Sweet Pea shook his head as he brought his fork in for another bite.

“I know,” you agreed, nodding. “It’s like you’re stealing my fries all over again.”

“Ha ha,” Sweet Pea deadpanned, making you giggle. “Doesn’t Cheryl have some weird, fucked up saying for this?”

His question took you by surprise, but you knew exactly what he was talking about, rattling off the phrase as if Cheryl herself was saying it. “It’s the most intimate thing two people can do other than…” You stopped short, your eyes widening as you realized the final word.

Your eyes met Sweet Pea’s, his expression mirroring yours as you both finished the word in unison. 

“Sex.”

The sounds of your forks hitting the fancy china were the only sounds in the room as the two of you processed what had just happened. 

“Are they…?” You started.

Sweet Pea finished. “Trying to set us up?” You nodded and he pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “They better not be.”

“They’re really outdone themselves this time. It’s a goddamn scheme within a scheme within a scheme.”

“I mean, I just don’t understand why they think we would make a good couple. It’s so random and strange - no offense.”

You shrugged, truly unoffended even though you’d have been lying if you said you hadn’t been entertaining the idea all night. “None taken.”

“I’m still not convinced there isn’t more to this scheme.”

“God, I hope not,” you said, resisting the urge to run your hands over your face but you didn’t want to ruin your makeup. “There’s only so many schemes I can participate in during a year and I think I’ve already hit my limit.”

Sweet Pea looked around before leaning in, a smirk on his face. “What do you say we get out of here? We’re not technically dining and dashing because this was free, but I could definitely go for some fries and a chocolate milkshake.”

You didn’t have to be asked twice, dabbing your mouth with your napkin before pushing your chair back and heading out, Sweet Pea instinctively taking your hand in his as the two of you made a mad dash for Pop’s.

“Thanks,” the two of you said in unison as Pop Tate set your malt and Sweet Pea’s milkshake down in front of you, placing a large order of fries in the center of the table. 

“I don’t know how I’m gonna be able to finish all these fries after the meal we’ve just had,” you said, eyeing the basket as you took a sip of your malt.

“I’m sure we’ll find a way if we sit here long enough.”

Your phone vibrated with an incoming text from Cheryl but you ignored it, turning your phone facedown on the table. Sweet Pea did the same and you couldn’t help feeling secretly thrilled that all his attention was now focused on you.

“So,” you started, picking up a fry, “Fancy a trip down memory lane?”

You didn’t think you’d ever seen the Serpent smile as much as he did tonight, and it was starting to affect you. Before tonight, you never would have thought twice about considering someone like Sweet Pea as boyfriend potential, but there was something about both Toni and Cheryl butting into your dating life to bring Sweet Pea in that was making you reconsider. 

You reached for the last fry at the same time he did, your fingers brushing his. You recoiled as butterflies fluttered in your stomach, but it didn’t seem to affect him. “It’s all yours,” Sweet Pea said, gesturing to the solitary fry.

“You sure?” You hesitated. “We could split it.”

Sweet Pea shook his head. “Like I said, it’s yours.”

You couldn’t help the smile that bloomed on your lips as you dunked the last fry into the dregs of your malt. “Maybe there’s more to you than just a Southside Serpent.”

That made him chuckle and duck his head - and in that moment, he had never looked more attractive. “Well, maybe there’s more to you than just Cheryl’s sidekick.”

It was well past midnight when the two of you exited Pop’s, making your way to your separate vehicles.

You stalled at the door to your car, part of you not wanting the night to end. “I…had a lot of fun tonight.”

“Me, too.” Sweet Pea stepped closer and you sucked in a breath. “Maybe, we could do this again without Cheryl and Toni’s interference?”

“I’d like that. Are we counting this as a date?”

“I don’t know. Would you like it to count as a date?”

Not one to shy away from getting what you want, you decided to go for it. “Well, if you were planning to kiss me goodnight if this was a date, then yes, I would like tonight to count as a date.”

Sweet Pea towered over you, his eyes flickering between your eyes and mouth. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears as you stared up at him, waiting for him to make the first move. “I’d never turn down an opportunity to kiss a pretty girl goodnight.”

With that, your lips met in a tender kiss, the promise of something more lingering in the air when you finally pulled away. “Goodnight, YN,” Sweet Pea murmured, his thumb brushing over your cheek as he stepped back. “Get home safe.”

“Goodnight, Sweet Pea.”

[bernraccnt]

give in (wolf x gn! reader)

before u read: LOTS of flirting, 2nd person pov, wolf is thirsty and reader is dying from embarrassment, swearing (mostly from the reader), diane and snake are the best wingmen, slightly longer than i expected for this to me, steamy kissing sesh further in the fic

“gooood morning, beautiful.” you had to hold in your groan as you stepped out of your bedroom, being instantly greeted by wolf walking down the hallway towards the kitchen. “looking especially adorable this morning, i must say.”

you cringed (out of embarrassment? or just at how corny it was? who knows) as soon as he turned away. “does that mean i look ugly every other day?” trying your hardest to play it cool, you followed behind him as you walked through your apartment that you shared with four others.

wolf glanced back with a smile far too wide for it being ten in the morning. “not necessarily, you look adorable every day.”

this time, you groaned openly and shoulder checked him as you stormed into the kitchen. “god, shut up.” was all you said, wanting to die the longer he kept spewing these flirtatious things.

this, unfortunately, was a normal routine between you for the last few months. having been an old and trusty friend of diane, you had offered your roommate-less apartment for the now good guys to live at since their old one wasn’t in the best shape after a year in prison. and over the time the group of five had stayed with you, they had warmed up to your presence and for the most part, had considered you one of them.

you and webs were the best of pals when it came to video games and oftentimes, piranha joined you both when he had nothing better to do. you three were the minecraft hardcore mode trio. and shark had leeched onto your music taste and now has tickets to almost every single concert he thinks you both would enjoy. hell, even snake found you a peach to be around, enjoying when you would practice drink making and makes “friendly” insults with you when you both were piss faced. of course, the appeal here was that neither of you took it to heart, it was just your way of bonding.

