#and he would have as well! in fact the point of his disappearance was so that she would find the happy ending she deserved đđđŤđ !!!!!!
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~{ You all know what time it is! }~
â˘The Circusâ˘
Jazz and Danny have always taken care of each other when their parents eventually forgot about them
Like when Jazz had to learn how to cook and fight off reanimated food to feed Danny when she was 6 because their parents got a new idea and had to work on it right that second
Or when Danny had to find a way to copy Maddies hand writing so when Jazz got sick or had class trip and she was to busy with other things so could go and have fun like someone her age so have
So you can tell they always took care of the other so when Maddie and Jack tried to lock Danny in the lab and have their way with the âGhost scumâ Jazz stood by his side until the end
And now that they both are full ghost thatâs not going to change a bit they took care of each other in life
They going to take care of the other in death
â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘
ďżźWhen The Circus held out their hand for Jazz and Danny they were a bit surprised and untrusting in the beginning in fact Jazz would never leave Dannyâs side or the other way around
But they have been with The Circus for some time now ( Itâs hard to tell how long youâve been in here Jazz and Danny find out pretty quickly ) and the people of The Circus has gained some of their trust but never quite all of it ( only the other has their full trust )
but the one they trust the most has to be the ringmasters or the leader of The Circus they keep everyone safe and protected so Jazz and Danny can respect that in them
And they made sure Jazz and Danny were safe as well so they respected the ringmaster a lot but not to the point where they would take their side over the other but they still respected them
Back on track, Jazz has been given the role as a sharp shooter and Danny as a Aerial act and of course jazz and Danny are always in acts together (The ringmaster has tried to get them to be separated acts due to their different roles and he got punched by jazz after he got to close to Danny for her liking, she gains everyones respect that day)
And if you need danny you often have to get past jazz first due to her being overprotective of Danny
How Danny and Jazz fight, Danny will use the silk he uses often in his and Jazzâs acts grab the person and fly around as fling the person all around and disorient them as Jazz fires her gun at them until the person is unable to fight or Danny and Jazz just get broad they will from Dannyâs silks or whatever heâs using for flying around let them hit the ground or Danny will stop flying and Jazz gos at it, they treat it like target practice (They got everyone respect and fear after they did that the first time)
â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘
~{ Now onto the DCU part! }~
A emergency meeting is called for the JL about a new potential enemy or a rescue mission
So when one of the heroes [Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman, The Flash, Green arrow, Green lantern, Martian Manhunter, Aqua Man] in the meeting ask what it is are told about
A large big top that has large mechanical legs with the possibility of more due to the build of this structure and it seems to have been avoiding main areas where one of the main members of the JL are like its hiding
inhabitants of this is known to be unpredictable in their actions and how they react to people and objects out side of the structure and how they respond to questions about the big top or anything related to The Circus they will act as though the big top and whole Circus itself can hear them and become quiet and run off (They donât really talk to people out side of acts so they just run back to where the others are or back to where their act is taking place)
And very little is known about them but this was brought to their attention due to the disappearances of people in the wake of The Circus (The ghost walk in and move on to the Ghost zone or find peace) and this is a problem and with the concerning words of some of the people who are in The Circus it is leaning towards the rescue mission
And they need to find out what is happening and need a team to go under cover and young justice volunteers to go under cover
â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘
~{ Now onto Danny and Jazzâs outfits! }~ďżź
For Danny Iâm thinking
This for the outfit ~{ Or not this is really the best I could find that I at least liked enough }~
And for Jazz Iâm thinking something like this
Or this ~{ Iâm not picky about which }~
â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘
~{ And thatâs it for this! I hope you things like it and lifeâs to short punch a politician! Byeeeee }~ďżź
#dc x dp#dp x dc#dc x dp crossover#dc x dp prompt#danny phantom#that weird thing in the woods#that-weird-thing-in-the-woods#dc x dp fic#dc x dp fanfiction#dpxdc#dp x dc au#dc x dp au#dp x dc prompt#dp x dc crossover#dcxdp#dp x dc misunderstandings#dc x dp misunderstandings#misunderstandings#danny au#Jazz is best sister#the JL is concerned#Yes this is very steampunk inspired and no I will not have questions#everyone is concerned about this Circus#Jazzâs and Dannyâs obsessions were based off of helping other people#so when they died together it turned their obsessions to the other but not in a weird way#if shipped you will be Blocked!!#Danny is a goth steampunk twink#Jazz is a pirate core steampunk with a G U N#and I take no questions#danny fenton
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Also because I'm totally predictable, Kanera in a investigating the existence of paranormal creatures/beings au? But only if it sounds fun, otherwise feel free to skip it! I won't be offended at all
ok SO I am still working on the first ask you sent but I got ran over with the steamroller of inspiration on this one so i'm doing it first! pay no mind to the fact that this is three months late
---
Kanan was, by far, the worst fey-hunter the world had ever seen.
He considered that an accomplishment.
After all, if he could manage to lose every thread, disappear every clue, and snuff out each hint of an otherworldly presence, and people still kept bringing him tips on possible fey... well, that meant his glamour was working, then, didn't it?
The fact was, it had become a dangerous world for Fair Folk like himself. It hadn't always been that way. A thousand Earth-years ago, the wicked fey had been banished from the Winter Court, and the peaceful members of the Unseelie race had flourished. For much of his youth, Kanan had lived with his adopted mother in the Winter Court, making occasional sojourns into the human realmâmissions of mercy, lending their extraordinary help to the ordinary humans who most needed it.
Then, the Dark Unseelie returned, and bathed the Winter Court in blood. Kanan had barely escaped with his life. He tried, first, looking for safety in the Summer Court, but unlike the Unseelieâwho needed no prompting to act, whether for good or evilâthe Seelie operated on the strict principle of tit-for-tat. And the Summer and Winter courts had been feuding since the death of the only king they shared, with plenty of bad blood on either side.
Needless to say, the Seelie were not inclined to foster a pathetic, half-dead Unseelie whelp.
Especially not when it would earn them the wrath of the new Emperor of the Winter Court.
So, Kanan did the only thing he couldâhe left his Name far behind, and he did his best to lose himself in the indulgences and dissipations the human race had to offer.
For ten years, that was his life.
Then, he met Hera, and everything changed.
She'd pulled him out of a pit of despair he hadn't known he'd fallen into. She brought light and hope back into his miserable existence. She gave him a new life.
She also stubbornly refused to believe in the Fair Folk.
And she was married to one of them!
But nothing could convince her. Not Kanan's inability to tell lies. Not the many encounters with people who looked a little wrongâstrange patterns on their skin, or ears that were too pointed, or teeth that were too sharp. Not the neighborhood kid who slept on their couch sometimes, a boy with eyes that were paranormally blue and an instinctual aversion to telling anyone his real name.
Even the fact that said boy vanished into the mists one eerie morningâwith no clue left behind except a cryptically-worded note that implied he would be attempting to contact the Fair Folkâleft her dubious at best.
"There has to be a rational explanation for this," she insisted, swinging her flashlight back and forth through the trees. "He can't have vanished into thin air. He just can't have. That's not how this works."
"It's exactly how this works," Kanan replied grimly, working hard to keep down his panic as he marched through the woods a pace ahead of her. "Ezra's been taken by the Fair Folk."
Hera frowned. "I don't believe it."
Kanan shook his head at her persistent doubt and proceeded onwards.
The fact was, whether the fey who had taken the kid belonged to the Summer Court or the Winter Courtâit didn't matter. Ezra's life could be in danger in either place. Kanan could only hope to find the divide in the misty veil that separated the realms from each other, go in after him, and maybeâmaybeâbring him home safely. And that was only if Ezra hadn't eaten anything, accepted any gifts, thanked anyone, or made any binding agreements.
"There!" Hera cried out suddenly, flashing her light at the ground ten feet ahead. "Footprints!"
She broke into a sprint, following their path, and Kanan darted after her. After all, there was a chance they weren't too lateâthey might be able to get to Ezra before he encountered any fey.
A strange feeling prickled up his spine, the only warning he had before they burst into a small clearing in the woods. He skidded to a stop and snagged Hera's arm, yanking her backwards, before she could go any farther.
"Kanan, whatâ"
Hera broke off as she saw the thing Kanan had feared most.
The tracks ended abruptlyâwith no trace of where Ezra could have goneâon the border of a circle of mushrooms.
"So," Kanan said grimly. "Believe me now?"
---
part one || part two || part three
#thank you for the ask!!!#fantasy au#modern fantasy#kanera#sorry I just couldn't resist making it part of this series haha#the potential was too good and it fit my idea perfectly!
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KILIAN FITZGERALD â casual in the capital QZ before his disappearance | formal / workwear / âuniversityâ in the capital QZ a member of the governmental body | post disappearance, convinced single-handedly for fedra to abandon the denver QZ.
picrew
#oc: kilian fitzgerald#vrs: the last of us#t: picrew#leg.ocs#hehehe baby boy. <3#yes i am happy you asked besties the scarf IS light blue for olga thx for asking hehe <3#i am also saying he may be set up with minerva but im also not at all saying he could be available hehe#(im also thinking santo for minnie post p*erry and also saying sheâs available too hehe)#HELLO HI so i had a wicked migraine the past two days and slept it off today and now i feel better â¤ď¸âđŠšđĽđĽš#chronic illness my beloved and detested â¨đľâđŤđ#so i bring to the beloveds he ! olga as far as sheâs aware heâs deceased?#by the time she sees him again sheâll have been happily involved with dearie logan for a bit by then <3#and he would have as well! in fact the point of his disappearance was so that she would find the happy ending she deserved đđđŤđ !!!!!!#so i think as well that adriĂĄn gianna and alaias father will have stepped down from fedra AG as well though rn gia and alaia donât know that#he grew jaded as kilian did and dipped hehe <3 good for them !#i think also that gigi leaving him put A LOT into perspective?#i mean they were already going to divorce prior to the outbreak but nonetheless u know? i think he still loves her u know? inch resting !#kilian would have been slated for politics and had been prepared from it from birth <3#and he was the best friend of yori and his best man at his wedding to gianna just before the outbreak <3#I NEED TO WORK ON OLGAS TIMELINE bc i have a bit of ideas of the timeline of their relationship? before the disappearance?#she was there in the capital before they left for seattle and she and him meet actually at yoris wedding to ondria maybe?#I APOLOGIZE IF THE TIMELINE HERE IS LIKE ???? im still working things out sozjxjhx but! dear boy! mâlove!#he likely said he was the new AG and requested them to leave the qz as it was under his jurisdiction hehe âŚ. swindle them bestie!
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HOUSE IN NEBRASKA â Logan "Worst Wolverine" Howlett x Mutant!Reader AO3 version Spotify Playlist
WORD COUNT â 15.4k SUMMARY â Reader gets roped into saving the timeline with ex-best friend Deadpool, coming face-to-face with a variant of Logan that uproots memories she'd long suppressed, only to find that this version of him lost her in his universe, too. TAGS/WARNINGS â she/her pronouns (minimal usage), female anatomy, flashbacks in italics, angst, enemies to lovers, alcoholism, smoking, arguments, canon typical violence, cursing/bad language, Deadpool breaks the fourth wall like twice, canon behaviour worst wolverine, religious trauma, honda odyssey scene self-insert, eventual smut, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, dirty nasty talk (logan has a filthy mouth), mentions of cocaine literally once. smut is marked after last divider if you want to skip plot but i'll kiss you if you don't!
Youâre smoking a cigarette on your porch when the snowfall happens. It would be normal, you think, if it werenât for the fact that itâs dead in the middle of July. A group of nanas, elbow-deep in the community garden soil, glance up to the sky and begin muttering prayers amongst themselves.
Youâve lived in this safe house for a while now, up in the mid-west of the Appalachian mountains, surrounded by thickets of pine and opposite a bubbling creek. You grew up somewhere near here and the locals welcomed you back with open arms and a plateful of hot food when the humans started the cullingâ when the X-men fell apart.
It has plenty of benefits. The smell of lavender, for one, and your cat, Kevin, loves chasing the pigeons, even if heâs not the most successful hunter. The locally sourced produce means you can avoid the poisoned food theyâre distributing in supermarkets.
But, most importantly, the humans canât find you out here. Youâre lucky the gossip of your⌠genetics, so to speak, doesnât leave Sunday morning church.
Things have been different, lately. The trees are shedding down to dust, people are disappearing at an exponential rate, and there was a time when youâd be on the front lines helping them. Youâre on the edge of your seat waiting for the call â a learned habit â but itâs never coming. Charles is dead. Logan is dead. The X-men are dead.
The snow is warm when it lands on your skin. It feels like rot, and your solitude suddenly feels lonelier and more daunting than ever.
You reach to take a sip of your steaming coffee when you hear movement. A zipping strobe light crosses your vision and you flinch against the intrusion, but youâre not afraid. Youâve surely survived worse.
Stryker worse.
A comical and confused looking figure pops out from an orange portal, scratching the crown of his head over the red and black mask on his face. You sip your coffee as you observe him nonchalantly.
He notices you and approaches with a dainty point of his finger.
âUm, excuse me, maâam.â
âWell, well well,â you suck on your cigarette with a frown. âLook what the cat dragged in. Got a new suit, Red?â
âWhat, arenât you happy to see lilâ old me?â
âYouâre on my property,â you say matter-of-factually. You had a shotgun stowed away inside for emergencies, but frankly, you never had to use it. You were enough of a weapon yourself. Consider it insurance, if the corn-syrup theyâre poisoning ever finally makes it way to you.
You glance sidelong at the old ladies in their aprons, clutching one another with stern gazes in your direction. The deal was that you didnât bring trouble their way â but it looks like trouble found you. You narrow your eyes and silently hope that this doesnât turn messy, as it so usually does where heâs concerned.
He sighs heavily and continues approaching regardless. You analyse his stature and take notes of the weapons on his holsters and back. You reckon you could take him if it came down to it, but he didnât seem threatening.
You and Wade used to be friends, but after isolating yourself from grief, you donât necessarily consider yourselves to have a close relationship. More often than not he brought trouble; hence your defensive response.
âListen, ants in your pants, Iâve done this about a hundred times,â he huffs and places a hand on his hip, waving the device around in his hand. You take another drag of your cigarette and perk your brows before rising to your feet.
âIâve had my spleen shattered by the Hulk, about eighty stab woundsâŚâ
He rambles on about his collection of injuries and you tilt your head with amusement. Must be another one of his famous mental breakdowns. This might be entertaining, at the very least.
ââŚYouâve even killed me a few times in different universes!â He claps his hands together. âAnd frankly, I was just going to let you die here. Youâre not even canon, so you wonât be missed, but you appear to be of use to me. So I need you to come with me. Now. Please.â
What on Earth was he talking about? What on Earth was he ever talking about?
You bark a laugh. âI ainât going anywhere with you, Red and Black.â
âWill it change your mind if I add a cherry on top?â He asks with a dry laugh before nodding enthusiastically. Manically. âYouâre coming. Kevinâs life depends on it.â
âWhat are you talkinâ about? Are you threateninâ my cat? Thatâs a new low, Wade.â
âIs it? Is it really? I am certain that I can go unfathomably lower.â
You roll your eyes, half-way through turning your back on him.
âYou see this?â He holds out a gloved hand and catches some snowflakes. He rubs them between his fingers and they spark and fizzle before dusting away. âThatâs not snow. Thatâs time death. Our universe is dying, womp womp. Stay here, sure! By all means, butââ
Your cat launches out of the door behind you, chirping and meowing to himself before promptly dashing through the portal and disappearing into the blurry void on the other side.
âWell. Looks like he made his choice.â
He sighs and lets you process. You take the final swig of your coffee and huff a breath.
âYou literally have nothing left to lose. Trust me. I know. Iâve seen all kinds of you and, believe me when I say this, even though I love and cherish this version of you, thisââ he points two fingers at you and gestures towards you judgmentally. ââ isnât the best look on you, honey.â
You want to dismiss him. You want to turn him away, to tell him to get lost. Grief swallowed your heroism whole, turning it into a barren wasteland of bitter indifference. You used to be bright, full of light, love, and hope.
Fucking hope. Itâs the reason Logan left you to help Charles in the first place. You just wanted to settle down and disappear, to live a normal life. You lost an intrinsic part of your being when he died; you remember feeling it before you heard the news. Fucking hope.
Hope, hope, hope. Nana Rose chants on about it when she clasps your hands with her wrinkly ones, dragging you to church in spite of your atheism.
âAnd hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts,â she chants, basket of flowers on her hip. âRomans 5:5. Youâd do well to do your readinâ, tulip.â
You didnât and donât ever usually believe a word she says, but you can feel her faith. Itâs solid as steel, pouring out of her like blotting light through the gaps in the trees. Undying. And youâll be damned if you let anything happen to her.
A flicker remains. You imagine what Charles would say to you now, how youâd hang onto his every word and heâd bring out the better of you. You truly do have nothing left to lose, except maybe your cat. Over your dead body.
âCome ooon,â he pokes his fingers together. âFancy being a hero? One last time?â
You take the final drag before stubbing the cigarette out on your railing. âAlright, Red. Iâll bite.â
âThen suit up.â
Your friendship with Deadpool was a rocky one. There was a time you told him youâd be there for him through everything, and you technically owed him one for saving your life that one time even though your ego insists that, to this day, you couldâve taken the fight. Thatâs what heightened cellular control of your body is for, right? Accelerated healing? Empathetic abilities? Faster reactions, enhanced strengthâ you get the point.
Though you didnât realise that returning the favour meant following him through space, time and alternate dimensions, you were a person who stayed true to their word, and you hated being indebted to someone.
So, here you were, waking up in the middle of a barren wasteland that was seconded as a cocktail soup of abandoned universal relics and heroes ripped from their worlds, accompanying your ex-best friend to restore your timeline.
But, one thing about paying someone back, it doesnât technically count if they lie to you about the terms and conditions of the agreement. Only a few mere moments after you come to, dazed by the impact and the blaring wobbly heat of the sun, you rise to watch as Deadpool takes six blades of Wolverine to the chest.
Youâre still a little dizzy when you stagger to your feet, head throbbing, as youâre trying to process if, yes, thatâs exactly what you were witnessing.
âLetâs see you grow your fuckinâ head back!â Wolverine growls.
Deadpool holds his hands up in surrender. âWait, wait, wait! I can fix it! I can fix it!â
The man in yellow hesitates. âFix what?â
âWhatever it is that you did, whatever made you so badââ Wade pants, catching his breath. âThose pricks at the TVA, you heard âem. They have the power to end my universe, but they also have the power to change yours. We get back there, and we can fix your world! Together. I promise.â
You stumble from around a pile of debris, clutching your side as a rib pops back into place. Wolverine sniffs the air, face blanching as he snaps to look in your direction.
When you first make eye contact with him, it feels as though youâre resurfacing from water after being on the precipice of drowning. Your heart leaps into your throat, adrenaline boils your veins and your lungs burst with relief of breathing.
âTroubles always gonna find you, baby,â Logan murmurs, kissing his way up from the pulse in your throat as he rocks against you. âBut so am I.â
Youâve never loved him more, you think, than when he fucks you slow like this. A snowstorm rages outside the cabin, howling full of glass and needles and rattling the window frames. His skin against yours burns a fire within you, warming you to the bone. He sweeps hair away from your face before capturing your mouth in his, swallowing the sounds of your pants, threading his fingers between yours.
You could stay here forever, you think.
Your fingers shake from the whiplash of the memory. You instinctively reach towards him but you catch yourself. This was the husk of him, not your Logan. The realisation feels akin to ripping open a haphazardly sewn wound right down to the fatty yellow flesh, raw and needling and sore.
Heâs broader than you remember. Hair a little darker, wrinkles a little deeper. He smells of alcohol and cigars â that much is familiar. Thatâs him, flesh and adamantium bone, living, breathing. Alive. The physical shell of him prods alive parts of your inner circuitry that you werenât aware had fallen asleep, like intrinsic nerves untangling within you.
You can sense that he knows you, too, based on his emotional response. His noise is extremely loud, spilling out of the cracks of whatever wall he thought heâd successfully built up. This version of Logan certainly had a lot of secrets.
âYou,â he whisper-growls. Itâs almost intangible, leaving him like a breath. He pulls his blades promptly from Deadpoolâs chest and kicks him backwards.
Youâre starting to understand that faith thing that Nana Rose was knocking on about when he strides towards you, large and tall. You certainly werenât a believer by any means but youâre sure youâd be the picture of unbridled worship for the way youâd fall to your knees for him.
Your empathetic power lurches for him, seeking him out as you used to â like a flower to the sun â but it physically recoils from the aura that it touches. It was all your Logan but not in a familiar way. Itâs tainted, dark, and it tastes like copper and screams.
All colour melts from his face and his body shuffles in a way that indicates discomfort; a dry swallow, tense shoulders and flicking eyes that refuse to meet your gaze. He omits feelings of guilt and shame that linger on the tendrils of your empathetic powers where you connect with him.
You try to zone Wade out, squinting as you attempt to navigate through his cobweb of emotions (seriously, this guyâs aura could do with a cleanup) but itâs like wading through black-tar syrup, feelings negated by years of alcohol-abuse and avoidance. Eventually, you feel something that makes your guts twist and your legs shake: a version of romantic attraction and recognition so carnal and raw that you begin to blush, a warmth that creeps its way up from your belly. A breath escapes you like a punch.
âWell. This feels awkward.â Wade glances between you both and places his hands on his hips. âWhy do you both look like youâve seen a ghost? Do I need to call Egon Splegler and tell him to bring his ghost sucky-sucky vacuum? Oh my godââ He slaps his hands to his face and gasps sharply. âCross-Universal lovers?â
As inappropriately timed and tone-deaf his one-liners could be, youâd never been more appreciative of an icebreaker. You think you couldâve stood there for an hour, frozen in silence, staring at a reanimated corpse, basking in the noise of his emotional frequency like an addict finally getting another hit.
But then the noise stops, swallowed up like a heaving black hole had split and atomised the tension whole with its unforgiving jaws. He closes himself off from you. Connection severed. You reach out and feel a cold nothingness similar to how, on particularly rough nights, youâd try to reach out to him after his passing. Youâd clung onto his plaid shirts until the smell and emotional residue wore off of them.
âYou with the mouth? To fix things?â
You nod tightly. You donât think you can find your voice in front of him.
âLetâs just keep moving. And stay out of my head,â Logan grumbles, crossing you with a cold shoulder and mumbling something incoherent under his breath. When heâs made enough distance, you turn to your old friend with a cold glare.
âOoh, brr. Anybody else feel a chill?â
âWade.â
He twists towards you comically slow.
âYou. Motherfucker.â You begin approaching him. He backs up slowly and holds his hands up.
âI knew if I told you the plan you wouldnât have gone along with it!â
âAre you insane? You think multiversally grave-robbing my fucking dead ex-boyfriend is going to save our timelines?!â You yell.
âTechnically heâs not deadââ
You push him. âHe should be! He- he wasâ he is!â
âWell, this one isnât!â He pushes back. âAnd Iâm not sorry for finding a loophole in the plan to fry â not just mine, mind you â but both of our timelines! Did you happen to forget that? No multi-dimensional depressed Logan? Alright then! No more Kevin!â
Heâs talking about your cat. Anger flares.
âDonât you dare bring Kevin into this.â
âYou forced my hand!â He yells, mouth moving alien-like behind the mask on his face. âBesides, Iâm not doing this for meââ
You blink your eyes closed. You might reach the end of your tether if he said her name one more time. Youâve been in his company for approximately an hour, and heâs already drilled a hole into your brain with his incessant yapping about the âlove of his lifeâ.
âWade, you need to move on. She clearly has.â
âI will not move on from the only people I love in this fucked up dimension. This isnât just for Vanessa.â He shoves a glossy photograph in your face. âThis is for you and blind Al and even that shit-head teenager and her pinkie-pie girlfriend! They deserve their timeline!â
âI literally donât care about any of those people!â
Even yourself?
âWell, I do! I have people I care about! Arenât you supposed to be a hero? God, all of you X-men are so depressing. Is it the suits they make you wear? Is that it? Canât breathe in that thing?â He continues poking at you. âLoosen up a little!â
You straighten your posture and the black leather of your suit crackles. You swat his hands away as he continues poking. âAlright! Cut it out!â
âThink of Nana Rose.â He draws a heart with two fingers. âLittle old ladies like her deserve a chance, donât they?â
And even though humans had done nothing but wage war on your kind for simply existing, you still felt obliged to help them. Besides, the thought of other mutants â kid mutants â dying when you hold the chance to save them in the palm of your hand? You were hardly managing as you were now. Youâre not sure youâd be able to live with yourself if you kept going like this.
âAlright, alright!â You huff, heart pounding in your chest. You look over at where Wolverine kicks at rocks in the distance. âFucking hell, Red. Holy fuck.â
You say it again, only this time you scream it into your hands.
âYou shouldâve warned me.â
âAre we good?â
âAre we goââ You scoff. You kick his ankle, feel the bones shatter and crunch beneath your foot. He lets out a short, high-pitched yelp. âYou deserved that.â
âMotherfuckermotherfucker⌠oh youâre lucky I feel bad about lying to you or I wouldâve twisted your milk bags off for that I swear to God.â He sucks in a breath. âIâll allow it. Just this once.â
âMhm,â you murmur, walking forward. âThat doesnât sound like an apology.â
He limps after you, floppy ankle dragging a line in the sandy dirt. âIâll be dead before you ever get one of those out of me! And too bad I canât fucking die!â
The difference between this Logan and your Logan is stark, minus the uncanny resemblance. Your Logan was soft and gentle, but this version is sharper and blade-edged, and your fingers bleed when you try to touch him.
Staring at him feels like throwing up a mirror and analysing yourself, a picture of what happens to a person when they make all of the wrong choices. Youâre embarrassed, almost. This isnât a version of you that you ever want him to know, but at least you can say youâre trying.
Him, on the other handâŚ
âAre we going to keep up the awkward silence?â You snip, awkwardly adjusting the restraints on your wrist.
Youâve been in Loganâs company for all of an hour, and yet accompanying one another through literal time purgatory didnât seem to irk any feelings of obligation from his end. Heâd been cold-shouldering and ignoring you the entire time, even though you kept catching him staring.
âI have nothing to say to you,â he spits, wriggling uncomfortably against a very unconscious Deadpool. âYou got us into this mess.â
You frown, small. You can feel hatred pouring out from him, leaving a sickly bile taste in the back of your throat. Youâve lived through enough hate for being a mutant in your lifetime, enough that youâd become accustomed to tuning it out of your radio channel, so to speak, but something about it coming from the man you loved makes it a little harder to swallow.
Youâre quiet when you next speak. âDonât make this more difficult than it has to be.â
He shoots you an indistinguishable look and grunts to himself. Such a Libra.
âSo, whatâs the story here?â Johnny asks with a sly grin. He turns to you with a glimmer of mischief in his eye. âYou two know each other?â
You cringe. âSort of. Last I remember, he wasnât this much of a prick.â
âOh, trouble in paradise, huh?â His grin grows. âThatâs a shame. Not often we get girls like you in the void.â
âSeriously?â You say with a side-eye.
He shrugs, all blue-spandex biceps and charming smile. âNo harm in trying.â
Your breath hitches as Cassandra approaches, wide eyes and tilted head aiming for you purposefully. Logan swiftly angles his body so that heâs standing in front of you and she halts as a delighted, implicating smile stretches across her face. Your chest constricts, tendrils of yearning coiling tighter. It appeared to be muscle memory: his instinctual, protective flinch. Just like your Logan used to, despite how capable he knew you were.
âNow, Iâve always wanted a Wolverine.â Her finger moves along the crowd. âKnew Iâd get one eventually. But I never even dreamed of having you.â
Cassandra zips behind you and her slender fingers delve into the crevices and valleys of your brain, lips intimately close to your neck and ear. Wolverine snarls territoriality, but heâs unable to move. The urge to reach for him is overwhelming.
âDo you know that there are so few universes where you exist?â She whispers, caressing your deepest memories. âI even asked the TVA about you, in exchange for keeping the peace. I was disheartened when I found out one of you died. But youâre here! Now, I donât believe in fate, but this almost feels like it was meant to be.â
You flinch when she uncovers a particularly fond memory, one you hadnât been aware was so prominently in the forefront.
In the back of his truck, a cigar between his teeth, hands sliding under your shirt. In another world, he wouldâve taken the time to do this properly, but living in a school didnât exactly grant two consenting adults any privacy.
âWaited long enough for this.â
He kisses up from your bare foot to the sensitive skin of your inner knee, lips scorching against your skin.
âLoganâŚâ
âEasy,â he murmurs, leaning away for a moment to remove his plaid overshirt, leaving himself in that white vest you could eat him alive in. âStill wanna take my time with you.â
Youâre desperate, he can tellâ can probably smell it, too, but youâre far too humiliated to ask him if he can.
Logan wasnât your first by any means, but with the way you were near trembling for him truly felt like youâd be losing all of your innocence in the back seat. Youâre shy and quiet, everything he isnât. Youâre infatuated with him â have been since he burst out of the lab in his grey hoodie â and have daydreamed about what it would be like to have him. You certainly didnât let him know that right away, and with whatever shred of composure remained around his relentless flirting and teasing remarks, you tried to play hard to get.
Until you couldnât. Because you werenât. He had you, and with every fibre of your being, you wanted him to.
She pulls her hands from your brain with a shlick sound, rubbing her fingers together as if relishing in the produce of your memories. She grabs a rag from her pocket and smirks knowingly.
âYouâre thinking of that at a time like this?â She laughs all witch-like. âWorry not; your secretâs safe with me, naughty girl.â
Wade lowers his voice and leans towards Logan. âShe was thinking of me.â
âI can read between the lines, darling,â she potters on. âThis isnât about a sexual fantasy. Deep down, you just want to be wanted. To be loved.â
She steps back and extends her arms. âAfter all, youâll never amount to anything in your world. Itâs such a shame that your Logan left you so abruptly. Did he break your heart?â She giggles. âWhy suppress your powers in his name? For a level-five mutant, you certainly donât act like one. You can do that, here. Freely!â
Your worn thin tether creaks with exhaustion like a dilapidated bridge under pressure. There isnât a singular fibre of your being that desires to be stuck here, but the small, angry teenage voice in your head would love nothing more than to just let go. Youâd been containing your powers for as far as you can remember, and they'd always been as irresistible as the promise of Pandora's box.
But you know how that story ends.
You take a momentâs pause. âI have no interest in livinâ in a garbage dump.â
She tilts her head and neatly clasps her hands behind her back. âDo you forget where you come from? I think we both know who lives in a garbage dump.â
âYou motherfââ
Youâd just managed to escape Cassandraâs lair with Aliothâs foggy storm fangs nipping at your ankles when you ran across the abandoned diner.
Youâre ravenous, wrist aching from how you dig at the freezer-burned ice cream. Itâs your least favourite flavour but youâve been running on fumes for the past day or so, so youâll take what you can get, though you begin to lose your appetite when you remember Johnny, and how Cassandra had zipped the skin from him like popping a blood-filled water balloon.
Something is rumbling beneath your surface. A distinct, constant buzzing, like two atoms slowly building up radioactive energy. Youâd asked for none of this, and would certainly give Wade a talking to when the time called for it, but, for now, youâre trying your hardest to make this as easy a process as possible.
Your male counterpart, however, was doing exactly what men generally do. He was making this fucking unbearable.
