#and i want to write with that voice more!

[rex-rambles]

➤ THE COSTUME | LANDO NORRIS

pairing: lando norris x single mom!reader

summary: your son wants nothing more than to have spiderman at his birthday, and when a certain neighbour finds out, he decides to take matters into his own hands to make it happen.

wc: 4.2 k

warnings: none!

➤ MASTERLIST

"Mr. Norris?" Lando had a soft spot for kids. That much was obvious, especially when they were fans. Maybe it's that he remembers being that age, what it felt like to meet someone he thought was a celebrity. Maybe it was the little McLaren merch, or baby fever, or something, but Lando had a soft spot for kids.

Milo, however?

Milo could probably tell Lando to crash during a race and he'd do it.

"You alright?" He finds himself saying, immediately squatting to Milo's level by the elevator. In the boy's hands are a stack of red and blue envelopes, with names written twice: once in neat, formal writing, and the other in Milo's. "What've you got there?" 

"It's for my birthday party." Milo says quietly, extending the envelopes. "It's spider-man." 

"No way!" Lando says, smiling down at the papers. "That's so cool! How old are you turning?" 

Rather than answering, Milo holds up four fingers, the coordination making the envelopes spill from his hands. Lando's quick to pick them up, neatly sorting them into a stack, when he realizes one has his name on it. "Is this for me? Do I get to come to your birthday party?" 

"Oh, you're the guest of honour." Your voice says from above, and Lando counts another reason he has a soft spot specifically for Milo: 

You. 

His mother. 

You couldn't be much older than him, soft spoken and so kind when you moved in next door, offering sweet treats and texting apologies, laughing at his jokes, taking care of Milo. It was the sort of infatuation that Lando wasn't used to, at least with normal people in real life. You were perfect, he was pretty sure, except that was an insane thing to say to someone, let alone your neighbour. "I'm so honoured." 

The elevator doors ding open and Lando rises to let Milo and you past, and despite the fact that he had just gone up the elevator, he gets back on to waste a moment with you. "Is spider-man coming?" Milo asks up at you, and you gently card your hand through the boy's hair, and Lando wonders how that would feel if you did it to him. 

"No, sweetheart. I'm afraid Spider-Man is busy in New York!" Maybe it was the little British accents, too, that really got him. Lando rented an apartment, back home, for whenever he needed to escape from the chaos that was Monaco and just be normal. You, he thinks, are the perfect embodiment of that normal. 

Just a normal person, leading a normal life, telling your kid Spider-Man can't come to his birthday. Only, as Lando stares down at the envelope in hand, Spider-Man could technically come to the birthday. He might not be able to do a flip, but Lando's pretty sure he still has an old Spider-Man costume hung up in a closet somewhere, and has a cheery enough voice for it. 

"Well, I will definitely be coming." The elevator doors ding open to the first floor as you lead Milo out by the hand, and he reaches up to take Lando's, dragging him along towards the main doors of the building. "Oh, am I joining you today?" 

"You're going to take us in your car," Milo states firmly. "Your fast car." 

"I don't think we'd all fit," You offer with a soft laugh, the kind of noise that has Lando dreaming of a domesticity he's never even thought of before. "And I think Mr. Norris has more important things to be doing today." 

Mr. Norris. It was a sweet thing, for Milo to call him, but whenever you said it, Lando always considered what it would be like to call you Mrs. Norris. 

Not that he would ever, ever voice that thought aloud. "And if you're busy the day of the party, no worries." You add quietly back to him, stopping at the door. "Milo just wanted to make sure you got an invite." 

"I wouldn't miss it for the world!" He responds honestly. "Do you need me to bring anything? Snacks? Presents?" 

"I think just bringing yourself would be enough. I'm sure the other kids will be very, very excited a professional race car driver is at the party." Well, an F1 Driver AND Spider-Man, but he decides to leave you out of those plans. "Say goodbye to Mr. Norris, Milo!" 

"Bye, Mr. Norris," Milo says, waving happily. "See you at the party." 

Lando watches the two of you go, happily walking down the street, and he waits in the doorway until you're gone before he's sprinting back to the elevators. He needed to test out that Spider-Man costume, and find the best possible gift he's ever given in roughly a week. 

Manageable, he thinks. 

Surely that's manageable.

-

The knock on the door is the only unexpected part of Milo's birthday party. So far, everything had gone off without a hitch - all the decorations were perfect, the cake had arrived, the kids were somewhat behaving themselves for a room of four year olds, hyped up on sugar. 

Milo, ever the little copycat, was trying to show them how to play Mario Kart, because when Mr. Norris arrived, Milo wanted to show off how he could beat him at the game. 

Lando threw every game, but Milo didn't need to know that. The thought of the racer next door then clicks to the knock on your door, and you quickly spare a glance in the mirror in the hall before answering. It was a stupid, stupid, childish crush to have on the man, but you couldn't help it. 

Maybe it was the way he played with Milo, offered to babysit, raced around the world and somehow kept a level head, maybe it was how he looked, and how he spoke, and how he dressed, and how he acted, or maybe it was the way he looked at you when he thought you were paying attention to Milo. 

Whatever it was, you were starting to get a bit embarrassed of how much you looked forward to seeing Lando today, until you open the door, and Lando was not standing there. 

Instead, there's Spider-Man, with a stack of boxes tucked under his arm. "Hey there!" He says, with an accent most certainly British but trying not to be. "I heard there's a me-themed birthday party?" 

Slowly, without alerting the kids, you peer around the door and into the living room, where they are still glued to the television, and the parents are watching and conversing nearby. "Spider-Man," You say quietly, "How did you get my address?" 

"A friend of mine told me," He says, accent slipping, "He drives fast cars, and lets me borrow them for my missions." 

"Oh, does he now?" You step aside to hold open the door, and you turn toward the kids. "Milo, your special guest is here!" 

"Mr. Norris?" Then, as Milo turns, you watch the greatest shock you think you've ever seen wash over his face as his jaw drops, clinging to the back of the couch as he stares at Spider-Lando, who offers a cheesy wave. 

And really, maybe you liked Lando because of how much Milo loved him. Watching him now, sprinting full-tilt at the driver, it almost makes you emotional. He had never run like that towards any man, only ever you. Well, you suppose he doesn't know it's Lando, but maybe it's the fact that Lando does stuff like this when he really doesn't need to. 

Lando lets the presents drop to scoop up the boy, who's been spouting questions faster than any human, or any superhuman, could answer them. You join Lando's side to gently take Milo's hand, who finally sucks in a breath to look at you. "Mom," He whispers dramatically, "Spider-Man came." 

"Well, you're a very special kid." You answer, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Of course he'd come." 

Four years old. You remember when he was just a thought, a terrifying realization, and now, he was your world, dressed up like Spider-Man himself and in Spider-Man's arms. "Is that Mario Kart?" 

"We have to wait to play with Mr. Norris." Milo says, looking at the TV and the other kids, who are now circling Lando. "He's coming soon." 

"Why don't we do something else then?" Lando offers, voice cracking. You can tell he's smiling under that stupid mask at the thought of Milo waiting for him to play the game. 

"We could do cake." You say, and the crowd erupts with chants for cake. Lando gets Milo to his spot at the head of the table and helps pull out chairs for the others as parents snap photos, offering you strange looks. You had told them, outright, you hadn't been able to afford someone to play Spider Man. 

And now, here he was. You take the cake from its box on the counter, and stick in the large 4 candle and light them, as the kids begin singing. You had been so worried, once, about Milo making friends, about being a single mother, but watching now as you set the cake down in front of him, as he blows out the candles and everyone cheers, as other parents offer to help with plates and knives and forks, you realize you might actually be good at this parenting thing, even if the situation wasn't the best.

"Can you take off your mask to eat some?" Milo says, awkwardly grabbing at Spider-Lando's cheek, who happily moves the boy's hand away.

"I have to keep my identity a secret!" Lando says, before carefully rolling up the edge of his mask. "So I'll do it like this, yeah?" 

"That's silly," Milo says with a giggle, and you cut out a slice for him, which he immediately hands off to Lando. "For you!" 

"No, muppet, birthday boys get the first slice!" Lando has fully abandoned the accent by now, but no one really cares. The rest of the cake gets distributed and smeared across faces, Milo included. He gets one streak of blue icing far up on his cheek, and you grab a napkin to wipe it off. "Do I have any?" Lando asks, and without thinking, you reach over to gently wipe some icing from the corner of his mouth. 