and it just so happens that their leader considered you more than just one of them.

at first, wolf was just another guy in your life. just an overall slick and charismatic guy who made a good joke every movie night and always had something to say to you while you and him were running errands together. you and him grew closer than the rest and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel a little more than a friendship with him. every smile of his felt like a stab to your heart (but in a simp way) and when he would toss an arm around your shoulder or grab your wrist to pull you along you swore you could ascend to the heavens.

of course, you weren’t an idiot when it came to your feelings. you just didn’t want anyone else to know that, so for the most part, you played oblivious. acted like it was nothing, treated him as you would anyone else, and buried away anything that could hint at you liking him romantically.

and because you weren’t an idiot, you could also tell that he liked you in return. his hands would linger near yours when you guys sat together and every shared look was prolonged on his end. hell, you even heard him talk about you to snake and diane, singing your praises in a not-so-platonically way.

but this certainty is what drove you to not let him know about your feelings. i mean, it was terrifying to know that you both felt the same. you never had a successful relationship romantically and that’s what forced you further away from even attempting a date or a kiss or even a cuddle session. but fuck, it was getting harder now that he was trying to flirt with you every moment he got.

“has anyone ever told you you look like a deity? i almost mistook you for one earlier.” still laying it on thick, wolf wiggled his eyebrows as you began to mess with your coffee machine.

you shot him another glare. “wolf, i just rolled out of bed after getting only a few hours of sleep. the only thing i resemble right now is prince phillip.”

thankfully, rather than shoot you another flirt, he laughed at your comparison, giving you a few seconds of peace. you took that time to load in the coffee grinds and place the carafe under the drip and start up the caffeinated goodness.

you sucked in a long sigh, stretching your arms above your head and going over the day’s tasks. you would need to go out and pick up some alcoholic drinks for diane’s super high-end party tonight and buy something nice to dress yourself up in. god, that’s gonna be so annoying, fitting rooms and shopping sprees were your worst nightmare. especially when it came to semi-formal wear.

“y’know, i’d say your lips are looking a little lonely.” recovering from his fit of laughter, wolf leaned up against the counter to your right with a huge, shiteating grin. “you think they want a visit from another pair?” he then puckered his lips, eyes going half lidded.

you stared at him blankly. “don’t you have to get to work soon? you have a shift at ten thirty today.”

wolf’s grin widened. “the only thing i want to shift into is your pants.” oh fuck, that one was kinda smooth.

it took every bone in your body not to smile or let your face flash into a hot blush, averting eye contact and finding a new interest in the coffee that was currently dripping. “dude.” was all you muttered.

as if he knew the dilemma you were facing, wolf leaned in closer. despite him being the one in the corner of the counter and you having all the space on your other side, with the way he was closing the distance between you two, you felt like you were the trapped one.

“when are you going to give in, sweetness?” you could basically feel the rumbling of every word as he purred them out. “you know you’re only delaying the inevitable between us.” his nose was inches away from your throat, causing you to grip the counter so hard it made your hand hurt.

your saving grace was piranha walking into the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

your head snapped over at the speed of light and you plastered on your biggest smile. “piranha! how was your speedrun attempt last night?” knowing if you brought up minecraft, piranha would dissolve any semblance of a tense mood by rambling.

and thankfully, he perked right up when you mentioned the block game, ignoring the lack of space between yourself and his “boss”. “oh, it went terribly! i spawned in a jungle biome and it all went downhill from there.” he hopped up onto the barstool at the kitchen counter’s island, prompting you to ditch wolf and go lean against the island instead. you nodded at every word that came out of the fish’s mouth and listened intensely as he ranted passionately about his poor luck. you missed wolf huffing in frustration behind you.

see, it wasn’t always wolf laying it on thick with you, at least, this outwardly. a few months ago, you had woken up and something seemed to have changed. the day before, he was being mostly friendly and would flirt through small and innocent gestures.

but that first morning had thrown you so far off, it was burned into your memory.

“y’know there’s a mirror in your pants right?” he had whispered to you while you were frying eggs for breakfast. the others were talking loudly at the island, arguing over which marvel hero was the most useless, nearly drowning out his voice had he not had been a foot away from your ear.

you looked over, both in confusion and concern. you weren’t sure what he meant but it made you worry anyways. “what? where?” searching all over your jeans, you tried to figure out what he meant.

before you could go spiraling in your mind for what the hell he could mean, wolf’s nose brushed against your ear as he spoke in a hushed tone. “because i can see myself in them.” as he spoke, one of his fingers hooked around a belt loop on your jeans, tugging them teasingly.

and then as quick as he got close, he pulled back to watch your reaction.

you froze, face burning instantly as you gaped at the taller man. the sudden sizzle of the eggs you were cooking snapped you out of your shock and you avoided any eye contact, trying to compose yourself. “i-- eugh-- uh-- wow, okay.” is what you settled on saying.

but sadly, that was all wolf had wanted to see, and as the months progressed, you swore to yourself to not have such an obvious reaction to his words, no matter how badly you wanted to.

as piranha had just started on his venture into the nether, the coffee drip beeped once at you. you ignored it, knowing that you had a few more minutes before the coffee cooled down anyways and could waste it listening to his tale of fighting off two wither skeletons.

“oh my god, is he complaining about his speedrun again?” ever the grumpy morning person, webs crawled into the room with an eye roll. “dude, did you even tell them how you died yet?”

piranha wasn’t affected by webs’ annoyance, turning his head to her. “not yet!” he spoke in a confident, matter of fact tone. “i just got to the nether, chica.”

webs looked at you with a deadpan. “he fell off of the platform as soon as he spawned in the end.” she explained.

“ay, you just spoiled the ending!”

“it’s not spoiling if they knew what was going to happen!” while you were preoccupied with the two shortest animals getting into a small argument, you forgot that wolf was still in the kitchen with you guys. it wasn’t until you felt him stand behind you and watch him slide a coffee mug into your hand that you remembered his existence.