Logan sits across from you, brooding, fingers gripping the medicinal bottle as if itâs anywhere near appropriate to be drinking. He throws you a particularly lingering glare when he notices you staring, but refuses to maintain eye contact when you look back at him
You toss the tub and spoon across the table with a sharp clatter, your patience collapsing.
âWhat? Canât even look at me?â You snap. His eyes look exhausted when they finally meet yours. Wade, being the characteristic little fucker he is, pulls a delighted, shit-stirring grin as he glances between the two of you as if watching a tennis match.
Logan gasps as he finishes taking a drink. âNot much to look at,â he says, wiping the back of his mouth.
The words twist like a fist in your gut. For a moment, youâre rendered too stunned to respond, like heâd tossed a flash-bang toward you. His casual cruelty digs deeper than you care to admitâ but youâve had far too much therapy, too much psychological training, to know heâs deflecting.
But you wouldnât doubt for a second that there was a more beautiful version of you somewhere.
âWhat, you comparinâ me to someone?â You ask. You can tell youâve struck a nerve by the way he goes for another sip. âThat it?â
He grimaces.
âDo I make you feel sick? Am I making you feel sick?â
He stares at you hard, but silently. He takes a long swig of the rubbing alcohol and you cringe as his throat bobs. His silence and feigned indifference light a fire of indignation.
âYou know, youâre not the only person whoâs suffered. Whoâs lost people.â
He laughs like what youâre saying is funny. âYeah, right, bub, you have got no idea what loss is.â
âOh, you are such a fucking cunt,â you spit, slamming your hands on the table as you rise to your feet. âYou know what, Wade? Youâre right. I canât do this. So fuck you and fuck his timeline and fuck every timeline that had anything to do with it! Iâm done.â
A wave of uncontrolled psionic energy born from your anger blasts from you upon your final words, slamming them back into their seats and sending the cutlery, nearby debris and weapons flying. The neighbouring windows smash, shattering explosively and sprinkling outside of the diner.
The simmering stops, replaced by a stifling emptiness.
âI wasnât finished with that!â Wade cries, crouching down to scoop up what remains of the gelatinous spam.
You pause for a moment, glance at your hands, and then grab your jacket in an aggressive fit.
Wade whines your name, halfway through gagging down a forkful of cold spam off of the floor (one of which resonates with a particularly distinct crunch, but you donât stay to find out whether or not he just truly ate glass), and he doesnât attempt to get up and follow you as you storm off.
You take a heaving breath of hot desert air when you leave the diner. The sandy breeze tousles your hair, and with the prickly energy of an incoming nervous breakdown, your legs kick and youâre running.
âStryker got you, too?â Logan asks, eyebrows flicking up.
You donât look him in the eye when you nod. You cross your arms and slouch a little, caging your heart in. Stryker â the ex-militant with a fetish for experimenting on mutants â had held you captive for several years. Heâd brainwashed you into using your empathetic abilities for nefarious purposes, like seducing other mutants, and sometimes important political and militant figures.
âYou like me?â He questions, quieter this time.
âNo⌠no, not like you,â you reply. âI donât have the fancy bones. I heal fast, but I wouldnât survive that kinda procedure.â
âAh.â
âI donât remember everything. Just bits and pieces. Feelings, mostly. Nightmares,â you explain. He nods understandingly. âIâm always on edge.â
âYou always seem so calm,â he observes. âNothing seems to phase you.â
âI have to be. It took a lot of pain and damage to get this level-headed,â you respond quickly. âIf I donât manage my emotions, all the emotions that I receive, touchâ it all comes out. Explosively. It has to come out somehow. I could hurt people.â
âFunny. School therapist ânâ youâve got the most issues,â he teases light-heartedly.
âYou got no idea, lumberjack.â
You hated killing.
Youâre on your knees, arms and hands and chest soaked crimson, sobbing. Theyâd come out of nowhere, the raiders, and they were hungry for something you couldnât quite put your finger on. All you know is that you felt their need, their desperation, their willingness to do anything to get it.
The flash of harrowing horror someone feels before they die isnât a unique experience. It simply varies in strength â sometimes itâs a feather-like touch that careens over you, a shuddering realisation that theyâre taking their last breath, and sometimes itâs like a crack of lightning. Bloodied hands gripping your biceps with fear in a final attempt to survive. Theyâd rather cling to you than die alone.
You hate killing. Especially this up close.
You donât cry for them. You donât even cry for yourself. Itâs a small emotional space where they cry vicariously through you.
You were black-out when it happened, you tell yourself, and suddenly regress to the student you used to be, sobbing on your knees in front of Charles as he tries to teach you serenity and control after an outburst had caused you to kill a nest of birds. Heâd done it for Magneto, he saidâ so he could certainly do it for you.
You should have meditated more.
The sound of a car gurgles somewhere behind you, but you havenât the energy to look or use your powers to seek out whoâs approaching and what their intent is. Youâre exhausted enough that whatever they wish to do with you â turn you to processed dog kibble, send you back into the jaws of Cassandraâs lair, kill you â whatever. Just let it happen.
A slamming car door and then the crunching of boots on gravel.
âYouâre easy to track.â A pause. âYou look pathetic. You done throwing your tantrum?â
Logan. Of course, itâs him.
âLeave me alone, prick.â
âAs much as Iâd like to, you and the Mouth still have to hold up your end of the bargain,â he quips, folding his arms across his broad chest. âNow get up.â
You glare up at him and his arms unfurl as he notices your tear-streaked face. His expression drops, softens, before it quickly ticks back up into an incredulous, irritated look.
âAre you crying?â He asks with a scoff. He pauses before dragging his hand down his face and rubbing his scruffy jaw. âJesus Christ. Get up. Get in the car.â
âI ainât fuckinâ around, Logan. Piss. Off.â
He mumbles a string of incoherent curses and turns on his heel. You think, for a moment and a breath of relief, that heâs truly going to give up on you and leave. He could finish this without you. Itâs easier this way.
Instead, a thick bicep wraps around your middle and youâre flung over his shoulder with a yelp.
âQuit your squirminâ.â
âThen put me down!â You yell, thrashing in his grasp. He promptly ignores you, unphased by the jabs you strike at his back. You quickly unsheath the small knife from your jacket sleeve, winding up your arm before you drive it into the muscly pocket by his kidneys.
âOw! Cheap shot, you little fucker!â
Wade sighs and clutches his hands in front of his chest romantically. âOh, the newlyweds.â
Logan dumps you into the front seat of the car carelessly, grumbling something as he slams the door shut and applies the child locks. Petty motherfucker.
You rub the sore spot on your tailbone where you landed on a seat buckle funny. You want to bite your tongue but youâre flared up.
âWe should switch places. Iâm a better driver than you are.â
Logan doesnât bother looking at you as he starts up the ignition. âJust shut up.â
âYou can go on ahead and smoke a cat turd in hell, then.â
âSo fuckinâ immature. Grow up.â
âMom and Dad can you please stop fighting!â Deadpool cries out from the backseats.
You just roll your eyes, resigning into your chair and folding your arms.
At some point along the ride, Wade falls asleep, snoring soundly to himself. Youâre silent in the front, drumming a beat on your knees, awkwardly thinking of something to say. You have the impulsive need to fill the silence, even if you were trapped in a crappy car with a man who had made it vehemently clear that he irrevocably hated you.
âSo, if they can fix your world, whatâs the first thing youâll do?â
Logan rips his eyes towards you. âWhat did you say?â
âI said when you get back, whatâs the first thingââ
âNo, no, noâ before that.â
You hesitate, wondering if youâd landed yourself in a trap based on the sharpness of his tone and the way that anger crackles off of him like static lightning.
âIf⌠they can fix your world?â
He slams his foot on the brake and you just about catch yourself before your nose goes flying into the dashboard. Wade is thrust out of the front window, smashing through and promptly falling unconscious underneath a tree, neck broken at an awkward angle.
Your eyes widen.
âWhat do you mean: if?â
âThatâs what Wade saidââ
âI donât give a fuck who said what. He promised me he would fix thingsââ
âWell, I didnât promise you shit!â
He laughs, low and devoid of humour. âYou donât have a clue if they can fix things, do you?â
Well, no. Youâve been operating on a hunch the entire time and had half come to accept that you might be stuck in the TVA void forever. Who knows how much time has passed elsewhere?
Regardless of the fact you truly had nothing to do with whatever came out of Wadeâs mouth, you werenât about to let Mr. Worst Wolverine shit all over him and his plan to save his friends.
âIs it really that far-fetched? We made an educated wish!â
Something dark flashes across his face. You can feel hate pulsing off of him in dizzying waves, doubling with each passing moment.
âYou made⌠an educated fucking wish?â
âWhatâs your problem with me, huh? Got a stick up your ass?â You reach for the car door handle, but he snaps up your wrist, holding it high. âYou better let go of me right now, old manââ
âOr what, huh? Gonna run away again?â He threatens.
âYou geriatric, alcoholic motherfucker. Iâve done nothinâ but try and be civil with you and you treat me like Iâm the one who ruined your life! I donât know what version of me you knew but you need to stop actinâ like I ainât worthy of being here because of what you did!â
âListen, Iâll tell you what my problem is with youââ he leans closer, eyes roving over you with a disgusted look on his face. âI mean, you are a ridiculous, emotional, immature crybaby. I have never met a sadder, more attention-seeking, foul-mouthed little bitch in my entire life and that says a lot because Iâve been alive for more than two hundred fuckinâ years.â
âAnd Iâll tell you, that bald chick was right about one thing: you will never amount to anything. Youâll never save the world. You couldnât even save a relationship with me. Iâd say you shouldâve died alone but itâs one of Godâs best jokes that in this universe you didnât seem to fuckinâ die, except that ones on the rest of all of us!â
He breathes heavily when his rant finishes. Youâre taken aback, jaw slack, eyes warm with the onset of tears born from shock.
âWhat, you got nothinâ to say, empath?â
You suck in a deep breath, blinking slowly as you flick the emotional switch off in your head.
âIâm going to hurt you now.â
He snorts. âOh, are you?â
In a swift manoeuvre, you raise your slap him around the face. You knew better than to punch a metal skull, but you still wanted him to sting. His eyes slit, nostrils flaring in challenge.
âThat all you got?â
âNot even close,â you snap back, knuckles whitening from the way you curl your fingers into your palm. âYou want to play this game, Logan? Fineâ but Iâm not gonna sit here and keep on provinâ myself to you. Iâve had enough of your Christ-born-again superiority complex. Did you forget that youâre the worst Wolverine?â
âOh, yeah? Well, at least Iâm honest about who I am. Look at youâ youâre a fuckinâ joke, pretending to be some hero in a suit made for a dead team,â he barks back, voice rising with each word. âI donât need your bullshit âwishesââ you should know, Iâve buried people for less.â
âYeah, because youâre so perfect, ainât that right?â You yell, voice cracking from the power of your anger. âThe almighty Wolverineâ the unkillable bastard who canât seem to hold onto anythinâ good in his life! Youâve had centuries to get your shit together, and look at youââ You look him up and down with disgust. ââstill just a bitter, lonely, broken man, takinâ it out on everyone else and a goddamn bottle.â
His eyes narrow, muscles in his jaw twitching as he appears to fight and keep his temper in check, but thereâs an obvious crack forming, the dam of his unbridled rage near overflowing.
âYou think you know me, huh?â He murmurs, voice a deadly whisper, the calm before the storm. âYou donât know a goddamn thing about what Iâve been through. Youâre nothing but a lost woman playing make-believe and hiding in the shadow of a fuckinâ merc. Youâre pathetic.â
Something inside of you breaks. âIâm pathetic? Look at yourself! Youâre so goddamn desperate to feel anythinâ that youâll lash out at everyone around you for some semblance of warmth. Thereâs a fine line between hate and love, after all! You think youâre so strong because you can heal, because youâve lived forever? Yeah, rightâ youâre the weakest, most cowardly man Iâve met in a loong time.â
The blades between his knuckles shoot out with a shink! For a moment, you think that heâs going to attack you. Hellâ you even hope that he will, just to diminish some of the unbearable, stifling tension. Instead, the blades retract with a deep breath, and he grabs you forcefully by the collar of your suit, yanking you so close that you can feel the heat of his breath on your face.
His voice is low and rough, each word dripping with venom. âGo on, keep psychoanalysing me. You wanna talk about cowardice? How about leaving people who need you, just because itâs easier to run? Better yet, how about the fact that you abandoned the X-men to hide away in the mountains, huh?â
Your eyes widen with recognition.
âYeah⌠Wadeâs got a big mouth. Told me everythinâ. Youâre no hero. Hell, youâre just a selfish, reckless hillbilly who failed at pretending to be human.â
Your heart palpitates in your chest, each word coiling and slicing like blades in your intestines, but you refuse to let him see how much it hurts. Instead, your lips curl into a cold, bitter smile, one that doesnât quite reach your eyes.
âAnd youâre just a sad, angry old man who canât handle the fact that heâs lost everythinâ. Go ahead: keep pushing people away! Keep hidinâ behind that anger oâ yours! Itâs got you this far, ainât it?! Iâve treated kids with trauma worth double yours and they were nothinâ but kind and selfless. I wonât let you project your failures onto me. Iâm done with this.â
âYeah, why donât you walk away!â
The argument reaches a fever pitch, tension sizzling in the air between you. Youâre so close, glaring at each other with so much anger, so much resonating heat, that it feels like somethingâs going to break. And then, suddenly, it does.
Before either of you can think, you close the gap between you, lips crashing against his. Itâs not gentle, itâs not softâ the kiss is rough, violent, a clash of lips and fury. His grip on your collar tightens, and for a moment, youâre both frozen, caught in the shock of whatâs happening.
But then something more fiery in nature than anger ignites, and he kisses you back just as fiercely, and maybe a little more desperateâ like heâs trying to pour out all of his pain and resentment, into this one moment. Your tongues slide against each other and his teeth catch against yours as he groans into your mouth. Your hands thread through his hair, yanking him closer as if trying to hold onto something real and tangible in the chaos of the kiss, reeling from the sudden spinning in your head. Itâs angry, raw, filled with all the things youâre not capable of verbalising: grief, love, yearning, reconciliation.
The result of a painful reunion.
The world falls away and all thatâs left is the taste of him, the feel of his lips against yours, rough and demanding. You hate him right nowâ hate him so much that you canât help but want him. The sheer intensity of it all overwhelms you and makes your fingers shake against the nape of his neck, but you canât pull awayâ not now, not when youâve tasted the wine. Youâre too far gone, caught up in the storm of his intoxication, fantasising about ripping that yellow and blue suit off of him and riding him until thereâs nothing left for him to regenerate.
And then, just as suddenly as it started, the bubble of the moment bursts with the sound of slow clapping coming from outside the car. You jerk back from Logan, breath coming in ragged gasps. Logan is equally as stunned, still tight-gripping your collar as if he doesnât know what else to do with his hands.
You both see Wade sitting up, hands together, eyes wide as saucers as he takes in the scene.
âWhoa, whoa, whoa. Did I just wake up in a telenovela?â His voice is laced with amusement. âI mean, I know you two clearly had some unresolved sexual tensionâ but this? Oh, this is gold. Please donât stop on my account, just let me get the camcorder first!â
Youâre too stun-locked to respond, lips parting and closing as your brain scrambles to formulate a response as youâre still reeling from what just happened. Logan (for once) seems equally as lost for words, his typical scowl replaced with a look of confusion.
âShut up, Mouth,â Logan barks, but thereâs no real heat behind it. There canât be, really, not when youâve both been caught red-handed. He releases your collar at once.
Wade, however, is having none of it. âOh, no, no, no! You donât just get to brush this off like itâs nothing! That was a full-on makeout session! I only interrupted because I thought you were about to rip each otherâs clothes off.â He sighs wistfully and crosses his legs. âHere I was thinking that you two hated each otherâ but I guess all that anger was just foreplay, huh?â
Your face burns with a mixture of shame and something else youâre not quite ready to admit. âWadeâ cut it out.â
He grins, not deterred in the least. âOh, but Iâm loving this. All that pent-up aggression finally coming to fruition. Itâs beautiful, truly.â
Logan shoots him a look that could melt iron, but Wade just simply shrugs, unfazed. âHey, Iâm just saying what everyoneâs thinking. Everyone being me.â
âWade,â you warn through gritted teeth.
âWell, unless you want me to watch (which I am not opposed to, by the way) maybe next time the two of you should get a room,â he tilts his head. âOr, you know, a couples therapist.â
He then turns to address Logan directly.
âAnd I mustâve missed the AO3 tags because I did not peg you for the enemies-to-lovers type, Mister. Who knew all it took was a bit of hate-kissing to get the sparks flying? Donât look so ashamed! Iâm just jealous I didnât get to you first.â
He stumbles towards the car and collapses into the back seat. âNext time you wanna bump uglies, just ask for some privacy! You can save me the broken neck!â He gets himself comfortable, man-spreading and laying his hands on both of your shoulders as you stare dead-forwards, unable to look at each other.
âGosh, youâre both so tense.â He begins massaging. âLookâ props to you both for not letting all that angst go to waste. This is a safe space, and thereâs no shame in a little hormone-inducedââ
âOh, for Godâs sake,â Logan interrupts, revving the car back to life and shoving his prodding hands away. âJust be quiet back there.â
âFine, fine. Iâll keep the commentary to myself. But just so you knowâ got that bad boy playing on repeat, right here.â He says, tapping the side of his head.
You bury your face in your hands. This was going to be a long car ride.
As the car starts moving again, you muster the bravery to risk a glance at Logan. His expression is hard to read but his energy thrums with uncertainty. The boiling hatred seems to have dialled down to a gentle simmer, mostly redirected towards himself rather than you. Thereâs something elseâ something that wasnât there before. You rip your eyes away quickly, mind racing.
For somebody so in tune with emotions and the literal ability to manipulate them if you so desired, you were horrendous at navigating your own. You donât know what this kiss meant, or if it even meant anything at all.
If thereâs anyone you didnât expect to come across in the void, itâs X-23â Laura. Sheâs taller, now, with hair down her back, but sheâs still got that stern, mean look on her face that intimidated you the first time you met her.
The weak front door squeaks when you open it a crack. A girl, maybe in her small teen years, blinks up at you.
âCan I help you?â You ask, wiping your flour-dusty hands down on the front of your cooking apron.
âAre youââ she says your name.
You attempt to swing the door shut, but she jams it with her boot. You flick your eyes up, glance around for any signs of threats, and then lower your gaze to her. You wrap your cardigan around your mid-section.
âI donât go by that name anymore. Who the Hell are you, kid, and what do you want?â
âIâm here about Logan,â she says, matter-of-factly.
Logan. A name followed by your own, both of which you hadnât heard in years.
âHeâs not here, kid. He died years ago.â
âI know,â she answers, unwavering. âI was there when it happened. Your name was the last thing he said.â
Youâd let her in for a glass of sugary sweet tea that day, but once stories were exchanged you told her not to come back. She respected your wishesâ she said she simply wanted to put a name to the face, to get closure, but youâd felt her desperation. Perhaps she was seeking out respite, or family, but you were in no position to be sharing your space with someone who could put another target on your back.
After introductions were made with the others who had been ripped from their timelines (Elektra, Blade and oh my god a Gambit variant with muscles so huge he could pop your head between his biceps) you excused yourself to sit outside. The buzzing emotional energy made your collar feel a little tight around the neck, your head a little fuzzy with noise, so you decided to reignite the small campfire a few yards away from the safe-house and rest there, instead.
You hadnât realised you were being followed.
âItâs not safe here.â
âItâs not safe anywhere, Logan.â
He looks defeated, raising and clasping his hands behind his head.
âI gotta leave, baby.â
âIf you leave, I ainât lettinâ you back,â you whisper. âYou donât heal the same anymore, Logan, and you promised meââ
âI know what I promised,â he rebuts, but not angrily. You can already see on his face that heâs made his choice. Heâs not coming to you to discuss it. âBut I owe it to him. To Charles. He gave me everything.â
âSo then what did I give you?â You ask. âNot a home, not my love, not everything?â You slam the tea towel down and turn away from him as the tears form. Heâs quiet, perhaps processing everything, but youâre too impatient.
âIf youâre just gonâ get up and leave, do it now. I wonât beg you to stay, Jimmy.â
âI love you.â
You donât say it back.
You wake up with a start, damp clinging to your forehead. You immediately sense another presence and glance over to see Logan watching you with a steady gaze. His expression is soft and almost reverent at first, but his facade hardens with a quick tick of his jaw.
âYou talk in your sleep.â The bottle in his hand sloshes as he takes a drink. âNightmare?â
You sigh frustratedly when you realise itâs him. Of course, itâs him â his energy reeks of whiskey and self-loathing. You prop yourself on your elbows, massaging the sore spots on your temples where sleep fog forms.
âI canât even get some rest without you botherinâ me? Youâre leakinâ self-hatred everywhere.â
âQuit hogging the fire then.â
âFuck you,â you murmur, but itâs without bite.
A moment passes before he fills the silence again. âWhat are you even doing out here, alone? Trying to get yourself killed? Pretty stupid.â
âDo you know how hard it is to sleep when nobody shuts up?â
His brows knit. âTheyâre all dead asleep.â
His hand runs up and down your back.
âCanât settle?â He asks after you sigh.
âNo.â You turn so youâre lying on your back, shoulder touching his, staring up at the ceiling. âEveryone is feeling so loud. Itâs like a frequency I canât turn off.â
He hums. âTheyâre grieving, I sâpose.â
âEven you and you always said you hated the guy.â You shuffle to lie on your side, facing him. You place a hand on his bare chest. âI can feel it, you know.â
âI didnât hate Scott. Just found him⌠obnoxiously irritating.â
âTough guy.â You giggle and stroke his cheek. âYouâre turninâ soft, old man.â
He pulls you flush against him and presses a kiss to your hairline. You lay in verbal silence for a while, soaking up his presence (god, you were so in love), but youâre interrupted when he abruptly sits up and grabs the white vest he discarded somewhere near the bed.
You lean on your elbows. âWhere you goinâ?â
âLetâs go for a ride.â
âWhat?â
âYou canât sleep here. Letâs go somewhere quieter.â
âBut Charles saidââ
âScrew Charles. You cominâ or what?â
He hadnât told you he loved you yet, but at that moment you felt it.
And so you do, clinging to his mid-section on his motorcycle, head stuffed into the helmet he affectionately forces you to wear. Itâs a warm night in New York, soupy with heat, but the further you get away from the compound with him by your side the more you feel you can breathe.
ââCourse, you donât understand.â
You reach for the small pouch on your hip and retrieve a cigarette. You light it between your lips, taking a seat a few paces away from him, hands still shaking a little with the aftershocks of the night terror.
âSince when did you start smoking?â
You perk a brow. âIâve always smoked.â
He seems to realise something and simply shakes his head before returning to the vice in his fist.
âRight.â
You stare at him for a long, passing moment, before pulling out your lighter again and offering it towards him. He perks a brow.
âI know you got a cigar in there somewhere,â you say. He pauses, sighs, and then retrieves a thick cigar from one of the pouches on his suit. You lean closer, flick the lighter, and cup your hand to protect it from the breeze, shamelessly glancing at the dancing glow that bathes his face amid the firelight. You feel the urge to kiss him again, and when his eyes flick up to yours, you think for the briefest second that he wants to kiss you, too.
Swallowing, you collapse your lighter and clear your throat. You sit quietly, smoking and drinking in a silence only negated by the distant sound of chittering bugs around you. Once youâre finished with your cigarette, you toss the butt into the fire.
âWeâre infiltrating tomorrow morning.â
He laughs dryly. âYeah, good luck with that.â
Your lips tighten into a thin line. âWe wonât make it without you.â
âSure you will. Iâm not him, you know,â Wolverine grumbles, slugging another shot of alcohol.
You scrutinise him from across the log. You wonder if he feels as pathetic as he looks.
âNoâ you got that right,â you answer. You pry the liquor from his hands but the grip he releases from the neck of the bottle must have been a mercy on his part because you knew he was extraordinarily stronger than you. âHe was much braver than you.â
His eyes flicker from the flames to you as you take a long swig.
âAlthough probably just as stupid.â
A pause. Crackling and popping firewood fills the silence.
âBut, he was a hero. And so are you.â
A beat before he spits a dry laugh, âwhat gave you that idea?â
You give him a once over and offer a half-smile. âThat suit, for starters.â
He looks down at himself like heâd forgotten he was wearing it and wipes away a stray speck of blood from the bright material that youâre sure you might be responsible for.
âWhat, you like it?â He grunts.
You canât help but smile. âYellow suits you.â
âThis is all I had left to remember youâ them by,â he says, tone turning more sombre as he reminisces.
You decide itâs not the time to make another jab, so, instead, you play back and forth with the bottle for a while until the alcohol stops stinging your throat.
Something small shatters inside of you when you watch him muster the strength to look into your eyes, and his look a little glassy.
âDid you love him?â
Woof, that needed a healthy drink of courage to answer. When you hold his gaze, thereâs a hollowness to his expressionâ an unasked question. Was there truly a version of him worth loving?
âYeah.â You wipe the back of your hand across your mouth to cover the crack in your voice. âYeah, I did.â
Heâd insisted he hadnât wanted you around yet heâd kissed you and now followed you to where youâd been sleeping. That had to count for something, so you extend your arm and gesture the bottle towards himâ an olive branch in the form of shitty Jack Daniels. Your fingers touch when he accepts it and the brief glimmer of eye contact you share sends shivery energy zipping between you.
âI loved him,â you repeat, as if convincing yourself. A repeated balm to soothe the pain of letting him leave.
âHeâs an idiot for leaving you.â
You bite back a sob-laugh, imagination caught somewhere between wondering who youâd rather beat up more: him, or yourself.
âMaybe Iâm an idiot for not followinâ him.â You sniff deeply to push back the incoming sob-induced mess. âNot that he woulda let me.â
He hums resignedly.
Clearing your throat, you tuck your hands between your thighs. Swiftly moving on. âWhat was Iâ she like?â
He takes a long drink and sighs thickly when he comes up for air. He looks down at his hands when he talks as if choosing his words thoughtfully and carefully.
âStrong, smart. Stubborn. Far too fuckinâ stubborn.â
You force a smile over the flinch of pain in your chest. âGuess we got that in common.â
You reach up and twist the dog tag around your neck, feeling for the ring youâd slipped around the chain. You were never married legally but were in all the ways that mattered. Your heart aches for the brief moment of domesticity you shared with him. You expect him to be finished, but he once laughs, a smile cracking on his face.
âShe loved kidsâ had a soft spot for the weird ones.â He squints and rubs at the flesh between his knuckles where the blades typically protrude. âPut me in my place. Stood up for what was right.â
His words strike a chord in your heart, playing the familiar tune of yearning and guilt and grief. A swelling sensation rises from your stomach and youâre not sure if youâre going to scream, cry or throw up.
âWere youâ?â
âIn love with her? What, like you canât tell?â He interrupts, face hardening. Another drink. âIt doesnât matter. We argued one night and I refused to follow her back to the school, âbout the same time the humans went mutant hunting.â
Logan takes a moment to catch himself.
âWhen I came back, shit-faced from the bar, I realised Iâd gotten my version of you murdered, along with the rest of them. Laid up like a fucking log pile. Thatâs what loving me got you.â
The gruesome imagery sours the liquor in your stomach. You push the nausea down with a hard swallow.
âIâm sorry.â
âWhââ He jolts back, face pinched. âI got you killed, and youâre fuckinâ sorry?â
âThereâs a world where you didnât make that choice. You know, Iâm not proud of who I am, either,â you answer, softly. âAfter you left and I lost you⌠I got bitter, stopped pulling my punches.â
âYou never liked hurting people.â
âI didnât.â You take a deep breath, willing away the warmth that pools behind your eyes. You quickly regain composure with a short cough. âWhatever woman youâre comparing me to, I stopped being her a long time ago. Like you told meâ Iâm no hero.â
He grunts, looking like he regrets saying that now. Checkmate. Youâre not what either of you expected or yearned for in one another, but maybe youâre exactly what you both need.
âYou know, your accents thicker.â
He says it as if to draw a line of separation, but you take it as an invitation. Your head swims from the alcohol, and against what probably is your better judgement, you inch closer to him until your knees bump against each other.
âThatâs what I get for hidinâ in the mountains. Got adopted by a scary old lady and her church friends. I reckon she rubbed off on me. Youâd like her, I think,â you tell him fondly. Thereâs something wistful about it, imagining a life with him. You grieve a life you never had but somehow, in his company, the melancholy loosens its grip.
âMaybe we got lucky,â you add flatly.
He lifts the bottle with a dry laugh. âYou have a very funny idea of what lucky means, bub.â
âWell, I wouldnât be so sure. Yâsee, they didnât get lucky. They died, ânâ we lost each other,â you explain, glancing up at the stars as if either version of you would ever be in heaven, as if it was as loving enough as a motherâs womb to stretch wide enough to allow space for mutants.
God probably hated you just as much as they did down here.
You lower your head onto his shoulder. âBut, weâre still here. Maybe there was always space in my universe for you.â
âYouâre drunk,â he observes flatly, but he doesnât move.
âA little.â You get more comfortable against his tense bicep and close your eyes. âHumour me, why donât you?â
He sighs, but itâs gentle. âJust for a while.â
âGood, because youâre not very good at keeping your feelings quiet. I know you like this.â
âKeep that to yourself.â
You sigh, eyes remaining closed. âWe ainât gonna talk about it, are we?â You ask, in reference to the kiss.
âNope.â
A high-pitched whine resonates in your ears, vision blurring as if lying underneath a rippling river current. Paradox has just explained the stakes to you â to stop Cassandra, somebody would have to lay down on the wire and make the sacrifice play. This wasnât a matter of regeneration anymoreâ it was being ripped apart from the seams, atomised.
It just so happens that your cat, Kevin, has been loving his little journey around the TVA. Cheater.
âYou wonât survive it,â is what you say in response to Logan offering himself up for the job. What you really meant was: I donât think I can survive losing you again.
âI know,â Logan answers. His eyes drip to where you palm at the slow-healing wound on your side, courtesy of the Lady Deadpool variant. Youâre winded, running on fumes, and know youâre in no position to start throwing yourself out there as a suicide volunteer. Youâd never make the journey, let alone succeed in your venture.
âThatâs why itâs gotta be me,â Deadpool interrupts, peeling the mask from his face to address you both. âNeither of you asked for any of this. You were right. I lied. I lied right to both of your faces â just to get you to help me, and you did.â
âYou didnât lie,â Logan replies, throwing you a glance. âYou made an educated wish.â
He reaches into his pocket and slaps the bloodied Polaroid of Deadpoolâs friends against Wadeâs chest. The gesture is a final, silent acknowledgement of why any of you are here in the first place, and everything thatâs led to this moment.
âI got nothinâ back in my world,â he explains, the sharp arrow of his words striking a sting straight through your heart. âLet me do this. For you.â
You could see that this meant more to him, that he would only deem himself worthy and die a peaceful death if he could do it knowing he saved at least one variant of you. This is more than just a mission. This is his only chance to redeem himself, and you know youâre in no position to start trying to convince him that youâd have him either way. Fuck redemption.
Youâre parallel from one another, standing just outside of touching distance. It was a cruel existenceâ reaching out and never quite being able to hold on. Itâs inevitable, the pull you feel. Youâre dictated by his gravity but cursed by the narrative.
Your chest rises and falls with shallow, laboured breaths as you attempt to process whatâs happening, what heâs asking you to let him do. The pain in your side ebbs only from the comparative pain of watching another version of the man you love sacrifice himself for you.