No one seems to notice the action, too absorbed with eating and celebrating, but you feel your cheeks burn, quickly turning back to watch Milo as he finishes up. By the time the cake is done, and Lando hasn't arrived, Milo decides to turn from Mario Kart to a game called 'Spider Man Tag', where everyone chases Lando around the apartment, and you take videos of the whole thing, laughing. 

When that's done, and the kids stop climbing on him, and just when he looks like he might faint, one of the girls suggests hide and seek, and Milo immediately volunteers to be the seeker. "Go hide," He says to you, before clapping his hands over his eyes. "Spider-Man too." 

You're quick to help the other kids find their spots, throwing blankets over them and tucking them behind curtains until finally, Milo is down to 1, and you realize you haven't hidden. Luckily, you don't seem to be the only one alone in this, because Lando grabs your hand and pulls you into the front hall closet, just as Milo pulls his hands away from his eyes. 

"Hold the door," Lando says, and you put your hand together on the sliding doors to keep them from moving, and Lando pulls off his mask with a gasp. He's flushed, hair slick with sweat, and you can imagine this is what he must look like after a race. Hell, you've seen what he looks like after a race - he might honestly look worse. 

Cramped together, he doesn't have much room to wipe over his face, arm bumping into you. "You okay there, Spider-Man?" 

"I worked out this morning!" He groans softly. "That was so stupid." 

"Language," You chide softly, and he offers an amused scowl. "There are little ears nearby." 

"They can't hear us," Lando says, intercut by a scream of a child found as Milo happily laughs. "Right?" 

"We'll just have to whisper," You say, as the predicament you're in slowly dawns on you. 

You're chest to chest with Lando Norris, in a spider-man costume, in your closet, as he pants against you.

There are a lot of not age-appropriate thoughts that occur, so you shift quickly into something you can talk about. "You really didn't have to do all this," You say, and Lando cracks a smile. "You've made his year, I think. This is too much." 

"Well, he said he wanted Spider-Man, so he gets Spider-Man." Lando says, eyes skimming down your face before snapping up to your eyes. "How much longer do you think we have in here?" 

The world slows a little bit at the question. "Not much longer," You say, as Lando somehow manages to shift closer. "Breath while you can." 

"The mask is awful," He says, reaching up to run a hand through his hair. "Think it's constricting my airways." 

Well, if you need CPR... "You can say you need to get going to stop a villain or something, and then come back as Lando. He'd be just as excited." 

"No, no, I'm committing to the Spider-Man thing." He says, tugging the mask on, but stopping before his mouth. "Can I ask you something cheesy, and you promise not to hate me for it?" 

"Trust me, Lando, there's little you could do to make me hate you." 

"I always wanted to do the Spider-Man kiss thi-" The door to the closet yanks open as Lando fumbles to get the last of his mask down, and Milo cackles in delight. 

"FOUND YOU!" He grabs both your hands and drags you back to the living room, and you try to take as many deep breaths as possible. 

He always wanted to do the Spider-Man kiss thing. 

Did he...with you? "Why don't we do presents?" You say, trying to find anything to distract you, and also give Lando a break. "Go sit on the couch, Milo." 

You gather up the few gifts the children brought, and Lando grabs the ones he abandoned by the door. Like any little kid, Milo rips through each package excitedly, showing off cars and Spider-Man toys and a new bubble-blower, until finally, he gets to Lando's presents, who you're sure didn't wrap them himself. 

Or, if he did, you might just love him more, considering the Spider-Man wrapping paper that's wrapped neater than you could ever manage, bow included. Milo, for some reason, takes his time opening them, and the first two are Lego sets, one of a Spider-Man scene, the second a McLaren car. 

Oh, Lando. "Mr. Norris still isn't here!" Milo says, distraught. "This is his car!" 

"Mr. Norris invited me!" Lando says, gesturing to the gift. "He told me what to get you! Maybe he'll build it with you when he gets back." 

Then, Milo carefully opens the third box, and discovers his very own webshooters. "No way!" He immediately hands the box off to you to open, which is basically the equivalent of silly string, strapped to his wrists. The moment he gets them on, he begins spraying, and in a matter of mere minutes, the room is covered in string as the kids all giggle in unison. At some point, Lando squats beside him to help him aim and shoot, carefully gesturing to things that will be easier to clean up, and your heart clenches at the image. 

Because as much as you were good at this parenting thing, as much as you had mastered being a single mother, it was something new to see a man in Milo's life who wanted to be there, who cared for him, who bought him gifts and came dressed as Spider-Man and who just...adored him, like you adored him. 

You're not sure how long you just stare at the chaos unfolding, but it's long enough you think you might genuinely have feelings for Lando, cheesy Spider-Man suit be damned. It's the sort of messy, perfect ending to a messy, perfect day. As much as Milo really doesn't want to end the party, considering Mr. Norris hasn't shown up, he's yawning and trying to fight off the inevitable crash that comes after this. 

The kids get their party favours, which include pictures with Spider-Man, and Milo says goodbye to everyone, perched on Spider-Man's shoulders, and Lando carefully dumps the boy on the couch with a huff. "I think you need to get cleaned up!" He says, gesturing to the cake and silly string staining the boy's clothes. "Heroes have to stay clean!" 

The moment Milo disappears into the washroom, Lando collapses onto the couch, head hanging back off the back of it to look at you. You step forward and gently uncurl the mask, and with as much bravery as you can muster, you speak. "Can I ask you something cheesy, and you promise not to hate me for it?" Lando's lips part as he swallows, before he nods. "I always wanted to do the Spider-Man kiss thing." 

"Yeah?" Lando breathes out, tongue darting out to wet his lips. "Well, Mary Jane, now's your chance." 

Kissing Lando upside down is not how you originally planned on doing it, but it's sort of everything you wanted it to be and more. It's soft and sweet and patient, the kind of loving you need after everything you've gone through, that's just hot and heavy enough that when you hear the tap turn off in the bathroom, you're quick to pull away. 

"Can Spider-Man stay the night?" Milo asks, running up as Lando pulls down his mask again, and he lets out a soft sort of laugh that does something to your stomach. 

"I've got to get home! Maybe another time," Lando says as he rises from the couch, and Milo's bottom lip trembles. "Just think, you still have your guest of honour that needs to visit." 

"I don't want to see Mr. Norris," Milo mumbles, "I want you to stay." 

You watch Lando hesitate then, about pulling off his mask and revealing himself, but for the sake of the magic, he chooses not to, and you intervene to let the poor man go home. "There's lots of people Spider-Man has to go save," You say, crouching down to his level and brushing the hair from his face. "And you never know, he might come back soon. But for right now, let's thank him for coming." Milo pushes away from you to wrap around Lando's leg, and Lando kneels down to give him a proper hug. 

"Thanks," Milo mumbles into his shoulder. "You can come back whenever you want." 

"Thank you for having me!" Lando tries to say cheerfully. "But your mom is right, I have to get going back to New York! It's a long plane ride." 

"Say goodbye, Milo." Milo finally lets go, and helps walks Spider-Man to the door. 

"Bye, Spider-Man." He says, offering a small wave. 

"Bye, Milo. Hope you had a great birthday." 

-

Lando strips the moment he gets home. 

Fireproofs were hot, the race suits were hot, but the Spider-Man suit? 

Wrangling that many kids? 

With you kissing him? 

He's practically a sauna. And yet, as soon as he's done showering and gets changed, he'd back at your door, knocking and hoping it's not too late, and that Milo's already gone to bed. There's a shuffling noise behind the door before you open it, and he's discovered in the time it took him to shower and get back here, both you and Milo had changed into pyjamas, and were eating dinner at the table. "Mr. Norris!" Milo says, mouthful of pasta falling into his bowl. "You missed Spider-Man!" 

"What? Spider-Man came?" You let Lando in with a soft smile, and all he can think of is your lips on his, how you repeated his line back to him like it was nothing, how right it had felt. Kissing you right-side up probably felt better, but he was just riding off the high that you kissed him at all. He was pretty sure, all things considered, that you had to like him, as much as his brain tried to convince him otherwise. 

Having you actually kiss him and prove it? He was still struggling to wrap his mind around that. "And he brought me webs!" 

"Webs that are going to be tricky to clean up." You say, shooting a grin his way as you move to the stove. "Dinner?" 

"Actually, that sounds great." He had a single slice of cake after being the personal play-place for kids all afternoon. It might not be the most gentlemanly thing he's ever done, but he's not turning down a bowl. He finds his place at the table, and you take your place across from him, and for a moment, Lando thinks he can see into the future. "Did you get anything else?" 