“just how you like it, sweets.” he murmured, far too close to you as you could literally feel the heat of him on your back. from the others’ point of view, it might look like a friendly gesture that a friend would do for another friend because there’s nothing there but friendship.

but, the claws trailing up your arm and then against your waist as he pulled away screamed nothing akin to a platonic friendship.

you grit your teeth and brought the coffee mug to your lips, giving yourself an excuse not to say anything as he left the room, presumably to actually go get ready for work. and when you tasted the bitter substance, you cursed. 

fuck, he’s even got your coffee to creamer ratio down. slick bastard.

the rest of the day without a mention nor a glimpse of the former criminal was a blessing for your mental state. you had a semi-enjoyable time picking out the best tasing champagne and calling up diane about your choices and a significantly less fun time sitting in a formal wear store, choosing something that didn’t make you feel like an idiot. you had settled on a dark vest and slacks, deciding simplicity was better and comfier than anything else.

by the time you had stopped to drop off your alcohol supply at diane’s apartment, it was an hour before sundown and two hours before the aforementioned party. she greeted you with a big hug and helped you cart the boxes of champagne into the elevator.

on the slow ride up to her floor, you saw her smirk from the corner of your eye and mentally steeled yourself for whatever shit she was going to drop on you.

“sooo...” she started, tail flicking behind her lazily. “what’s been going on in your life?”

you looked at her suspiciously. “dee, we called last week for three hours, the fuck do you mean what’s going on in my life?”

she laughed at your words, shaking her head. “yeah, yeah, you got me there.” her eyes looked away as a grin began to form on her features. “i’m just curious about how your love life’s been going.”

... “what the fuck did wolf tell you?”

diane let out loud laughter, nearly toppling over from how bluntly their friend asked the question. leave it to her friend to sniff out her intentions, she supposed. “okay, he didn’t say anything, but--”

“i swear to god if that motherfucker told you we’re dating, i’m going to shave him and use his hair to make myself a new welcome mat.” you threatened, a new fire in your eyes.

diane let out a pathetic wheeze. “no, no! i swear, he didn’t say anything!” she defended their mutual friend. “i was just-- i just heard from the others that you guys had gotten closer than normal.”

that made panic flash in your body. “oh fuck, what did they say?” you didn’t even consider the others picking up on wolf’s simping habits, you were hoping that they would just be oblivious to his actions.

“snake’s been pretty smug about it, says that you shoot down wolf every chance you get.” diane elaborated as the elevator reached her floor. using the trolleys they had borrowed from the apartment lobby, the duo began to cart in the bottles. “he said the way you two interacted was like a gross, mushy dance of sexual tension. shark agreed and piranha and webs said that they didn’t care if you guys were dating now.”

yeah, that sounded like something they all would say. you groaned, frowning as you walked down diane’s foyer. “none of that’s true at all. wolf’s been dead set on flirting with me, i’m just rolling with the punches.” you shot a glance at all the glittery decor hung around the living space. pretty tasteful, you had to admit.

“see, i’d be inclined to believe that if i didn’t know you as well as i do.” diane’s smile became a twinge more smug when she noticed you were actively avoiding any chances of eye contact. “you like him.”

you decided to take the stupid route, hoping that the dumber you act, the quicker she’ll drop the conversation. “of course i like him, i live with him.” you pulled the trolley to a stop right in front of diane’s fridge and began pulling boxes onto her counter.

diane put both of her hands on yours when you set down the first box, successfully halting you. “no, my friend, you like like him.”

to say you were not impressed would be an understatement. “did we get transported back to middle school? or did you regress in age while we were speaking? c’mon, dee, ‘like like’?”

“you’re not denying it!” diane felt like she won the lottery, helping you as you pull another box off of the trolley. “you like wolf romantically!”

“pfft, says who?” despite you playing it off coolly and denying everything she was saying, deep down inside, you were panicking so badly. fuck, no one was supposed to catch onto this elongated game of cat and mouse.

“no one has to say anything.” after they had set down the second box, diane stepped right in front of you, stopping you again. “i can tell it in your face.”

your easygoing facade fell and you gave her another blank stare. “wow, what a mind reader you are.” your sarcasm was coming off of you in waves.

however, diane wasn’t known to be a person who let topics drop without laying all her cards on the table. she placed both hands on her hips, giving you a smug look. “i’ll let this drop if you look me in the eyes right now and tell me that you don’t want to makeout with wolf.”

immediately, you choked on your spit. “diane, what is WRONG with you?!” growing flustered, you barreled past her and plucked up the last box on your trolley. “i can’t even tell you what time of day it is with a straight face, the fuck makes you think i can say that?”

“hmm, that’s fair.” she conceded, watching you set down the third box next to the first two. “but, we’ve been friends for years now. if anyone can tell if you’re serious, its me. so, even if you laugh or giggle, i’ll know whether or not you’re telling me the truth.”

you turned back to facing her, sucking in a deep breath. “diane, i don’t like wolf, nor do i want to kiss or makeout or do whatever the hell else with him.” you spoke evenly, impressing yourself with how serious you could be.

you and diane stared into each other’s eyes for an uncomfortable amount of time. you were nearly about to break but she did it for you, leaning in and whispering, “god, you are so in love.”

“I AM NOT!” unable to help yourself, you basically shouted it at her. she let out an evil cackle, pointing a finger in your face.

“denial! first stage of grief!”

“wh-- WHAT DOES GRIEF HAVE TO DO WITH THIS?”

“anger, second stage!” seeing as diane was now fully taking the piss out of you, you decided to reel yourself back. the last thing you wanted was to choke her out out of anger.

you took in a deep breath, forcing your expression to melt back into something calmer. “diane, i swear to you, i have no romantic feelings for that little shit--”

“and you’re still lying to me! why?” growing fed up with your denial, diane threw her hands in the air. “are you scared that he might pop around the corner and overhear this? or is it something else? he’s clearly in love with you, his tail wags every single time he sees you!”