His voice is a quiet whisper. âGive me this.â
But I love you. The words are there, hiding behind your clenched teeth, gnawing at the bars like a feral animal caged in the reminder that this isnât â shouldnât be â the man that you love.
Something shifts and as youâre running on the delirium of your battery running low, healing resources drained, you decide that you donât actually care to make the distinction any more.
Youâre in no condition to fight; you barely had the energy to argue with him, let alone stop him. But you canât just let him go.
One wobbly step forward. You poke his chest, mustering whatever energy remains to express your feelings in the only true way you know how. âIâŚâ you stammer, but you suddenly canât find the words.
His hand reaches up and he splays yours flat against his chest. Faintly, buried deep behind the armoured layer of his suit, you feel the distinct thunk, thunk of his heart. He exhales deeply when your empathetic energy transmission reaches the other side. Your eyes connect, and even through the sharp whites of his mask, you can feel the psionic pulse resonating between you twoâ strong enough that the wound on your side begins to sew itself together.
âI know,â he whispers.
And you believe that he does.
He nods shortly, releases your hand, and turns on his heel. You collapse against the control centre, eyes needling through the camera footage, desperate to watch the final moments and know that his sacrifice was worth it.
Itâs about the same time that Deadpool yanks his mask back on and barrels down the hallway after him.
âWade!â
You glance back at the party as you creep towards the apartment door to leave. Your consciousness has only recently slipped back into place, having hovered somewhere above your body for the entire time you witnessed your friends atomically ripped apart, only for them to return mere moments later.
You think it mightâve been witnessing Wolverine sweaty and shirtless that was finally the last straw for you. Youâre not sure youâve recovered since.
You thought you were being sneaky about your departure, but a flat hand reaches from out of view, splays and then holds the door closed.
âYou sure I canât convince you to stay?â Logan asks, voice slow and tentative.
âI ainât runninâ this time, I promise,â you answer. He rests his arm on the beam above him, making him appear even taller and maybe even more imposing. Your pulse quickens as you look up at him, trying to find the right words, ones that you hope wonât give you away. You nearly squeak. âI umâ justââ
He arches a brow, a hint of a micro-smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. He shifts, getting closer by just a fraction. âYeah?â
Trying to keep your distance is proving to be immensely hard when heâs gotten himself this deliciously close. His energy tastes of confidence, a stark contrast to the self-loathing only a mere few days prior. Itâs magnetic. If you make eye contact now, youâre not sure youâll be able to control yourself.
The atmosphere crackles with tension, like the static energy right before lightning strikes. His gaze is intense when you look at him, and with the way his eyes glance purposefully down at your parted lipsâ
Jesus. Pull yourself together.
You gently pull away from him and feel the spell of the moment dissolve. âI just⌠need time.â
Recognition flashes on his face, as well as a tick of disappointment, but he seems to understand.
A beat, then he taps the door before stepping aside. âAlright. Donât be a stranger.â
Wade bursts around the corner, arms wide and voice booming. Vanessa hangs off of his arm, white teeth gleaming with mischievous joy.
âWhoa, hey there, lovebirds! Whatâs going on hereâ a secret rendezvous? Looking for somewhere to sneak off? Should I cue the romantic music or just give you two some privacy?â
You jump in surprise at his sudden entrance, flinching away from Logan as if youâd been caught doing something you shouldnât. Loganâs expression shifts from whatever tender moment was brewing, spell broken, to a mix of exasperation and resignation, jaw tightening.
âWade,â he grumbles, voice sharp, but you can acknowledge thereâs a level of begrudging affection beneath the steely surface. âTiming, as usual, is impeccable.â
âUm, actually, I was just leavinâ,â you answer, tugging on your bag.
âWHAT!â Wade exclaims, face dropping. âWe havenât even gotten to our favourite part yet!â
You tick a brow. âOur favourite part?â
âThe cocaine part,â he says, matter-of-factually.
âWade, that was one time,â you pinch the bridge of your nose. âIâm sorry. Thank you for inviting me. I just canât miss my flight.â
Dogpool jumps at your ankles, whimpering and chewing on the hem of your jeans. You give her a gentle scratch on her head, deftly avoiding the lick of her impressive tongue. Wade scoops her up, holding her against his shoulder and kissing her affectionately on her wet nose.
âYou, ah, need a ride?â Logan offers.
Your heart stutters at his chivalrous attempt. âOh, um. Thatâs okayâ I called a cab. So.â
That was a lie. You hadnâtâ not yet. You just werenât sure if you were going to make the right decisions if you were alone in his company for an hour. Probably wouldnât make it to the airport without fighting or crying or making stupid choices.
He rubs his jaw. âRight.â
âIâll⌠see you around?â
âI better!â Wade yells, using two fingers to gesture that heâs keeping his eye on you as Vanessa yanks him around the corner gleefully.
A magnetic tether â or red string, whatever you want to call it â seems to strain when you walk away from Logan. You feel the pull in your chest, a fluttering of electricity, but you swallow the urges and ignore the way they scratch like glass on the way down.
You call an Uber, squeezing your bag tightly for a source of comfort as you crowd yourself into the back seat. You spare one last glance at the apartment and think for a brief moment you see a silhouette of someone watching you from the balcony, but they slip away into the light before you can discern it.
You know, though. Of course, you know.
You expected relief when you arrived home, but, instead, the aching, gnawing black hole in your chest seems to grow exponentially. You go through the motionsâ feed your cat, tend to the garden, eat the food with no appetite, go to Church.
The fixture of Jesus pinned to the cross gives you pause for the first time. You wonder if he was a mutant.
You werenât sure how much of this âtimeâ thing you were going to need to heal or make a decision on where you and Logan stood after everything, but only after your second night, sleepless and alone, do you start to doubt that this will be an easy process. You communicate like you know what youâre doing, but you havenât stopped shaking since he kissed you, like a newborn foal traversing ice.
You want to do things right. Youâre not trying to replace any missing pieces or live up to any expectations he might have of you. The girl he knew seemed to be a softer, sweeter (less traumatised) version of you, and you worry that youâd be constantly comparing him to a ghost of himself.
The rain lulls you as it patters on the window by your bed, but sleep doesnât take you.
You hear thunder, you think, and wonder if the chickens are frightened in their coops. However, the distant grumble continues to grow, reverberating through the floorboards of your rickety cabin. As it creeps closer you discern that itâs not a brewing stormâ but the growling engine of a motorcycle.
Awash with a deep sense of knowing, you throw yourself out of bed and knot a silk robe around your middle. The sound of the engine dissipates, replaced only by the hammering rain and the rushing pulse in your ears when you tear your door open.
You see himâ all leather jacket slick with rainwater and tight jeans, brows pinched against the onslaught of the weather as he dismounts his bike.
Logan.
When your eyes meet, thereâs a palpable shift in the air, and the storm, angry as a howling spirit, mirrors the turbulent emotions within you. You donât speak, you donât think, you just act.
Barefoot, dressed in your slip of a robe, you race down the short path and meet him halfway.
âLogan? Logan?â You call out. âWhat are you doinâ here?!â
âHad to see you,â he calls out between strides, voice nonchalant as if what heâs said was obvious.
Youâre closing the distance. âThatâs a dayâs ride, and the weatherââ
Instead of letting you finish, he grasps your face, kissing you suddenly and with a reverence so sincere that your knees feel gelatinous and weak. His thumbs brush away the raindropsâ tears? âthat drip over your crystallised lashes. His touch is both grounding and electrifying; the warmth of him pressed against you is a stark contrast to the chilling downpour.
Your fingers curl against the front of his jacket, clinging with equal fervour as if itâs the only thing keeping you anchored from floating someplace else. The strength of his body crowds over you, arm sliding down to capture you by your waist as you lean into him, syrupy-decadent and entirely reliant on him to keep you upright.
The kiss deepens, his tongue sliding over yours tasting both bittersweet and intoxicating in equal measures, like cigar smoke and peppermint gum. Thereâs a distinct sharpness of liqour and you wonder if he had a shot (or bottle) of courage before coming here. You breathe deeply against his skin, smelling rainwater, musk and gunpowder; your senses are completely overwhelmed by him and youâre not sure that anything could pull you away.
The red string knots.
When you both eventually take pause, gasping for air as the rain continues to pelt, his eyes lock with yours. He radiates relief, desire, and a raw vulnerability that makes your heart ache.
âYouâre freezinâ,â he murmurs, peppering kisses against your lips, your cold nose, and pulling one of your hands to his face to peck along your palm. You feel dizzy in his embrace, drunk on his lips.
âYou should come inside,â you whisper, âbefore the neighbours start askinâ questions.â
He quietly nods, kissing your fingers before following you inside and ducking away from the rain.
Once inside, he shakes the rain from his hair with a flick, eyes immediately roaming around the innards of your respectable (tiny) house, the size of him immediately proportionally shrinking the interior. He absorbs your surroundings, chivalrously pretending like he canât see every curve of you in that wet material.
You lead him towards the heath, lighting a small fire to help dry you both off. You leave, pottering around to gather some towels for your hair, and arrive back to see heâs peeled off the top layer of his clothes, leaving him half-exposed, his back an impressive marvel of rippling muscle. He glances at you over his shoulder.
Youâre lost for words, but canât just stand there ogling him. âUm, I donât think I have any spare clothes thatâll⌠fitâŚâ
When he turns to face you, his rain-slick torso shines in the firelight, skin glistening on the taught muscles of his biceps as he accepts a towel from you. Your words lag, entirely distracted by the realisation of one thing when you glance down at his v-line and dark, coiling hair that creeps down into his jeans: youâre absolutely going to have sex with this man.
You mightâve decided that when you watched the way his jeans clung to him when he dismounted his motorcycle, but thatâs beside the point.
âThatâs alright,â he answers, towel slung over his shoulder, eyes roving shamelessly over the damp, silky robe that clings to your silhouette effortlessly. âDonât need âem.â
Your mouth dries when he steps closer to you, head angled, lips centimetres apart.
âLoganâŚâ you breathe, tone edging toward a warning.
He presses against you, tilting you back. âTell me you donât want this, and Iâll stop. Iâll get back on that bike and Iâll leave.â
You creep further away, trying to catch your breath. âIââ
The words donât manifest, simply because you donât have it in you to lieâ to deny yourself of this.
He cages you in against the wall, shrinking you underneath his frame, eyes narrowed and dark as they search for yours through lowered lashes. âTell me you donât feel somethinâ, and Iâll walk away. You wonât see me again.â
His bare-chested proximity was overwhelming you. Youâre acutely aware of every inch of his skin that touches yours, pebbled nipples hard against his warm flesh, stubbled jaw nuzzling against your neck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. You feel like a teenager again, anxious and hormonal, a ball of puppy fat and unrequited crushes. The space between your thighs positively aches with heat, throbbing like a second heartbeat.
âI canât⌠I canât tell you that I feel something.â
He leans back, lips quirked with a flash of disappointment.
You blink up at him. âLet me show you instead.â
He ticks an eyebrow.
You use your empathetic influence to decrease his heartbeat, relaxing him down to the bone. He sighs, nosing against your shoulder, arms flexing as he holds himself up against you.
âJust with a little influenceâŚâ you stroke your way up from the slow pulse in his neck to his jaw, capturing him swiftly. You use your mutation to increase his heart rate this time, hiking it up to an excitable level. His cheeks begin to flush, pupils dilated, lips parted with the anticipation of your kiss. His eyes darken with something intrinsically primal and hungry.
âDoes it excite you?â You ask, innocently.
He shakes his head all dog-like as if to regain control, canine showing as his lips curl into a wolfish grin.
âYouâre not the only one with⌠tricks. I can do that, tooâ in other ways,â he says, tone low and suggestive. He lifts a hand, tracing a knuckle over your exposed collarbone, shifting the soft material of your robe just an inch. Your breath hitches.
âYou know I can hear your heartbeat, right?â
You blush. You hadnât known that.
You challenge his eye contact, feigning self-control and authority. The stare-down has your pulse spiking, arousal ricocheting down your spine and sitting low and syrupy in your belly.
âYour heartâs beating pretty fast, too.â
Oh, Hell. Heâs got you melted like butter in a pan.
You rest your head against the wall, breath quickening. âIf we do this, I donât think Iâll be able to stop.â
âGood,â he growls. âI donât like to stop.â
The teasing back-and-forth game of teetering towards nearly touching finally gets the better of you. Youâre weak, as malleable as soft dough, so you invite him against your mouth with a sigh-wine and a tug on the nape of his neck.
He positively devours you, a hand palming at your breast as you kiss desperately and feverishly. The shoulder of your robe slips and youâre half-exposed, the slip barely holding itself together by the loose knot on your waist. He pulls you impossibly closer, the skin of his chest flush against yours as he reaches and digs fingers into the globe of your ass, hips twitching together.
You fumble between your bodies, yanking on his belt buckle and zipper impatiently. He pulls backwards, a wet string of spit snapping between your lips as you separate, helping you with steadier fingers to remove his jeans. With equal passion, he swiftly tugs on the waist-tie of your robe and discards it somewhere on the floor.
When youâre both bare, nude silhouettes sharp and soft in the firelight, he stumbles you over to the plush rug in the centre of the room. He nods to the couch.
âLegs up.â
You obey without hesitation, taking your seat and spreading decadently for him. He kneels below you of you, hips between your ankles, and gazes at you like a hungry, stalking animal. You feel impossibly sexy and dangerous.
He peppers kisses along the bone of your ankle first, foot hiked up onto his shoulder, only breaking eye contact to flutter his eyes closed. He moves along the inner length of your leg, pausing keenly against the sensitive partsâ the thin stretch behind your knee, the soft plush of your thigh. He lowers himself, scruff tickling between your legs, and then licks a molten stroke between your folds, parting you with his tongue and burying his face deeper.
You clench around his skull, mindfulness of your heightened mutant abilities long forgotten. You canât crush metal between your thighs. Or can you?
He groans into you, varying suckling and kissing you on your clit with long strokes on the blade of his tongue to your hole, lapping up the nectar of your arousal, fingers digging bruisingly into your hips. The sting of his grip and the relentless lave of his tongue entice moans from you, fingers raking into his hair for some semblance of reality grounding in your pleasure-lapsed consciousness.
Jesus. With as filthy as his mouth was, you shouldâve known he would be this good at eating pussy.
You come quick, orgasm pulsing on his lips. The burn of overstimulation seizes your muscles, writhing against his onslaught, but he shoves your hips down.
âNot done with you yet,â he murmurs possessively, leaning back to wipe his chin. âOn all fours.â
You bite your lower lip, suppressing the humiliation of the intimacy (vulgarity) of it. You turn, belly still clenching with the aftershocks, arching with the anticipation, whining moments later when his mouth reconnects with you. His hands palm at your ass, spreading you wider, tongue slipping dangerously close to the tight ring of muscle.
He slides a finger knuckle-deep, miming fucking you in a rhythmic pulse. His other hand massages you, thumb sliding down until you jerk sensitively against his nudging intrusion.
You feel impossibly full and tingly, clenching around the burn of his thumb and the velvet of his finger, second orgasm surging and bubbling over with your face pressed against the couch cushion, lips agape. Youâre slick, drip-dropping onto his cupping palm, every nerve in your body burning raw as his wrist works you through the pulses.
You turn over, relishing in the sight of his scruff glistening with the aftermath of your orgasm, his eyes dark with lustâ a hellish man, seraphic on his knees for you. Your insides clench at the sight as he quite literally shatters and redefines what worship means to you.
âTired already?â He hums, massaging your hips.
You perk a challenging brow. âThat was just the warm-up, old man.â
âAlright,â he seethes, sucking on his lower lip as he lifts himself up to your level. âShow me what you got then, baby.â
When you kiss, his mouth slides against yours, drenched with the taste of yourself. His cock steels against your belly when you pull him close, tip pearl-smooth with precum when you reach down and grasp him with a hollowed fist. The feel of him, heavy and warm in your grip, fans to life the flames of your briefly quenched arousal, and you hungrily pull him down onto the couch beside you.
Moisture pools on your tongue as you rub him. You spit on your hand before stroking him from the base to tip, lathering him silky with your drool. You tuck your hair behind your ears, narrowing your cheeks as you slide your mouth up and down his length, fisting the inches that remain.
âChrist.â He twitches in your mouth as you gently massage the warm weight of his sac, lewd sounds emanating from where your lips and tongue meet him. âJust like that. Good fuckinâ girl,â he snarls, gripping your hair in a fist at the crown of your head. Your engine purrs with his encouragement, revving with newfound enthusiasm.
You always gave as good as you got, after all, and youâre certainly not one to back away from a challenge.
His head lolls onto the back of the couch, thighs tense beneath you, cock hot and hard on your tongue. He growls when he comes, pulsing strongly in your mouth as you lap up the produce of his orgasm, salty and molten down your throat.
âFuck, fuck, fuckââ
âPut those regenerative powers to good use, why donât you?â You ask, working him through the over-sensitivity with your wrist. His eyes donât once leave yours, even as they glaze over and flinch from the pleasure burn. Thereâs a sharp look of challenging determination on his faceâ a grit of his teeth, the furrow in his brow. He remains hard in your hands and you perk an impressed brow. Not bad for an old man.
Thereâs a sweet moment of vulnerability when you crawl over him, a brief sobering in the cloud of lust, a clarity of two not-quite strangers and their shared grief and yearning.
Youâre not sure where this moment will take you, but the love of somebody scraping together the shards of a shattered heart for a brief time, even as it cuts their hands, holds you with a semblance of human connection so sincere that youâll carry it with you for a lifetime.
His thighs spread to accommodate you. You hold your fingers against the thick chords in his neck for support as you fumble between your bodies, slotting him against the catch in your cunt before lowering yourself entirely.
You hiss against the intrusion and he steadies you with a hand on your hip.
âEasy. Donât hurt yourself.â
You laugh-moan, laying your palms against the coils of hair on his sweat-shimmering chest.
âI can take it.â
The fire, intended to help dry you off, creates a heated environment that beads sweat on his temple. The only brain cells that remain coherent bounce around on lust in your skull â so you lean forward, lick the salty droplet clean, and sigh-whine as you begin rocking against him.
You fall into sync quickly, a desperate rhythm of desperate bodies. The delicious ache of him inside you is a masochistic thrill, similar to the irresistible press on a day-old bruise. The squelching shlick between your bodies is an animalistic reminder of your flesh and blood as you chase the pleasure, bouncing with vigour.
âChristâ I can feel youâŚâ his jaw clenches with resolve, fingers digging into the meat of your ass. ââŚdripping all over me. You wanted this bad, huh?â
âWanted to ride you in that fuckinâ Honda,â you straighten your posture, leaning away from him to hold your breasts, panting words between bated breaths. âThought it might shut you up.â
His hand snaps up and grabs you roughly by the chin. âMm⌠mouthy, arenât ya?â
You grin. âYou got no idea, lumberjack.â
He pulls your face against him, meeting your mouth halfway in a sloppier, fever-driven kiss that shoots arousal to your core like a shot of his favourite whiskey. Something feral stirs within you: a primal, cellular-deep need to connect with him further. Your empathetic power roils off of you like steam on a hot spring, surging into and merging with him until thereâs nothing but one feeling, a black hole of unquenchable desire.
You suddenly feel as though you are him: navel-deep, a throbbing muscle with an aching desire to dive further into the serpent-clutch of your cunt, gliding through tingly, honey-silk velvet, blades hanging onto a tether of self-control as they threaten to slide out of your knuckles in ecstasy.
Well. This was certainly new. Add âvoodoo sex dollâ to your list of mutations.
You gasp, ripping away from the kiss, your powers recoiling back into you at whip-lash speed, dizzying in its ferocity. His eyes meet yours with darkened curiosity.
âDid youââ
âI felt that,â he grunts, tongue darting out to roll over his lips. âIt always like that for you? Feelinâ so fuckinâ full?â
You half-laugh blissfully. âOnly the good times.â
âIâll show you a good time, alright.â
He isnât gentle when he manhandles you, forcing you into an arch as he repositions and aligns himself behind your thighs, one foot planted firmly on the floor, the other bent to accommodate the new angle. He reinserts himself inside of you with ease, hands palming your hips and ass.
You feel him nudging cervix-deep and you reach out, clawing at the couch to hold your jerking body steady against the relentless slap of his hips. Thereâs no need to tell him faster or harder when you feel the metal plate of his adamantium hips pressing against your ass, pounding and vulgar with the sound of sweat-damp skin-on-skin.
Itâs involuntary, the way you pant and cry out, intoxicated by the relentless drag and pull of his cock. He says something to you but you either donât hear him or have enough conscious space in your sex-drunk fog to process words and respond. He slides a hand down your spine and pulls on your hair until youâre upright, breath hot when it fans against your neck.
âWhereâs that mouth gone?â
You lick the drool from your lip, throwing him a glance over your shoulder. âFuck you.â
The half-lidded up-and-down look he gives you as satisfaction grows slowly on his lips turns your bones to jelly. âThere she is,â he growls back, offering a sharp slap of encouragement on your ass as he drops you back onto your front. You involuntarily grip around him, puffy clit throbbing with the almost-but-not-quite-there anticipatory build. âYou gonna come for me? Yeah? I can fuckinâ feel it.â
You slide a hand underneath yourself, reaching for the swollen nub with two fingers. Youâre overwhelmed with kinetic energy akin to a fizzy champagne bottleâ two more shakes until youâre ready to pop.
You hear a Snikt! behind you, accompanied by a throat-caught groan, and then the distinct ripping shred of blades impaling your couch. You finally come, hard, when you feel him throbbing inside of you, followed by the decadent syrupy flood of his orgasm filling you up. He ruts into you one, two three more final times, milking himself dry, before collapsing over your body in a sweaty heap, sparing you the weight of his metal bones with a forearm propped next to you.
Shared fluids drip to the couch when he eventually pulls out of you, blades retreating into his clenched fists. The fluffy innards of the chair spill out beside you, and, while you were in no financial position to afford another, the sight entices a humoured smile from you.
âSorry,â he says with a wince, helping you sit up when your unreliable legs shake beneath you.
âThatâs alright. Itâll make for an interestinâ story,â you retort, fanning yourself with a hand. You both let out a shared laugh, mostly from the relieved delirium of it all. After a beat, you lean into him, massaging a hand across his belly. âSo. We really doinâ this?â
His face softens. âIf youâll have me.â
You cup his face and kiss his cheek. âIâd take any version of you I could get.â
divider credits: @/vysleix and @/cafekitsune tag list: @bearwithegg, @uhlunaro, @sseleniaa, @jxssimae, @autumnsymphony
#logan howlett x reader#wolverine x reader#james logan howlett#wolverine#x reader#deadpool and wolverine#honda odyssey#logan x reader
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Pixar did not have to go as hard as they did with the Kronos Unveiled scene in The Incredibles (2004), yet they did anyway and gave us one of the best scenes in modern cinema. Literally cannot stop thinking about how good this scene is, from the animation to the build up to the soundtrack.
I donât think I truly understood how dark this scene - and this film - was a child: Syndrome is systematically and strategically luring in superheroes and killing them off in order to test and improve his Omnidroid design⌠these people were not only supers but they also had family and loved ones too, just like Bob, and one day they would have just disappeared because chances are they werenât telling people where they were going because it was "top secret" and against the law. They thought they were doing something good, like helping the people in the island, while also getting to relive their glory days, perhaps even paving the way for superheroes to make a proper comeback⌠only for Syndrome to kill them in cold blood.
Most of these people can actually be seen at Bob and Helenâs wedding in the beginning of the film - they werenât just random supers, they were their friends, people they worked alongside and cared about. Itâs even worse when you realise that Bob probably blames himself because, after all, Buddy/Syndrome was his biggest fan and he dismissed him by not letting him help.
The relief on Bobâs face when he realises Syndrome doesnât know where Helen is - meaning he also doesnât know where their children are because he didnât realise they were married at this point - is so realistic and gut wrenching to see. The relief contrasting with the anguish of knowing how much danger they and their entire family could have been in the entire time without even knowing...it's so well-done, you can literally feel it.
Itâs also worth noting that originally the next target wasnât Mr Incredible but Frozone - that was who Mirage was trailing, hence why his location is âknownâ. Imagine if she/Syndrome hadnât realised that Mr Incredible was with him and theyâd lured Frozone in instead as planned; he would have gone to the island to fight the Omnidroid 8 in a volcano setting. We saw how being in the burning building dehydrated Frozone and made it impossible to use his ice powers - presumably it would have been the same in the middle of a lava filled volcano, and heâd have been slaughtered just like the other superheroes before him.
This scene shows an entire generation of superheroes - Bob, Helen and Luciusâ generation - wiped out all because Syndrome felt slighted by his hero as a child, because he internalised that slight and let it drive him to revenge. And, if we take into account the deleted alternate opening scene, itâs mentioned that superheroes "aren't supposed to breedâ - meaning thereâs a likelihood that Violet, Dash and Jack-Jack are among the very few supers of the next generation. I know that it's deleted and so not really canon, but it's definitely a concept to consider, I think.
Then there's the fact Syndrome named the project "Kronos" - Kronos was a God who overthrew his own father in order to take over his rule, and then he ate his own children to prevent them doing the same thing to him. It feels like it reflects Syndrome once looking up to Mr Incredible and even saying "I could be your ward!", meaning Mr Incredible adopting or fostering him - the project name is a metaphor for Syndrome destroying the Supers, especially Mr Incredible, who he viewed as a father figure. The Omnidroids he built killed two birds with one stone: not only was he able to acquire the data to upgrade the robot to its final design, but it also eliminated the real super heroes and so left him as the last remaining "superhero", even though his powers are man-made, not something he was born with.
Not only did he want to become the only remaining superhero by killing the real ones in revenge, he also planned to sell his inventions at some point so everyone can be super - because "when everyone is super, nobody is". It's like a final blow to the memory of the superheroes he had killed.
I've talked too much about this scene but God... I love it so much more as an adult because it's just so chilling to think about. I'm sure other people can put it much more articulately than I just tried to, but I just really wanted to appreciate this scene.
#the incredibles#pixar#disney#mr incredible#elastigirl#bob parr#helen parr#edna mode#syndrome#buddy pine#kronos#kronos unveiled#cinema
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GETTING CAUGHT IN THE MOMENT⌠LIPSTICK ON YOUR FACE
â alastor + lucifer + vox getting caught with lipstick stains all over themâŚ
â generally gn!reader. guys can wear lipstick too smh
hehe i got a new lip tint (Ëśâžáˇ âťĚŤ âžáˇ
Ëľ) maybe alastorâs part is a little self-projected
â alastor
alastor himself isnât one for physical affection. in fact, the thought itself makes him feel dirty. someone elseâs skin against his⌠eughâŚ
though, when it came to you, he couldnât keep his hands to himself; hands clawing and playing with your hair, wrapping his arms around your neck, pinching your cute cheeks, holding your hand⌠itâs almost as if heâd double-die without you near!
and the only thing heâd enjoy more than that would be having his affection reciprocated; interlocking your arm with his, a surprise hug from behind, a kiss on the cheek, they are all more than appreciated! especially the thing about kissingâŚ
a kiss from you is simply just exhilarating. the suddenness yet sweetness of it, itâs truly the purest form of love, regardless of if itâs familial, romantic, or platonicâ itâs the purest expression of your love for another person.
so, just imagine alastorâs reaction to your new lipstick, strawberry red to give your lips a glossy color, yet still light enough to appear natural. the pretty hue of red complimenting your face features perfectly by giving it the color it needs as to not appear pale.
absolutely gorgeous. so confusing how a simple amount of color could make you look as if you were an angel from heaven itself. you quite literally took his breath away from just applying a new lipstickâŚ
at some point, alastor had reached some sort of limit when he finally caved into his inner desires, bringing you to a secluded place in the hotel, his hands moving to your hips and hair.
he couldnât wait any longer to place his lips on yourâs, your lipstick smearing all over his thin lips. kissing him from his cheeks to his jawline, leaving light pink stains all over his skin.
he groaned at the feeling of wet lipstick all over his face, and at the same time reveled in the ways you are telling everyone that the only one who could see the radio demon in such a needy and doe-like state would be you; heâd be yours to fool around with, and yours to do however youâd see fit. just as you are hisâ no one elseâs. the smeared lipstick on the side of your lips should send that as a statement enough to whatever lowlife hooligan would even attempt to sweep you off your feet.
when the two of you had returned, it was a strange sight to say the least⌠alastorâs face and jaw covered with pink lips, and you with your lipstick smudged and smeared off your lips, instead all over you neck.
âwell, uh⌠you two look like âya had lotâsa funâŚâ angel said monotonously, awkwardly trying to keep up conversation. âohh, most certainly!â alastor grinned, his transatlantic accent popping through the radio static.
he knows he couldâve wiped it off⌠he has a handkerchief in his back pocket, he couldâve easily saved himself that awkward conversation.
but, he didnât.
could you blame him? he wants all of hell to know that both you and him off-limits for good.
â lucifer
when many imagine the king of hell, itâs hard to think heâd be a social piranha. the same case had gone for you.
who knew lucifer was still as pure of heart as he was during his time in heaven? and who knew heâd fall for someone so easily after the sudden disappearance of his wife?
when he saw you, it was practically love at first sight! your big eyes, your shiny hair, and those big pretty lips of yours that he just wanted to kiss so badlyâŚ
he listened carefully as charlie introduced you to him, trying to remember every detail about you and every feature on your face, stuttering over his words once it was time to speak for himself.
and somehow, despite his meekness towards you and your awkwardness whenever he was around, you two ended up in a relationshipâ with the help of vaggie and charlieâs meddling in pushing you two together.
the two of you loved each other, of course⌠but it was always hard to express. the only way lucifer knew how to show his love was through his presence and gifts. he wasnât hellâs greatest kisser, but he tries.
and, todayâ it was your 5 month anniversary⌠quite a long time, the hotelâs been good so far, no major threats other than one of cherri bombâs occasional explosions. and because of how long itâs been, you decided to do something a little special⌠put on some relatively expensive clothes and make-up your face a little bit.
when lucifer saw you all dolled up, he was honestly a little stunned. lips as red as an apple, hair as soft as silk, the words were stuck in his mouth. âw- er- wow..! iâm not dressed up or anythingâ agh, this is awkward..â lucifer muttered. âhey, itâs ok⌠this was a surprise for you, yâknow?â you said, comforting him slightly.
âyou look⌠stunning todayâ he smiled, carefully putting down his anniversary present for you on his work desk, still wrapped in a red ribbon. he made his way to you, hands making their way to your cheeks to softly cup them as he gently leaned into you for a kiss.
he released a breath he didnât know he had been holding as you kissed his face all over, as if healing the wounds of his past with his present. his banishment into hell, lilithâs abandonment, they all didnât matter anymore, you are the present and the future.
he wrapped his arms around your waist in a hug as he kissed your forehead, the residual lipstick from his lips smeared onto you.
lucifer laughed awkwardly before using his finger to carefully rub off the pink stains on your forehead. âhaha⌠câmon, i got a dinner reservation in the lust ring tonightâŚâ he laughed, interlocking his arm with yours.
âdonât you wanna take off that lipstick on your face first?â you raised an eyebrow at him. âi mean⌠i dont minddd⌠so, itâs only if you wanna take if offâ his eyes wandered, his cheeks growing flustered âhmm⌠nah. i want everyone to know you belong to me now.â you grinned mischievously.
and when the two of you walked out of the hotel lobby, charlie went to wish you a safe trip and happy anniversary before she noticed the stains on her dadâs face. âerr⌠dad..? you gotta a little something thereâŚâ charlie muttered as she pointed all over his face. âah..? yeah, i knowâ he laughed it off, proudly showing off to hell how hopelessly devoted he is to you.