"Bubbles, a book," Then, as if remembering it all over again, "He got me your Lego car! He said we can build it together." Then, as if remembering what Spider-Lando said, "You know Spider-Man? And you didn't tell me?" 

"It's top secret," Lando says around a mouthful of noodles, and you grin down at your own bowl. Dressed in an over-sized t-shirt and fuzzy pyjama pants, it gives a certainly warm glow that has Lando wondering what man could ever give this up. "But, I still haven't given you my gift." 

Milo perks up as your head shoots up to look at him, confusion furrowed between your brows. "Lando, that's not-" 

"I want you to come to a race." He couldn't really think of some big gift to get Milo, besides a full-paid trip to a race. Silverstone was soon, anyways. It would be fun, for Milo to see him race, for you to see him win. At least, Lando really hopes he'll win, because then that's one more reason to kiss you. "All expenses paid." 

"Lando!" You exclaim, fork clattering to your bowl. "No, no that's too much-" 

"Really?" Milo cuts you off, leaping out of his chair to throw himself at Lando. "Thank you thank you thank you-" 

"Okay, okay," Lando says, trying to calm both of you. "But you have to promise to be on your best behaviour for it, okay Milo?" 

Milo nods furiously against Lando's leg, and Lando scoops him up to hold him in his lap. "I promise. Can I drive your car?" 

"Wait another eleven-ish years for that one, mate." He continues eating his pasta as Milo drags his bowl over, content to finish his dinner sitting with Lando, and he catches you staring. You do that a lot, especially when Lando and Milo interact, and he doesn't blame you. He's a strange man playing with your kid, who wouldn't want to be checking in?

But there's always something more in the way you look at him, like you're not used to someone being there. He doesn't know the full story, and he doesn't need to, but he has a feeling that, if he pursues this, he's filling in a spot that never really was occupied before. 

"Thank you, Lando." You finally say, finishing up the last of your dinner. "That means a lot." 

"What else would I do for my favourite neighbour?" Milo, also now finished eating, yawns into his hands. "Bedtime, buddy?" 

"Come on," You say, pulling Milo from his lap. "Let's get you changed and ready for bed. Lando can read you a bedtime story." Then, back towards him, "Finish up your dinner first. No rush." 

And then, like it's the most normal thing in the world, Lando finishes the last of his food and gathers up all the dishes on the table and puts them in the sink, and finds you and Milo already on Milo's bed, a Spider-Man storybook laid out on Milo's Lap. Lando takes the other side of you, and as guest of honour, Milo explains, he gets to read tonight. If he had really been prepared for how tonight was going to go, Lando would've brought his own pyjamas, but instead, he just cozies further into his hoodie, and flips open to the first page. 

"This is Spider-Man," He begins as Milo crawls over you to splay over your lap. "He's a superhero."

"You're a superhero," You whisper quietly with a yawn, and Lando is pretty sure he turns as red as Spider-man's suit. 

"Spider-Man shoots webs," Lando continues, moving to the next page, and he decides to focus all his energy into the book, rather than you pressed up beside him. However, he finds that as he finishes up the last page, he might've let his attention wander to far. 

You're asleep beside him, head tilted back as you doze, and Milo is the same in your lap, tuckered out from the party. Honestly, if Lando could, he'd fall right asleep beside you, but that's for another time, another date, so instead, he presses a kiss to your temple, closes the book, and turns off the light. 

It's how he hopes he can spend every night for the rest of his life.

a/n: baby fever is in full swing. tell me he wouldn't be a fantastic dad.

[redrage71890]

Backing Voice (Yan! KPDH x Fem! MC) Part 3

Synopsis: A cancelled live performance and a wave of demonic energy, pushes our girl to her breaking point. All the while her new acquaintance wishes to hear that voice sing once again.

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Slow Burn, Yandere

CW: Medicated Drug, Panic/Anxiety Attack

Prologue, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Word Count: 3.2k A/N: Quite literally thank you guys enough for your support for reading this fic. Also this is just my interpretation of the Saja Boys bc they're basically just their stereotypes in the movie. The interpretations are based off on how other fics write them.

————————————————————

A couple days have passed since (Y/N)‘s encounter with Jinu, she’s had plenty of work to fill her time. Too much in her opinion. The busy schedules and organising interviews and shows for the girls to appear in, not to mention preparing for the live performance coming. Golden featured more of her singing which is a problem for her at the moment.

Her hands won’t stop shaking. The bags under her eyes were deeper than before. Faint red pink lines were forming on her neck and arms from her constant scratching nails. Her eyes twitched whenever she’s met with a bright screen.

She’s at her breaking point.

Tonight is the first live performance and she’s been working nonstop. Bobby was nothing like her current state, though he’s been doing this longer than her. He’s much more relaxed and significantly less stressed than her. But he’s not the one who also does the live backing vocals.

Ever since meeting Jinu, she felt her nerves like usual when talking, but she was happy in the moment for an unknown reason. Maybe it’s because someone acknowledged her singing outside of her space. Perhaps it was a chance of meeting someone new who isn’t familiar as her being a manager for HUNTR/X.

Who knows.

(Y/N) just knows that she wants outside of her bubble.

Interrupting her thoughts was Bobby who came to her side, with a water bottle in hand. “You don’t seem to be going well (Y/N). Are you sure you’re feeling alright?” Bobby worriedly questions.

Time was moving way too fast. It was already rehearsing time for the show.

“Y-Yeah! I’m fine Bobby! Thanks for the water, I’ll tell the girls their on in five!” Quickly grabbing them water and speed walking away as fast as she can.

Pulling along her collared shirt trying to free up more air in her lungs. All the air she was breathing escaped way too quickly. Her chest was hurting like she was hit by a truck.

‘It’s fine it’s fine it’s fine! Just one performance.’

(Y/N) knows they’re eager to turn the honmoon gold, but the world isn't ending anytime soon. A break should be reasonable enough as it is! For gods sake they JUST finished a tour literally a couple DAYS ago.

Take. A. Break.

‘Please….for me I beg…’

Reaching their changing rooms she gently knocks on the door. Hearing a small noise coming and the rattles of the handle, she’s met with the wondering familiar eyes of Zoey and Mira.

“(Y/N)! What’s up!” Zoey greets her as she lunges herself at her body. Encasing her in a tight hug. Thrusted to wake up with her being crushed by the ever sweet hunter. “Zoey! You’re crushing her!” Mira thankfully ushers Zoey to let go. Taking deep breathes to regain her lost oxygen, she glared at the sweet girl, only to be unseen by her.

"*Huff* You're on in five *huff.* Can you relay that to Rumi? *huff* I need to prepare myself."

"Okay. But are you alright? You haven't spoken to us in a while. Since the tour ended. We've been thinking that we should go to dinner sometime, if you're up for it." Mira questions, picking up on the beads of sweat on her forehead.

"We're just worried about you. You kinda avoiding us. W-We just want you to be okay! We can watch some turtle videos if you'd like? Something for us to unwind to. You don't have to worry about singing for a while once this is over."

"Yeah sure sure. Yeah. I'm fine. Just, get ready for the show. Don't worry about me. My voice is fine."

Staggering out immediately after, their worried comments falling on deaf ears.

Hurriedly speed walking towards one of the sound guys and taking a microphone for herself. Digging into one of her pockets and pulling out a container with small individual capsules. Popping one open and picking out a pill inside before throwing it in her mouth. Snapping the water open and chugging half of the bottle to push down the medication.

Her breathing began to calm and her mind felt clearer. But her hands wouldn't stop shaking. A strange mix of calm and nerves waring in her mind and body. Pushing through those feelings and thoughts, her ears pick up the instrumental beginning to play, she puts the mic near her lips.

"I was a ghost, I was alone (Hah)"

"Eoduwojin (Hah) abgilsog-e (Ah)"

"Given the throne I didn't know (Hah) how to believe (Hah)"

"I was the queen that I'm meant to be (Ah)"

Rumi's voice unnerving and only building up to more for later. (Y/N) breathily adding to her words and adlibbing along.

"I lived two lives, tried to play both sides"

"But I couldn't find my own place"

"Called a problem child 'cause I got too wild"

"But now that's how I'm getting paid, kkeut-eobs-psi on stage"

Layering her voice to harmonise with the girls like usual. Holding back until later.