“i. don’t. like. him.” you walked past her, clutching your fists.

“oh, give me a break, you guys are eyefucking each other at every given opportunity.” at her words, you stopped in your tracks and turned around. “yeah, you can thank snake for that tidbit of information.”

“why can’t you just drop this?” seeing as denial wasn’t getting you anywhere, you had just decided to try and get an easy ending to this conversation by “giving in”. “this hasn’t been a problem the first few months he started trying to get with me, why is it one now?”

“because i didn’t think much of it until the others told me how you’ve been acting. i mean, come on!” diane spoke to your back as you began to unload the boxes on her trolley. “if a guy you didn’t like flirted with you, you would’ve kicked his shins and threatened his life! and yet, look at you. wolf’s been frothing on his knees for you and you haven’t said an outright no!”

“okay, don’t say he’s frothing on his knees.” you cringed, giving her the side eye as you passed her. “he just doesn’t have a skirt to chase, so he’s determined to get under mine. it’ll pass once he realizes--”

“oh no, we’re not doing this.” diane cut you off, snatching the champagne box away from you so you wouldn’t be distracted. “you are not going to keep running away from something you want! why is it so hard for you to admit that you like him?”

finally fed up, you shouted, “because i’m scared, dee!” the explosive yell made diane snap her mouth shut and stare at you wide eyed. seeing her reaction, you rubbed your face and looked away again. “you... you can’t expect me to jump in headfirst into a relationship like this after all the fumbles i made in high school. none of the partners i had stuck around for even one year, what makes you think wolf will be any different?”

“why do you think wolf will be the same as a fleeting relationship in high school?” diane countered, slamming down the champagne. “i don’t know what the fuck is wrong with you, but you’re actively making this worse for yourself the longer you try and run away.” she spluttered, growing frustrated. “what are you even trying to save here? your relationship? his feelings?”

“i don’t know!” you cried, nearly tugging your hair out. “i’m-- it’s just scary. to look him in the eyes and to know that he trusts me and likes me! i’ve never been that vulnerable with anyone, not in such a long time.” you don’t know how you got here, typically having a good grasp on where a conversation would be heading to and controlling it.

well, that was thrown out the window.

diane came over and embraced you, trying to soothe you by rubbing your back. “you can’t keep running, babe.” she whispered. “because running only hurts you both.” she paused and looked up. “and he’s pretty stubborn, so you’ll be running for a long time before he considers giving up.”

you sniffed audibly. “persistent little shit.”

the both of you giggled at the insult, bodies rumbling against one another.

diane kept rubbing your back, now finding a solid rhythm. “i’m not saying confess tonight or even right now, but you have to let him know that he’s not an idiot for assuming that you’re into him too.”

you sniffed again, this one becoming watery. “but that’s scary.”

“isn’t everything scary when it comes to relationships?” she countered. “just please, please promise me that you’ll do something about it.” diane pulled back, holding you at arms length. “even if its telling him no flat out, i’ll support you if its what you want. you need to put an end of this, for his sake and yours.”

diane’s words stuck with you the entire drive back to your apartment complex. you had sat inside the parking garage once you reached your home, thinking hard about what she told you.

fuck, this was impossible. you had no excuse you could come up with, you had no reasoning to tell wolf if you told him that you knew. shutting off your car, you let your head fall onto the steering wheel and bashed it a few good times.

“fuck!” your shout was muffled, nails digging into the fabric. god, why was romance so fucking daunting? why couldn’t you just wake up one day and have wolf be back to the way he was, before the flirting? before you knew how he felt--

no. that was too unfair, even for your standards. you couldn’t wish for that, it’s too late to consider things going back the way they were without a good conversation. fuck.

“okay, okay.” you spoke outloud to yourself, head still against your wheel. “i am going to go inside. get dressed for the party, go to the party, come back. i am going to talk to wolf before he goes to bed, hopefully, we won’t be drunk, and we move on with our lives starting tomorrow morning.”

you repeated that to yourself a few times, the game plan solidifying in your mind. worst case scenario, wolf hates your guts because you led him on for so long and he doesn’t talk to you anymore. best case?

god, you were too worried to consider a good outcome to this.

sitting up, you slid off your seatbelt and moved to get out of your car, but froze when you saw a familiar person standing outside the driver’s window, getting ready to knock and grab your attention.

why now of all times is wolf right outside your car?

you made a motion for him to step to the side and he did so, watching as you got out of the car. instead of greeting you with a smirk or a flirty remark, wolf only gave you a concerned glance. “hey, are you alright? i saw your head was against the wheel while i was passing and...”

“yeah, yeah, i’m fine.” you waved off, shutting the door behind yourself and moving to the door on the backseat. “just tired. diane had me carrying boxes around.” you mumbled the half truth as you pulled your newly purchased formal clothes out of the backrow, the plastic covering crinkling as you held it.

wolf didn’t seem convinced but let it go, a smile washing over the concerned expression he was making. “ah, right. diane’s party! i forgot all about that.” he chuckled, allowing you to pass first before following behind you as you walked to the elevator. “i take it that’s why you’re lugging around these?” he picked up one end of the plastic covering you were holding.

you glanced over your shoulder. “yeah, i had to cough up my money for this thing. not my best purchase.” you tried to joke, but it came out more sad than you intended it to.

now wolf was genuinely concerned. “are you sure you’re alright? you can tell me if anything is wrong.”

you could’ve evaporated right then and there but held it in. “yes. i’m fine.” with your tone of finality, all wolf could do was accept your answer and let you press the button for the elevator.

standing there side by side in the dark car park really did a number on your already declining mental state. you could feel every glance of his on the left side of your face, could hear him thinking about asking you for a third time if you were okay.

you knew that if you said anything yet, you would run. so, you waited patiently until the elevator came down and stepped inside, watching wolf press the button for your floor.

as soon as the doors closed on you both, you knew it was time to face your fears. prolonging the conversation would only make things worse, like diane said.

so, you started with a question. “why do you flirt with me all the time?” something to confirm his emotions towards you, easy enough.

wolf looked down at you, eyebrows raising slightly. “after months of me hitting on you, you finally decide to ask this?”