â vox
vox was a busy man. from having many public appearances, to coming up with new ideas for voxtek, to putting out valentinoâs temper tantrums, he barely had the time for romance.
barely. he loved you, truly. he keeps you dear to his heart, no matter how busy heâd be, vox would still make time for you late at night.
everyone had known you, why wouldnât they? youâre the partner of one of the most influential overlords in hell, thatâs a feat that is amazing to accomplish, dating vox in itself has made you into a sort of local celebrity; causing you to be invited to many galas, parties, and occasional raves.
and tonight happened to be the night of one of those parties. zestial had invited you to a formal dinner party, an all star guest list filled by many of the goetic princes, various overlords in hell, and other local hellborns such as verosika mayday.
âplease, voxxx? just this once, itâs only like 3 hours!â you grumble as your apply a coat of ruby red over your lips, checking your appearance in the bathroom mirror. âi canât.. i have a 5:00 with val and velvette, then after that, a board meeting about new gadgets to releaseâŚâ vox groaned, already pissed about the day ahead.
âfine then, your loss.â you pouted, rolling your eyes as you left the bathroom and into the bedroom. âholy shitâŚâ vox sighed out. âyou look⌠really good, my love.â he walked over to you, his hands moving to your body, outlining the clothesâ stitching as he recognized it to be the one he had custom-made for you.
your hands rested on voxâs shoulders, forcibly making him lean over a bit before leaving various kiss stains all over his screen.
vox visibly tensed as his screen started glowing a bright teal, showing his clear embarrassment as pink smudges fogged his screen.
his breath heaved as his hands moved all around your body, desperate to find some kind of relief to his pent-up stress.
ending your kiss attack all too soon on his lips, you pulled away, your lips slightly pale now as you grinned at him. âspend the day looking like that and iâll give you more after workâ you winked, taking your belongings and leaving out the door, leaving a flustered vox in your bedroom, covered with lipstick stains.
âvox⌠the fuck is going on with your face?â velvette snarled. âit looks as if you got fucking mauled by a bear pretending to be a woman.â she yelled, her british accent making her trip over some consonants.
vox sighed, hearing valentino mutter some sort of dirty comparison of vox to a prostitute. âinstead of focusing on me, why donât you put your efforts into our agenda today?â vox frowned, his tone clearly saying that heâs holding himself back from releasing a flood of curses onto the twoâŚ
#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel x reader#alastor#alastor hazbin hotel#alastor x reader#hasbin alastor#hazbin alastor#hazbin hotel alastor#lucifer magne x reader#hazbin hotel lucifer x reader#lucifer morningstar x reader#lucifer#hazbin lucifer#lucifer magne#hazbin hotel lucifer#lucifer x reader#lucifer morningstar#hazbin hotel vox#hazbin vox#vox#vox x reader#vox hazbin hotel#vox headcanons#hazbin hotel smut#vivziepop
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Imagine ex-husband Gojo doing things for his new love interests that you begged him for while you were married.
After a joint meeting between the sister schools, you overheard Suguru asking him who he was texting during the meeting.
Satoru replied, "Just letting my date know I'll be a bit late tonight since we ran long here. Todo can yap, huh?"
"Seriously!" Their voices faded as they walked down the hall.
You stood just outside the meeting room watching the corner the disappeared around. If you had to pinpoint the number one reason your marriage failed - more than clan pressure, more than the strain of being young parents, more than back to back to back missions - it would be the fact that Satoru can't communicate for shit.
Part of it wasn't his fault. His brain just didn't work like that. An inconvenient side effect of limitless is that everything makes sense in your head, but it's hard for a person with the gift to explain their thoughts to others.
So the no-call, no-shows to dinners was technically a side effect of limitless, as was his inability to articulate his feelings like an adult or the fact that he would just do things without even telling you there was a problem in the first place.
"Quit doing that with your face, brat." Sukuna emerges from the meeting room. He's out of his Ryomen form at the moment, as he usually is during meetings so that he can actually fit in his chair. "How long are you gonna let what he does affect you?"
"It doesn't!" you insist.
Sukuna rolls his eyes. "If that helps you sleep at night."
Imagine reminding yourself that you can't be mad at him.
You're seeing other people now, too. Hell, you've been divorced for over a decade, it's insanity that you care at all.
It's just. You never doubted his love for you. Not for a second, not even now that your marriage failed and you largely raised your son on your own.
"Mom?"
Maybe your divorce was his motivation to be better. You're not sure. But if he's capable of change, capable of being attentive and communicative, why couldn't he change for you all those years ago?
"Mom."
Could it be that you were his childhood companion and he loved you, but he was never in love with you? Was his love for you less than your love for him?
You hardly notice your son calling out to you until he springs into action. "Mom!" Sen nudges you away from the stove to turn of the burner. When did smoke fill the kitchen? The roux you were trying to make was burnt to a crisp, stuck to the pan and emanating an unpleasant smell.
Sen gently pries your hands off the handle and drops the ruined pan in the sink to soak. Then he makes sure the burner's off before turning to you with a conflicted expression.
He may have inherited a hybrid of both your and Satoru's personal brands of emotional stuntedness, but he could put two and two together between how distracted you've been and the rumors of Satoru dating again - What with it being huge news among jujutsu society (aka power hungry clans with eligible daughters.) Your son had his own complicated feelings regarding his father and as much as he'd prefer Satoru stay away from you, it hurt him to see you like this.
Though, watching you try to keep a stiff upper lip for his sake during the divorce is the reason he doesn't want his father anywhere near you.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart." You wipe your hands on a dish towel. "I wasn't paying attention. Hang tight while I make you something else."
He could kill Satoru right now. But you wouldn't like that, so he won't.
"Mama, I--" He shuts his mouth. You've been protecting him from the details of the divorce his whole life. What did he know about comforting you? But while he may not have been able to protect you then, he can sure as hell try now.
"Mama, why don't I take you out to dinner? My treat."
Imagine that Sen decides he needs to stop having ideas.
He brought you to a local okonomiyaki that you've been going to since he was little to the point where the owners knew you well and liked to give you little extras from the kitchen. Today's treat was a side of pickled radish.
It was your happy little hideaway. Away from jujutsu and clans and curses and your broken home.
Sen insisted on cooking the okonomiyaki for you, saying that, "My treats means I'll take care of everything!" The weak smile you gave him made his heart soar.
You giggle while he jokes around and tells you about school like how Hikari fell asleep for 45 minutes out of an hour long test and still got a better score than him. Hearing about your son and his happy school days always made you feel better.
Sen was ready to give himself a pat on the back for cheering you up when he hears the front bell jungle and a woman's laughter carries over.
"Fancy places are like that, though!" the woman laughs. "They give a bite of food per plate."
Then a familiar voice replies, "Yeah, but it was good, wasn't it? And now we get to fill up at a cute place like this."
Even though he's the one facing the door and not you, the look on your face tells Sen all he needs to know. What breaks his heart is that you've sunk lower into your seat to make yourself smaller.
Sen could kill his father right now.
Hooray, angst!
Click [here] to keep up with ex-husband Gojo and his estranged family | Ask stuff about Sen and the fam [here]
#gojo sentaro#jujutsu kaisen#gojo satoru#jujutsu kaisen imagines#gojo x reader#jjk x reader#jjk imagines#gojo satoru x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader
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All Iâve Ever Wanted
Season 4!Five Hargreeves x fem!reader
! Spoilers ahead !
Summary: six years of travelling to different timelines, and Five isnât sure how much longer he can go on for. Until he stumbles upon a greenhouse, full of strawberries. And you.
Word count: 4212
A/N: so season 4 was a⌠thing that happened. This story is basically my own idea of how things shouldâve gone in ep 5. Instead of the weird Lila/Five situation, itâs just Five, and his chance of living a normal life with someone new. Hope you all enjoy, and feedback is appreciated :)
Number Five was never one to back down from a challenge. Having been through a series of different apocalyptic events, transporting to a timeline where he spent 40 years alone, and dealing with a misfit group consisting of his exhausting siblings, Five was up for anything. But the current situation he was dealing with? For the first time in his life, he was at breaking point.
After another wasted day spending hour after hour searching for any clues or information on how to get back to the correct timeline, Five returns to the subway, entering one of the compartments and slumping down in the first chair he sees. He rubs his eyes and lets out a visceral sigh, wanting nothing more than to go to sleep. He reaches into his pockets, pulling out a small pack of dried fruits. He rips it open and devours every last piece. He canât remember the last time he had a proper meal. He was becoming more desperate, rummaging through trash cans and foraging in bushes, hoping anything he picks isnât poisonous.
The compartment jolts and begins to move, making its way to the next timeline. Five wipes his hands on his already dirty pants, standing up and walking slowly to the door. He wonders whether his apocalypse counterpart will be waiting for him this time.
After several minutes, and Five almost falling over from his lack of sleep, he finally arrives, the doors opening. He steps out, immediately making his way up the stairs. No time to waste. He cautiously pokes his head out, looking around for any signs of, well, himself. Before he can move out more, something wizzes past his head. A bullet. He ducks, as more shots are fired directly at him.
âGive me a fuckinâ break,â Five mumbles, as he finally takes notices of the other him in the distance.
He sticks up his middle finger, and no soon after closes his fists, blinking as quick as he possibly could.
The Five with a gun disappears along with the destroyed world around him. Five drops his arms to his sides, turning around and admiring the new environment. Luscious, greenery surrounds him, with an array of different flowers sprouting from the ground beneath him. A small pond with fish glimmers in the sunshine, lily pads floating on top. He continues turning, finding himself standing next to a tall greenhouse. The glass was slightly foggy, making it difficult to see whatâs inside. Five leans in closer, squinting as if that would help. He can barely make out what appears to be pots of fruit and vegetables, some fully sprouted and others not yet ripe. His stomach rumbles, the feeling of hunger consuming him.
A rustle sounds from behind him. He turns quickly, coming face to face with a pair of shears. Five jumps back slightly. He then spots the person wielding said âweaponâ. A young woman, probably early twenties, wearing a light yellow dress and a pair of brown sandals. Five canât help but admire her beauty, if it wasnât for the fact she had a face like fury and didnât seem afraid of cutting him in half.
âCan I help you?â Her words are kind, but her harsh tone says otherwise.
Five canât exactly tell this young woman the truth. Showing up randomly in her back yard, covered in grime, gawking at her crops through the window. He raises his hands up in the air, trying to convey that he meant no harm.
âIâm so sorry,â he says, his throat sore having not spoken to anyone in quite some time. âI donât really know how I got here.â Thatâs not exactly true. âIâve been travelling for a few days now.â Try six years. âAnd I could really do with a hot shower and something to eat.â
The woman doesnât say anything, just staring, with the shears still held out in front of her.
Five puts his arms down, shrugging in defeat. âIâll just go. I truly am sorry, I didnât mean to freak you out.â He looks down. âOr step all over your rose garden.â He gingerly moves away from the destroyed flowers.
He turns and begins to walk away, hoping to find an exit as quick as possible. Blinking in front of this woman probably wouldnât help his cause. A warm hand grabs hold of his wrist, forcing him to stop and look back. She has the shears loosely hanging by her side, as her eyes pierce into Fiveâs. She seems hesitant, words forming in her mind. At last, she speaks again.
âYouâre telling the truth?â
Five nods incessantly, feeling like a child.
âAnd if I let you in and make you something to eat, you wonât try and kill me?â
Five holds back a laugh, knowing sheâs being deadly serious. âI wouldnât dare.â
The woman waits a beat, then huffs. âCome on, I was just about to start dinner.â
She moves past Five, walking into three greenhouse. He takes this as a sign to follow after her.
***
The young woman allows Five to use her shower, and heâs thankful for the change of clothes she provides for him too. The home is small and cosy, playing into the stereotypical cottage core of living. The lighting is soft, and the smell of pumpkin seems to waft through into every room. Itâs calming, itâs peaceful, itâs something that makes Five feel on edge. He isnât used to the domestic life, away from the terror and destruction, trying to save the world over and over. He knows he canât stay here long, but he wonât miss the opportunity of a proper cooked meal.
After putting on the change of clothes, Five makes his way down the hall and into the kitchen, a small buffet waiting for him. He finds it hard not to drool, the potatoes and fresh pie, along with the fruit and vegetables heâd spotted earlier. It looks incredible. He takes a seat, as the woman places down a final plate of tomatoes, sitting down opposite Five.
They dish out the food, filling their plates as high as they can, especially Five. He tries not to look like a slob in front of the pretty girl, but finds it hard not to drop some things down his top. She doesnât seem to notice, or pretends not to.
The woman takes a sip of her drink, clearing her throat. âSo,â her soft voice makes Five look up from his plate. âDo you have a name or is that one of the many mysteries of the man shovelling food down his throat like he hasnât eaten in several years?â
The woman isnât afraid of being upfront. Five admires that. Although, itâs not surprising considering heâs a complete stranger sheâs trusted in her home. He puts down his knife and fork, grabbing a napkin to wipe his mouth.
âNo, I have a name. Itâs Fi-,â he catches himself, unsure if his ânameâ would just create more confusion, and unwanted questions. âJerome. Just, Jerome.â
The woman squints her eyes, but doesnât push further, seeming to move past his stumble. âOkay. I wouldnât have pegged you for a Jerome.â
Five shrugs, not knowing what else to say.
âMy names Y/N.â
Five nods. âOkay. Weâre closer already.â
âDonât push it,â Y/N says, a small smile gracing her face. Five canât help but pull the same expression.
***
After a hearty dinner, and some obvious awkward silences, Five insists on helping Y/N do the washing up. The sun was beginning to set, and Five knows heâll have to leave soon, but something stops him from doing so. He doesnât want to admit it, but this was the most relaxed heâd felt in a long time. The fear or worry of something bad happening wasnât there, and as he stands close to the woman he had barely met 2 hours ago, he realises what heâd been missing in his 60 something years. A place to live, with a person who makes him feel safe.
âJerome,â the voice breaks through his thoughts, as Five almost forgets the name heâd given to this woman. âI feel like weâve skirted around the topic enough. Is there any reason you were in the state you were in, taking refuge behind my greenhouse?â
Five places down the plate he was cleaning, turning to face her fully. Her expression is calm, and her voice shows no sign of interrogation. Itâs a first for Five, as heâs become accustomed to people prodding him for information only for their own benefit. No oneâs ever shown true interest in him.
He shrugs. âItâs been a tough couple of years. More than that I guess.â Fives eyes glaze over. âI havenât seen my family in a long time, and I donât know if I ever will. And if I do, Iâm terrified of the state that Iâll find them in.â
Y/N stops what sheâs doing, also turning to look at Five, a look of worry taking over her face. He knows heâs said more than he should have, but he couldnât help it. Heâs not good at sharing his feelings, and when he does, heâs scared of what will happen once the flood gates are opened. He isnât sure if heâll ever be able to close them.
âWhat dâyou mean? Are they in some kind of trouble?â She asks, a slight shake in her voice. âAre you in trouble?â
Five shakes his head, not wanting to stress out this poor woman whoâs been nothing but doting to him. âNo! No, I just,â he sighs, knowing heâs really put his foot in it. âI just care about them, a lot. Too much. And I donât even want to think about not seeing them again.â
A soft hand brushes against Fiveâs cheek, as he glances at Y/N wiping a tear away from his face. He didnât even realise heâd started crying. He sniffles, moving away and rubbing at his eyes, fearing how red they may look. He sucks in a deep breath, calming his beating heart. Whether itâs from talking about his family, or the touch from the woman next to him, he isnât sure. But he fears heâs overstayed his welcome.
Five moves away from the kitchen counter. âI guess I should probably go. Donât wanna miss my train.â Although he knows theyâll always be one there waiting for him.
He heads for the door, remembering to go upstairs and collect his dirty clothes before he leaves. Footsteps are heard from behind him.
âUh,â Five swivels back around, as Y/N hesitates over her words. âThis may seem kinda forward, and a dangerous move on my part, but, I wouldnât be able to sleep tonight knowing you were out there in the middle of the night, traveling by yourself.â
Five holds his breath, not wanting to jump the gun, but already anticipating the next sentence out of her mouth.
âI have extra pillows, and blankets.â Y/N shrugs. âItâs not the most comfortable couch but Iâd say itâs more comfortable than the chairs on the train.â
Neither of them speak for a while. Five ponders her offer over and over, wondering if this is something he wants to decline. He needs to get back to his family. He needs to get back to help them. But so far, every option has been a bust. Heâs not sure how much longer he can go on for. It could be the apocalypse all over again. Stuck for 40 years, traveling none stop, unsure if heâll ever see his loved ones again. Could a good nights sleep really be such a bad thing?
He thinks the risk is worth it. âAs long as itâs not too much trouble for you.â
***
That one good nights sleep turned into three months, staying at Y/Nâs home, crashing on her couch. It didnât stop Five from going out, back to the subway, trying to find the possible solution to his six year problem. But the more time he spent with the woman, the less time he wanted to spend away from her. They grew closer, making meals together, gardening together, watching silly romcoms together. While Y/N taught Five how to bake, Five taught her how to fight. A young woman living by herself? It didnât hurt knowing some basic defence skills.
Five didnât want to admit it, but his family hadnât crossed his mind as often as it usually did before he met Y/N. Heâd become soft, wanting to be around her all the time, not wanting to visit the subway as often as he should be. Heâs lucky enough to call her a friend. He hopes she calls him that too.
***
Itâs late, and Y/N is sat on the couch, crocheting a few pairs of gloves and a long overdue jumper. People used to make fun of her for it, calling her an old lady, but she finds it soothing. And making your own clothes is a big bonus too. Five, or Jerome as she knew him, had been out most of the day. She never questioned what he was up to, only that he returned safe, ready for whatever sheâd cooked up for him during the day. She wasnât completely naive in thinking âJeromeâ has involved himself in shady business. But unless he plans on telling her, then she wonât bother pushing him on the matter.
A bang echos from the back of the house, specifically inside the geeenhouse. It makes Y/N jump up from her seated position, quickly rushing out to the source of the noise. It can only be one person, or thatâs what she hopes. Either way, she grabs for her shears before entering the warm glass room.
âJerome?â She whispers, watching her step, the only light in the room coming from the moon through the windows.
A muffled groaning reaches her ears, as Y/N blindly moves her hands over the walls, trying to find the light switch. She finally does, and flicks it on. A sharp gasp comes out of her mouth, as the brightness finally reveals her new friend curled in a ball on the floor, rolling in pain.
âShit.â
She quickly makes her way over to him, delicately wrapping her arms around his waist and slowly helping him off the floor. He stumbles, knocking into a few pots, almost making them fall off the table.
âSorry,â he mumbles, the word slurring under his breath.
âDonât apologise,â she says, making sure heâs steady on his feet. âLetâs just get you inside and onto the couch.â
They make their way through into the living room, Five dropping haphazardly onto the soft cushions, while Y/N finally gets a proper look at him. His clothes are ripped, the once pristine suit (one she bought for him as a gift) now in tatters. His hair is sticking up in all different directions, and heâs clutching to his side like his life depends on it. She reaches for his arm, prying it away to reveal an array of bullet wounds, still bleeding.
âYou should see the other guy,â Five jokes, tilting his head back and trying to forget about the burning pain running across his body. Funnily enough, if Y/N saw the other guy, heâd look exactly like him, considering this all happened due to an unfortunate run in with apocalypse Five.
Y/N stares at him with wide eyes. âReally? Look, I donât bother asking where you go or what youâre up to when you leave this house, but I think nowâs the time you tell me the truth.â
Five moves his head back down, looking her in the eyes. Sheâs terrified. And he hates that. He breathes in deep, taking her hand in his.
âIf you can help me patch this shit up,â he briefly motions to his wounds, âthen Iâll tell you who I really am.â
So thatâs what they do. Y/N retrieves the first aid kit from her bathroom, while Five opens up about his life before he met her, and how heâs not from this timeline. He isnât sure if sheâs believing what he says, as she remains quiet the entire time, only occasionally looking up at him and quickly returning to removing the bullets lodged in his side. But she listens. And allows him to pour his heart out to her.
âThe past six years were torture. Somehow worse than the forty I spent in the apocalypse.â Five turns his head and stares at the woman next to him, as she finishes up her work. âBut these last few months with you. I could finally be normal. I could live a life most guys would kill to have. And Iâm so sorry I lied to you this long.â
They fall into silence, the pair somehow closer together than they were a few minutes ago. Both emotionally, and physically. Y/N moves her hand and takes his, squeezing tightly. Fiveâs heartbeat picks up speed, only now noticing their close proximity.
âSo your real name is âFiveâ?â He nods at her words. She nods back. âHmm. It suits you a lot better than Jerome.â
They both laugh half heartedly, as they stare deeply into each otherâs eyes. She moves her hand up to his hair, moving it out of his face, trying to calm it down slightly.
She carries on talking. âI canât even begin to imagine what youâve been through.â Five rolls his eyes. She doesnât even know the half of it. âBut if I can be the person to keep you grounded, for however long youâre here for, then Iâm happy to do just that.â
Five smiles, glancing quickly at her lips.
She does the same. âAnd I hope youâre here for a long time.â
They both lean in, softly pressing their lips against each otherâs. Five cups her face, deepening the kiss as Y/N rests her arms atop his shoulders. They move in sync, careful not to cause any more damage to Fiveâs wounds, as she somehow moves closer, one of her legs wrapping itself around his waist.
They donât stop, clothes discarded, bodies intertwined, as their growing tension is finally broken. Five isnât sure if heâll ever get back to his timeline, but for now, heâs happy to call this place home.
***
Another four months, and still no sign of a way back. Although, Five canât deny he hasnât been trying as hard as usual. The peace and tranquillity has consumed him whole, falling into a proper routine with the woman heâŚ
Is it love? Could he truly fall for someone like this? Someone who isnât involved in the shit show heâs grown accustomed to? Someone who wants that quiet life, watering flowers and baking pies, with him? Maybe itâs what he needs.
Five stands in the greenhouse, picking some fresh strawberries, and trying a few to see if they were ripe. Heâs already found the perfect recipe to use them in. Something he knows sheâll love.
As if reading his thoughts, a pair of arms slip around his waist. Y/N rests her chin on his shoulder, peaking over to see the basket full of fresh fruit. She picks one up, moving away and popping it in her mouth. Five turns and looks at her, smiling wide.
âThey taste perfect,â she says.
Five takes her wrists, pulling her towards him and kissing her lightly. âSo do you.â
She laughs, holding him close and breathing him in. âThe cheesy lines donât work on me, bub.â
âI think they do.â He mumbles, bringing her in for another kiss, sliding his hands up and down her back.
They stay like this for a while, holding each other in the warm glass room. The sun starts to set, as Five looks out and realises what time it is.
âDamn.â
She looks at him, confusion on her face. âWhatâs up?â
He shakes his head. âNothing, I just need to do a double check of the subway before dinner.â
Y/N tries not to show her anxiousness, but some of it seeps through. After Five explained to her what the subway is and why he goes there every day, sheâs terrified at the thought of him leaving and never coming back. But she knows he wouldnât do that to her. Not without saying goodbye.
She steps back. âRight. Promise youâll be safe?â
He kisses her on the cheek. âI promise.â
***
Five spends some time looking around the platform in the subway, checking the lights, checking the maps, even poking his head into the tunnels to see if anything has changed. But nothing. It all remains the same. No sign of his past life waiting for him. Was that such a bad thing?
Holding a small flashlight, he shines it up and down, left and right, hoping his eyes will catch something new. A sudden pop from above startles him, the grip he had on the flashlight loosening. It falls and rolls onto the tracks. Five looks up, noticing one of the bulbs now flickering. He huffs, moving to the edge of the platform and jumping down. He retrieves the flashlight, hitting it a few times to try and get it to work again. It comes to life, flashing in front of him. Thatâs when he spots something.
âThatâs new.â
Five walks over, grabbing the mystery object and holding it up. Itâs a plain notepad. He flips it open, scanning over the messy handwriting inside. His messy handwriting. He canât help but let out a tiny gasp, as he figures out what it all means.
âThis is it.â Tears form in his eyes. âThis is my way back home.â
Heâs shocked. Heâs elated. Heâs emotionally drained. This is his chance to rejoin his timeline. To see his family after so long. To fix the mess theyâve created. But all he can think about in this moment is Y/N. How the hell is he supposed to break the news to her?
***
After another hour spent pondering this new found information, Five slowly makes his way back home. His home. Where the life heâd built was waiting for him.
He enters the house and walks into the kitchen, where Y/N stands by the stove, boiling something sweet and caramelly. Five just stares at her; humming a random tune, wiping her messy hands on the apron he bought for her when her old one accidentally caught fire. That was the most stress heâd felt since coming here. And if that was the only stress he had to deal with, heâd take it every single day.
She finally turns and spots him, smiling wide. âOh hey! I was worried for a sec, you were taking longer than expected.â
She moves closer to him, pulling him into a tight embrace. He holds her, not wanting to let go. Y/N can tell something isnât right.
She leans back. âYou okay?â
Five doesnât reply, only holding the notepad out for her to take. She does so, flipping through the pages just like he did, her expression perplexed.
âI donât understand-â
âItâs the way back to my timeline.â
She looks up at him, mouth slightly open, as her words fall short. Five can swear he hears her heartbeat speed up, as her breathing becomes erratic. Five isnât sure what to do, waiting for an explosion of emotions to rain down on him. But nothing comes. Neither of them do or say anything.
Five chooses to break the silence. âI donât wanna lose you. I canât. I donât think I could live the way I used to live. Not after living this life with you.â
Y/N bites her lip, suppressing a sob. âYou have to go.â
Five furrows his brow, hoping he heard her wrong. He tilts her head up to stare into her eyes, seeing the tears forming.
âNo,â he whispers. âYouâve become the most important thing in my life. The thought of never seeing you again, I canât do that.â
A tear falls down her cheek, as Five reaches out to wipe it away.
âIâd love nothing more than to stay in this little bubble weâve created,â she replies, finding it hard to keep her voice steady. âBut your family, your timeline, all those people? They need you more than I do. And I know deep down, you canât bear the thought of letting them die, knowing you couldâve helped.â
Five wants to ask her to come with him. Become apart of his family. He knows sheâd get on with them all. And theyâd all love her, possibly more than they love him. But he knows itâs cruel to ask her to leave her life behind. The house, the garden, the home that sheâs worked so hard on. And the thought of throwing her into the thick of it all. Putting her at danger? No chance.
He pulls her into his embrace, kissing her hard. They hold each other tight, their lips bruising as neither of them can stop the tears from falling.
Y/N is the first to pull away. âIf you ever get the chance to come back to this timeline, you know where to find me.â
Five smiles, not wanting to let her go. He kisses her once more. âIn the greenhouse, tasting just as sweet as the strawberries.â
#the umbrella academy#number five#five hargreeves x reader#x reader#five hargreeves#tua s4#tua s4 spoilers
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I'd Fight The Devil
Alastor x fem! reader
Background: (Y/N) is the elder Morningstar, and wants to fix her relationship with her dad. But her dad hates her boyfriend.
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 - Finale
Allusions to sex, actual sex, angel being angel, and cannibalism
_____
Angel spit out his drink, "You're with Alastor?!"
"Yeah, thoughts?"
"And prayers, girl," Angel could never imagine a sweet girl like (Y/N) getting it on with the Radio Demon himself.
But everyone has their kinks, he supposed.
Alastor manifested behind her, and she immediately felt his presence. Pressing herself against him, he leaned into her warmth and kept his arms around her shoulders.
"How was your day, mon amour?"
"It'll be even better," She trailed off, turning around to face him, "when we meet my dad for dinner."
Silence.
And not even radio silence.
"Not to be rash, but I'm sure your father would sooner see my head on a pike than on my body," Alastor adored the fact that she was mending their bond, even more so when Lucifer makes the effort.
But announcing their relationship to him?
He could see it ending in flames.
"I know you two don't get along, but I thought a nice dinner might smooth things over."
"And if he disapproves of us?" He lifted her head upwards with his finger, bemused as to what her answer may be.
"Then he'll have to get used to it," (Y/N) replied, sending a shiver of excitement up his spine.
Only a feeling that the she-devil he was utterly obsessed with could provide.
"Ugh, can you guys go fuck somewhere else?" Angel said, "or at all? I can't imagine going a lifetime without dick."
Alastors eye twitch, "now that's our business, isn't it?"
"Okay, okay," Charlie spoke up, "you guys go get ready."
Charlie couldn't help but notice the change in Alastor. It had only been a few months, but being in her sisters presence alone has made him kind. Sure, the both of them would skin someone alive over an insult, but Alastor would rip out his own eyes if (Y/N) asked.
A perfect match.
(Y/N) dawned a black dress with a pearl necklace that Alastor bought for her. Well, she thinks he bought it but he actually stole it off of a fresh kill.
How sweet.
"Pumpkin! Oh look at you! You're as radiant as ever!" Lucifer fawned over his daughter as they made it to the restaurant, making it a point to ignore the red demon behind her.
"Catching strays?" Lucifer gestured to him.
"Lovely to see you again," Alastor retorted.
"Dad, why don't we go inside? And Alastor will be joining us," now, Lucifer didn't forget what he said. He recognized that the fearsome deer demon had the intention of claiming Princess (Y/N) as his own, but did his daughter return such feelings?
Honestly, Lucifer feared that.
Not it being Alastor persay, but his little girls being hurt.
He knew how awful it felt to go through the divorce with Lilith, and then her disappearance.
He didn't ever want his daughters to feel that way.
"So, Alastor, what do you do again?"
"I have a radio broadcast. Your daughter has actually helped me repair the studio after the attack," He laid his land on hers.
And Lucifer picked up Alastors hand.
And placed it away from hers.
"Uh, dad-"
"Look, if you two are fucking, don't tell me."
"Dad!" Her face burned red, "we aren't-that's not. . .I love Alastor, and he loves me. I want you to accept us both."
"Love? Whoa, whoa, whoa! Pumpkin, I don't think-"
"I'm not a little kid," She interrupted, "I'm a grown woman, and I'm able to make my own decisions. I want to be with Alastor because I love him. You may not think I know what love is, but I know it's what I feel with Alastor."
That's when he saw it.
That look.
Whilst (Y/N) was defending herself, defending their love, Alastor looked at her. Only her. And it was like he was staring at the nebula itself, seeing all its beauty in the Heir of Hell. His smile faltered, closing his mouth, and his eyes softened.
It's the same look that he used to give Lilith.
"If I ever hear that you've made her cry, or even laid a single hand upon her," Lucifer stared him down, "I'll make you disappear."
"A man true to his word. Looks like we have something in common," Alastor agreed, his hand back on hers. She gave him a smile, one that reminded him of Lilith.
The rest of dinner went off without any incidents. The small jab here and there, but no one died, and no one was stabbed. Lucifer learned more about his daughters business and how she lit up talking about it.
"You hardly ate, Alastor. Is something wrong?" (Y/N) asked when her father went to the restroom.
"Oh no, my dear. Just hungry for something else, is all," His eyes raked up her form, earning a cough from the she-devil.
Honestly, she didn't know where he was on his spectrum. She was fine never even being intimate, so long as he was happy, but this spark in his eyes lit a fire within her.
"O-oh. . .are you sure?" Believe it or not, (Y/N) had only had sex twice and both times she'd call it lackluster.
"I don't want you to force yourself if you don't want to," oh how innocent she was. Honestly, Alastor assumed he was aroace before he met the she-devil. Her ferocity - her chaos in fights, her genuine kindness, and her soul - itself brought out that spark.