"I'm done hidin', now I'm shinin'"

"Like I'm born to be"

"We're dreamin' hard, we came so far"

"Now I believe"

Dragging her voice along for the build up, but it more vocal in volume than usual.

"We're goin' up, up, up"

"It's our moment"

"You know together we're glowing"

"Gonna be, gonna bе golden"

"Oh, up, up, up"

"With our voices"

"Yeong-wonhi kkaеjil su eobsneun"

"Gonna be, gonna be golden"

Echoing the words of Rumi and her voice. She continues to push.

"Oh, I'm done hidin' now I'm shinin'"

"Like I'm born to be~"

"Oh, our time, no fear, no lies"

"That's who we're born to be~!"

Raising her voice high to match Rumi but ends up subtly going higher than her. Quickly realising her mistake and at the same speed pushing down her loaded hurls of self-deprecation.

"Waited so long to break these walls down"

"To wake up and feel like me"

"Put these patterns all in the past now"

"And finally live like the girl they all see"

Her silence in the verse made her vulnerable to her deprecating voices in her head. Just enough for a burning sensation to tingle at the sides of her mouth and neck.

Whispering a stream of pleas to quiet her mind.

"No more hiding, I'll be shining"

"Like I'm born to be"

"'Cause we are hunters, voices strong"

"And I know I believe~"

Collecting herself again with continuously shaking hands.

"We're goin' up, up, up!"

"It's our moment"

"You know together we're glowing"

"Gonna be, gonna be golden"

"Oh, up, up, up"

"With our voices"

"Yeong-wonhi kkaejil su eobsneun"

"Gonna be, gonna be golden"

'When does this end....'

"Oh, I'm done hidin', now I'm shining"

"Like I'm born to be~!"

"Oh, our time, no fears, no lies"

"That's who we're born to b-"

'Huh?'

The music suddenly stops as she abruptly ends her note to avoid being heard. Collapsing to her knees and clawing at her neck as the burning turned into an itching sensation.

She can hear Bobby and Mira worrying about Rumi, while she dismisses and tells them to restart the part.

Scrambling up to her feet and halts her scratching with the mic at her lips again.

"I'm done hiding"

"Now I'm shining"

"Like I'm born to b- (cough)"

Stopping her voice and falling to her knees again. A whirling nauseating pain flows through her head. Gripping her temples and clawing down her face to the added pressure.

Just picking up that Rumi wanted to take five, her heart raced even faster.

She couldn't hear anything around her. A white ringing noise filling her ears. Clawing at her ears with her breathing hastening in speed.

"Stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop! Shut up be quiet. Shut up. Be quiet. Shut up. Be quiet. Go away. Go away... (hick)"

A waterfall of tears pour down her face as she quietly sobs, while hyperventilating through her tight chest. Her clawing actions stop at her neck, feeling the sweat sticking to her skin like slime.

The space was unnaturally empty for a busy stage trying to ready for a live performance.

Nobody to see the jagged patterns clawing at her neck. Reaching its way over her mouth.

Scratching and scratching at the patterns while her tears begin to extinguish the burning feeling every time it drips down her chin.

But she suddenly stops.

A silencing sensation abruptly halts her breakdown.

Something demonic was sent through the honmoon.

————————————————————

Her prays were finally met when she heard that Bobby cancelled the performance that night. Visualising her appearance was enough for her to text Bobby about leaving early. She felt horrible to leave everything for Bobby to handle.

But she was in absolutely no condition to help.

Making her own way back to the HUNTR/X tower, she sped her way towards her bathroom. Finally taking a look at herself in the mirror.

'Its still you. At least...'

Chuckling to herself and tracing her lips and along the lightning like patterns. Her usually shaggy short (f/c) hair being an absolute mess with baby hairs sticking to her face around her eyes and cheeks. Peaking through her bangs, staring back at her was a prominent gold and (f/c) tired gaze. The red veins on her sclera being bright and obvious to her crying fit earlier. The faint purple patterns reaching down to her neck, wrapping around the area were her vocal cords are.

Unbuttoning her top and disrobing her wrinkled clothes, discarding them in on the floor. Ruffling her hair and switching on her shower. Dowsing her body with cold water and washing away her tear stained cheeks.

Her first moment of silence since her time at the park.

'I wonder how Jinu is doing...'

(Y/N) has been thinking of the demon, why he was on the surface in the first place. If she considered demons nature, it wouldn't be anything good.

But she had a feeling that's not the only reason being here.

Granted she has no explanation for her reason. And additionally, she knows nothing about Jinu. He just awkwardly complimented her voice and she's the one who left early and brushed off his want for conversation.

'Damn it all! Stupid anxiety!'

Mentally cursing herself aside, she turns off her shower and steps out to wrap her body in a towel.

*Ping!*

She heard her phone alert go off. Drying off her body and stepping into her bedroom, she checked her messages and wasn't sure what to really do.

Zoey: Hey (Y/N)! We're going out for dinner since Rumi came back :D We'll save you a seat don't worry! Zoey: XXX-XXX-XXXX

(Y/N) felt no energy to go out with the girls. But she'll admit, she is worried for Rumi.

Her voice cracking pretty recently is probably making her even more stressed. Perhaps the honmoon turning gold is more important to her than she thought.

But she isn't sure if she's fit to go comfort Rumi.

Her body just feels drained.

"(sigh) What I do for these girls."

Rummaging through her cupboard and lazily throwing on a hoodie and pants. Roughly brushing her hair to to seem less messy and throwing on a pair of sneakers. Grabbing nothing else but her phone.

Entering the streets of Seoul and ignoring the slide comments of some about the cancelled show.

She felt reallllly bad for Bobby.

She's supposed to be one of the managers, but here she is wandering through the night streets and making her way to the girls. Not even bothering throwing her hoodie on because she was just tired.

Not able to pay attention to her surroundings.

*Bump!*

“Oof!” Staggering on her feet she turns around to meet the eyes of the other.

But a gentle smile meets her tiresome face, belonging to the familiar demon and his dreamy brown eyes.

”Jinu.”

”(Y/N)…”

Said demon felt relief to see her again. Her voice has been living in his mind rent free. It made him feel like a person again. Like he wasn’t a being that feeds of the souls and the shame he too feels from his previous actions.

He wants to hear her sing again.

“What are you doing here?” (Y/N) questions tiredly rubbing her temples. “I wanted to see you again.“ Jinu answers without a doubt. Though he can’t exactly be honest with her. He doesn’t even know if she’s a hunter, or whether once she knows his plan, if she’ll just slice him without hesitation.

But whether she’s a hunter or not, he still wants to see her.

”That’s a bit strange, don’t you think? W-We just met a couple days ago.” (Y/N) blankly states. Even though she wanted to see him again, it was still weird in her head. Jinu on the other hand sweat dropped at her statement.

”One can say that, but I don’t see it that way.” His response wasn’t what she imagined. But to be fair, she wasn’t sure what to think of him. “Ever since I heard you sing, I couldn’t get your voice out of my head. It’s made me…. want to see you again…” Jinu tried to describe how he felt, but even he couldn’t explain it using words.

He just felt comforted yet haunted by her tone and song.

It made him forget.

And it made him curiously want more.

”Hmm…if that’s how you feel.” (Y/N) shrugs her shoulders while muttering to herself. It feels weird to hear someone compliment her, or at least try to.

“But to be fair myself, I liked our little chat before. Even if it wasn’t much.” Her anxiety was subsiding unnaturally. She really did like being in Jinu’s presence.

That little statement was enough for Jinu to look at her like an excited puppy. "Perhaps.....maybe...we could talk more?" The words felt foreign from her mouth, her anxiety still present that just makes her second guess what to say. Nervously scratching the back of her neck.

Jinu gleams at her. "Then, why don't we go now?"

(Y/N) whips her head at him again with a widened expression.

Now? She can't. The girls are waiting for her, she has to know what happened. Something spread a demonic energy through the honmoon. And last she checked, demons don't do that. A tare feels different than what that was.

Whether she likes it or not...

She's considered a hunter.

"Sorry Jinu, I actually have som-"

"Jinu! Buddy, where have you been?"

Cutting her off was the sound of a deeper voice coming from behind Jinu.

Glancing up she catches four figures gathering behind the dreamboat. Two of them had pink hair but in different cuts and hairstyles, while the another had bright cyan underneath a yellow hat and the last having long silver grey with bangs that covered his eyes.

Their faces were alluring. Sculpted by the gods with unfair favouritism. Going all the way down to their bodies and from the sound of it, their voices too. Though even for (Y/N), they seemed way too perfect to be human.