“okay, look--!” you cut yourself off, hearing your voice rise to a defensive yell. quieter, you spoke, “i-- i’m just asking right now to confirm something.”

“that i like you?” he pressed, jutting his head forward slightly. you both were staring one another in the eyes, your gaze nervous, his being oddly emotionless. “what? you think i just hit on anybody and call it a day?”

you looked away. “well, i-- look, you were hitting on diane when you first met her and when she settled with that guy from hollywood, i just assumed that i was another person--”

“what i felt for diane was a passing crush. she was just another hot and badass i liked.” wolf cut you off with a shrug, putting his hands in his pockets. “what i feel for you is entirely different.”

okay, confirmation that he does still have something for you. good to know, good to know. “oh.” you said. “okay, um--”

“did you think i was hitting on you this entire time because i saw you as an easy fuck?” wolf looked offended at this conclusion, glaring down at you. the tension raised higher in the elevator and you suddenly found it hard to speak. “you think i memorize fast food orders, favorite things, coffee to creamer ratios for just anybody?” his whole body turned and he slowly begun to approach you.

instinctively, you walked backwards. “whoa, okay-- hang on a second, i didn’t say that--”

you shut up immediately when your back hit the wall, allowing wolf to loom over you. “good, i’m glad we’re on the same page then.” his volume had dropped, barely audible over the elevator’s hum. his hand hesitantly reached out and rested itself against your hip, looking into your eyes for any signs of discomfort.

you didn’t know where to look, having an iron grip on your expensive clothing. “yeah.” came out shakily, your heart pounding a mile per minute. “glad we-- uh-- we are. wolf--” you cut yourself off with a sharp intake of air as his other hand moved to mirror the first hand’s position.

“that’s me.” he hummed, maintaining a mostly respectable distance between you both, allowing you to know that you’re not actually trapped in this position.

“wolf, i knew you liked me.” you came clean, breaking eye contact and looking down. “i-- i knew about you telling snake and i kept seeing the signs, and fuck, i like you too, but i didn’t know-- i couldn’t--” it was getting harder for you to form a coherent thought when he was inches away and staring at you expectantly.

pulling up the vest and slacks, you hid your face behind them and spoke, “i was scared of committing to it-- to you.” thankfully your voice came out clearly still. “you’re terrifying to me, i’ve never wanted-- no, i never thought someone like you, someone so sure of themself and their emotions, would actually like someone like me.”

“...like you?” you couldn’t see his face from where you hid, but you heard him come closer.

“uncertain. unemotional, apathetic almost.” you elaborated.

wolf didn’t respond at first, worsening the path your mind decided to take. oh fuck, he hates you now, there’s no doubt about it. maybe you should run as soon as the doors open or hide out in your room for the rest of the night--

“well, thanks for telling me.” wolf said like he was having a completely normal conversation. “now i know your motivations, at least.” he chuckled, a smile coming back to his features. “but i knew you liked me back, sweetheart.”

your head whipped up from its spot and you looked at wolf like he was crazy. “what?” your jaw dropped even harder when he laughed at your expression. “wait--”

“why do you think i started hitting on you in the first place?” he spoke in between giggles. “at first, i thought you didn’t know, but after the first few reactions, it kinda clicked. you knew but were in denial.”

“wh--” if you couldn’t form a sentence then, you definitely couldn’t right now. “and you didn’t say a thing?!”

wolf’s smile fell and he gave you a blank look, causing you to backtrack. “okay, yeah, that’s more on me.” you sighed, loosening your hold on the plastic wrapped clothes. “sorry, wolf--”

“don’t apologize now.” he laughed, cutting you off before you could spiral again. “it’s water under the bridge to me.” his hands squeezed your hips, and you were aware of the lack of space in between you two once again. “but if you want to make it up to me, i might have a few things in mind.” he moved slowly, deliberately almost, and pressed his face into your neck, smiling against you when he felt your pulse racing.

your mouth went dry and for a moment, your brain had stopped working. here you were, cornered by your crush after he just admitted to knowing you liked him for months now. it was all starting to become too much all at once--

DING!

the elevator’s doors opened on your floor and you didn’t think twice about ripping yourself from his arms and bolting it down the hallway to your door. you heard him laugh from afar but ignored it, pulling your keys out and busting your way inside your apartment.

“where’s the fire?” you heard snake call from the living room, but you ignored him in favor of sprinting straight to your room and shutting the door behind you, panting all the while.

it took you a few minutes to gather yourself, resting your dress clothes on your bed and thanking whatever god above that there weren’t any lasting wrinkles you couldn’t smooth out with your hands. great, at least you won’t look like the car wreck you certainly felt like.

you heard a knock and then wolf calling you name. “hey, i forgot to tell you something.” he spoke from the other side of the door. your back went straight and you struggled to keep it together.

“come in!” your voice was steady, thankfully.

the wolf slipped into the room and closed the door behind him with an easygoing expression. “sorry, sweetheart, i almost forgot something in that elevator.” the way he wasn’t even fazed by your little... whatever the hell that was in the elevator irritated a part of you, but you didn’t say anything about it.

“oh? what’d you--” and suddenly, you found yourself being pulled in by the front of your shirt into a kiss. wolf’s lips pressed against yours slowly but passionately, making you feel lightheaded at first.

his hands found their purchase quickly, one against your lower back and the other back on your hip, tugging you closer. it was then that you snapped back into it and started kissing him back, following his lead and tossing your arms around his neck.

wolf walked with you in his arms, backing you against your dress and placing you on it, leaving his hands on your thighs as you kept kissing one another. he stopped suddenly and pulled back a few inches. “sorry, i should’ve asked--”

“shut up and fucking kiss me right now.” you grunted, tugging at the hair on the back of his head.

he let out a loud groan and smiled against your lips. “so pushy. who would’ve guessed--” before he could say anything else smart, you pulled him back for a second kiss, this time being the one in control of the pace.

eventually, you both broke apart to get some air inside of your lungs. wolf was still smirking and even you had a smile like you won the lottery.