There are moments where the carnal desire needs to be satisfied.
"Mon cher, I'd never ask if I didn't mean it."
That look, it made her softly gasp.
"Alast-"
"Ew."
Right.
Lucifer.
He showed up from his restroom break and found the pair giving eachother "fuck me" eyes.
"Could I eat my dinner without you groping my child?" Lucifer hissed, despite Alastor only touching her hand.
He blinked, thinking how he's never even groped a woman.
"Maybe."
Sick bastard.
_ _ _ â _ _ _
"Fuck! Alastor!"
(Y/N) had never cum before, so Alastor being her first to ever do so and smiling away at her quivering legs made it so much better.
"Oh fuck. . ." She moaned weakly, his tongue slithering in and out of her to lick up every last drop.
"Al. . ." She was breathless, staring at his strained member. Reaching up to unzip his pants, he tutted as he grabbed her wrist.
"Al?"
"It's about you. Don't worry about me, amour," He purred, kissing the bite marks on her thighs.
"But you-"
Before she could detest further, wishing to satisfy him, the door opened.
"Oh my God, they were right! Alastor, you sly dog," Angel Dust was at the door, and Alastor quickly covered his beloveds' body with the covers before his horns started to grow and his back stretched.
"I'm going to kill you."
"Not before you make love to me, you're not," still in his demonic form, (Y/N) blew a gust of wind to slam the door shut.
Her body displayed on the bed, Alastor agreed.
"And stay in that form. It suits you."
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Best Nurse Ever : ĚĚâ Lando Norris
summary: after a nasty crash over the weekend, lando is relying on you to help him get better again
As the door shut and you waved goodbye to Oscar, the smile on Landoâs face disappeared. Laid out on the couch, leg upright, Lando couldnât help but stare with envy as the two of you walked through your apartment with ease, Oscar free to go outside again, whilst Lando was stuck within the same four walls.Â
When he injured his leg you knew he wasnât going to take it well, bedrest was the worst scenario Lando couldâve dreamt of, and now here he was, barely able to move himself off of the sofa without screaming in pain.Â
The figure before you was one that you didnât recognise, all his energy and enthusiasm had gone and was replaced by frustration and desperation. You were trying your best for him, doing what you could to help Landoâs recovery, but it was going to be a long way to go before he was back to his usual self.Â
You walked through the apartment, sitting on the end of the sofa as you placed your hand against Landoâs foot, making sure that you were careful to not catch part of the foot that would end up causing more pain for Lando.Â
âEverything good?â You asked, offering Lando a faint smile.Â
His head nodded as he wore a weak smile, but you could see straight through it. Recovery was already proving to be a lot harder than Lando could have ever imagined, he was used to living life at two hundred miles an hour, and now he was barely moving at one.Â
âShall I give you some space?â You offered as Lando remained quiet. You could tell he was trying to keep it together, and with you clearly more able to move than Lando, you didnât want to sit somewhere that you werenât wanted.Â
Landoâs head shook as he tried to encourage the smile on his face to grow, not wanting you to ever feel as if he didnât want you around. He loved having you there, even if he hated the fact that you were having to run around after him.Â
You could tell he was lost in thought still, his eyes staring down at the floor debating whatever was going on in his head to himself. âItâs going to get easier you know Lan, each day youâre already starting to make good progress.âÂ
âIâm not used to just sitting and doing nothing,â he sighed, snapping himself out of his thoughts. âThese exercises are killing me, usually theyâre like a tame warm up for a workout.âÂ
âI know itâs frustrating, but thatâs whatâs helping you heal,â you reminded him, reaching out to take a hold of your hand. âEveryone is here to help you; they care and want to see you get better.âÂ
âI hate it,â Lando huffed, âIâm the one supposed to be taking care of you.âÂ
Your head shook as Lando spoke, âweâre a team and we take care of each other. Itâs far from ideal to be injured, especially with how fast paced you usually are, but weâve just got to crack on. Sure, itâs a little bump in the road, but it doesnât mean everything just comes to a stop.âÂ
âHow do you manage to make even this sound positive?âÂ
âBecause we canât change it,â you chuckled, moving closer towards Lando. âThereâs no point sitting and dwelling on something you canât change; weâve just got to try and be positive about what comes next.âÂ
âThank you,â Lando whispered, stretching his leg out slightly to try and wake it back up again. âI know there are some pretty cool nurses at the hospital, but as far as Iâm concerned, youâre the best nurse ever.âÂ
Your eyes rolled at Landoâs compliment, nudging your hand against his other leg. He chuckled back at you, knowing exactly how you were going to react before he even said anything, never failing to catch you out with his cheeky remarks.Â
âYouâre going to heal and be alright Lando,â you assured him.Â
âI know, I just wish I could be alright now, not weeks down the line,â he frowned, squeezing against your hand. âI need to remember to walk before I start running though.âÂ
You nodded in agreement, âyou need to stop being so hard on yourself, these things happen.âÂ
Lando knew that you were right, despite how stubborn he was. He didnât ask to get injured, but there was very little he could do about it now. âThe first race is on Saturday; do you think we could do something? I donât feel like sitting and watching it knowing that I canât be there to complete.âÂ
You immediately nodded, anticipating this from Lando. As the build-up for after the summer was starting, Lando was finding it harder to listen to the headlines and watch the videos knowing that he wasnât able to be there and be part of it.Â
âWhat sort of thing did you have in mind for us to do?âÂ
âI was thinking cuddles and pretending that only we exist.âÂ
âWe can do that,â you laughed, watching his eyes light up. âIâm sure that Oscar would still like to know that youâre cheering for him though. The constructors is still on, and regardless youâve been a part of getting the team there.âÂ
âIâll text him,â Lando promised you, âbut I canât bring myself to watch knowing that someone else is driving my car. I only want to be involved in F1 when I can be part of it, I donât want to watch it knowing that Iâm just going to sit here feeling jealous of everyone else.âÂ
A sympathetic smile appeared on your face, âletâs spend that time focusing on your recovery instead and getting you back there even quicker.âÂ
âIâd like that,â Lando mused, watching as you stood up, moving to sit beside Lando instead, allowing your hand to brush through his messy hair in front of his face.Â
âIâm proud of you for handling this so well, I canât begin to imagine how tricky this is,â you told him. âIâm going to be right here with you getting you through the next few weeks, youâre going to be sick of the sight of me nagging you.âÂ
Landoâs head shook in protest, âI could never get sick of the sight of you, being at home with you is the only pro of having this stupid injury.âÂ
âIâll take that as a compliment,â you chuckled, as Lando nodded, assuring you that that was how it was intended. âI canât believe an injury is what itâs taken for me to get you all to myself.âÂ
âIâm always right by your side,â Lando assured you, âonly now it means that I get to annoy you much more than usual.âÂ
âYouâre right...you are pretty annoying,â you teased.Â
Landoâs eyes went wide, âhey...Iâm injured, youâre supposed to be being nice to me.âÂ
âIâm always nice to you Lan.âÂ
ËËË đđđđđđđđđđ ! ´ËË
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ââ sylus x reader x zayne (soon)
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ââ synopsis: Death haunts you like a vengeful lover. Youâre dispatched on a mission to capture a fugitive in Linkon City's forbidden N109 Zone, but of course old ghosts come back to haunt you, and this time youâre unable to resist the pull of your twisted connection. AKA the enemies to lovers aphrodisiac fic.
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ââ tags READ CAREFULLY: mdni, smut, semi non-con (aphrodisiac), bondage, semi-public sex, heavy enemies to lovers I don't play around with that shit, breeding, thereâs sharp objects used in inappropriate ways, blood kink probably, again please mind the tags
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ââ word count: 8.5K
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ââ art: @/Shanyi708944594
Shostakovich's Waltz No. 2, a bad omen if youâve ever heard one.Â
The low strum of the cello jumps to life as you enter the ball, each sting echoing from the marble arches to the dance floor, the gentle strum of the accompanying violins muffled by the floor-to-ceiling curtains.Â
Sheâs a deceiving song, breaking traditional waltz rules with her three-fourth tempo, the two cellos battling for dominance as their battle song announces your unplanned arrival.Â
Your heels click in time to the emerging saxophone, and you disappear into the crowd. Unfortunately, you don't have the liberty of indulging yourself in music tonight. Tonight, you have a job.Â
The Hunter's Association only gave you a name- Kovi Rochelle. Who were you to ask questions? It's far from the first time you've snuck into the N109 Zone, and as you scan the crowd, you make mental notes of all you recognize. On the ballroom floor is an heiress to an illicit firearms company, and her dance companion is the right-hand man to a minor gang. Near the orchestra are a few faces you recognize from a drug syndicate, and near the disgustingly lavish food no one was foolish enough to touch was the daughter of an oil tycoon.Â
No sign of a certain crow, you note, narrowing your eyes. No sign of your target either.
It takes you longer than you would have liked to find Kovi, but you find a man fitting his description well enough in a far corner of the hall, face twisted into a crooked leer as he's saying something inaudible over the orchestra to a waitress. Sixties, full beard, crooked nose and a penchant for younger girls.Â
Your hand slips against your thigh, closer to where the burn of cool metal rests hidden beneath the silk of your dress.
The waltz is nearly over, and just as cellos reach their climax, you feel a hand snatch your own.
"There you are. I've been looking everywhere for you, sweetie."
Your body goes rigid, but the hand pulling you into a twirl is vicious and the fanged smile that follows even more so.Â
The urge to pull your gun is tempered only by years of Hunter experience. That, and the simple fact that should you fail to retrieve this target, the Association would punish you ten-fold.Â
So you meet Sylusâs blood-red gaze with a deathly sweet smile, baring your teeth. âHow disappointing, so youâre immune to poisons too. Iâll keep it in mind for next time.â You try to keep the irritation out of your voice, but his lips curl, showing off his misaligned fangs with all the kindness of a hungry dog.Â
âI certainly hope you do. Despite not being able to die, itâs certainly no fun to writhe around in pain for several hours.â Sylus grabs your jaw, causing you to stumble forward as he forces your chin up, hot tongue raking up the side of your neck as you hiss. âTetrodotoxin? Addictive.â
âDisgusting bastard.â He saw through you yet again.Â
Sylus laughs, a deep, loud chuckle that catches other guestsâ attention before you nearly claw his face to shut him up. Your hand only makes it halfway, impact broken when he grabs your wrist instead, tightening to the point of pain.Â
But you're now too close to the dance floor to refuse without drawing any more unwanted attention, so you place your hand against his shoulder before digging your nails in through the expensive silk of his blazer. You hope he bleeds.Â
Nothing good would come from it, but gods, would it taste sweet.
Something flashes in the depths of his unnaturally red eye, and Sylus chuckles to himself before sliding his fingers from your wrist into your palm, taking your hand to lead you in a slow, calculated turn. You watch his eyes dilate in predatory satisfaction at the bruises left against your wrist.Â
"If youâre truly humoring me with a dance, then I take it you haven't taken out your target either."
So he knows your objective. You stare up at Sylus directly, nearly crushing his foot with your heel when the tempo jumps again, speeding up with the shrill of the violins. "Tonight are you my ally or enemy?â
âIâm whatever you want me to be.â
Your eyes narrow, but his words are far too cryptic to give away the truth. Instead, you focus on the rhythm of the song, the sound of your heels, and the steady heartbeat of Sylus' chest as it beats against your own.
"I must say though, I wish you applied this distraction tactic on me when we first met." His hand strays from its spot on your waist, palm searing into your back as he traces up and down your exposed spine, giving a possessive squeeze to your ass. "After all, how could any man stay weary with utter temptation walking around?"
You grit your teeth, purposefully stepping forward out of tune to press the bulge of your gun against Sylus's thigh. "I swear Iâll kill you."
For Caleb. For your grandmother. For your own god-damn sanity.
His fanged smile widens, and he leans in close, whispering against the shell of your ear, âOh yes, how I love to watch you try. Got closer last time, didnât you?â And he spins you away, violently turning you again and again until you have no choice but to rely on his arm lest you fall.Â
As your mind spins all your prior attempts get flung back at you, from poisoning him through wine to stabbing him in his sleep, Sylusâ body was damn near immortal. More infuriating still, he only goads you further after every attempted assassination, fighting you unconscious and leaving you in Linkon City with only a crow feather and letter detailing all the points of failure from your latest attempt.
A final spin, and the world blurs. Sylus pulls you back with a force that makes you stumble, and he dips you with a chuckle. "I must say, I've never had such a passionate lover."Â
By the time the chorus ends, Sylus pulls you back into his arms, dipping you as you gasp against his chest, head spinning and blood rushing furiously to your head. But the song is far from over, and you intend to get more information out of the man before he disappears once more. If he comes between you and your targetâŚ
Sylus' gaze is unreadable as you look up, and his hand tightens on your waist, guiding you into a steady tempo once again. A blur of other dancers swing by, but the only thing you can focus on now is the man before you, staring right past your rotted soul with those blood-red eyes. Eyes of a sinner. Of a mistake. Just like you.
"A little birdie told me that someone here is in possession of an Aether Core." He taunts, spinning you so your back is to his chest. "Admit to yourself what it is youâre really after, and I'll give it to you, sweetie. All you have to do is say the word."
Your lips part in surprise, and Sylus grins, pulling you closer so he can whisper in your ear. "I donât mind being used by you. After all, I want to use you too. All you have to do is say yes."
Youâre surrounded by him, a mixture of spice and cologne, and can see the way his ashen hair falls over his forehead, and the way his lips are pared just slightly as you pull him in closer by the nape of his neck. He led you to the protocore last time. He killed your family. He saved you. He's the reason everything you loved is gone.
Your lips skim up his neck, and you smile as you feel Sylus tense in the midst of the waltz as you give him your answer. "Fuck you."
Heâs frozen for a beat before breaking into another laugh. "Only if you wish. I doubt your doctor friend would be too keen on the idea though."
Your breath hitches, eyes wide, but Sylus' laughter only grows. The waltz is coming to a close, and in one smooth motion, Sylus releases his hold on your waist, only to grab your hand and bring it to his lips.
"Until next time, sweetie." He places a kiss to the back of your hand and disappears as the cellos strum their final chord. âAs much as Iâd love to stay and listen to my little kitten hiss some more, Iâm unfortunately running late for my appointment. And I believe you are too.â
And as quickly as he had stolen you away, he's gone, and you're left with the sound of your heart hammering in your ears and the coldness of his absence.
"Tch, damn it." You curse, glancing around the room for any sign of the waitress and your target.
Kovi and the potential Aether Core Sylus told you about might still be in the ballroom. But you don't have time to find both. Not when Sylus knows who you're after. Not if he realizes why the Association needs you to bring back Kovi alive.Â
Your gaze flickers across the crowd, but the man is nowhere in sight. The orchestra has already begun their next song, and a few waiters have already begun moving in with the next round of food and drink, and while most people are caught up in the music, your gaze is locked on a familiar waitress struggling with a tray of drinks and a woman dressed in black, dragging her back into the server's hall.
You don't have time to decide. You rush after them, slipping past another waiter and ducking around a group of gossiping socialites. The door leading to the back of the mansion slams behind the women, and you push it open, stepping inside the dark corridor.
"Come on, the boss said to leave him there!"
"But that bitch-!"
"It's a lost cause."
"Let's just go. He'll be dead soon anyways."
You wait until the footsteps have faded and the doors close behind them before slowly standing, taking off your heels, and slipping your gun out from its holster, metal cold against smooth silk.
There are four doors along the corridor, three to the left, one at the very end, and all are locked. You check each one, but only the last has any signs of movement. It's a small door, the size of an office closet, and when you press your ear to the wood, you can hear the sound of voices.
"We're in the last round of betting. I assume you're ready to finally make a decision, Mr. Sylus?" Fuck. Thatâs Koviâs voice.
"What if I want to raise the stakes?"
A bang. "The key to these games, boy, is knowing when to quit."
"I always like to put everything on the line. Besides, it's hard to gamble with something that isn't yours."
"Oh no, she's mine alright. Paid quite a hefty price for her, you of all people should know that." A muffled set of insults, punctuated by a deep set of laughter that has your blood running cold. "White wolf of Onychinus, figured you'd be more impressive."
Thereâs a distinct click of a trigger and the scramble of chairs being kicked over. "All in." And then, the sound of a gunshot.
Your instincts kick in and you slam into the door, shoulder burning in protest. It's hollow, thank god, and you have enough sense to duck as a set of bullets fire, ripping the door into a thousand splinters.Â
Sylus' face is twisted in a snarl, the first two buttons of his shirt undone, and a woman in a waiter's uniform lying at his feet. Her body is still convulsing, a set of bullet wounds in her chest, and you realize it's the woman from before, the one who was with the other waitress.Â
And your target.
Kovi was slumped against a plush leather chair, bleeding out onto an unfinished poker game, soaking through cards and chips from the gushing set of bullet wounds buried in his brain.
"You killed him," you hiss, and Sylus only raises a brow, watching as you step over the woman and walk over to the other body slumped in the corner. "He was alive, you bastard. And you shot him."
"He was a traitor."
"Not to me." You hiss, and the click of your pistol echoes, pointing it straight at Sylus. "I needed him alive, and you knew it."
He looks unperturbed, and you can only glare when he smiles, shrugs, and steps closer to your gun, metal kissing bare flesh. You donât so much as flinch, not even as his smile turns wolfish, scanning you up and down before settling on your weapon once again. "And I'm supposed to care?"
You pull the trigger.
The bullet shoots through where his heart would have been, but Sylus is already mid-lunge, twisting your wrist sideways. The shot goes wide. His jabs are precise, punching against the tender inside of your wrist and elbow before shoving you against the wall, the entire room rattling on impact, a mirror falling as it shatters.
"If the Association wanted him alive, then perhaps they should have sent someone else," He taunts.
Death haunts you like a vengeful lover. Sylus knows this well.
You twist, still holding onto your gun, but Sylus only presses his body closer, using his monstrous height to his advantage, tightening until your arms are going numb.Â
The look in his eyes is knowing, and Sylus scoffs down at you. âBut heâs not why you came here, is it?â
You stop struggling.
His right eye glows that sickly red once more, and you straighten against his hold, jabbing your chin up as you meet his gaze. You know heâs digging around your mind again, and so you spit out the truth. âWhereâs the core?â
âSo she admits it. Here, itâs all yours." Sylus says and reaches into his coat. He pulls out a small, blood-soaked stone and drops it at your feet, and you can't help but stare, noticing a moment too late as your gaze snaps back up to meet his.
âWhat? You want it, don't you?" Sylus whispers, and his fingers trailing up your sides, pushing your dress up. You thrash against him, and his other hand wraps around your throat. "Then take it."
You kick and scratch and hiss, a vicious distraction all while tightening the grip on your gun.
"Come on, sweetheart. I know you can do better than that."
A gunshot cuts off his sentence.Â
Sylus falls to his knee with a groan, bullet traveling clean through his thigh. It's not enough to kill him, you know it, but he'll heal in a matter of seconds, so you take your aim against his heart instead, pressing the muzzle of the gun into his chest. The heat from the metal sears into Sylus' flesh, and as you force the gun closer as you yank his head up by the hair, rewarded with a loud moan as Sylus rolls his eyes back at the pain.
"You can't kill me."
"No," you whisper, pulling him close, "but I can hurt you."
His grin only widens, a bloody gash curling across his face as he stares up at you. âSuch arrogance.â
Sylus leans into your touch, and then a hand covers your own on the gun, fingers laced around the trigger.
"What are you waiting for? Do it, I want to feel it, I want you to finish it." His words are low and you feel a rush of adrenaline at finally having him at your mercy, of having him at the brink of death.Â
He yanks the gun closer, and thus you as well, looking up into your eyes with a sick devotion only a sinner could have.Â
But youâve learned from last time. So you curl your finger, and pull the trigger.Â
The bullet never reaches.Â
A web of dark energy stops it mere centimeters from Sylus' chest, and he sends it ricocheting back so it speeds by your collarbone and neck with a furious red trail.
You don't have enough time to scream.
Sylus pulls you down alongside him and slams your body against the ground, skull rattling against the marble. You scramble to your hands before he shoves you back to the floor with his palm, pinning you beneath him and pressing his lips to the fresh wound on your neck.
"You taste divine." Sylus hisses, and he sucks against the wound as your blood runs down his chin, grabbing your wrists until something snaps and you drop the gun with a scream. It skirts across the floor, out of reach.
You buck under his weight, kicking your legs out until one digs into the bullet wound still closing on his thigh, fresh blood streaming down the both of you as he licks and sucks and bites against your neck, leaving a trail of raw marks and bruises.Â
With your free wrist, you unsheathe your dagger, driving it into Sylusâ neck. Dark tendrils of energy catch the blade, but your fury burns hotter, and you grant him a twin scar, slicing from the hollow of his collarbone up his neck.
Sylus moans, a strangled, guttural sound that goes straight between your thighs. You can see the muscle and skin knitting back together, the tendrils of shadows seeping out from his flesh and sealing the wound shut. But his grip on you remains.
You're both panting, blood dripping down your neck and Sylus' chest, but his eyes are dark and full of promise that makes your stomach twist.
"Do it again," he hisses, and he presses his hips into yours, letting you feel how hard he is through the fabric of his pants. "Cut me. Stab me. Kill me. All you have to do is try, sweetheart. Make it good this time, will you?"
You are not a fool. You know this is a challenge, a taunt, but you also know you can't back down.
So you push yourself up, knife glinting under the dim lights as you sink the blade into Sylus' throat, dragging a ragged line from one side to the other. Blood pours over his chest, drenching his shirt, and you can't help but watch in morbid fascination as the skin begins to knit itself back together, muscle and flesh growing and closing up, tendrils of dark energy wrapping and sealing the wound.
You almost want to lean in to taste it yourself.
Sylus makes a strangled sound from against your neck, still licking up your blood as you dig your nails into his fresh wound, pressing closer and closer still. Closer than flesh and blood would allow, bloody and raw and angry.Â
His tendrils of energy wrap around your throat just as your knife presses up against his, both of you panting heavily. âWhen will you admit it? From your past to your future, to even all the crimes you'll inevitably commit. You and I⌠we're made of the same sin.â
You twist to the side, unable to meet his glowing eye, and Sylus smiles, blood-stained and fanged.
âLook at me.â He growls, and his fingers wrap around your jaw, forcing you to look up, nose brushing his. The glow of his right eye is nearly blinding, a mixture of gold and red and orange that swirl together like fire.
Fire, corruption, and the same damned soul.
They flash before you. The faces of every soul youâve taken, every mission youâve accepted from the Association, every trophy youâve never cried over that has granted you nothing but pride and misery.Â
And then flashes of your family, burning alive in the explosion that the demon before you set off. Burning flesh, screaming, the smell of sulfur.Â
You see the face of a man too good for you. Practical and cold, but so unfairly kind and selfless it makes your chest ache. Zayne.
Not that Zayne is yours, not in any measurable way. But heâs the man that is so perfectly beyond your reach that it gives you a semblance of hope for change, for atonement. Heâs the man that youâve decided to foolishly love until your last breath.
Worst of all, you know Sylus can see him now too.
Another flash of red. Sylus, staring down at you, his smile a cruel imitation of Zayne's.
"What do you want, little dove?"
"My revenge."
He smiles, and leans in, lips pressed against the shell of your ear, hot breath tickling the sensitive flesh there. "I could give it to you. Everything youâve ever wanted."
His touch burns, and you shudder, a mix of emotions twisting your gut. Fear, anger, desperation.
âI no longer want.â You hiss. âSo stay out-â you gasp, reality and memory flickering together. âof-â you thrust the knife upwards, stabbing wildly until something connects. â-my fucking head!â
It's only when you hear the sickening crunch of flesh and the feel of blood pouring down your arm that you realize where you are. The memory of Zayne is gone, replaced by the present.
Sylus.
His eyes are wide, mouth agape and blood dripping down his chin. Your knife is buried deep in his palm, blade caught in his hand mere inches from his skull. Your vision blurs and the world spins, and the last thing you see is the sight of Sylus smiling, blood running down his cheek and his eye burning a brilliant, golden red.
And then the world bursts into smoke.
You feel it before you understand what has happened.
Throwing your hands above your head, you brace for an explosion or flash that never comes, the room blanketed by a cloud of thick smog that has your head spinning. A weight crushes you, and for a moment you think the ceiling caved until you realize it was Sylus who must have flung himself atop you at the moment of impact.
You think thereâs an earthquake or aftershocks of another attack when you see your hand trembling, realizing itâs just your entire body convulsing against the floor as you inhale mouthfuls of the thick, cloying smoke. It tastes sticky and sweet at the back of your throat, cloying against your tongue and crawling under your skin. You think you might be dying.Â
Sylus is faring no better, chest heaving as he nearly falls atop you, barely holding himself up on his forearms. His mouth is a bloody mess, there's a gash on his forehead that refused to heal. The energy of his Evol leaks from him in a thick mist of dark matter that seeps in and out of his sweat-slicked flesh. Heâs losing control of his power.
âWhat the fuckââ a violent heat rips surges down your spine, a choked gasp seizing your lungs as you feel bursts of energy heat under your skin- your Evolâs power fluctuating wildly. The once familiar power now feels like a toxin, your very core vibrating, practically a bomb seconds away from detonating.
It wasnât a shock grenade. Not smoke. Poison? Your vision is swimming, but Sylus is still holding you, and when you freeze his entire body convulses in laughter as you seem to finally piece together what has happened.
"An aphrodisiac. They're... those fucking bastards." You canât even see where your gun is, the entire room lurching sideways as you try and crawl out from under Sylus.
But as soon as you knee him in the side trying to topple him over, you both freeze at the contact, the brush of bare skin enough to have you keening.
Sylus groans, his head falling into the crook of your neck. You can feel him shaking, every bulging muscle tensed beneath his torn clothes, and his lips press against your pulse, teeth sinking into the delicate skin there. Shadowy tendrils grow from his back, a spiderweb of raw power that he seems to have no control over as they piece into the ground with enough force to crack through marble. You flinch at the sight.
âAre you scared, little dove?â Like a spiderâs legs, they support him as he staggers to his knees, caging you in against the floor. A moth in a web. âPerhaps you finally should be.â
He grabs you by the hair, tilting your head back so you have to look him in the eyes. You struggle to move, to push him off, but the mere touch only seems to rile the man above you. He groans, the sound low and guttural, and when you finally meet his gaze, his eye is a wild, glowing red, and he's looking at you like he wants to devour you.
A demon. Youâre laying before a demon.Â
"What's wrong, sweetie? Too proud to give in?" He taunts.
"Not to you," you hiss, and you grab him by the collar, pulling him closer. "You're not even worth it."
Sylus' smile widens. "Still lying to yourself, arenât you?"
Your skin burns, his touch leaving a trail of fire and desire. You can feel the aphrodisiac pulsing through your veins, a violent, angry heat that consumes everything it touches.
"Allow me to offer you a deal, then." Sylus' mouth twists in a snarl, and you feel his hands grip your waist. His nails dig into the exposed skin of your lower back, and Sylus pulls you closer, pressing his erection against your ass. "Run," he whispers, and his lips brush the shell of your ear. "Run as fast as you fucking can, because if I catch you I fuck you."
He pulls away, eye still glowing, turning into little more than a shadowed silhouette that towers over you. "And I won't be as gentle as your little boyfriend."
You don't remember when you start running.
 One moment, Sylus is in front of you, a wicked, predatory smile curling across his face. And the next, he's gone, the sound of footsteps fading behind you and the smell of gunpowder and blood hanging heavy in the air.
He's close.
You can feel his power, feel the way the aphrodisiac has corrupted him. Every tendril of energy from his body feels like a physical thing, a thread of pure energy and darkness. You hear his breathing, the sound of his body slamming against the walls and the doors as he gives chase.
Somehow the aphrodisiac did more than just make his Evol stronger, Sylus himself seemed fundamentally changed. Stalking you in a half-limp like a predator enjoying the hunt, every muscle tensed underneath his fitted suit as though waiting for you to make a run for it. Waiting to finally pounce.Â
In the end it never mattered how strong you were. What stood before you was no man, but a monster.
âDonât tell me thatâs all you got, kitten? Come on, run faster, make it fun for me.â
Your heart leaps in your throat. Every inch of your body is alert, hyperaware of his echoing footsteps, following you no matter how many turns you take, no matter which stairs you climb, utterly unsure if youâre running closer or further from the exit.
But you force yourself to breathe, and you push off the walls and into a sprint. You have no weapons, no gun, but the only thing you can think of is running, running and getting as far away from Sylus as possible. Zayne. Zayne will know how to fix this, surely he knows a cure for the aphrodisiac.
Your steps are growing clumsy, and every breath you take now has you gasping, a burning need growing within. Every muscle in your body begins to tremble, and the heat is almost unbearable. You're not sure how much longer you can hold out.
You need to get to Zayne.
Turning yet another corner, you expect to see the main hallway of the mansion, nearly crying in relief at the sight of the door when the world lurches sideways.
A shadowed claw reaches up from the ground, yanking your ankle backward with a painful tug. You scream, throwing a burst of energy behind you as your Evol flares up, snarling at the shadow that follows you.
But the aphrodisiac has you weak. Your power is sporadic and unfocused, and another set of shadows wrap around your thighs and arms, rendering you immobile as they squeeze and pull at your over-sensitive flesh.
The sound that comes from your throat is one of pain and need.
Sylus laughs, a deep and rumbling chuckle that echoes through the empty hallway. He emerges from the shadows, a beast walking upright. He towers over you, his massive frame blocking the light, casting a long shadow across the floor.
"Are you afraid, little one?"
You can barely answer.
"Good."
Sylus moves fast. Before you can blink, his hand is on your throat and he's lifting you up off the ground, his fingers digging into your skin right over your racing pulse as he holds you at eye level. "Perhaps I'll keep you around even after I'm done with you. After all, I truly enjoy watching my little prey struggle."
The memory sends a thrill of fear through your body.
You gasp, clawing at his arm, and Sylus tightens his grip on your throat with a click of his tongue. "Ah ah ah. No more of that, kitten. Not unless you want more punishment."
You force yourself to meet his gaze, refusing to look away even as he squeezes your throat and makes it hard to breathe. The lack of oxygen has you lightheaded, but the heat from his palm makes you even dizzier, a sick twisting against your core at the show of brute strength. You glare up at him, and you know he can see the fear and hatred and desire in your eyes, because he grins, a wicked smile full of fangs and blood and the promise of something far worse.
"But knowing you, perhaps that's what you're after?"Â
The shadows tighten and you cry out again, snarling as you try and use your Evol to free yourself. Burning through his arm, Sylus releases you with a hiss. You run for it, barely making it three steps backward before youâre tackled to the floor.Â
"There, there. No need to run from it, I know my nasty little brat enjoys this as much as I do. After all, you let me catch you, didnât you?â He taunts, pressing his thigh between your legs. You're unable to stop yourself from grinding against him, whimpering as the friction sends sparks of pleasure shooting through your veins. âAnd I intend to keep my side of the deal.â
Pinning you on your stomach, Sylus drags blades of energy down your dress, ripping the fabric to shreds as the silk flutters to the floor. The cold air stings against your sensitive flesh, and you whimper at the near painful difference between the cold and the heat of his touch.