'A group of demons? This can't be for a good reason...'

In the back of her mind, (Y/N) didn't want to fully trust Jinu. His random purpose on the surface is enough to justify her lingering doubts. But she pushed them aside just because she genuinely enjoyed the short time they had talking. Even if it was mainly him trying to talk to her.

The group of boys seemed to rag on Jinu about something like 'dancing' and 'practice.' Which only brought one answer to her mind.

"Are you guys dance training for something?"

Her voice bringing on five sets of eyes on herself. The one with the longer pink hair smirked upon meeting her questioning gaze, unnoting her own flinching back into herself.

"Why yes, are you curious?" He approached closer into her space, shivering at his invasion and taking a small step back to create distance. Jinu notices her uncomfortable expression, coming up to the pink headed demon to prevent going forward.

"Romance, you're making her uncomfortable." Halting his friends actions made the now named 'Romance' stare at him with a bit of surprise. Before Jinu turns his attention back on (Y/N) with a confident smile.

"We are actually practicing. We're debuting as a new boy group tomorrow." His answer brought more surprise to (Y/N)'s face.

"A boy band? I mean....you have the looks for it, can't say anything about everything else." She was just muttering to herself at this point. But Jinu heard what she was saying, taking it as a good sign for him.

"How about you come watch us perform tomorrow."

"Hmm? You sure?"

"Of course, we'll save a special spot just for you."

Well....considering that the girls are probably gonna have the day off tomorrow because of the cancelled show, it'll be good to keep an eye on these demon boys.

As long as they aren't hurting people, she has no reason to send them back.

But another reason popped into her head.

Sighing to herself she just hums and nods her head. "Sure. Why not?"

Jinu's eyes lighted up like fireworks at her response, internally pumping his fist in succession.

"Great! Here's a flyer for tomorrow." Handing her a pretty pastel flyer with the name 'Saja Boys' on the front with a logo of a lion plastered on the centre.

"Thanks. I'll see you tomorrow then." Gently smiling at them before waving a hand and continuing her walk.

Unbeknownst to her, the Saja Boys had differentiating reactions and thoughts.

They were quite intrigued by her. Jinu hasn't been fully present since his meeting with this girl, which got the others curious. He said he couldn't describe the feelings that ignited inside when he heard the girl sing.

Baby and Mystery mainly brushed it off and paid no mind to it. While Abby and Romance were slightly interested but never thought about it further.

That is until they did meet.

And my oh my...

They kinda understood?

(Y/N) from a first glance appeared quite pretty if Romance said so himself. Her baggy attire making her more relaxed and casual than the dolled up girls that he saw around before. But even that extenuated her natural beauty. But her speaking voice seemed to make Romance understand Jinu's fixation just a little bit more. Something melodic about her undertone drew his mind to a strange white noise. It wasn't anything mind numbing or dreadfully empty, it was calming.

Mystery isn't one for speaking but his heart skipped a beat hearing her casually talk. That haunting tone in her voice peaked his interest out of curiosity. But what caught him most was her eyes. A (f/c) gaze with a rim of gold around her iris. How come Jinu didn't mention that?

Abby was curious for sure about this (Y/N) chick. Wondering what the deal is with her said voice. But he was quite intrigued upon meeting the quietly shy girl. How can such a beautifully described voice come out of her?

Baby wasn't listening majority of the time Jinu was yapping about this girl. What was so important that it took that much brain space in that head of his, to the point that it looked like he was in a trance. But even meeting the girl herself, he'd rather see how things play out now that he himself has caught a glimpse of what is so intriguing.

Oh what will happen indeed...

————————————————————

Edit: Fun fact, the whole panic attack part is based of one that happened to me. My whole anxiety back when I was in school basically inspired this idea in the first place. Also I have no idea why I gave Romance more time than the others, it just happened |(￣3￣)|

Tags: @kitsune-05, @the-bookish-artist, @apelepikozume, @shoopershtar, @ravvilicous, @valeriele3, @vikc, @lasa27, @chipster-321, @greensunflowerjuna, @napbatata, @that-one-girl2020, @tagmepls, @thoughtfulbananaduckcroissant, @minepugs, @crescent-z, @colorfulgardenerduck, @poem-bee, @deityofprocastinating, @0-undead-0, @gremlinartstudio, @jessica-mcd, @strayharmony943, @fruityg0rl, @cherryblossomfox, @aominehaven, @kyxmlii, @ssaischilling, @sweaterkitty-fluff, @historygeekqueen, @satansdaughter123, @theall-seeingone, @nvmkyuu, @amenabii, @julianne1024, @doggyteam2028, @nisarelle, @theall-seeingone, @hi-itsmee28, @celesteelysia, @maritheillusion, @levifiance, @kangsae-byeokfan, @hornehlittleweeblet12, @scara-simp69, @fancyhawk45, @shqyou, @enerofairy, @futuristicdefendorfart, @scentwombatarcade, @eliengoddes, @irethepotato, @sra7riddle-malfoy, @jessica-mcd

[sweetcalebb]

would you be open to writing caleb putting you in a headlock? Maybe you ask him to do it and he gets really into it 🫠🫠🫠

Headlock sex ! ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊

wc: 2.6k

a/n: hii!! i can't tell you how excited to see this ask. i've thought abt caleb putting the reader in a headlock smm. thank u sm for this! i hope this was okay, and if it wasn't pls feel free to DM me, comment, or send another ask. i'm always happy to write more <3

content: prone sex, rough sex, light choking, bit of dry humping <3, cream pie, headlock (ofc!), power play, horny gym tension, biceps appreciation, reader likes to get all flustered around caleb like they aren't literally dating

——

You should've been counting Caleb's reps. You were—until you started staring a little too hard at his biceps. Suddenly, you forgot how to count, or think, or even breathe.

"Hey, what am I at, Pips?" Caleb grunted.

Shoot.

You just stood there, dumb, open-mouthed, and said, "Um... 10?"

He wasn't even training biceps. How the hell did they look so good when he was doing push-ups? It wasn't fair.

Caleb laughed, slowly sitting on his heels. "10? I could've sworn I hit 10 a few pushups ago."

Your face flushed. "I think you're counting wrong."

"And I think you're just ogling me," Caleb shot back, standing up and stalking over to you—sweat clinging to his forehead, muscles taut and glistening—

God. He was going to be the death of you.

"It's cute." He leaned in close, lips curled in a smug smile. "Can't count when you're horny, huh?"

You clenched around nothing.

"I'm not!" you scoffed, taking a step back, even when every cell in your body was screaming at you to pounce on him.

"Then why are you blushing?" Caleb teased, playfully poking your cheek before you could pull away. "I was just joking, but does watching me do pushups actually turn you on?"

You squirmed back, the tips of your ears burning.

"No!"

Caleb grinned. "Liar."

Heat dripped low in your stomach. Shit. Why was it so hot when he called you out like that?

"So, what about me doing pushups turns you on?" He squinted his eyes and cocked his head—all feigned innocence and charm. "Is it the way I grunt? Or the way I look when I'm focused? Or is it my muscles?"

Evil bastard. He knew what he was doing.

"C'mon. I gotta know," he coaxed.

"Nothing!" you finally huffed. "Nothing about you doing pushups turns me on!"

Everything.

Everything about him doing pushups turned you on. Especially his arms. But you didn't want to admit that, so without another word, you spun around and started heading for the exit.

Caleb laughed, watching the cute sway of your hips as you stormed off. "Hey! C'mon! We have to finish on cardio!"

But you were already outside.

—

Now, you sat, curled up in your bed, staring at pictures of Caleb—specifically the ones he sent after a grueling workout. Yes, you had a whole album of him, and he was always all sweaty and pumped... really pumped.

You took a shaky breath. God, his arms looked so good.

And Caleb? He was probably in your living room, minding his business all smug because he knew the things he did to you.

He was visiting for a bit, which was why you'd been working out together in the first place. You thought it would be a cute hangout, not—whatever that turned into.

You groaned, tossing your phone to the side.

You couldn't do this anymore.

You kicked your legs over your bed and slipped out of your room. Sure enough, there Caleb was—on the living room floor, completely relaxed, fussing with one of his model airplanes like he wasn’t the reason your brain had short-circuited.

He shot you a quick glance and smiled before turning back to his plane.

"Hey, Pips," Caleb murmured, brows furrowing as he chipped a piece of his model off. "You okay?" He took a double-take, a hint of smugness in his voice. "You look.. flushed."