“what time do you think you need to start getting ready by?” he asked, moving his head down to your neck and beginning to press kisses along the length of it.

“seven thirty-- fuck.” you cursed and shivered under all the affection, entire body growing warm. “but we can push it back to seven forty five if you want.”

“whatever works for you, baby.” was all he mumbled before digging his teeth into you, trying his hardest not to be super rough. “i can make this quick, just for you. all you gotta do is say the words.”

fuck, he was good at this. too good for you to even be snarky at him. “please.” you whispered, once again pulling at the back of his head.

wolf snickered, pulling away to admire his hickey that was beginning to bruise. “well, since you asked so nicely...”

[gooddaysmeanwritingdays]

Bad Days

Pairing: Steven Grant x gn!Reader, Marc Spector x gn!Reader, Jake Lockley x gn!Reader Fandom: Moon Knight Warnings: Reader has a bad day and snaps at their darlings, hurt/comfort, so much fluff, swearing Word Count: 3.6k Summary: You had a bad day and your darlings take care of you

A/N: This fic is set after the show (like 4 years? after) where Reader and their darlings are in an established relationship. This is my first fic (and first x Reader fic ever) on here so I really have no idea what I'm doing. It also started out in first person POV before I changed it to 2nd person POV (so let me know if you see any errors

I also made a playlist for this fic you can feel free to listen to as you read this 💖

Divider by @maysdigitalarts

“How was work, love?” Steven asked, smiling as you walked through the door. There was a soft smile on his face—one he always greeted you with—as he stood up from the couch, but it faltered when he noticed your thunderous expression. “That bad, hmm?”

“I swear to fucking God—” you slammed the door “—if I have to listen to Gloria talk about her cat for another fucking minute, I’ll go mad.” Anger bubbled away beneath your skin, and you wanted to scream. “She wouldn’t stop talking, and when I finally got away, I’d missed my bus and got shit on by a bird!”

You threw your bag on the couch, not caring when it dropped to the floor, and everything spilled out. “I’ve told her time and time again that I couldn’t care less about her damn cat, but it’s like she doesn’t care! She just keeps talking!” You paced about the floor, getting angrier by the minute. “And then when I finally got to my car, I got stuck in all the traffic! It’s like every man and his fucking dog was on that road! And you want to know why there was traffic?”

You turned to Steven and he leaned against the kitchen bench, watching you patiently, warmly. “Why?”

“Because there was a fucking parade! But did they think to tell anyone? Nooo!” You threw your hands in the air. “How the fuck are we supposed to plan around it if we don’t even know about it?” You pressed a hand to your hair, knowing you needed to calm down—Steven didn’t need to hear this. “Ugh! A simple sign would have been nice! They have all the fucking voting signs up, why can’t they put one up about a parade blocking half the fucking road?”

You wound your fingers through your hair and pulled until the sting of the roots grounded you. You could hear Steven’s footsteps behind you as he came closer, but when he rested his hands gently on your shoulders you shied away. Hurt flashed in his eyes, but you couldn’t stop to apologise. It felt like the entire world was vibrating and your skin crawled when he touched you. You knew you needed to explain that it wasn’t him—that it was you entirely, but all you could think about then was escape. You needed to get out of there. The fastest way possible. Before you said something you didn’t mean.

“I– I need a minute,” you said in way of the only apology you could make then. “I just– I need a minute.”

Steven covered up the hurt with a nod and a small smile as you started to back away. “I’ll be here, love.”

There was a shift in him as you darted for the balcony; a tightening in his posture and a lowering of his brows as he watched you go. Your heart broke a little as you recognised the switch. After everything that had happened, it was still Marc’s instinct to take control whenever Steven was hurting. And it broke your heart to see them both hurting because of you.

You slipped outside, your skin crackling and soul snapping as everything caught up with you. It was still raining lightly, but you were too hot to care.

You scrabbled for your earphones, snarling at them when they got tangled. Eventually you got them out and into your phone jack, and it felt like you could finally breathe as your music started coming through the tiny speakers. It was a playlist Steven had made specially for your—every song designed to soothe the ache of your soul on the bad days.

You stepped up against the railing and closed your eyes as the rain tapped against your skin and the music wafted through your ears. You dropped your head against the cold metal railing and let out a long breath.

It was like today had been designed just to piss you off. You were good at your job, but today you had made every mistake possible. Half-awake you’d switched the good coffee for the decaf your boss left for the rude guests, then you’d sent the rejection letter to the wrong client, and to top it all off you’d then eaten Kathy’s terrible tuna sandwich instead of the curry you’d been craving since you’d rolled out of bed.

But after all of that, you’d still managed to finish early and laugh with your co-workers about how you needed more sleep. Because you’d been so excited to go home to see the one person you knew could make your whole day brighter that that stuff hadn’t mattered. Not really. Not when you could go home to his arms and just relax.

But then you’d run into Gloria from the accounting firm next door, and it had only gotten worse from there. It was like every possible obstacle and frustration had been placed in your path to keep you away from your darling.

You closed your eyes, your anger switching slowly to regret and self-loathing as you thought of the man back inside. Your darling Steven. The one you’d just snapped at when he’d tried to help you. The one who was never anything but good and kind and wonderfully beautiful. The one who always greeted you with a loving smile and a warm hug. He made your soul sing and your heart soar. The world brightened with every second he was in it, and you’d snapped at him like some hateful idiot.

Suddenly tears were pressing against your eyes, and you were regretting all of it. You swallowed thickly. You turned around and slid to the ground so that your back was against the railing. You pulled your knees to your chest and dropped your head into your arms atop them.

You were always like this. Whenever you got mad, you’d push people away. And if they tried to touch you it only got worse. When you got mad like that, it was like your skin was crawling whenever someone touched you—and you hated it. It was like you could have peeled off your skin just to get away from the touch of someone else’s skin on yours.