"I'll kill you," you hiss, and Sylus laughs. He could kill you now, before you made good on your promise. And oh it would make everything so much easier, simpler - but he didnât. Canât. Instead he forces your jaw to the side before crashing his lips onto yours, fangs catching against the plush flesh. The angle has your neck screaming in protest, yet you swear itâs the dichotomy between the painful bruising of his grasp and the devotion of his lips that has you addicted.Â
So you kiss him back, more teeth and tongue and thoroughly fucking addicting. "You're mine to kill, I wonât let anyone else take that victory from me.â
âThatâs it,â Sylus practically growls into your ear, his face flushed and a vein protruding in his neck. Then your ass is lifted up, effortlessly manhandled like a ragdoll as you hear the click of Sylusâ belt. âKeep fighting it, kitten, make it fun. But just know your body is so, so honest with me.â
And then you canât breathe - not because his large hand tightens around your neck, forcing your body to arch into the floor, but because Sylus was suddenly rutting his weeping, fat tip between your thighs. It catches your swollen clit, and you grind against empty air, gasping. Sylus' laugh is cruel, sliding the head of his cock through your slick folds, teasing the sensitive skin. You shudder, the sensation of his cock dragging against your entrance enough to have you trembling. You're so close, and he's not even inside you yet.
"Aww, sweetheart. Are you scared? You're soaking." His words are mocking, and you try to bite back a moan as his hand leaves your waist, delivering a harsh slap against your ass instead. "Tell me, did that boy back in Linkon ever make you feel this good?"
"Fuck. You."
"Oh dear, did I hit a nerve?" He purrs, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh of your ass.
"Shut up, shut the fuck up-" Your words are cut short, a strangled sound tearing from your throat when the head of his cock catches your folds, the sheer girth of him unable to push in, sliding against your cunt as she practically drools over him.Â
Sylus curses against your neck, sitting back on his heels as he grabs his throbbing length, messily fucking your slick up and down, the heat and smell and feel of you enough to steal the rest of his sanity as he surrenders completely to the aphrodisiac. Heâs bigger than usual, thicker and sensitive, and right when he thinks he might cum, Sylus forces his hand away. He canât, not with you before him, it would be a waste.
A loud, broken moan escapes him as he tortures himself with a rough squeeze to his base, the sheer need overwhelming him as though heâd die should he not be inside you this very second.Â
In you. He needs to be in you, cum in you, fill you up and claim you in every way possible.Â
Heâs about to try again when something warm squeezes around his base, nearly bringing him to his knees. Even though your shoulders were still pinned to the marble, you snuck one hand back to wrap around Sylusâ poor throbbing dick, your mere touch, barely able to circle around the girth of him, was enough to have him seeing white.Â
âYouâre- ah- taking too long.â You whine at the sight of Sylus at your mercy, and squeeze tighter. His cock twitches, pre-cum leaking from his tip and dripping down your knuckles, and his eyes roll back into his head, drawing out a low, deep moan that practically vibrates through his chest.Â
âYouâre right,â Sylus yanks your hips back, grinding against your ass as his free hand weaves between the two of you, rolling against your clit. âSheâs getting too impatient, isnât she?âÂ
You canât even hear your own screams, not over the obscene squelches your cunt makes over his dick and fingers. Sylus was using every ounce of remaining sanity to prove his point, unconsciously already bucking against you as he continued bullying your swollen nub until you gave in. All to make your ultimate surrender even sweeter. âI donât mind spending the whole night fucking you into your place.â
He nearly roars in frustration as your cunt still refuses to take him, resisting each press of his hips. A pair of shadowy hands seize your ankles, yanking you backward and spreading your legs so wide that your hips nearly split. Your jaw falls open in a silent scream, thighs trembling as theyâre practically pinned to your side, ass forced higher into the air as another set of tendrils come around to play with your swollen clit.Â
Heâs cruel.Â
The longer it took, the thinner his restraint waned, and Sylusâ Evol surrounds the two of you in a web of darkness, cracking through the marble when your cunt finally yields to the pressure of his large, overbearing cock. As soon as he feels the flutter of your core against his tip, he knows heâs lost, the head of Sylusâ cock sliding into you with a lewd pop as you both gasp.
The stretch burns, your walls forced to part around the head of his cock as the swollen tip sinks inside, stretching you past what was natural. His fingers leave bloody trails on your waist, but the thought of the permanent marks only adds to the heat coursing through your veins. You're panting now, a broken mantra of fuck me and please and more spilling from your lips as the aphrodisiac takes complete control.
The feeling of your cunt suffocating his swollen head as Sylusâ control waning, and you use the moment of weakness to push your hips backward, forcing him in further. With each slow grind the underside of Sylusâ cock unintentionally bullies itself against your sweet spot again and again and again, that one fat vein pulsing against it in time to his erratic heartbeat.
Head lolling to the side, you catch a glimpse of where the two of you meet and nearly sob. Heâs not even halfway in yet. The pressure has your mind spinning, and god you donât think you can take any more.Â
But as you clench around him and Sylus makes up his mind, refusing to leave you a moment longer without being filled to the brink with his cum. And he forces you completely onto his cock.Â
A scream of his name is all you manage before your eyes roll back, arching off the ground as your entire body goes rigid. Forcing past any remaining resistance, Sylus thrusts his entire length deep inside of you, your lower stomach bulging ever so slightly, followed by a burst of pleasure so intense it hurts as you come undone, squirting over his cock and the floor.
Fucking you through your orgasm, he wraps one arm around your body, pulling you against him as your knees give in, refusing to give even an inch of space as the two of you buckle into the floor.Â
"You're going to regret not running faster." Sylus hisses. "I'm never letting you go. Never- ah fuck- again."
He pulls out slowly, until only the swollen head remains inside, and then slams forward again.Â
You try and claw your way out, unsure if youâre pushing closer or further, but the tendrils of energy around your legs only tighten their hold, forcing you back. The shadows seep into your flesh and leave trails of raw fire. You swear you feel him in your throat, and you know Sylus can feel it too. It's burning beneath your skin, a wild and desperate heat that feels like an inferno, a feeling so addicting it replaces the pain.Â
You're resonating with him. Youâre finally resonating and Sylus only growing stronger- rougher- because of it.
âSylus, fuck, justââ you scramble for something, anything, to grab onto, screaming out different curses and moans until Sylus folds you further into the ground, pressing his full weight atop of you.
âYouâre too loud, sweetie, itâs almost like you want someone to find us.â He rests his forearm before you, allowing you to claw into it as you cry. âHere.â And with that you bite, digging your teeth into his arm hard enough to draw blood as your screams are muffled with the tinge of copper.Â
He laughs into your shoulder, leaning down as the new angle allows his tip to kiss your cervix. You sob, biting down again. âI want to mark you too,â and the way your skin breaks so, so easily under his fangs, marred with a permanent bloody print of him, has Sylus addicted.
So he bites again, lower this time, stands of bloody saliva connecting his lips to the dip of your spine. Fuck, he wants to mark you until thereâs no question youâre taken, ruined, again and again and again.Â
You donât think he realizes heâs saying it out loud, a desperate mantra broken only by the wet sucking and biting of his lips.Â
Sylus moans, hips stuttering as he comes with a shout, his sudden orgasm ripping through every muscle as he feels that corrupting heat relent with every thick rope of cum he paints inside your weeping cunt. He doesn't pull out, can't bear the thought of parting from your tight heat.
You whimper into his arm, biting again, feeling the warmth of his cum overflowing into you, squirting out as it drips down your thighs, still going and going as Sylus fucks himself through it, not stopping even as a creamy ring began forming at the base of his cock.Â
Sylus expected the aphrodisiac to be absolved, waiting for the furious need, the soreness in his balls and the primal drive at the base of his brain to lessen, only to realize he felt no better.Â
More. More, he still needs more.Â
But so do you. And hell, you're so close, enough that you abandon your pride, crying for him over the gag that was his forearm, and beg.Â
âAgain,â Sylus growls. The sound rumbles deep within his chest, low and dangerous, and he can feel your pulse quicken, can hear the rush of blood through your veins. He can feel your Evol burning beneath your skin, the power seeping from your body in waves, and he can feel his own power responding.
The shadows grow. They writhe and pulse and spread, wrapping around the both of you and covering the room, turning the world pitch black. Caging you in.Â
âGo on, no need to hold back now, sweetie.â Another ruthless thrust, and your jaw goes slack as he hits your cervix, deep enough that if he pushed any further youâre certain heâd breach your womb, heartbeat pulsing through your body like you were made for him. âBeg for it.â
You want to fight it. You want to say no, to struggle and bite and scratch. But the aphrodisiac has taken full control, and gods knew how long youâve been losing the fight against Sylus even before this.
âSylââ His hips still. A warning. You fight to make any coherent thought amidst your unraveling, correcting yourself as you slur his title in sheer desperation, âSir. Sir, please, let me come. You got to come, so help me!â your voice is hardly more than a broken gasp now, âPlease.â
Another tendril wraps around your front, pressing on the bulge through your stomach in time to every rough, wet, thrust, the double pressure enough to have you coming with a sob, wrecked from pleasure and pain as you tighten around his cock, almost begging to be filled more.
âSir? I could get used to that.â Sylus barely even slows, continuing to use your trembling body as he drags himself in and out, the warm mixture of your cum forming a puddle beneath you as he watches in fascination, still consumed by the primal urge to get you full of him.
But now the aphrodisiac has loosened its grip on you, fulfilled desire replaced with sharp overstimulation as you sob into the marble, feeling every ram of Sylusâ hips smack into your swollen clit with a wet kiss. Not that he particularly cares. He knows your limit, and youâre not there yet.
âRelax. You can handle it.â Sylus laughs, grinding himself in deeper as he licks a stripe of blood and sweat up your neck. He pats your cheek condescendingly, forcing your face to the side as he scans your fucked-out expression with a wolfish smile. âBut should you have the audacity to die on me, Iâll simply bring you back just to use you again.â
Flipping you around with just an arm so you finally face him, Sylus brings your knee to your chest, the other hand forcing your jaw up so he could hear your unintelligible pleas properly.
âWhat? Canât talk anymore?â He coos, relishing in the way your nails rake furiously down his back in reply- in warning. âAw, is my baby drunk on my cock already? Should I stop?â
Not that Sylus could even fathom stopping now, not as he feels his cock bully the cum out of your poor overfilled pussy with each thrust. It drips down your legs and onto his tense balls as he fucks you like an animal, over and over and- And shit it wasnât enough. Itâll never be enough.Â
You shake your head, sobbing.
 âNoââ you cry, breath coming in gasps as Sylus pulls himself up onto his knees, forcing you upright as you splay out so easily on his lap, gravity now doing most of the work as you swear you feel him hit deeper than before. âAh, too much!â
âOne moment itâs too little, and the next too much. You should try and make up your mind, sweetheart.â One hand squishes your cheeks together and forces you to look down at the way your poor pussy was bulging around Sylusâ cock. Your bodies are both drenched in a sinful mixture of blood and sweat and cum, sheer exhaustion slowing the both of you down as every slow, deep thrust is now accentuated with a filthy wet slap. âMmmh I was foolish to let you run from me fâso long, not when you look so perfect like this.â
Sylusâ fangs graze your ear, abs tensing underneath your nails as he fucks up into you without any sort of rythm. Sharp, slow jabs of his hips, meeting each one as he palms at your swollen belly. âCanât wait till youâre fucked full, right sweetie?â
He doesnât wait for a response - not that he could hear one anyways, eyes blown out as they focus on your gorgeous body utterly surrendered to him, limp against his chest as he splays his fingers over your womb. âYou wanna be filled? Wanna give me an heir for Onychinus?â
God, the very thought makes your head spin. âPlease,â you whine, beginning to resonate with him once more as you arch violently into his chest. âMore, I need more, please- fuck- donât you dare s-stop.â
âLinkonâs righteous guardian and the White Wolf.â You donât even realize it, but youâve begun to match his thrusts, grinding down in his lap to meet his ruthless cadence. âWeâd be unstoppable. You want that? Tell me-â his pleas break into a low moan, words slurred together as he pulls you closer, ramming you up and down as you can do nothing more than dig bloody lines down his enormous shoulders and chest. âTell me you want it, need it- hah- tell me youâll choose me.â
His cockhead rams against your bruised g-spot with each word, even when his voice breaks into senseless groans as he falls prey to your pretty little cunt trying to suck him in further and further still. And right as you feel yourself slipping, you pull him into a messy kiss - if it can even be called that, just a frenzied, messy drag of his lips against your open mouth, licking and sucking at your teeth.Â
âI can never escape you.â
You donât know who cums first- you only feel the heat surge in the base of your throat, heartbeat thumping erratically against your ears and cunt, falling into Sylusâ chest as the warmth takes you. Warm, everything is warm, burning up even without the aphrodisiac as you feel rope after rope of his seed paint the inside of your walls white, excess drooling out of your sensitive folds.Â
Every ragged breath comes out in a mist against your ears, Sylusâ hair damp and stuck to his forehead and your own as he fights to control his breathing. His eyes are still locked where the two of you connect, fingers releasing your waist to try and shove his cum back inside.Â
You hiss at the contact, trying to squirm away as you fall backwards, taking Sylus with you as your back hits the drenched marble. âLet go of me.â
Sylus raises a brow, lips curling over his teeth. âIâm not the one who's trapping us together.â He taps your legs still wrapped around his waist, and immediately you relax, shivering as you feel Sylusâ cock finally slide out of you.Â
Even after all that you feel the lingering effects of the toxin bubble under your skin. Sated, for now, but far from gone. Hell, you think you might die if you have to go through that again.Â
âWe need to get to a hospital,â you say, refusing to meet Sylusâ eyes as you try to stand. Only for your knees to immediately buckle.Â
Luckily, Sylus is there to catch you, pulling you into his arms before scooping you up to his chest. âFirstly, there is no hospital in the N109 Zone nor Linkon City that would admit me.â He stands with frustrating ease as the misty tendrils of his Evol cover your bare body like a second skin. âSecondly, weâre not exactly in a state where they wouldnât begin asking questions, donât you agree, kitten?â
You all but hiss at him, only making the man laugh harder until he winces, staggering slightly as you feel his skin grow hot again. Itâs clear Sylus isnât completely freed from the aphrodisiac either, the sheer volume the two of you must have breathed in during the initial attack far past the mortal limit.Â
Not a hospital, fine. A doctor then.Â
âI know a place.â You whisper, and Sylus narrows his eyes. âHe wonât ask questions, and weâre already running out of time. Who knows how long the effects will last, and if anyone will know how to actually cure this itâll be him.âÂ
âAnd Iâm supposed to trust you, sweetie?â
You laugh, curt and humorless. âYou donât have a choice.â
Sylus goes quiet, but you can hear the argument raging in his head, brows furrowed as he scowls at open air. Another shiver rakes through your body, and you unconsciously press yourself closer, already dreading what will happen when the aphrodisiac comes back full force.Â
But the sight of you, trembling and utterly vulnerable in his arms tugs at something forgotten, and Sylus relents.Â
âVery well, tell me where to go.â
#love and deepspace#l&ds sylus#sylus smut#sylus x reader#lnds sylus#love and deepspace sylus#lnds smut#lnds x reader#lnds zayne#zayne x reader#l&ds smut#l&ds x reader#love and deepspace smut#zayne smut#poisonwrites
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âWeâll figure it outâ
Pairing: Inexperienced!Matt x Inexperienced!Reader
Wordcount: 5.9k +
Summary: what happens when you hook up with your long time best friend? Except both of you are virgins.
Warnings: Smut, nasty, language, use of y/n, pet names (pretty boy, sweetheart, pretty girl, etc), reader has a cat named sun, study session, oral m!receiving, brief crying, oral f!receiving, praise kink, fingering, cowgirl, no protection (wrap it up!), sheâs not on BC, creampie
(A/N: English is not my first language. So sorry for any mistakes. Feedback is always appreciated. Enjoy xx)
You have known the triplets since middle school, and youâve been close to all of them.
Well, especially with Nick.
Everything was fine, you werenât too popular, but you also werenât overlooked. you were middle class, not poor but also not rich. You were pretty, but never got too much attention because of it.
Little do you know, but youâre gorgeous. If you wanted to you could easily be one of the popular girls in school. But you didnât care for it. High school was temporary, and you knew that.
And thatâs exactly what Matt admires about you.
Matt is pretty introverted, and especially around freshmen year, you and his brothers would quite literally have to force him to go to school.
Now he was more calm though. Sometimes his anxiety would mess with him, but he overcame it with you and his brother's help.
For the fact that youâve only known them since middle school, you went over to their house quite a lot. But sometimes theyâd come over to yours as well.
Matt was a virgin. Most people would think that. Heâs awkward in social situations and pretty shy and introverted before you get to know him.
Though, heâs had a short-term girlfriend before. Wich, at least was something.
You never dated anyone. You never cared to. Youâd much rather focus on your friends and school, than some boy.
You were a virgin. It wasnât like you never watches porn, or were innocent really. You just never got to the point of losing it to someone. Everything youâve done was by yourself.
Wich would be fine. But you were in senior year now, and the year was almost over. Most people around you had already lost it, and you felt left out.
You were sitting at lunch, listening to Chris drone on and on about some girl he hooked up with. You purse your lips, your apatite disappearing more and more.
Suddenly Chris looks over to you. âY/n how was your first time?â
You tense up, Taking in a harsh breath.
âChris! You donât just ask shit like thatâ Nick huffs hitting Chris on the arm.
Matt, who was sitting next to you, puts his hand on your thigh in comfort.
You squint your eyes at Chris, judging him. Or at least you try to make it look judgy.
You lean further into Mattâs side. His physical presence was keeping you grounded.
And when matt noticed just that, he takes his hand off of your thigh and instead wrapped it around your waist to pull you even closer.
âThatâs none of your business.â You huff staring back at Chris.
But internally you were embarrassed because you were still a virgin.
â
â
â
You had planned a sleepover and study night with matt a few days ago. Essentially, heâd come to your house on Friday, and you would study. until you got tired of it and watched a movie or something.
So after school matt drove his brothers home and then drove to your house.
You got out of the car, watching as Matt reached into the backseat to grab his overnight bag.
You couldnât help but think back to lunch break when Chris had made that comment. Chris was a player, and you knew that.
But everybody around you had lost their v card, and you just felt so left behind.
Matt huffs snapping his fingers in front of your face. You blink. He takes the keys out of your hand, grabbing your forearm to pull you to the door.
âYou back with me y/n/n?â Matt ask. He looks over his shoulder as he blindly fiddles with your house keys.
âYeah, sorry. zoned out.â You answer simply.
Matt chuckles at the flat response. He looks back at the door and finally twists it open. You two both walk in, both of you taking your shoes on.
âHello, weâre backâ Matt says loudly into the room.
You put on your house shoes and so does Matt.
You look over your shoulder at Matt with an amused expression. âMatt they already leftâ you huff.
âWhat? I thought they were gonna leave at 4?â He asks, pulling out his phone from his jean's back pocket.
Itâs 4.26 pm
âOh.â He says flatly staring at his screen.
Your parents had driven out for the weekend to your grandparents house. It was a few hours away. You hadnât wanted to go, because for one you had already made plans for the sleepover with Matt.
And also because you had the test on Monday and you wanted to study the weekend away.
You were probably not going to anyway, but in theory..
âYeah. oh.â You roll your eyes. Your siblings went with your parents so the house was empty. Itâd be the perfect opportunity for a house party.
But you werenât one to party, and your parents trusted you.
You and Matt walk to your kitchen. Well, itâs just matt trailing behind you.
âYou want a drink?â You ask simply while you take out a Pepsi can for yourself and then put it on the counter nearest.
Matt comes up behind you. He looks over your shoulder scanning the contents of the fridge.
âPepsi please,â he says under his breath.
You take out another can and then proceed to put it next to your can on the counter.
You slam the fridge door shut. You feel Matt turn you around before heâs hugging you. His arms wrap around your waist as he buries his face in your neck.
Matt had always been a big softie. No matter how much he loves to deny it he loves hugs and being all sappy and shit.
His own love language was acts of service though. Heâd do anything for someone he likes.
And so if he finds a song that reminds him of you, heâll tell you. If you are hungry, heâs immediately googling places to eat. If you look slightly sad or upset, even though you just have a resting bitch face, heâs immediately doing something stupid to make you laugh.
You know each other in and out.
He knows you love physical touch. So heâd make it a point to hug you at least once a day.
The day was long and draining. It was a normal boring school day.
His hug is warm, his arms feel firm around you.
And despite not having known him since kindergarten or something, it feels like youâve known him forever.
You canât think of any future scenario without him in your life.
âYou always smell so goodâ he mumbles, dramatically nuzzling his face into the side of your neck.
You chuckle at the compliment.
âCome on pretty boy, we gotta study.â You hum slightly pulling away. Matt dramatically groans in response but reluctantly pulls away.
You pick up the two Pepsi cans and start to walk back to the stairs.
Matt grabs both of your school bags and carries them upstairs with him.
Once youâre in your room you pull out your desk chair and sit down.
Matt puts both your backpacks against the wall. He walks towards the bed to sit down when he spots your cat.
âSunnyâ he exclaims excitedly. As much as Matt would love to say heâs a dog person. He loves your cat.
Sheâs and orange Persian cat. Her hair is fluffy and long. She looks like a ball of hair all curled up in your bedsheets like that.
You look over to matt and your bed. You watch as your cat looks up at him and he coos at her. He slowly sits down and starts to pet your cat.
â
â
â
By now two hours of studying had passed. You were both now sitting on the floor on your carpet, the study material all sprawled out across from you.
You and Matt were sitting next to each other, your cat still sleeping on your bed.
âMatt Iâm boredâ you whine loudly. You throw your head back dramatically and groan.
Matt looks over at you watching you as you complain. He looks mildly agitated himself.
Before he can protest and tell you that you two need to continue studying you start to put the pages and books on top of each other.
Once no books and loose papers are sprawled out anymore you sit back again.
âY/nâ he rolls his eyes and you can feel the lecture incoming.
âMatt please, Iâm literally about to die of boredom.â
âYouâre so dramaticâ he scoffs watching you.
And for a moment You two just look at each other. Neither of you say anything. You just stare. Your face relaxes out of the pout. Matt looks over your features like heâs admiring you for the first time. Like youâre a piece of art.
You can feel yourself start to grow hot. The tension in the room skyrockets.
âYouâre so pretty you know that,â Matt says under his breath. Matt leans over on his arm leaning closer to you.
Your mind is blank, and you canât come up with an answer. You just take in the compliment.
âSo fucking gorgeousâ he sighs and before either of you knew it his lips are on yours.
You freeze for a second your eyes wide. But like itâs an instinct you immediately kiss back.
Mattâs hand finds its way to your jaw holding you in place, while he tilts his head to the side to deepen the kiss.
You were sitting Chris-cross while Matt was sitting on his legs, sitting just a bit higher than you.
After a while of just innocently kissing, he pulls away. You two stay close though. His eyes instantly widen as if he knew he fucked up.
âFuck- Iâm sorryâ he breaths out, taking his hand from your face.
You sit up. Uncrossing your legs. you shift to sit on them, fully facing a blushing Matt. And youâre sure you have a matching red hue on your cheeks as well.
âNo.â
the statement catches Matt off guard. He immediately looks back over at you, confused.
As soon as he looks back over at you, you reconnect your lips with his. He sighs into the kiss. His open mouth grants you the opening you need as you swiftly slip your tongue into his mouth.
Youâre a virgin. That doesnât mean youâre fully inexperienced tho.
You two make out heavily for a while. Making out like youâre trying to feel every part of each other.
Somehow you ended up in a position with you straddling Matt, as he has his legs sprawled out.
You pull away, both of you breathing hard.
âY/n..â Matt starts his voice shaky.
He averts his eyes, the blush on his cheeks and even deeper red than before.
âIâm a virginâ he admits under his breath.
You thought for sure that Matt wasnât. You were. But you also never dated anyone. Matt used to have a girlfriend though. But heâd never done it?
âLike fully?â You ask out of curiosity.
But it wasnât like you wanted to use him. You liked him for being, himself. His presence made you flustered, feeling butterflies in your stomach, and all giddy.
âYeahâ he breaths out. You watch him close his eyes as if willing his embarrassment to leave. âIâve never, done anything..â
You pause thinking of the best way to reply. âNeither have I.â You say softly, feeling mildly flustered as well. But both of you were inexperienced. You were in the same boat.
He pauses for a second at the reply. It was obvious that he thought you at least had one body. He didnât think you were a virgin too.
âYou⌠you wanna try?â He questions. Now he looks a lot less embarrassed than he did just a few seconds ago.
You bite the inside of your cheek. âIf you want to?â
He pulls you back in for another kiss by the back of your neck. The kiss is shorter and more reassuring.
Matt pulls out of the kiss his hands going to your waist âWe can figure it out?â He asks hopefully.
You nod in agreement. You could feel Mattâs bulge through his pants with the way you were sitting. And you could feel yourself aching.
Whatâs the harm in trying. Heâs your best friend after all. Besides youâd finally lose it, and to someone you trust.
You peck his lips briefly before you get up off of his lap.
Matt gets up off of the ground too. You pick up your cat and wake her in the process. She meows at you in annoyance before you chuckle and put her on the ground.
Matt opens the door as Sunny finally but reluctantly leaves the room.
You pull off your shirt tossing it away. Matt turns around to see you sitting on your bed with your top discarded, your bra in full view. His eyes widen.
He licks his lips, his eyes shamelessly tracing your body.
Matt comes to hover over you while you sit there. âYouâre such a teaseâ he chuckles. He leans down to capture your lips in a brief kiss again.
It was like he couldnât get enough of your lips.
âGet on the ground,â Matt says, his tone more demanding and rough with lust.
You obey. You slide off your bed, getting on your knees on the ground.
Matt tugs his shirt off throwing it off to the side. He unbuckles his belt and undoes the button and zipper on his jeans before finally sliding them off and tossing them away.
You curiously watch. The only men youâd seen in this position were in pornos. This though, was your best friend since middle school.
Sometimes you forgot he was an actual man with a dick and all.
And right now, seeing the imprint of his cock through his boxers felt surreal.
He starts to tug on his boxers. Your eyes go up to meet his. âEver gotten your dick sucked?â You ask sarcastically to cover up how nervous you are.
âNo.â He breaths out. While continuing to look down at you he finally pulls down his boxers. He tosses them away too.
Your eyes trail from his eyes to his lips, over his jawline and his chest, down to his dick. The dick that was rock hard and right in front of your face.
Your eyes widen, as you sit back your hands staying on your knees as you just stare.
His tip was the same red he had on his cheeks, leaking pre cum. He had a vain running up his shaft. You always thought that male body part was rather disgusting looking.
But the way Mattâs looks right nowâŚ
You donât know if itâs just the burning lust running through your body. But you actually really wanted to taste that.
Your hand goes to cup his aching cock. He lets out a sharp sigh at the feeling. You touch it gently. You donât move your hand and stay careful of your manicured nails.
âI donât know what Iâm doingâ you breathe out. While you do, you gently start to move your hand up and down your length slowly jerking him off.
âI donât either,â he tilts his head forwards closing his eyes for a secound. âKeep going weâll figure it out,â Matt assures you.
His hand goes to the back of your head. His hand starts to smooth down your hair.
âCâmon baby, donât be shyâ he coos staring down at you. Matt looks down at you like heâs done this a billion times before when he claims he never had.
But you guess one of you at least had to pretend that you were understanding what youâre doing right now.
You lean forward leaving a tender kiss on the tip. You do what you think someone would do in this situation.
The way he shudders at the simple touch though, shows that he is in fact, not experienced.
In hindsight, you donât know why you thought that he was experienced. You just assumed.
âYou think this will fuck up our friendship?â You ask while still slowly jerking him off.
Mattâs breaths are slightly shaky, but he chuckles at the question.
âNo. I wonât let it.â He huffs.
âSo..â you pause your movements. You glance down at his dick and the way your manicured hand wraps around it. And how huge it looks.
You then look back up at him through your lashes. âHow am I supposed to do this?â You ask uncertainly.
âI donât know.â He pauses to lick his lips. The way you, his best friend, look up at him through your lashes like that, was making him even more aroused.
âJust do what you feel like. But be careful of your teeth.â He says slowly. he wasnât even sure himself.
You raise your eyebrow at his vague response. Neither of you knew how to do it, so you might as well imitate the porn that youâve watched.
You drag you tongue up his shaft, keeping your eyes locked on his. When youâre at the tip you lick up all the pre cum leaking. You keep eye contact with matt, and it was driving him crazy.
He lets out shaky breaths. He was clearly enjoying this.
You kiss his tip again, before wrapping your lips around his tip. You slowly swirl your tongue around it trying to see how heâll react.
You watch him to see if he likes it or not.
âYeah, like that,â he says under his breath staring down at you.
With his praise and encouragement, you start to take him further down your throat. Slowly and carefully.
Matt whispers praises into the quiet room. All of them go right to your core and boost your ego.
You eventually feel comfortable enough to bob your head. You were jerking off what you couldnât fit in your mouth. You were bobbing your head at a rhythmic pace and hollowing out your cheeks occasionally.
âIâm close-â Matt whines. He actually whines.
And that sound. The power you had to make him sound like that was making you feel even more confident.
You donât slow down your pace. You just keep going.
Until matt puts your hair in a makeshift ponytail. He tugs on it hard, to keep you still. He starts at a gentle but fast pace.
You feel your eyes fog up. The constant hit to the back of your throat makes you gag slightly.
His pace starts to become more and more sloppy as the seconds pass though.
You feel his dick hit the back of your throat before you suddenly feel your mouth be filled.
You feel his sticky load shoot down your throat. He pants, pulling at your hair to pull you off.
You swallowed what you could. But still, you feel a bit of it roll down your chin.
âSh, sorry no donât cry.â He immediately panics cupping your face in his hands. He looks down at you, worried. As if he thinks he went too far.
He wipes away the tears. The tears that you hadnât even noticed had fallen.
Sighing, you canât help the smile that forms on your face. âIâm okay Mattyâ you breathe out softly. His facial expression visibly relaxes at the statement.
âIâm sorry if that was too hardâ
âIt wasnât, youâre good.â You stand up.
You immediately go to undo your own jeans. You slip out of them, throwing them off to the side.
His eyes roam over your body. The air is thick, both of your bodies pulsing with pure lust and awe.
You watch as his half-hard dick gets hard again.
You chuckle at the reaction. You teasingly take your bra off. And once you unclasp it, itâs Thrown across the room to the rest of your clothes.
His eyes trail your body again. He canât help himself at the way your boobs look. Heâs always admired you from afar. He never thought heâd ever be able to see you like this.
Sure he had imagined you two together like this before, but he never thought heâd actually get to see it. Besides, the real thing, the euphoria, it all felt better than he couldâve ever thought.
âSo pretty, babyâ he sighs. His hand goes to your chest. you could tell heâd never done this before just by the way he touched you like you were fragile.
But neither of you knowing what you were doing only made this more thrilling.
His hands go to your waist as he pushes you back onto your bed. He hovers over you for a moment, before crashing his lips back onto yours.
You kiss back, but you mostly let him take the lead. After he breaks the kiss, You feel him start to trail his kisses down your jawline and neck, while needing your breast in his hand.
He sits up again putting his other hand on your chest and needing it too, watching the way his hands look wrapped around your tits.
He sighs getting off of you and between your legs.
âTell me when it feels good, sweetheart, alright?â He hums. He pulls at your panties, taking them off and half-heartedly throwing them away.
His eyes stay locked on your pussy. He admires it, like itâs the first time heâs seen it, which it is.
He puts your legs over his shoulders to give himself a better angle. He uses his middle finger to brush through your folds experimentally, watching you in awe.
You sigh at the contact on your folds. Youâve never been touched there. But Mattâs touch felt so incredibly comforting and good.