You stood there for a second, your body burning and your mind swimming with all the dirty things you wanted Caleb to do to you. Especially now, with how nice his hands looked messing with his plane.

And he could see it. He didn't have to ask or look at you too long, he just knew.

Because that was Caleb.

"What're you thinking?" He quipped, tilting his head.

You shifted awkwardly, your legs squeezing together.

You took a small inhale, then carefully said, "I want to try something."

Caleb smiled, the model airplane in his lap forgotten the minute you uttered those words.

"Oh, yeah? What's this 'something' you wanna try?"

You glanced down, fidgeting with your shirt and shifting your the wooden floor.

Caleb grinned. You were impossibly cute when you were nervous—cheeks red and lip sore from how much you'd bitten it in thought.

Slowly, he stood and stepped over to you.

"You know I'll try anything you want, Pips," Caleb said, stopping in front of you and grinning that stupid grin that made your heart flutter. "C'mon. Have I ever judged you?" he coaxed.

"No," you murmured.

"Right. So, tell me."

"I..." Your eyes darted down to his arms. God. They looked nice. So nice, that for a split—horrifyingly horny—second, you wondered what they'd feel like wrapped around your neck.

Your whole body burned at the thought.

Then quietly—unbidden—the words, "I want you to put me in a headlock," came out.

Caleb laughed.

You must've been joking.

But when he looked at you—really looked at you—you weren't laughing or smiling. No, you were straight-faced, eyes hardened and jaw tensed.

Oh.

You were serious.

"What?" Caleb breathed.

You let out a stuttered breath. And as if this couldn't get any more embarrassing, you muttered, "During... it."

Caleb blinked. "During it?"

For a second, he just stared. His brain couldn't catch up. Had you seriously just asked him to... put you in a headlock during sex?

He let out a humorless laugh. "I—Pips, are you being serious?"

You paused, your heart thudding so loud you were almost certain he heard it. You knew this was a mistake. You should’ve kept your mouth shut.

"No. Never mind, I was just—I was joking."

You didn't care how lame that sounded, you just needed to get out of there before he saw the furious blush that crept up your cheeks and burned your ears.

But you weren't fast enough.

Before you could even turn around, Caleb's hand was around your wrist.

"Hey—don't do that." He tugged you back, forcing you against his chest. "If that's what you want, I'll give it to you."

Your breath quickened.

"Is that what you want?"

It took you a moment to learn how to breathe again before finally managing a quiet, "Yes."

At that, Caleb smiled—a big, crooked, and way too smug smile. Then, without warning, he bent down slightly and hauled you over his shoulder.

You yelped, clinging to his back. "Hey! What are you doing?"

"What do you think?" Caleb huffed. "I'm giving you what you want."

You wanted to argue. Pretend it really was a joke, but every nerve in your body lit up the second he said he’d give you exactly what you wanted.

He nudged your door open with his foot and stalked over to your bed before dropping you on the mattress and turning you over on your stomach. You gasped, your hands clinging to your sheets in anticipation.

Caleb crawled over you, wasting no time as he pressed open-mouthed kisses along your jaw. "You've been thinking about this all day, haven't you?"

You squirmed, lips parting on a silent sigh of relief when you felt him against your ass. He ground against you once, then stopped before pinning you down when he felt you lift your hips to meet his.

"C'mon. Talk to me, Pips. I wanna hear you."

You groaned, dipping your head against the mattress. Of course. You should've known better than to think Caleb wasn't going to make the most out of every second.

"Yes," you breathed, struggling against his grip. "I've been thinking about this all day."

Caleb gave a groan of approval, rolling his hips again like he couldn't help it. "You should've told me sooner."

He dragged his lips lower, tracing them along your shoulders, the heat of his mouth seeping through the fabric of your shirt.

"You know I'd give you anything, right?"

"Not soon enough," you complained, your words earning a soft chuckle.

"But I'm going to." Slowly, he brought one hand around your throat—firm, but not too tight—and tilted your head to the side, "Aren't I?"

Heat pooled in your stomach.

It felt like a preview. A filthy, mind-numbing preview. If you were already losing it over this, you could only imagine what actually having his arm around your neck would do to you.

Instinctively, you pushed back against him again.

"Yes."

Caleb grinned, pressing a searing kiss to the crook of your neck. You barely had time to enjoy his hand around your neck before he was pulling away again, the bed creaking under his weight.

You couldn't help the small whine that tore from your throat. "Caleb—"

"I'm still here," he cut in, soothing his hands down your sides and stopping at your hips. "But it's kinda hard to give you what you want if this," he snuck his finger into the waistband of your pajama pants and gave a teasing tug, "is still in the way."

Caleb pulled them down just a fraction. "So, are you gonna let me take these off?"

You had to bite back another whine. "Stop teasing me."

Caleb laughed, slowly peeling your pants and panties down your legs. "You're cute when you get impatient."

"Caleb.. I'm serious," you huffed, trying your best not to break down and beg him to take you.

"Alright, alright."

You heard the sound of fabric shifting, then you felt him against your back again, warm, naked, and hard. You let out a shuddered breath, your muscles tightening with anticipation.

"Ready?" he murmured.

You nodded, then carefully, Caleb pushed in, a quiet groan slipping past his lips. Your back arched, the pressure in your stomach curling tight as he sank in inch after tantalizing inch.

You were soaked.

"H-hah... So, my arms really turn you on, huh?" he murmured, shifting his hips to fully settle against your back.

"Y-yes."

Caleb inhaled sharply, carefully slipping his arms around you in headlock. A light—very light—headlock.

You nearly lost it right then and there. You didn't know just how good this would feel until he was finally doing it. You shoved your hips back, the movement making Caleb huff.

"You're so... eager."

"Caleb. Please."

He gave a breathless laugh. "You remember your safe word?"

You nodded.

"You sure?"

You nodded again, more desperately.

"Yes," you bit out. "Please, Caleb, just move."

Finally, he pulled out, then pushed back in. Slow and deliberate. It was dizzying. He started a steady rhythm, your mess already spilling down your thighs and coating his cock.

You fisted one hand in the sheets and clung to his arm with the other.

Caleb grunted into your ear, brows furrowing with concentration. He gave you a brutal thrust, the movement pulling an airy moan from your lungs.

It felt too good. Too… right. His arm around your neck, your moans catching from the pressure there—it was everything.

Caleb groaned, dropping his forehead against your head, snapping his hips harder. He didn't mean to get so rough. This was supposed to he about you. But having you like this was so much better than he expected.

Every time he squeezed his arms around your neck, your walls gripped him tighter.

Everything about you was just so overwhelming.

Caleb gasped. "Fuck, Pips—I really—I'm—"

And you? You were too wrapped up in the bliss to notice how much Caleb was really losing it. You couldn't even form coherent words. You were just a mess of sounds and strangled pleas.

Caleb was going feral now—groans spilling past his lips, his hips meeting your ass with an obscene slap, his arms reflexively tightening around you.

"Tap—ugnn..—tap out if you... Fuck!"

He didn't even finish his sentence. Just buried his face in your hair and continued to pound into you.

You gave a teary moan, your nails digging into his arm.

"W-what?" Caleb breathed, easing his grip slightly. "Too—too rough?"

You furiously shook your head and tried pulling his arm firmer around your neck. "Not rough enough," you rasped.

That broke him.

Caleb let out a feral groan before gripping you tight and slamming into you so hard you were sure you'd feel it tomorrow.

"How's that?" he husked, tightening his arms around you and pounding into you with the same force. "Better?" It was meant to come out as a coo, but it ended up caught between a moan and a grunt.

"B-better!" you gasped out.

You two were lost in the bliss. Both feral and desperate. Animalistic. Until Caleb's pace faltered slightly. He huffed, the sound low and frustrated. "Some—something's... not right."

You whimpered. "Please don't stop."

Caleb gave a shake of his head and drew back, arms leaving your neck.

You nearly cried. You missed him. He hadn't even been gone for a second but you already missed the pressure on your back, on your neck.

Before you could ask what he was doing, he was hastily tugging your shirt up and tossing it to the floor. His own shirt joined in next to yours and then he was moving.

"Caleb, what—?"

You immediately shut up when you felt him again, warmer this time.

He molded himself to your body and snuck his arms around your neck again. "That's better." Slowly, he pushed in again with a slick slide.

Caleb groaned, shaking as he gave another slow push. He was trying to ease you back into a steady rhythm, but it wasn't enough. Without thinking, you slammed your hips back.