Because when you were mad, you just wanted to be left alone.

And it never mattered with anyone else because they never mattered, but with your darling Steven—it broke your heart.

You took a deep breath, clearing out the lump in your throat and tipped your head back to the sky. You and your darlings lived on the fourth floor, and the two floors above you didn’t stick out as far, so whenever it rained, the last two rows of tiles on our balcony would always get wet. Like right now. Right now, the tiles beneath you were wet and soaking into your pants, and the rain above you was dripping down your cheeks. And you loved it.

Anger made you hot, and there was nothing better than cool rain and soft music to calm you down.

Logically, you knew today hadn’t been that bad. Only Brad had been unfortunate enough to drink the decaf before he’d switched it, and the client had laughed with you about the mix-up, glad it wasn’t for them. And Kathy had actually thanked you for the excuse to buy lunch than have that sandwich she’d been dreading.

And on better days you didn’t mind talking to Gloria about her cat. It reminded you of the one you’d had growing up. You’d laugh about the copious amounts of cat fur left behind and the crazy runs they’d do after toilet trips.

And traffic wasn’t fun for anyone, but normally you could deal with it with good music and the windows down.

But today was a bad day. And bad days meant crappy moods and jittery limbs.

Your life had been full of bad days before you’d met your darling. Between your parent’s furious divorce and their absentee parenting skills, bad days had been constant growing up. But then you’d met Steven and Marc and the good days had started to balance out the bad days. Even Jake with his teasing had helped brighten the world.

But being in love didn’t mean good days forever. Sometimes the bad days would creep in, and the only way to get through them was soft music and cold things. And patience.

The cold rain seeped through your pants and the shoulders of your shirt, and you took another deep breath. You filled your lungs and let the cold and the wet and the soft music seep in, and you let out the bad moods and the jittery limbs and the crawling skin.

You took a deep breath.

And another.

And another.

And with every deep breath you breathed in the good and breathed out the bad.

***

By the time you opened your eyes again, the sun had gone down, and the drizzle had stopped. Inside, the lights were on, and you could see your darling moving about the kitchen. Even amidst everything bad, you couldn’t help but smile as you watched him. Your heart ached with how much you loved him—all of them.

Steven had been the first—the easiest—to fall in love with. With his shy smiles and passionate ramblings. There were many nights you’d fallen asleep to the sound of his voice, already head over heels for him—even if you hadn’t known it then. It had been like falling in love with your best friend. Easy, soft, and oh-so right.

Marc had been harder. After everything, he hadn’t believed he was worth loving, or that anyone ever could. And he’d been so angry. The number of arguments the two of you had had in the beginning could have started wars. But somewhere between those arguments, you’d fallen for him. With unwavering determination to do right, and that smile he’d give when he thought you weren’t looking—oh that smile could launch a thousand ships.

And Jake… Jake had been a surprise. Marc and Steven had only been half aware of him when you’d started dating them, but when you’d finally met him, loving him was like falling asleep—ridiculously impossible. Every second with him had infuriated you to no end. With his awful smirks and constant teasing, you’d hated every minute. Except not really. Because with every smirk there was a never-ending supply of morning cuddles and late-night talks. Falling in love with Jake had never been a choice—and certainly not one you’d ever change.

Because falling in love with your darlings was easy and impossible and inevitable.

And hurting them was like nails in your heart.

You could feel tears brewing behind your eyes again as you watched them inside, but you swallowed them down. You didn’t have the energy for tears now. All you wanted was to go back inside, into the arms of the men you loved and ask for their forgiveness.

You stood up, joints crackling with disuse, and walked back inside. Marc turned at the sound of the door and watched you—wariness in his eyes—as you set your phone and earphones down.

“Sorry,” you whispered into the quiet, knowing he wasn’t going to say anything until you did. “I’m sorry for snapping at you. Today was a bad day.”

He leaned against the countertop, setting the towel down slowly. “How do you feel now?”

There was a wariness in his posture that made your heart ache. You’d been together for four years now, and you’d had plenty of bad days—enough for your darling to know that sometimes the rain and the music didn’t always help.

And you couldn’t help but wonder if there wasn’t mistrust behind that wariness. You knew Marc loved you—it was something he’d never let you forget—but protecting Steven had always been his first priority. And so you couldn’t help but wonder if there wasn’t—deep down—some part of Marc that thought you would hurt Steven too.

You took a deep breath around the pain that thought brought up. You took your time, wanting to give him an honest answer. “Tired,” you said finally, shoulders slumped. “I just want this day to be over.

Tenderness flooded Marc’s features, and he held his arms out to you. “Come here, baby.”

You were in his arms in an instant, melting when he pulled you in tighter. You breathed him in and shuddered in relief to finally be home.

You pressed your face into the crook of his neck. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I shouldn’t have snapped.”

“You don’t need to apologise, baby.” He pressed his lips to the crown of your head. “We don’t get to control our bad days.” He wound his fingers through your hair as his other arm tightened around your waist. And just like he knew what you were going to say, he said, “And even if all you had were bad days, I’d still love you just as much as I do now.”

Marc shifted against you and Steven’s voice whispered through, “We all would, love.”

You whimpered softly at the love in their voices. Because that was always a worry of yours, on the bad days—and even the good ones. That eventually you’d push your darlings away. That there would be something that would finally push them over the edge and be the final straw.

But every time, they’d just pull you closer and tell you how much they loved you.

You pulled him closer and whispered, “Thank you.”

“Always, mi vida.”

***

It was when you started shivering that he finally pulled away. Jake cupped your cheek and tilted his head back to the bathroom behind him. “Shower time. Can’t have you shivering all night—you’ll make me look bad, mi vida.”

You snorted lightly at his teasing, making him grin that full gorgeous grin you so loved.

“There you are,” he murmured, dropping his forehead to yours. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you whispered back, leaning into his touch. “I missed you.”

He kissed your forehead softly. “I missed you too.” Jake interlocked your fingers and pulled you towards the bathroom after him. “Come on. Shower time.”