Your core was aching, pulsing around nothing. And Matt watched.
After a moment he kissed just above your clit. Kissing a trail down to your clit, before harshly starting to suck on it.
Your moan tears through the room. You were startled by how bold and confident he acted.
He groans into your core at your taste on his tongue. The groan sends pleasure coursing through you and chills down your spine.
âFuck- mattâ you whine. Your thighs clench around his head trying to get him closer. Your hand finds its way to his hair tugging on it slightly.
Your other hand berries in the sheets, trying to find something to hold onto. âGod- have you done this before?â You ask rhetorically not expecting an answer.
He licks a stripe up your folds and starts to move his tongue against your sensitive nub. You whine and he chuckles.
âNo.â He mumbles against you in answer. You throw your head back in pleasure your eyes briefly closing.
You feel Matt pull at you, tilting his head slightly for a deeper angle.
He was eating you out like you were his last meal. But beyond that also like this would be the only time he got to taste your sweet juices.
âMatt, fuck yeah- just like that.â You keep praising him. You notice how it boosts his confidence and in turn, makes this even more pleasurable for you.
You feel a finger brush at your cunt. Before you feel it slide in. Your hand immediately tugs harder at his hair. Your back arches slightly as you throw your head back in pleasure.
He thrusts his middle finger in and out of your tight cunt. He was turning his hand slightly, twisting it and turning it to get a feel for your body and how you react. And to also make you loosen up a bit.
You whine in discomfort. Matt detaches his lips from your clit still hovering close though.
âYou okay sweetheart?â He says lowly under his breath.
Your moaning was loud and echoing through the room.
You sit up in your forearms staring down at him and the way he was fingering you like that. Watching the way his finger disappeared in your tight cunt.
âIâm goodâ
The words come up a bit slurred. The pleasure of him finger fucking you like that, was making your head feel all fuzzy.
âNever fingered yourself, baby?â He asks teasingly. You watch him and the way he steadies himself on his other arm.
He readjusts his finger, curling it up roughly hitting your sweet spot right on.
The touch sends shivers of pleasure down your spine making you shut your eyes and throw your head back.
âMatt, matt-â you chant his name like a prayer. Itâs the only thing you can think of. Him. And only him. Thatâs all thatâs relevant right now.
He slips his second finger into your soaked core with ease. You barely even notice the second finger added. Until he starts to scissor them apart to stretch your insides even further.
He keeps thrusting his fingers in and out of you harshly. Curling them at just the right spots to make your vision blur.
You lay back down fully, as he is now sitting up more.
âYeah pretty girl, that feel good?â He asks. Your back arches and your mouth falls open in a silent moan.
He leans up further, your legs fall from his shoulders as he hovers over your lower body. He puts his whole hand on your lower stomach applying gentle pressure on it to keep you down on the bed.
âIâm close-â you breathe out between loud moans.
âgood girl, come for me.â You shudder at the pet name. Your thighs shake slightly at the burning intensity of his gaze and the way his fingers curl at just the right spots.
You squirm under his gaze. And suddenly you feel the intense knot in your stomach snap. You feel him continue to finger fuck you, while your entire body feels burning hot.
You feel so warm and overwhelmed by the euphoria flowing through your veins. It feels better than any high you have ever experienced. Not that youâve experienced a lot.
Once you ride out your high you breathe hard. Your eyes stay closed as you lay back on your bed.
Matt gently pulls out his fingers, making you whine at the loss of contact.
He lays down on your duvet next to you, turns to his side, and watches you.
You also turn to face him after a moment. You two just look at each other.
Matt looks at you with such intense adoration and love, itâs crazy.
âYou actually wanna loose your virginity now?â He asks gently. Ignoring the fact that he was rock-hard.
You two so far had only given each other pleasure, but you hadnât lost your virginity yet.
âYesâ you breathe out. You feel ready now more than you ever have before. Especially if you get to lose it to matt.
He licks his lips looking over your face.
âI donât have a condom.â He says simply looking back at you. He knew you werenât on the pill. Heâd be fine doing it some other day.
âThatâs fine.â You say though , catching him off guard. How desperate do you have to be to let him raw dog it?
âYouâre not on the pill tho?â He questions.
âIâm notâ you confirm simply. He raises an eyebrow waiting for further explanation. âYou can pull out or something.â You shrug.
âThat sounds tacky.â He huffs a laugh at how ridiculous that sounds.
âDoesnât matter, weâll deal with that tomorrow morning. Just please fuck me?â
You think heâs going to refuse Until he suddenly pulls you on top of him. You sit on his torso for a moment before you get the memo.
âYou want me to ride you?â You ask slowly.
âIf youâre not comfortable we can switch?â He offers. But why would you decline to ride him?
You shake your head no, before starting to slide down on his torso feeling his length glide between your soaked folds.
âCanât be that hard?â You question rather skeptically.
In your opinion matt didnât seem small. Though you had nothing to compare it to. All the girls in porn seemed to struggle with something that looked as big as Matt.
So either this would be really hard or easy for you. But either way, you wanted to try.
âYouâre okay, weâll go slowâ he chuckles at your nervousness but is secretly just as scared. âAnd Iâll help you.â He assures.
You lift yourself hovering over his crotch area. You take in a harsh breath grabbing his dick and hovering over it.
Mattâs hand goes to it too holding it up. While your hand goes to your cunt as you gently and slowly sink down on it.
You both moan at the contact. Getting in the tip was hard. But once that was in you felt like you could easily slide down the rest of it, not that it wouldnât hurt.
Mattâs free hand goes to your waist, guiding you like he said he would.
âDoing so good, princess.â You whine at the praise, but ultimately slowly skink down further..
Matt keeps your movements steady as you keep doing your thing. His second hand also goes to your waist using it to steady your movements further.
âFuck so big.â You moan. Your thighs tense as you pull it out slightly. You could feel the stretch burn.
âItâs okay sweetheart. you only got a couple inches left.â He assures you as he starts guiding you back lower on him. Your cunt was aching around him harshly.
âFuck-â you sigh. You canât help yourself when you take one of his hands from your waist and interlock your hands. You need the moral support.
âSuch a good girl,â Matt says as you start to gently bounce on what you have fit so far.
He was occasionally groaning. Your moans filled the room, the air in the room staying hot.
He squeezes your hand. You close your eyes at the mixture of pleasure and pain. When you close your eyes he lets his eyes wander down to where your bodies meet.
Heâd never done this and this felt so incredibly good. The sight alone could make him come right then and there.
Matt wasnât dumb, he knew he had quite the dick. It wasnât small by any means. And he knew that. It was amusing Watching you struggle with what you had, knowing there were at least still 3 more inches to go.
âYou okay?â He asks again just to make sure you are okay.
The pain had subsided and you felt the pleasure. Sure you could take more but you were nervous to. This wasnât as easy as it looked or as You thought itâd be.
âIâm okayâ you sigh. You keep yourself gently and slowly bouncing on the upper half of the length of his cock.
Matt knows you really well. And matt just knows you can take more than that, Despite being a virgin himself. It was just a gut feeling. âBaby, Iâm gonna need you to bear with me alright?â
Before you can respond, his hand on your waist tightens, and he squeezes your hand thatâs intertwined with his. He rams you down on his dick harshly, making you take it as much as you physically could.
Your legs tense up at the harsh treatment. Your eyes close as a moan is ripped out your lungs. You clench so unbelievably tight around him. And just the sight of himself buried so deep inside of you could have him come at the spot.
He groans at the feeling of it as well. âGood-â he breathes out. âSuch a good girl.â
He keeps his hand intertwined with yours for moral support. His hand trails from your waist over your side soothingly.
You sigh at the feeling of him being completely in you. Itâs a foreign feeling. It just feels so full.
âI feel so fucking stuffedâ you groan dramatically. You let your head hang forward your mouth open in a silent moan.
âOh, youâre so gonna be stuffedâ he huffs. And somehow, even though pregnancy and birth scares the hell out of you, this type of dirty talk was extremely hot to you.
You huff in response starting to grind into him. You grind on his dick, his Hand on your hips helping you as you slowly try to get used to the size.
You sigh pulling all of your hair back out of your face again. You readjust your legs, taking your hand out of Mattâs. You shift, leaning on your arms to lean back slightly.
You start to carefully ride him your moans and whines still audible. Your head is thrown back in pleasure.
Matt watches the way your body moves in awe. Groaning every so often when you clench around him.
His hand goes to rest over your lower stomach, his thumb goes to rub on your clit gently. âMatt.â You gasp at the sudden added pleasure.
You canât help yourself when you lean back forward. You just really want to see Mattâs face while you ride him.
âSo good for me baby, keep goingâ he encourages. And with his words, you readjust again now pulling out more and ramming yourself back down.
You feel the knot in your stomach get tighter. You feel really good riding him like this, listening to his mumbles of praise and encouragement.
You continue to bounce on him, now chasing your high. And the harsher you slam yourself down the louder you and matt get. The room is filled with your noises as well as skin clapping loudly, and your lewd wetness.
After a few seconds you feel the knot snap. You lean over him, your arms on either side of his head catching you. Your high feels incredible, the heat washing over you like a wave.
Mattâs hand on your waist gets bruisingly harsh. He holds you in place while he thrusts up into you. You whine at the way he fucks you through your high. He was chasing his own now.
âWhere do you want it.â His breath is harsh. He choked out the words in his lust-filled voice. He wasnât asking, he was demanding to know.
âInside.â You grit out. You bite your lip harshly, feeling your high subside and overstimulation slowly take over.
Matt grunts an agreement and you feel his thrusts get more sloppy and harsh. Until he gives you one last thrust, finally stopping his movements. He pulls you down to sit on him while spurts of his release shoot up into you.
You were pulsing around him, practically milking him for all heâs got. âSuch a good girlâ matt breathes out. One of his hands goes to trail over your stomach slightly.
He feels the slight bulge in your stomach from his sheer size.
The idea that this is how you make children is crazy to you. And the fact that you just did that with your best friend.
âHowâre you feeling?â He asks softly staring up at you lovingly.
âWarmâ you respond truthfully. His sticky seed inside of you makes your core feel all warm, along with the fact that you havenât gotten off of it yet.
âDo you regret it?â He asks gently. After all, you two were best friends, and he had just lost his virginity to you and also taken yours.
Despite being terrified of the fact that you let him raw dog this, you didnât regret it. In fact, you felt content, you love matt dearly.
âNoâ you donât hesitate. You never realized how much you love Matt. He was just always there with you, he was always your best friend. You couldnât imagine a future without him.
âYouâre paying for the plan b pill thoâ you chuckle.
He huffs a laugh. you carefully lift yourself off of him feeling your combined juices leak. You can see Matt watching, his eyes focused on your pussy. Watching the way youâre filled to the brim.
You kneel next to him, as you watch him sit up. âCome on sweetheart letâs get you cleaned up.â
Masterlist
A/N: I know this isnât the most original idea, but I havenât read any ffs where both of them are virgins. But if there is one thatâs similar to mine, just know it was not intentional. In that case, If someone gives me the @ I can credit them.
Taglist: @muwapsturniolo , @sturnad , @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 , @evie-sturns , @me09love , @fratbrochrisgf , @spideylovin , @chrissgirlsstuff , @stunza , @whicked-hazlatwhore , @sturnioloos , @ecliphttlunar , @orangepepsi , @klaus223492 , @char112244 , @sst7niolo
#sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo x y/n#chris sturniolo x you#chris x reader#christopher sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo#sturniolo smut#christopher sturniolo#christopher sturniolo smut#matthew sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo x you#matt sturniolo smut#matt sturniolo x reader#matthew sturniolo#matt sturniolo#sturniolo#sturniolo triplets#christopher sturniolo x reader smut#sturniolo fanfic#Spotify#matt stuniolo fanfic#matt x reader#matthew sturniolo smut
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WORTH IT
ex!husband eddie munson x reader
based on the hc! by me that eddie kidnaps your kids, charging kisses for ransom wc: 1.2K
âYou know you canât keep doing this.â
Eddie can hardly hold back a pout. He knows youâll criticize him if he lets it slip, reminding him that âheâs a grown man for goodnessâ sakeâ even though his puppy eyes never fail to succeed against you. Except once. Only once, when you filed for divorce circa 12 years ago.
Filed into the back of the van, your children are pressing their faces up against the glass windows. Their eyes are wide, noses are upturned, fogging up the glass with each breathâ looking like the myth of pig-men came to life and are giddy to draw smiley faces and âhi momâs into the steamed up glass. Unlike you, they enjoy when their dad kidnaps them, waving their teachers off with forged letters so they can hobble into his car and fiddle with the stereo as he stops at the florist, and biting their lips to stop their excitement when they see your old camaro pull up.
Forget-Me-Nots lay half-forgotten at Eddieâs side as he ruffles his already messy curls, mesmerized as you step out the car, mom jeans and rock shirt hanging loose. You look as beautiful as the day he met you. Some days, he feels like it is the first time he met you, his heart paralyzed by a certain type of warmth at the sight of your face. Itâs like everything around you disappears and he recognizes his purpose. You. You make him feel like a teenager in love.
âEventually Iâm just gonna call the cops on your ass.â
Angry is not how you would describe yourself in the moment. The first time it happened, hell, you were pissed. Smoke practically blew out your ears when he first called, interrupting himself with giggles while he announced âThe prince and princess of, phh, Munsonville have been exiled along with the King. Haha, oh umâ If you wish to see them ever again, you must pay the price!â After the second, third, fourth, and tenth time, itâs only become a nuance.
âHi, Mom!â your daughter calls out, voice muffled. Her hands are sprawled against the window, the hair that was once well-kept into two braids is now fuzzy and tangled. Her brown doe eyes peering at you, standing on her tippy toes to see. Looking like the splitting image of her father. Behind her, your son is playing with Eddieâs electric-blue guitar, strumming the string so harshly that you cringe, but Eddie doesnât seem to mind. In fact, heâs still staring at you.
Dumbly, Eddie just sticks the bouquet in your face, his fist inches from your face. âMâlady.â Through the thin stems of your favorite flower, you can see his lopsided smile.
Rather delicately, you take the flowers from his grasp, looking at them for a second too long to keep up your uneffected act. These mustâve been on sale, you assure yourself. He doesnât remember the flowers you walked up the isle with, he couldnât have. When you can finally drag your eyes away, your brows are furrowed. Something fluttering in your stomach as Eddie tilts his head, usual shit-eating grin strangely sweet. Small indigo petals flutter to the ground as theyâre knocked off their branches from impact of hitting Eddie square in chest.
âOw!â He lifts his arms up in defense. The purple-blue veins that flex on his bicep matching the shade of the dwindling flowers. âY/N!â
Finally, easing your attack, your chest rises and falls as you point a finger at his chest. âGive my kids, Munson!â
âMrs. Munson!â Again, you raise the flowers to wack him over the head, but Eddieâs hand grips your wrist, holding it in place and smiling innocently at you. âYou know the drill by now.â
Groaning, you hide your face in whatâs left of your flowers, a red hue rising on your cheeks. Itâs embarrassingâ giving in this easy to your ex husbandâs demands, but thereâs a special spot in your heart for Eddie that just. wonât. go. away. No matter how many dates you went on, no one could replace him.
Eddieâs hands are gentle as they pry your hands, and flowers, away from your face. Heâs close enough that you can feel the heat of his breath. Harshly sighing through your nose, and trying to convincingly eye roll, you choke out, âWhat do I owe this time?â
âWell, seeing as it took you ten extra minutes to get here from the estimated timeâŚâ
You shake your head. âI was busy explaining why the teachers didnât need to issue an amber alert, dipshiâ.â
âTen kisses.â Heâs too happy with himself, rocking back and forth on his heels as he watched the disbelief transform your pretty face.
âTen?â
He raises his brows, playfully puckering. âLay âem on me, honey.â
Itâs never not awkward, begrudgingly (not really) approaching your ex husband with slow, torturous movements. Fingers finding his tattooed skinâ which you used to color before you became adults and life went to shit, tracing up the expense of his arms until your hands connect around the back of his neck. Heâs nibbling his lip as you inch forward, impatient. When your lips are close enough to touch, your breaths sync and your eyes meet. Heart racing, your eyes flutter shut. Lightly, the plush of your lips meet hisâ always surprisingâ soft lips. One.
Again. Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
Six.
Seven.
Eight.
Eddie canât help himself. His hands fly to your waist, squeezing the flesh he can reach and pulling your closer, shoving his tongue in your mouth when your hands tug on his hair. He tastes just as you remember, like tobacco and cheerios. As his tongue explores your mouth, you moan into his. Betrayed by your own body, dammit. His lips twitch against yours. When his teeth start to clash against yours, thatâs when you pull away, a thick string of saliva connecting you. Nine.
Your eyes are hazy, a dumbstruck, lightheaded feeling coming over your body as you lean forward again. Foreheads connecting. Your noses nudging. Panting into each otherâs mouth. Far too sensual for a divorced couple. Eddie finishes the last kiss for you, pecking your lips. Your breath hitches when he drags his teeth against the bottom. Ten.
âPleasure doing business with you,â he chuckles, panting. His large palm finds the bottom of your ass.
âGo to hell,â you whisper against his lips. âKids!â
âAlready in the car, Mom!â Tucked in the back of the car, seat belts buckled, your children look unimpressed. Your cheeks go bright red as you adjust yourself, trying hard not to stomp to the car as you avoid contact with Eddie, who walks slowly, cockily, behind you.
âIâll call you later, sweetheart!â
You shove your hand out your unrolled window, middle finger up. Eddieâs laugh makes your chest tighten, but you wonât let it show, flipping on your sunglasses and pulling the fuck away from him. Eddie smiles as his kids wave through the window, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans with a knowing look on his face.
Heâll win you back eventually.
â
p.s. đ
âMommy, are you and daddy getting back together?â
With your grip tightening on the steering wheel, knuckles turning your white, you meet your five year old sonâs clueless eyes in the review mirrorâ the product of the last time you got back together with his father. âNot a chance.â
not edited or read over đ
#ex husband!eddie munson#ex husband!eddie munson x reader#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie#strange things 4#dad!eddie munson#husband!eddie#i really hope this isnât bad#yovrnewromantic
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[The Mute Concubine]
Yandere Emperor x Female Reader: Warning: There are mentions of kidnapping, stalking, obsessive and yandere behaviors which are NOT recommended to practice in real life. Postscript: The text dividers are NOT mine, so I give credits to their respective creators.
Many years ago, Emperor Ivan ruled Zealia with a heavy hand. He had a young appearance that can be attractive to anyone who didn't know him (and even a little to those who do). He lived in his luxurious palace with his multiple wives; a group of beautiful women who had had some children for him.
Anyone would think that he had everything and couldn't want anything more, and that's what Ivan thought a long time ago despite the monotony of his life. He had a lot of money; total and absolute control over the laws of each kingdom and tribe at his disposal; beautiful women and children; good food, clothing and medicine as well as medical care.
But no, it wasn't like that. Ivan was infatuated with something again; Something was pulling him out of his dream, or ratherâŚsomeone. That someone was a beautiful young woman whom he had seen during his most recent trip.
She was quite a beautiful and delicate girl, even more so than a common courtesan or prostitute. She had a face that was difficult to forget, and a smile that easily dazzled or moved anyone. She was hired to make Ivan happy during those nights of his stay, but the next morning she disappeared. He not only slept with her, but they also played board games, showing that she was quite good at these since she beat him in the vast majority of the games, which were very silent but interesting. This made him feel more interested in researching her; However, he could not find her anywhere after her return to his palace.
The emperor did not stop thinking about her, reaching the point of dreaming about her day and night. He wanted to go out to find her, but he feared for her own reputation as her ruler. While thinking, he came up with the idea of ââcalling all the girls in his town who had the same physical characteristics as the mysterious girl who now lived in his heart.
All the girls from the town summoned to the palace, introducing themselves one by one only to be instantly rejected by Ivan. He was already starting to get bored after the long day, but he didn't want to give up. From one moment to the next, his trusted butler approaches him and says:
-Your majesty, we have found the girl you were looking for, but there is a problemâŚ- The emperor was interested. His belovedâŚwas she seriously here?, he couldn't believe it; he had to see it himself.
-Let her in, I want to see her.- The emperor firmly ordered. The butler made a gesture and the guards showed the girl in, and the emperor could not believe⌠that she was the courtesan from that time!, only dressed in a more formal or refined way. The courtesan knelt and bowed, but without saying a single word, which seemed strange to Ivan.
-So⌠aren't you going to tell me your name?- She was about to take out what appears to be a piece of paper from her sleeve, and just then the emperor's butler interrupts.
-Your majesty, I have tried to ask her name before, but the owner of the courtesan house told me that she is (Y/n) (Y/ln), and that she is⌠mute.- Ivan was surprised. He now understood why she never talked to him; She was not with bad intentions, because of bad education or because she didn't want to, but because of something that she didn't ask for at birth.
-So that was it. I like it, that awakens an aura of mystery in you that I love so much.- Ivan took her hands and carefully lifted her up. He looked at how embarrassed she was a moment ago, changing that expression to one of surprise.
From that moment on, Ivan made the mute courtesan start living in the palace with him, which made everyone look contemptuously at (Y/n), because she was a courtesan or prostitute and besides, she couldn't even speak; apart from the fact that they envied her a lot for her beauty.
This caused (Y/n) to be forced to use the emperor's hands to defend herself, in exchange for giving herself to him, a man she pretends to love in order to survive in her new environment. She cannot speak and that is true, but she has to communicate with the help of signs, servants, letters, facial expressions and even paintings. IvĂĄn loved this girl, because he was not only captivated by her mystery and high genius for board games, but also by her ability to draw and paint.
Ivan, on the other hand, was still obsessed with (Y/n). He loved spending time with her, whether sleeping with her, playing super difficult but entertaining board games, feeling like he had never felt with any of the women in her harem. For him, she is different.
She was⌠his mute concubine.
-The End.
#yandere#yandere oc#cw yandere#yandere love#yandere x you#yandere male#platonic yandere#tw yandere#male yandere#yandere x reader#yandere emperor x reader
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Neo beasts x reader head cannons? đĽş
You know what anon? Just for you
Beast Ancients AU - Neo Beasts x Reader Headcanons
Congratulations! Someway somehow youâve attracted the attentionâand affectionâof the Neo beasts. How do each treat you?
Saint Vanilla Cookie
This implies that heâs decided not to purify you out of his intense compassion. In fact, heâs settled for something arguably much worse: saving you for last, so you can witness his deliverance.
Youâre his lamb, his bluebird, and he never lets you forget how blessed you are to be one of his
Heâs gentle in almost every way. Voice, touch, words. He especially likes cupping your cheek and cooing sweet little things. Sometimes theyâre laced with dark promises
On his orders, the Lambs of Penance are your personal servants and wonât let any harm befall you. Cream Wafer speaks to you respectfully, but you can hear a little envy in his voice
Saint pays attention to every little detail you have, the things you like, and your wishes. He wants to see you at your happiest because a tainted soul as yourself should never feel sad. Heâll wipe your tears away
But donât assume heâs perfect; heâs far from. Saint stays true to his personal promise that you will be safe and happy and alive until the day he finally saves you, and that means that any potential threat to you will be dealt with by his lambs. If he thinks something will taint your soul further, heâll be sure that itâll never have the chance.
In fact, why donât you stay with him? In his timeless kingdom, amongst his loyal followers and all the orchids that will watch over you. Itâs the closest youâll be to the light.
Make no mistake, saint is two steps away from being a yandere. He just wouldnât get his hands dirty, and he would never change to that typical yandere-ish behavior. The oh so benevolent saint just wants to see you safe, and if that safety is under his wings, so be itâŚ
Dragonberry Cookie
As the Beast of Pride, the way she loves is bold and loud. She will make it known to you that she loves you pretty quickly.
While she throws parties pretty frequently already, youâll be center stage at a lot of them with her as she makes you dance together and drinks herself stupid with a bunch of glasses poured your way as well.
If youâre the shy type, expect to be embarrassed or put in big social situations a lot since sheâs a massive extrovert who would bring you along to things. Outside of parties and other events of the sort, she would also love for you to watch her spar with Wildberry and her other soldiers
Sheâll also give you lots of gifts
She does have a pretty big ego though, so she expects praise and validation from you. Compliments, acts of service, things that assure her youâre not just mooching off of what she gives you. If she thinks youâre not being grateful, sheâll get bitter and confront you about it, which will or wonât go well depending on how well you can prove your point to her
Sheâll kill for you 100%. She might even do it in front of you. If you get messed up from that? Itâs okay! Youâll get over it in no time.
Despite all this she does respect your boundaries, sheâll give you space if youâre vocal about it. She disappears on occasions and comes back covered in battle wounds and jam anyway.
You know about Pitaya locked up in her basement but you know not to touch them, let alone try and free them if youâre hero enough. She might just have to punish you for that if she catches you doing something you shouldnât. Donât worry though, itâs just this once, because youâll surely never try anything again, right?
Big hugger, her love language is touch so expect hugs and kisses and mandatory cuddle sessions. Honestly if youâre just as messed as her then sheâs a pretty solid lover
Frigid Cacao Cookie
Itâs hard to tell he cares for you because heâs so distant, even from you.
Youâre allowed into the throne room without summons, but the furthest into it you can go is to the foot of his throne. Like everyone else in the citadel, youâre not allowed to touch him.
Your days in the citadel are quiet. The outside is cold but the hallways and your room are warm, the latter always supplied to the brim with what you need.
Tiny licorice creatures slink in and out of your peripheral vision, watching you curiously. Sometimes they slink up to you, purring and chittering, and some might even be balancing trays of food, warm towels, clothes, or other things on their heads. Little do you know that Cacao has been ordering them to take care of you
While he doesnât forbid you from leaving the kingdom, heâll want you to come back to him one way or another. Ideally on your own, but one of the licorice oozes that have been watching you since you left could also bring you back.
You might see him out and about on rare occasions, and he might look at you. On even rarer occasions he might ask about your well being
The only thing heâs strict about is that you absolutely cannot attract attention from the other neobeasts, especially Saint Vanilla. The beast of Penance is already curious about learning what things make Cacao go soft; he does not need to learn about you.
Also donât bring up Choco, he has a reaction to it
Celestial Cheese Cookie
Pampers you. Pampers you and pampers you and pampers you and pampers you
Thinks youâre the sweetest little thing and pinches your cheeks and everything
Sheâd be more than happy to show herself off, as well as all of her achievements. She gives you treasures from her conquests regularly
Sheâs similar to Dragonberry though where she expects praise, but unlike her she doesnât get as angry. She doesnât see her gift giving as a transactional thing, she does it because she can. You just gotta tell her how wonderful she is
The oases are a popular spot for her to bring you for food and refreshments, cared for by gold-adorned servants as she gushes over the grand vision for her kingdom. Sheâs honestly quite excitable and loves talking about herself and her plans.
Pay no mind to the scans that are run on you while you sleep, or the diagnostics of your information that run deep in her servers. She doesnât think itâll need to happen soon, but sheâs planning to put you in a sarcophagus and hook you into her virtual world to make you live forever. Sheâs not going to let something else she cares about go.
Midnight Lily Cookie
The tamest one honestly
Unlike the others, she sees you as an equal. She knows your personal space and doesnât encroach on it too much or too little, makes sure youâre well cared for and healthy, and keeps you safe. She also lets you leave and trusts you to take care of yourself. Being Beast of Sovereignty, she encourages the people under her to do whatever they please within their allegiance to her, and this includes you.
Sheâll play the harp for you and ask you how she did
You also get lots of gifts and compliments from the other faeries for being the lover of their queen
She does have preferences though. She likes honesty and expects you to keep promises, she prefers if you do something for her in exchange for her doing something for you, and to not question her motive and means to take down her other half. She will get very defensive with you and shut down the conversation pretty fast
The flora in the silver kingdom bloom to their fullest around you both, but when Lily is upset with you, they curl or bud as you pass by them.
Speaking of chlorokinesis, get used to seeing her show no mercy with her plants. Unlike Dragonberry though, sheâll do her best to help you if the sight of bodies skewered on flower stems is too much. Maybe stick to the heart of the kingdom for your own good, where youâre less likely to see how the rest of Beast Yeast challenge her kingdom.
She has a whole bunch of rules set up when Saint visits. While sheâd encourage not being with him at all, if you really want to see him, she made it expressly clear to him that he cannot purify you.
#disclaimer iâm not an x reader blog pls donât flood my inbox with a ton of these requests#beast ancients au ask#beast ancients au#cjj arts#saint vanilla cookie#dragonberry cookie#frigid cacao cookie#celestial cheese cookie#midnight lily cookie#crk au#crk x reader#cookie run x reader#tw religious themes#tw religious trauma
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|| new years and blooming hearts
summary: youâre in pansyâs dorm getting ready to go to the slytherin new yearâs eve party. only, youâre a hufflepuff⌠you arrive to the party and the tension between you and THEODORE NOTT is palpable; so palpable in fact that matteo and enzo decide to help a brother out (by making theodore so insanely jealous that he arrived to his breaking point.) through breathless laughter, cold stares and tough crowds, you find yourself by theo, oddly enough during the countdown til midnight.
word count: 6.6k+
a/n: this is lowercase intended. i just wanted to write about theodore nott/lorenzo zurzolo because he has me in a chokehold. also, i read a fic with a similar concept to this but i canât find it. if anyone knows which fic iâm referring to, please tag the creator in the comments.
- please imagine theodore with an italian accent, thanks!!! đ
warnings: italian!theo. jealous!theo. angsty. friends to lovers. slowburn. oblivious reader and theo (theyâre both clearly in love). love confession. tension. heavy kissing. pansy x blaise.
6:00P.M.
âokay⌠so what iâm hearing is that you hate me and want me to die.â you flinched at the dress pansy held to your body, your nose twitching as you dramatically gagged.
it was yellow with black stripes, reminding you of the bee movie you had previously watched with her and your friends in the slytherin common room.
pansy was cackling beside you; her hair hanging low in her face as loud snorts tumbled from her nose. ânoâno you have to hear me out,â she cackled. âitâs perfect! itâll match your house and everything, baby.â
âyou know what else is perfect?â your lips twitched into a malice smile.
âwhat?â she was still laughing, hardly able to contain herself as she ran her fingers through her hair.
grabbing your wand, you pointed it toward the dress. âevanesco!â you quickly shouted, a smirk now adorning your lips as the fabric disappeared from her grasp.
âyouâre no fun,â she pouted, her laughter ceasing before giggles bubbled right back up again. âiâll tell you what, i think i do have a dress for you to wear. trust me?â she asked, still giggling as she cocked her head to the side.
âi donât knowâŚâ you teased, âare you going to pull out another bumblebee catastrophe?â
âno, i promise.â she interlocked her pinky with yours, the laughter finally dying down.
after a moment, you sat on her bed, your head leaning against the headboard as you waited for her to find what she was looking for in the mess she called âclosetâ.
your fingers danced around your wand, attempting to spin it around your unskilled graspâonly for it to end up dropping to your side. you blew out a stream of tense air. âhave you found it yet?â you impatiently wailed.
âhold on,â she replied, annoyed.
after holding on for what felt like half an hour â two minutes max â she found the dress she was looking for
and it was beautiful.
it was a black dress with spaghetti straps that would clearly hug your body; long, plain, but gorgeous; just what you wanted.