"Harder," you breathed.

Caleb didn't hesitate. He snapped into you. Deep and hard.

"Fuck. Yeah, that's it. Sorry, Pips," he breathed, quickly finding his rhythm again. "I had to feel you completely."

You could only moan, your hand coming around his arm to ground yourself again.

He was messy, but not sloppy. The slick sound of your bodies filled the space and made the room stuffy. But neither of you had any thoughts of stopping.

Caleb wasn't sure he ever would stop.

Not with you like this—pliant and sweaty and moaning so sweetly his dick twitched every time he heard you breathe.

"You love this, don't you?"

You didn't respond. You couldn't.

But you didn't need to.

Caleb pressed his face into the side of your head and let out a stuttered groan. You were getting close. He could feel it in the little flutter you gave every time he slid against that perfect spot inside you.

"You're close, huh?"

You squirmed, clenching around him tighter. "Y-yes!"

"Yeah? What do you need?" he rasped, willing himself not to spill himself right there. "This?" He squeezed your neck tighter, the pressure making your vision blur.

You gave him one last whimper before you were falling apart, your whole body tensing. Caleb gritted his teeth, trying his best to work you through it, but he fell apart the minute you did.

He rolled his hips lazily, his arms loosening around you. Sweat clung to your tangled bodies, your cheeks stained red from the intensity of it all.

Caleb sighed, dropping his head against your shoulder. "You okay?" he panted out, kissing your skin. "I didn't... didn't mean to squeeze so hard."

"Mm-nn. You were perfect."

Caleb breathed out a quiet laugh. "You think so?"

"Know so," you murmured.

His chest swelled at that. He gave you one last kiss before finally pulling out with a hiss. His mess slowly spilled down your legs and onto the mattress.

Caleb stared in awe, soothing his hands up your back, then down again to rest on the swell of your ass.

"Next time you want something, don't hesitate to tell me." He leaned back down, his breath fanning over your temple. "Don't stew in your bedroom, trying to think of how to ask for it, just do it."

You smiled. "Any—" you took a small breath, "—anything?"

Caleb nodded. "Anything. Everything."

Your cheeks warmed. "I love you, Caleb."

"I love you."

——

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tags: @exe-toby @seungkwansflower @floatinginaer @halfawakeblobbu @heartyluv @starryeyed-apple @asiatic-apple @walrusbreath @sylvieisoffline @awquaz @purpleamethyst25 @pinksaiyans @beaconsxd @haleaf @politefawn @colonelpantysniffer @villainessobsessed @lioria @inlovewithsylus @tired7o7 @justwinginglife @itsmysmut @bitewiththis @littleboomerang @aenishas @inzayneforaj @opalesquegirl @sudenuryg @lamogliedizayne @rurushow @viviiswrr-d @honeymoonfleur @stargirlygirl @peachlycheetea @calebsbabyapple @goochfiddler99 @lewdcifer778 @minivia @bidisasterforevermore @c-l-stinnett @thesevro @rina-lidou

[rynwrites4fun]

Across The Hall (11) | Michael Robinavitch x Neighbor/Teacher ! Reader

Michael Robinavitch x F ! Neighbor/Teacher ! Reader

Summary: Michael brings you home and takes care of you. You talk things through, and by the end, you’re both on the same page and closer than before.

Word Count: 3990

Warnings: Age Gap (Mid 20s/Early 50s), Head Injury (Factured Skull), Non-sexual nudity

Authors Notes: Just one more part. Part 12 will be the last (until futher notice, Maybe a sequel depending on season 2??? I'm sad ngl LOL. I’ll save the sappy talk in the next authors note.) If any of you watch Animal Kingdom I’m writing an Andrew Cody fic. So keep a look out for that. I have it typed, but Idk what the call it. Idk my writing process is wack. I don’t think, I just do. I don’t plan at all and I just make shit up as I go… but whatever works right? All of this is just for fun hence my user lol okay I’ll go now. Enjoy - Ryn (sorry for errors if you’ve been following along for this long y’all know I don’t proof read whoops)

After the end of Michael’s swift, he walked through the ER, one hand gripping the strap of his backpack, the other intertwined with yours.

He felt the stares immediately—wide eyes from the staff, surprised expressions barely masked. They weren’t entirely sure what they were seeing. Or maybe they were. Maybe they just couldn’t believe it.

Michael caught it too. He met the glances of a few nurses, offered a small, tight-lipped smile, then looked away.

Michael wasn’t embarrassed—he could never be embarrassed of you. That wasn’t it. He just didn’t want everyone in his business. But that line had already been crossed.

Rumor and gossip swirled, but his main focus, his main priority was you. Nothing else matter

Michael, he took you home—his place. He wanted you to stay there; it was easier that way. He had emergency supplies if anything went wrong, and it let him keep a close eye on you.

As the two of you made your way down the hall toward his apartment, neither of you said anything about the arrangement. You didn’t ask, and he didn’t offer an explanation. He expected you to protest—maybe argue, insist on going to your side of the hall—but you didn’t.

You wanted to. You thought about saying you didn’t want to intrude, that you’d be fine on your own. But the words never made it out. You were in too much pain, too wrung out and exhausted to care. And you already knew what he’d say—something about keeping an eye on you, monitoring for symptoms, making sure you didn’t take a turn.

So you stayed quiet. And followed him in.

“You probably want a shower,” he said softly

You nodded, but your body swayed a little too far to the left.

He caught your arm. “Careful.”

Together, you made your way toward the bathroom. Every movement felt floaty and too heavy at the same time—like your body wasn’t entirely yours. The edges of the room tilted, just slightly, and you blinked hard to stay grounded.

When you enter the bathroom you. “Can you stay?”

Your voice was quiet.

Michael didn’t hesitate. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

You reach for the hem of your shirt, but your hands fumbled, clumsy. Lifting your arms made your vision blur, and you winced, one hand going instinctively to your lump

He stepped forward. “Hey—stop. Let me.”

You didn’t argue.

His hands were gentle as he helped you out of your clothes, moving slowly, methodically. When he eased the shirt over your head, you closed your eyes against the spinning, and he steadied you with one hand at your waist.

“You okay?” he asked quietly, the shirt now crumpled in his hand.

You nodded again, though you weren’t sure. “Just dizzy.”

You kicked off your shoes, the cool floor sending a small shiver up your spine. Your fingers trembled slightly as you fumbled with the button of your jeans, struggling to pull them down past your hips. The fabric caught at your thighs, and you paused, leaning on the sink to keep from swaying too much. 

When you finally slid your jeans down and stepped out of them, you stood there, vulnerable in just your bra and underwear. 

Michael didn’t move closer or look away. His eyes softened, not with desire, but with something quieter: care and respect. He gave you space, knowing you needed it, but stayed close enough that you could reach out if you lost your balance.

“Sit for a moment,” Michael said softly.

You lowered yourself slowly onto the closed toilet seat.

Michael moved toward the tub, turning the cold and hot taps, adjusting until the water flowed warm. 

“I’ll be right back,” he said, and stepped out briefly. When he returned, he held a thick, fluffy towel and a neatly folded set of clothes. 

“I don’t think I should stand,” you admitted, voice low, your body still heavy with exhaustion.

“Okay,” Michael nodded understandingly. “You don’t have to stand. You can sit.”

Carefully, you got off the toilet and moved to the edge of the tub, the smooth porcelain cool beneath your hands. You dipped your feet into the water, feeling the warmth as it flows around your feet.

Michael goes to sit on the closed toilet seat. 

“I’m gonna…” you said softly, pulling at the strap of your bra to let him know you were about to take it off.

He shifted slightly, turning his body toward the door, giving you the privacy you needed to strip without feeling exposed.

You hesitated for a moment, then began to remove your bra, the fabric slipping softly from your shoulders. Then your underwear followed. You lowered yourself slowly into the tub, 

Curling your knees up toward your chest, you hugged them gently, covering your body feeling safe and cocooned.

“Okay,” you said softly, signaling that he could turn back.

“You sure?” Michael asked quietly, his voice gentle and concerned, wanting to make sure you were comfortable being this vulnerable in front of him.

“Yes,” you said. Your voice was quiet, but steady. “I trust you.”

“Okay I’m turning around” 

Michael turned and stood up. He reached for the shower head, pulling the pin on the faucet to redirect the water. The steady stream shifted from the tub spout to the handheld shower, and he adjusted the flow gently, ready to help you wash.