As he got the water to the perfect temperature—burning hot—you stripped wordlessly before stepping into the shower. You sighed in delight under the water, enjoying the burn to your skin. Jake’s grip on your hand loosened as he stepped back to let you enjoy your shower, but you pulled him closer, not ready to let go of him yet.

He stepped in behind you without hesitation—clothes still on—already knowing what you were asking. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer as he stepped under the spray. You dropped your head to his shoulder and let the rest of the tension melt away. Between the hot water and the arms of your darling around you, you could think of no better place to be.

“Better, mi vida?” he murmured, drawing circles against your skin.

“I’m always better when you’re around,” you sighed, leaning into his touch.

Jake let out a soft, choked noise as he pressed his face into your hair and pulled you closer. “Flirt,” he said in a strangled voice.

You smiled into his shoulder. You’d meant every word of it. Since coming into your life Jake, Marc and Steven had made every second of it better. Even the bad days like today were infinitely better than if you’d been alone.

“We’re better when you’re around too, love,” Steven whispered, holding you so tenderly you could have cried. Instead, you just pressed a kiss to his jaw.

Grabbing the soap behind you, he started gently massaging the suds into your skin. He took his time, and you were content to lean into them entirely. You closed your eyes and let them take care of you. It was rare you all had a chance to take your time like this, and you wanted to bask in it. To bask in the attention of your darlings as they planted soft kisses along your shoulders.

You wanted to stay like this forever.

You didn’t know who was in charge of the body now, but you didn’t mind one bit. You knew each of your darlings loved you entirely—just as you loved them—and in times like these you didn’t need to know when they loved you so wonderfully.

They let you stand under the water for another minute before reaching behind you to turn it off. There was a fond smile in his voice as he said, “Come on, baby.” He wrapped a towel around you as you groaned half-heartedly, your head still resting on his shoulder. He laughed as you tried to reach behind you to turn the water back on. “If I let you stay in until you were finished, baby, the world would run out of water.”

“And?” you murmured, not seeing his point at all.

He chuckled lightly and your lips tipped up at the corners at the beautiful sound. “And you wouldn’t be able to have another hot shower ever again.”

“You make a decent point, my darling.” You lifted your head slightly to level him a serious look, even if he could see the tired amusement in your eyes. “But I have an even better counterpoint.”

“Hmm?” He raised an eyebrow as he dried you off. “And what’s that, love?”

“Hot water,” you replied with finality, and he laughed.

He cupped your cheeks in his warm palms. “You are ridiculous, mi vida.” He pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose with a smile.

“But I’m your ridiculous,” you said with a half-smile, pulling the towel tighter around you.

He shook his head with a smile. “Yes. You are my ridiculous. Our ridiculous.” He pressed a soft, gentle kiss to your lips that you leaned into entirely. “Now—our ridiculous—how about we go to bed?”

That sounded like heaven. “But you’re all wet.” You pointed to his soaking clothes.

“And whose fault is that, love?”

You thought about it for a second. “Yours, darling.”

His smile was soft and endearing as he handed you your pyjamas before grabbing his own towel. You leaned against the sink as you watched him unabashedly. You didn’t even bother getting dressed—you just wanted to watch the loves of your life. To drink up every detail of him like it was the last time.

It was moments like these that made your world spin. That made your heart sing. Just watching the light of your world doing something as normal as dressing—and getting to do that, after everything you’d both been through—was beautiful.

I love you all so much, you thought as you watched him towel-dry his hair. It was so domestic that you couldn’t decide whether to kiss him senseless or melt right there. I never thought I could love someone as much as I love you. And I’m the luckiest person in the world to be loved by you.

“Enjoying the show, mi vida?” Your darling raised an eyebrow at you as he caught you staring.

You shrugged like you weren’t still falling in love with him every second. “It could have been slower.”

He wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you in to plant a series of kisses across your face. “Here I am trying to do something nice, love, and you’re ogling me,” he laughed between kisses.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and smiled—the first real one all afternoon. “You’re my husband. I’m allowed to ogle.”

“Ogle all you want, baby,” he murmured against your lips before pulling away and resting his forehead against yours. “We’re not going anywhere.”

Your heart soared at the words and your cheeks ached with the smile you were trying to hold back.

Steven brushed his nose against yours. “I love your smile,” he whispered like a confession. “It’s my favourite part of the day when I get to see them, love.”

Even after all these years, he could still make you blush. So you smiled. It was the least you could do for your darling.

“There it is,” Jake whispered, running his thumb over your lips. “Mi sol.”

You closed your eyes, taking the moment to breathe. All you could smell was their cologne; all you could feel was their arms around you; all you could hear was their heartbeat as you rested your head on their chest. You were entirely surrounded by them, and for the first time that afternoon, you were happy.

“How did I get so lucky—” you whispered, “—to be loved by you?”

Their smile was simple. “You loved us first.”

You pulled their head down for a kiss that held every ounce of your love for them, and they responded with all of theirs.

Not one, but three, you thought to yourself, utterly amazed at your luck. Steven, Marc, Jake—you three mean more to me than you could ever know. I love you all. To the moon and back.

You basked in their attention, content to stand there all night in the arms of your darlings. But after a moment, they pulled you to your bedroom. Insisting you put your pyjamas on—even if Jake did send you a wink—before pulling you into bed.

“Gay pirates?” he said the moment you were curled into his side, and you nodded instantly.

“Gay pirates.” Nothing would make you happier than watching Blackbonnet fall in love while you lay in the arms of the man you loved.

You pressed yourself closer to him as his arm curled around your waist. “Thank you,” you whispered as the TV turned on. “Thank you for being here with me. You are exactly what I needed.”

You didn’t have to explain that you didn’t just mean today.

You could see each of them shining through as they smiled your favourite gorgeous smile. “There’s nowhere else we’d rather be.”

A/N: After I wrote this, I came up with like three more ideas for these babies so this is definitely going to turn into a series haha

Let me know what you think 💖