âpans, itâs perfect.â you said, excitement rushing through your veins before it pained back down. well shit, you thought as your heart practically pounded in your chest.
tonight was the slytherin house party hosted to celebrate the new year. youâre a hufflepuff, a hufflepuff that managed to befriend the group of slytherin that everyone wanted but couldnât become friends with. you knew most of the slytherin house disliked you, but your friends were feared, nobody dared to say too much about you to your face.
how sweet of them, you thought.
âyeah, itâs nothing special, but paired with a few gold accessories and your pretty face itâs going to look great!â pansy set the dress on the blanket beside you, her hands smoothing out the nonexistent wrinkles before meeting your gaze. âwoahâ hey whatâs wrong?â she asked.
âuh,â you stuttered, looking toward the dress once, twice, before making eye contact with her again. ânothingâsâ wrong?â you said, clearly trying to convince yourself of that matter rather than her.
you werenât too emotional, always being able to hold a strong ground, but you had your days; like most hufflepuff. you guessed that today was one of those days.
great.
âbaby, whatâs wrong?â pansy asked again, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. âyou know iâd never seriously make fun of you, right? you can talk to me,â she laughed softly, looking at you with an understanding gaze.
âitâs stupid.â you muttered, a smile creeping on your face despite the heavy turmoil in your chest. âi donât even know if i should be going to this party⌠i donât belong there.â
pansys brows furrowed. âwhose making you feel like you donât belong there?â she was upset, that of which you could tell.
âuh, everyone?â you responded as if it were as plain as day. âwell, not you and our friends of course⌠but everyone else. they so-obviously donât want me at their party, and i understand that; i mean, iâm a hufflepuff.â
pansy rolled her eyes. âscrew them,â she said. âi want you there. matteo wants you there, enzo, draco, and blaise, all want you there.â her eyes glistened in the dim candlelighting, squinting as she drawled out her last sentence with an undeniable tease, âtheo wants you there.â
pansy has known about your little crush on theo for years. it started in third year, when he began calling you that nickname youâve just recently learned the meaning to: soffio.
it meant puff; a simple word that referred to your house, but it made your heart flutter.
he gave you that nickname
and it meant the world to you.
however, your delusions were just delusions. he didnât know how much that name meant to you because he made it out of ridicule; a teasing ridicule, but ridicule at that.
âwhatever,â you rolled you eyes, your thumb brushing away the singular tear rolling down your flushed cheek.
pansy smiled, getting out of bed, grabbing your hands to pull you off of the mattress as well. âyouâre coming tonight,â she sing-songed. âand you donât have a choice.â
7:30P.M.
"are you ready yet?!" pansy yelled against the bathroom door, pounding on it as you stared at yourself in the mirror.
your eyes shifted down the length of your body.
the dress looked just as good on as you imagined it would in your head, and if you were being honest, you're more-so holding her up to stare at yourself a little longer.
cocky, but whatever because you felt and looked amazing.
âone second!â you shouted, fluffing your hair up softly to make it look as if you ârolled out of bedâ in a perfect, flawless type way.
you could hear the sarcasm dripping from her tone as she counted, âone,â but you had already opened the door.
she looked stunning as well, wearing a long-sleeved, dark green dress with three gold rings forming a line down her slightly exposed chest.
âpansy, baby, you look so freaking pretty!â you squealed, your hands intertwined with hers mid-air as you both grinned at each other like overly-excited school girls. âme? oh my gosh, what about you?!â she said, her hands moving to your shoulders and rocking you gently as her eyes glistened. âyou look so, so gorgeous, y/n!!!â
âi think theoâs going to have a mannerism,â she teased and you rolled your eyes.
âwhatever,â you giggled.
. . . . . â°âââŽę° đ¤ ęą âââ⯠. . . . .
8:00P.M.
two hundred slytherin and one hufflepuff,
two hundred slytherin and one hufflepuff,
two hundred slytherin and one hufflepuff,
but youâre only focused on six of them.
the six you felt safest around:
pansy parkinson (duh),
matteo riddle,
lorenzo berkshire,
(somehow) draco malfoy,
blaise zabini,
and theodore nott.
obviously, you didnât walk in unnoticed.
matteo immediately sat up from the couch, making his way over to you as he watched you walk in with pansy. âfunny seeing you here,â he teased, âhowâs my favorite hufflepuff doing?â his arm wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you in closer to kiss the top of your head.
âyeah, yeah,â you rolled your eyes, laughing as you pushed him away. âand iâm okay, a little nervous, but iâm all good. yâknow?â
ânervous?â matteo asked, cocking a brow.
you shot him a look and he quickly understood. âah, no need to worry about them.â he promised, âtheyâll be dealt with if they do anything.â
your forehead wrinkled slightly as you shot him a weary smile. âthanks.â you replied coolly, noticeably unsure of his intentions.
from across the room, theoâs eyes lit up, his frown transforming into a soft, bright smile as he made his way through the thick crowd to get to you. âsoffio, youâre here.â his lips brushed against your hair, his arms wrapped around your head, pulling your cheek flat against his chest.
his italian accent was thick and heavy, harder to understand as his voice muffled into the depths of your hair, but you still felt a blush crawl over your flesh.
âtheoââ you muttered, your voice just as muffled as he pulled you even closer, one hand cupping the back of your neck while the other threaded through your hair, âi thought you werenât going to show up, bella, i was worried,â he then whispered.
matteo shot him a look.
âtheo youâre crushing me!â you giggled, your hands crawling up his chest to create a little distance between the two of you.
his large hand gently caressed your cheek; four fingers stroking your jaw as his thumb lingered in its original place, now smiling as he pulled away. âmi dispiace,â he whispered before turning his attention to the friend making his way over.
"i'm surprised you showed up," blaise drawled, leaning against the wall with an amused smirk. "thought you'd run the other way once you heard who all was coming." despite his words, there was warmth in his gaze as it met yours, a spark of admiration glinting in their depths.
âoh, shut up,â pansy hit his side, rolling her eyes. âif you scare her away iâll beat your ass,â she then whispered, eyes squinting as she playfully bit down on her words.
ârelax, ma.â he chuckled, his hands falling to her hips, squeezing them gently as he leaned down to kiss her, âletâs go get a drink, yeah?â
âand thatâs my cue to leave,â pansy playfully hit your thigh, shooting a quick glance to theo as if she knew something you didnât, âdonât do too much without me.â
you shivered as you watched her walk away, your mind racing at what she could have meant; knowing her, it could be anything.
draco entered the room then, scanning the gathering with a faint smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. he hesitated when he spotted you surrounded by the others, finally shrugging as if it wouldn't bother him either way before striding over. "y/l/n," he greeted coolly, shooting a smug look at matteo and theodore. "happy almost new year."
you wrinkled your nose at draco, a playful challenge lighting up in your eyes. "happy almost new year to you too, malfoy."
lorenzo approached last, his gaze taking in the group with a slow appraisal before he settled on you. there was something unreadable lurking behind his dark eyes, a mixture of surprise and a slight hint of desire. "quite the turnout," he murmured.
weird, you thought.
"aye, quite the turnout," matteo replied, chuckling softly as he placed a hand on lorenzo's shoulder. there was a brief moment of tension between them as they glanced toward you and theo, a silent understanding passing between the two of them before both men simply let it slide.
what seemed to you as theo ignoring their odd behavior, he turned to face everyone, clapping his hands together. "ah," he grinned, his voice full of mirth. "glad you decide to join us, lorenzo." theo patted his side.
lorenzo grinned, patting theoâs side in return, âwouldnât wanna be here with anyone else.â he replied before looking toward the brunette woman he felt eyeing him down. âexcept maybe her,â he then smirked.
you heard matteo sigh, muttering a series of curse words as draco snickered beside him.
âwhore,â draco spoke as if his commentary were a compliment, but lorenzo was too busy undressing the girl with his eyes to notice.
âwell go up to her,â you groaned, rolling your eyes teasingly as you pushed him away from the circle. âdonât be a puss; drinking her up from afar is an unattractive trait, berkshire.â
he stumbled, his palms brushing down his white suit before glancing over at matteo. then, he turned around to wink at you playfully. âoh, youâre in for it later,â he chuckled. âwish me luck, love.â
âgood luck,â you mouthed as he began to walk toward the girl, the tension in the room shifting.
theo scowled at lorenzo, three fingers rubbing against his thumb as matteo teasingly brushed the italianâs side. âchill,â he whispered, a shady smile playing on his lips.
âdo not tell me to chill,â theoâs voice rose. âi am chill, no need to tell me to chill if i am already.â
your brows furrowed slightly, confused as to why theo snapped so suddenly. âeverything okay?â you asked, your thumb rubbing soothing circles against his bicep before he blew out a sigh.
âyes, soffio,â he shakily assured, finding the hand you placed on his bicep, sliding it into his palm, and kissing your knuckles gently. âiâmâ iâm okay.â
matteo grinned brightly as an idea struck his mind. âalcohol, anyone?â
8:30P.M.
you were trying not to spill your drink as you made your way back through the crowd. yeah, you were wearing a black dress, so you guessed that a stain wouldnât really matter⌠but you still hated the feeling of wet fabric against your skin.
âow,â you muttered as you bumped into matteoâs chest. donât worry, you did not spill your beverage.
you were about to apologize until you noticed lorenzo standing beside him, now turning to stand behind you. your brows furrowed to the bridge of your nose. staring at them intensely, you asked, âuh, what exactly do you think youâre doing?â
âweâre going to help you out, girlfriend,â matteo smirked, his eyes a dangerous game, his tone slithering directly into one ear then finding its way out the next.
âlike i said,â you scowled. âuh, what?â
âdo you want a new years kiss or not?â lorenzo asked, his palm finding your waist to keep you steady as you tried to walk away.
you slapped his hand. ânot from you, berkshire.â you spat.
âobviously not from me, idiot.â he rolled his eyes. âfrom theodore.â
your eyes lit.
matteo cocked his brow, âthere might be one before new years though if he doesnât crack.â
this time, you did spill your drinkâa little of the liquid dripping from the rim of your cup as your hand jerked forward. âwhat are you talking about, matty?â your voice dripped with disgust as you then slapped lorenzoâs hand away from your waist, âand let go of me.â
âdo you like theodore or not?â matteo asked, clearly annoyed.
ânone of the bullshit either, sweetheart.â lorenzo dragged. âeveryone can tell youâre crazy about the guy, thereâs no point in hiding it anymore.â
âyou know what they sayâŚnew year, new confessions.â matteo cocked a brow, waiting for you to come clean.
you huffed, the need to correct him strong as you rolled your eyes. âthey donât say that,â you said, but you were now looking toward the ground⌠âokayyesiliketheo,â you muttered.
âwhat was that?â lorenzo asked, a teasing smile apparent on his lips. âone more time for me, love?â
âyes; merlin, yes, okay! i like theo,â you bit in a faint yet deadly whisper. âwhat do you want from me? a cookie?â
matteo smirked, looking around before taking a step closer to you, âatta girl.â he said, âenzo and iâve been thinking,â - ânot a good sign.â - âgirl, shut up. we were thinking and we know a way to get theo to confess his feelings.â
before you could ask how, you felt lorenzoâs proximity come closer as well. âheâs protective over you, that we all know.â
you couldnât necessarily see enzo roll his eyes, but you could hear the eye roll in his tone.
âweâre going to make him jealous.â matteo added.
lorenzo nodded, âprecisely.â
he stumbled, his palms brushing down his white suit before glancing over at matteo. then, he turned around to wink at you playfully. "oh, you're in for it later," he chuckled. "wish me luck, love."
'good luck, you mouthed.
âsee, you were playing along before you even realized.â matteo nudged your shoulder playfully and you finally laughed, easing up a bit.
âyou really think this is going to work?â you asked, a little unsure of the whole situation.
to that, lorenzo scoffed. âi know itâs going to work.â he stated. âdarling, theo is head over heels for you; youâre all he talks about. letâs just consider this to be theoâs wake up call.â
9:00P.M.
youâre now wineless.
you downed three cup-fulls of the substance to take your mind off the fact youâre sitting on lorenzo berkshireâs lap at a party; a guy youâve always thought of as a brother.
âiâm sorry.â he whispered against the side of your head, âi know how uncomfortable this may be for you.â
ânot uncomfortable,â you responded, your head now resting against his shoulder, and that was the truth. you werenât uncomfortable, âthis is just different.â
he nodded, his gaze lingering on theoâs hand as he watched his knuckles turn white around a glass. âsomebodies getting angry,â enzo chuckled. theo never contemplated anything when it came to you, must be the italian in him well, except maybe when it came to confessing his feelings. you watched as he began to walk toward the two of you. âprepare yourself, love.â enzo then warned.
âlorenzo,â theodore smiled, a forced smile, one that laid heavy on his chest. âhow about you come on a walk with me, yeah? i want to speak with you privately.â
his eyes found yoursâthey were heavy and disappointed. your heart sank further, but you only held onto lorenzo a little tighter.
âwoah, heyyy, whatâs going on here?â matteo quickly intervened, gently patting theo on the back as he looked at you and lorenzo. âi didnât know you two were a thing!â matteo sounded astonished, his mouth dropping as he chuckled. âtheo, buddy, isnât this wonderful news?â
the scowl on theodoreâs face was apparent as he muttered, âconsiderati fortunata, puttana,â (consider yourself lucky, whore.) under his breath, but he quickly nodded. âyeah, such great andâwonderful news, mio amico.â
âyou think?â lorenzo smirked, giving your waist a gentle squeeze before kissing your neck, cheekily staring at theodore as your hand entangled into his brunette hair.
theodoreâs eyes darkened as he sipped his alcohol, an angry noise bubbling from his throat. âyep.â he bit, âitâs fucking wonderful.â
ânow thatâs good sportsmanship.â matteo rubbed theoâs back before continuing. âhey! i have an idea. why donât we go dancing? how does that sound, lovebirds!â
you slid off lorenzoâs lap and he was quick to follow suite, his arm sliding around your hipbone, pressing your back against his chest. he had to be strongly willed because the way theodoreâs gaze burned through his skull wasnât easy to ignore.
at least you couldnât ignore it.
it made you sick to your stomach.
theo set his glass on the table. âyou do thatâiâm going for a smoke.â
9:30P.M.
theo didnât go outside to smoke.
instead, he was leaned against a wall, a cigarette planted between his parted lips as his eyes stuck to yours like glue; watching you dance against lorenzo rather than him.
you decided not to make eye contact with theodore because if you did youâd end up stopping the plan right then and there.
âenzo,â you muttered, your gaze struggling to stay on the ground as his chin rested on your head, swaying to the music with his hands on your waist. âhmm?â he hummed.
âcould you, um,â you stuttered, your eyes fluttering to theodoreâs and immediately regretting it. âturn me around.â
he nodded, his gaze now facing theodoreâs pained one as you wrapped your arms tighter around his neck to comfort yourself. in return, he gave you a squeeze. âi know how hard this is for you, love,â he whispered, âbut trust me, itâs going to be worth it.â
âare you sure?â you asked, your mind beginning to race. âbecause he hasnât done anything other than stare. i mean, who stares at the person they supposedly have a crush on as they dance with your best friend?âŚoh my merlin,â you muttered, reality hitting you. âiâm dancing with his best friend.â
you tried to back away but lorenzoâs grip tightened around you, ây/n.â
âiâm going to hell,â you continued. âthis is it for me. iâm literally the worst person alive. hell. thatâs my future. h. e. double hockey sticââ
enzo squeezed your hips, signaling that heâs about to kiss you. ânow?!â you shouted in an angry whisper. lorenzo nodded, his eyes darting toward theodoreâs again, watching as he began to make his way over.
ânow.â he confirmed and your stomach backflipped.
a hand came to your cheek, lorenzoâs thumb covering your mouth as he kissed that rather than you; to the unassuming eye, the kiss was passionate, stomach hurling curling.
any girl would die to kiss lorenzo berkshire; slytherinâs number one heart throb.
just not you.
but boy did you put on a show.
theodore stopped in his tracks, his hand reaching forward as a communication indicator but falling back to his side in defeat. he turned back around.
good thing you didnât see that because you wouldâve chased after him, throwing your arms around his neck and kissing him passionately; not his fucking best friend.
10:30P.M.
you were comfortable dancing with lorenzo when theodoreâs eyes werenât burning through the two of you; laughing as his hands ghosted over your hips, dancing to the music as friends rather than âloversâ.
you almost forgot about the whole plan.
âthought that she⌠was with theo.â a slytherin you didnât recognize commented.
âmust be a pass around.â another smirked, and your heart sank even further.
you stepped away from lorenzo, emotions stirring as you made eye contact with the group talking about you.
their commentary came to an end as you watched matteo approach them in your peripheral vision. you didnât hear much bickering after that, but regardless, your vision began to blur.
looking around, you noticed everyone staring at you, and you took another step back.
âheyâ hey!â lorenzo was close to you again.
âwhat?â you bit. âthis whole thing, this whole plan is stupid and i want to stop.â
ây/n.â he chuckled, looking around awkwardly, trying to place his arms around you waist but you smacked him hard in the chest, sending him slightly backward.
a small gasp tumbled from his parted lips.
you didnât shout, but your voice graveled as you continued to walk into him. âiâm.â you hit him again. ânot.â again. âdoing.â again. âthis.â and again. âanymore!â
but his arms stayed around you.
âi want to stop!â you were crying now, going limp against his chest as your throat burned. âplease, please let me stop, enz⌠please.â
enzo drug a hand to your lower back, doing what he knew he needed to do. âdonât worry. iâll go find pansy.â he whispered before kissing your temple.
10:45P.M.
âpans,â you cried, your mascara staining your cheeks as you burried yourself in her arms. âthis was a mistakeâi shouldnât have agreed to their stupid plan.â
âhey,â she whispered, her fingers gently massaging your scalp. âweâve all fallen for their antics before, donât blame yourself too badly, honeybee.â
you shot her a look and she cocked her head, smiling empathetically, ânot the time?â
âiâll tell you what,â she whispered again, casting a small spell to rid the mascara from your cheeks before pulling your shoulders back to look you in the eye. âdonât leave. give it until midnight like planned, and if it goes wrongâŚâ pansy took her phone out, a recording of both matteo and lorenzo stopping you earlier to explain the plan playing on screen.
she then smirked, âiâll show him this.â
âwhen did you take that?â you asked, your fingers trailing down the length of the phone before looking at her skeptically; eyes still swollen.
her gaze shifted toward the ground, âletâs just say i was um⌠in on the whole thingâŚâ
âdonât worry, though.â she says, brushing the final tear on your cheek away with the base of her thumb as she smiled. âthey came to me so things wouldnât get all fucked up⌠they care about you y/n, and they care about theodore, they donât want to ruin this thing you have with him, okay?â
you nod, and she hugs you one last time before you have to go and find lorenzo.
11:00P.M.
âyou seem tense, y/l/n,â draco found you before you found lorenzo.
his gaze drifted toward theodore, who was currently yelling at matteoâwho was currently yelling at matteo. dracoâs eye widened, astonished at the sight laid before him, âand i think i know why.â
âno, no, no, fuck!â you shouted, about to run toward them before the pair of hands youâd become so acquainted with today found your waist a-fucking-gain.
âdo not.â enzo spat. âjust be patient.â
draco raised his brows, clearly not even wanting to know as he silently left the scene.
âheâs going to kill him!â you shouted, struggling in his grasp, âlet. me. GO.â
enzo rolled his eyes, âhas anyone ever told you that youâre a stubborn little asshole?â
you paused for a moment. âhm, yes,â you nodded. now let me go.â
he held on tighter.
11:15P.M.
âno, no , no,â theodoreâs fingers ran through his hair, âwhat is he doing to her, matteo? he shouldnât be dancing with her likeâlike that! sheâs a lady!â
theodore wasnât yelling at matteo, his movements made it look as if he were upset, but he wasnât. well⌠not at matteo at least.
matteo, being such a good friend, was letting theodore rant to him about how much he valued you and your friendship.
otherwise known as: matteo wanted to milk theo to his breaking point.
âdancing with her like what?â matteo asked, staring at you and lorenzo as he swayed and rocked his hips against yours. âseems to me like theyâre having a little fun, if you know what i mean.â he winked playfully.
âjokester.â theodore drawled, pushing his shoulder. âi donât like seeing her with him.â
matteo cocked his brow, âyeah and whyâs that, buddy?â his head tilted to the side, âare you⌠jealous?â
theo looked astounded, immediately shaking his head in denial. âno, of course not.â he said, his cheeks turning a brighter shade of red as his anger grew palpable. âbut she shouldnât be here with that imbecille.â
âhere we go again,â matteo rolled his eyes, groaning. âyou never think anyone is right for her, dude. you have to give it a break.â
âa break,â theo threw his hand flat out in front of him, his forearm horizontal against his stomach. he drew it out, creating an invisible line. âshe disserves someone that respects her, not a man like lorenzo.â
becoming harder to contain himself, matteo raised a brow at theo. "you mean deserves?â he grinned, continuing to drawl, âand who says he isn't the one for her?"
theo appeared as if he were on the verge of snapping. that caused matteo to chuckle, clasping his hands together as he grinned. âaw, whatâs wrong, theo?â he playfully pouted, âyou donât like seeing them together? you poor, poor thing,â he puffed his lips. âguess you canât do anything about it now.â
theo's eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched as he glared at matteo. "this isnât right," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "that boy is not good for her, and you know it."
matteo raised his hands in mock surrender, stepping back from theo. "whoa, whoa, calm down, buddy," he said, trying to lighten the mood. "iâm just messing with you. I know you care about her, but you can't control who she chooses to be with."
theo's gaze never left matteo, but he slowly relaxed his posture, his anger simmering down. "donât mess with me right now, matteo," he warned, his voice still tense. "this is y/n weâre talking about; that boy will corrupt her!â
matteo shrugged, a smirk still playing on his lips. "maybe she likes the bad boys," he teased, gesturing toward you and lorenzo. "maybe she's into a little danger and excitement."
theo scoffed, muttering a curse under his breath. matteo raised an eyebrow, leaning closer to his friend, his tone becoming serious.
âyou love her, buddy.â he said softly, his words filled with gentle understanding, âi know you do; trust me, iâve seen the way youâve looked at her since first year. just talk to her.â
the moment stretched thinly between them, theo's face twisting with an agonizing mix of emotions. things became tense, and both men glanced over to where you and lorenzo danced in the distance.
âi need a drink,â theo muttered.
11:30P.M.
âthis sucks,â you groaned, looking at lorenzo only to find that his gaze is back on the brunette girl from earlier. you watched him, rolling your eyes before taking that chance to slip away.
music blared throughout the common room, it was upbeat and happy, but your focus drifted toward the window as you sat on the ledge.
you could feel the weather seeping through the glass, a gentle coldness caressing your cheeks as you took a deep breath in.
you sighed heavily, rubbing your temples with your fingertips, trying to clear your thoughts as you stared out into the misty night. winter breezes blew through the open windows, accompanied by the distant sounds of laughter resounding from behind you, but for some reason, you couldn't enjoy yourself.
a part of you longed to rejoin the festivities, while another wished for escape entirely. lost in thought, time seemed to blur until suddenly, dracoâs voice startled you from your own thoughts.
"i wasn't aware the fireplace emitted such an enticing scent." he commented dryly, leaning casually against the window frame beside you. "or did you just need another excuse to avoid lorenzo back there?"
you repeated, "an excuse," you blew out a string of air, turning to look at draco with a raised eyebrow. "or maybe i just needed a break from the chaos."
draco smirked, crossing his arms over his chest. "chaos?" he echoed, leaning back against the window frame. "i thought you enjoyed these kinds of gatherings."
you shrugged, looking back out into the night. "sometimes," you admitted, "but not when i'm stuck in the middle of a bunch of drama."
draco's smirk faded slightly, his eyes narrowing as he studied you. "donât be too hard on yourself, y/l/n," he said softly, his tone more serious now. "you're just trying to figure things out, like the rest of us."
you hesitated, biting your lip as you considered his words; words that you never thought youâd hear from him. "maybe," you murmured, glancing back at him. "but it's hard when everyone else seems to have it all figured out."
draco's gaze softened, and he reached out to gently take your hand in his. "we all have our moments, y/n," hemumbled. "don't fall through to others. just focus on what makes you happy."
his eyes flicked toward the party, a hint of sympathy in his gaze. "trust me, even the most confident among us struggle on occasion. and that includes myself." he added, smirk reappearing briefly.
you sighed, examining his hand holding yours, his grip firm yet comforting.
"it's hard to believe sometimes," your fingers curled around his, returning the pressure. "everything's getting complicated."
"maybe," draco mused, "and that's alright. life would be boring without consequences and complications." he smiled, a rare glimpse of vulnerability in his eyes.
for the first time, you felt a pang of pity for him- not because he was malfoy, but because he was human.
dracoâs eyes drew over yours, then they glanced toward theodore who was cocking his head in your direction. the boy seemed to follow you everywhere, not letting you get too far when anyone approached you.
âi better get out of here before your real boyfriend starts to think i want any trouble,â draco chuckled.
you looked up at him, "what?" he waved, his brows angled in an amused position as he grinned. "i'll see you later," he chuckled.
you hesitated, your gaze flickering between draco and theo, who was still watching you from afar. you couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt for this whole evening.
"yeah, see you later," you murmured, pulling your hand away from draco's and standing up.
draco nodded, his smirk never wavering. "don't let theo get too jealous now," he teased before turning and disappearing back into the party.
you watched draco walk away, a mix of amusement and confusion playing on your face. you couldn't help but feel a little flustered by his teasing, but you also couldn't deny that he had a point.
11:45P.M.
you looked up at the clock, contemplating on whether or not to just go back to your dorm. you were tired of pretending, and it wasnât like enzo was coming back to you anytime soon. he had that girl pressed against the wall, his lips violently sucking the sweet spot under her jaw, her legs wrapped around his waist.
âfifteen minutes til new years,â an overhead announced, âhead outside for the firework show, or donât, whatever!â
their voice was cocky, but it caused you to finally crack a smile as you headed toward the door. you werenât going to mope, but you also werenât going to bother your friends who were clearly busy with their lovers or one-night stands.
the music was still loud outside, blaring messages from her by sabrina claudio through the speakers as you stood by a fountain.
sitting on the ledge, you watched the water, the stillness of it causing you to relax.
somewhere behind you, you heard footsteps crunching on gravel and snow. slowly, you turned to see theodore walking toward you hunched down into his coat.
his eyes met yours and a sympathetic look crossed his features. "i couldn't stay away," he whispered, further approaching until he was sitting on the ledge next to you.
though it pained you, you smiled at him, wanting to say a million things but you voice falling flat as he shifted around nervously.
âyou must be freezing,â he then commented, pretending to just now notice your spaghetti strapped dress as he slid out of his jacket, shrugging it off his shoulders and carefully draping it over yours.
"thank you, theo." you murmured, wrapping the familiar fabric of his jacket around you, the scent of him clinging to it.
theo glanced away, his jaw tightening before he spoke again, seeming to collect his thoughts.
"happy new year, soffio," he said cautiously, focusing his attention back on the fountain.
you mirrored his gaze, feeling a tear pool in your eye. your throat burned as you swallowed. "happy new year," you whispered back, hesitating before tentatively reaching out to grasp his hand.
theo's features softened, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. "is it true," he asked quietly, casting a quick glance your way, then looking back sharp to the water.
your breathing hitched, swallowing the lump in your throat. "is what true, theo," you whispered, fixing your gaze on his profile.
âyou and lorenzo,â he replied, the sentence like poison on his tongue.
you held back a small breath, shaking your head vigorously. "no," you managed after a heavy exhale.
"then why did you leave me to be with him earlier?" theo questioned stiffly, his own whisper evaporating in the chilled air. you closed your eyes, letting out a shaky sigh.
his grip on your hand tightened, though you didn't pull away.
"it's not like that," you mumbled, struggling with your emotions. "itâs complicated..."
your voice trailed off, uncertainty clouding your judgement.
âso tell me, y/n!â theodoreâs voice rose, now holding both of your hands, turning you to look him in the eye. âdevi dirmelo. (you have to tell me) i canât take itâ i need you to tell me whatâs going on between you and lorenzo. is- is he or is he not your lover?â
you watched his eyes plead with you, the desperation washing away some of your fear and anxiety. âit wasnât real,â you stammered, your voice just as loud. ânone of it; the kiss, the dancing, the whole relationship.â
you took a deep breath, steadying yourself for the conversation that was about to unfold. "okay?â you shakily muttered, meeting his gaze. "that whole thing was to get us together."
theo's eyes widened, his grip on your hands loosening slightly. "what?" he whispered, clearly taken aback by your confession.
you nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. "i know it sounds crazy, but i wanted to be with you, theo. they told me this would make you ask me outââ you cringed at your sentence, âif you donât believe me pansy has the whole video."
your voice trembled, and you could feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. "i'm sorry, i never meant to hurt you."
theo stared at you for a long moment, his expression a mix of shock, confusion, and hurt. "why would you do that, soffio?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, âmake me jealous so iâd get with you? bellaâŚâ
your eyes welled up with unshed tears, your voice catching as you spoke. "i was scared," you admitted. "scared that you wouldn't see me the same way, scared to ruin our friendship... scared that you wouldn't-"
a sob echoed from your chest, causing you to falter.
"sorry, i'm so sorry, " you breathed, burying your face into his shoulder.
as the realization washed over theodore's face, his embrace around you tightened. "va tutto bene," (itâs okay) he whispered, a catch in his voice as he stroked your hair repeatedly. "soffio, i have loved you for so long. i despised seeing you with him tonight.â
you pulled back slightly, your eyes searching his face for truth. "you... you love me?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.
theo nodded, his eyes filled with sincerity. "always, bella, but i never thought you saw me the same way."
you bit your lip, a small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. "i'm sorry, theo," you murmured, leaning back into his embrace. "i should have told you sooner."
"it's okay," he reassured you, his arms tightening around you. "we can start fresh now. no more games, no more pretending."
you nodded, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. "i'd like that," you whispered, your eyes closing as you rested your head on his shoulder.
the countdown to midnight began over the speakers, the music dying down as people waited for the new year. âcome here,â he whispered, a hand placed on your waist, positioning you to straddle his lap as he rested both palms on your hips.
you hesitated for a moment, but then slowly shifted your weight, wrapping your legs around him as he guided you.
âtell me you want this, bella,â he whispered, one palm gently squeezing your hip as the other came to caress your cheek.
with a subtle smile, you leaned in toward him, whispering into his ear. "i want this, theo," you confirmed.
his adam's apple bobbed, his thumbs tracing lazy circles on your lower lip. you closed your eyes, feeling his breath tickling against your skin. there was anticipation on his expression, almost palpable.
as the countdown reached zero, the music swelled, and fireworks exploded in the sky, theoâs palms guided your face in anticipation, tasting you the way heâd dreamed of for years as his lips danced softly, gracefully against yours.
you shivered against him, relishing in the warmth of his embrace as your happiness leaked into every corner of your being.
this moment was different, liberating. his touch, intimate, and sincere.
âbella,â he whispered sweetly, resting his forehead against yours, âdonât you try and win my affection again, understood? itâs yours; it always will be yours.â
you laughed, kissing the tip of his nose as you closed your eyes, âokay, okay. i got it.â
his laughter grew with yours, his head falling to your neck as he softly kissed the delicate skin under your ear, âhappy new year, soffio.â he then whispered, twirling a strand of your hair around his finger.
âhappy new year, theo.â
#theodore nott x reader#theo nott x reader#theodore nott#slytherin#hufflepuff#theo fluff#hogwarts#theodore nott scenarios#theo nott#theodore nott fluff#theodore nott imagine#lorenzo zurzolo#fanfic#fanfiction
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