Michael held the shower head steady, the warm spray falling in a gentle rhythm. He aimed the water over your shoulders and back in careful movements.

“Let me know if the water’s too hot or cold,” he said softly.

You nodded, eyes closing as the warmth soaked into your skin. The sound of water filled the quiet room, calming your breath.

“I’m going to wash your hair first,” he said.

You gave a small nod.

He adjusted the shower head and used his hand to shield your eyes, carefully wetting your hair. His fingers moved gently through it, avoiding the tender lump where your skull was fractured. He worked the shampoo in with care, soft and slow, then rinsed it clean.

When he was done, he reached for a washcloth, soaked it under the water, and handed it to you.

“Here,” he said, his voice low and gentle. “I’ll let you do the rest.”

You took it from him with a quiet “Thanks,” and began washing your arms and chest, slow and steady. 

As you washed yourself, Michael respectfully turned his head, gaze fixed on the tiled wall. He kept holding the shower head steady, adjusting the angle when needed, but never looked your way.

Once you’d finished rinsing, you gave a small nod. “Okay.”

Michael turned off the water. He set the shower head down carefully and reached for the towel he’d left nearby.

“Here,” he said softly, draping the towel over your shoulders. His hands were steady, mindful. “Take your time.”

You nodded, then slowly pushed yourself up to stand. Your legs felt shaky beneath you. Michael offered his arm, and you took it, leaning into his steady presence as you stepped carefully out of the tub. Water dripped from your legs onto the mat below.

As he helped you find your balance, you adjusted the towel at your chest, making sure it stayed in place, then tucked the edge securely.

He reached for the clean white shirt he’d brought and gently held it open for you.

“Ready?” he asked.

You nodded.

You held the towel closed as he slipped the shirt over your head, guiding it gently down your arms. The fabric brushed your skin, soft and clean. Once it was in place, you let the towel fall. The shirt settled over your body—short, but long enough to cover you where it mattered.

Michael turned away without a word, facing the bathroom door again to give you privacy.

You reached for the shorts and stepped into them slowly, pulling them up and adjusting the waistband. 

Reaching for the towel you’d just let fall, you brought it up to your head and began to dry your hair gently. The motion was slow, cautious. Each pat was careful, mindful not to press too hard.

“All set,” you said quietly.

He turned around and asked, “Are you hungry? I can make you something.”

You looked up, a little unsure. “You don’t mind?”

“Course not,” he said with a smile.

“Please.”

The two of you walked into the kitchen. Michael grabbed a pot and started making chicken noodle soup. The soft sound of the spoon stirring and the warm smell of the soup soon filled the room, making everything feel calm and cozy.

He set the pot to simmer on the stove, then turned to gather a few bowls and spoons. The soft clinking of dishes echoed through the quiet kitchen.

You settled onto a stool at his island table.

Michael glanced over and gave you a small, reassuring smile. “It won’t be long.”

You nodded, feeling the calm settle around you, grateful for this simple care.

Michael carried the bowls over to you, setting one down in front of you. You wrapped your hands around the warm bowl, feeling a small comfort in its heat.

He sat down beside you, and for a moment, you both simply savored the quiet. 

The two of you ate quietly at the island, the soft clink of spoons the only sound between you. The soup was exactly what you needed. You hadn’t realized how hungry you were until your bowl was nearly empty.

When you finished, you murmured a soft thank you, and Michael just nodded, already rinsing the dishes in the sink.

Afterward, you both headed back toward the bathroom. Michael knelt down and opened the cabinet under the sink, pulling out a fresh toothbrush still in its packaging. He handed it to you with a small smile.

“Figured you might want this.”

“Thanks,” you said, voice low with weariness.

While you brushed your teeth, Michael disappeared down the hall. He moved quietly, setting up his bedroom—thinking ahead to anything you might need.

When he returned, he leaned gently against the doorframe and asked, “You ready to sleep?”

You nodded.

You stepped into his room and paused. The bedside lamp cast a soft glow over the space. On the nightstand, he’d placed a bottle of water, a few folded towels, and a small plastic basin—just in case. The sheets were pulled back neatly.

You climbed into his bed, sinking. It smelled like him, familiar in a way that made you feel safe.

“I’ll be right back,” he said quietly.

You heard him moving in the other room, picking up after dinner or maybe putting things away. But by the time he came back to check on you, you were already asleep—curled up beneath the blankets, the soft rise and fall of your breath the only sound in the room.

—

You woke in the middle of the night, disoriented for a moment. The sheets smelled of him. 

Michael

You were in Michael’s bed.

Yet, the space next to you was empty. 

Soft snoring came from somewhere nearby. You rolled over, careful with your head. Your eyes adjusted slowly, picking up the outline of a shape on the floor—a silhouette in the dark room. Quiet and still, except for the slow, even rise and fall of his breathing. Michael, curled up on the floor with a pillow and a blanket.

“Michael…” you whispered.

Nothing.

“Michael.” You say a little louder. 

He stirred with a quiet groan from the floor. “Hmm? Hey—what’s wrong? You okay?” His voice was heavy with sleep, words slurring together in the dark. 

“What are you doing on the floor?”

“​​I didn’t want to jostle you,” he murmured. “You'd sleep better without someone next to you.” he said, still half-asleep, words slurred with drowsiness. 

You listened to the soft rhythm of his breathing. Then your voice came softly, tentative but firm. “Lay with me…”

He exhaled hard, a sound of reluctant surrender, shifting to find a more comfortable position on the floor. “Not a chance.”

Trying not to sound irritated, you pressed on. “Whatever worst-case scenario you’ve built up in that doctor’s brain of yours, it’s not gonna happen.”

“Just go to sleep. You need the rest.” His tone was gentle but firm, and he didn’t move.

Silence stretched out between you, thick and heavy like the dark itself.

“Your back’s going to be sore,” you said quietly, your words a soft concern in the stillness.

“A sacrifice I’m willing to make,” he mumbled, already drifting back toward sleep, his voice fading like a whisper.

“You’re gonna regret it. You’ll never beat those old-man allegations.”

“I’m middle-aged, not old,” he protested weakly.

“Exactly, you’re practically headed to the old folks’ home.”

“Hey.” He scoffed, a dry laugh slipping through despite the quiet.

You giggled softly. 

The room fell silent again.

“Come on, Lay with me…”

“Sweetheart, please just go back to sleep.”

“Michael, Please?” 

He let out a long breath. You heard the blanket rustle as he sat up, then the creak of the mattress as he eased himself into the space beside you—slow, careful, like he was afraid of accidentally hurting you. 

He stayed on top of the covers, his body turned slightly toward you but keeping his distance.

“Happy now?” he murmured. “Now, go back to sleep…”

And somehow, despite everything—your aching head, the nausea,—you did.

A few times throughout the night, the nausea came back, unexpected and relentless. Each time, you stirred, feeling the sickness twist in your stomach. And each time, Michael was there—plastic basin in hand, ready before you even had to ask.

He got up with you, never once complaining or pulling away. He rubbed your back gently, his hand warm against your skin as he whispered softly, “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

“My chicken noodle soup was that bad, huh?” he joked, knowing you were only throwing up because of your injury.

“Michael…” you groan out a laugh. Your laugh told him everything — that you thought it was funny, but not funny because you were throwing up.

He laughs softly, “Okay, I’m sorry.”

He brushed your hair back from your forehead, his fingers light and soothing. Even in the darkness, his voice was a comfort, steady and reassuring. He leaned in and kissed the spot where your shoulder and neck met, a quiet promise that he’d be there, no matter what.

At some point in the night, Michael had ended up under the covers. Now, the two of you lay curled on your sides, facing the same direction, careful not to jostle your injury. Your head rested on a second, softer pillow he’d propped just right to keep pressure off the side with the fracture. His chest was pressed gently against your back, his body warm and steady behind you.

Michael's arm rested low across your waist, heavy in sleep but comforting. He’d left enough space between your heads to avoid brushing against the sensitive side, but his presence was still close. It wasn’t quite a spoon, more like a careful hover

When you woke, the space beside you was empty. The sheets were still warm, faintly holding the shape of where Michael had been. You blinked against the soft morning light filtering in through the curtains and slowly sat up in bed, careful with your head.

A moment later, the bedroom door creaked open. Michael stepped in, balancing a tray with both hands — toast, scrambled eggs, some cut-up fruit, and a cup of tea that still steamed.

“Breakfast in bed?” you chuckled, memories stirring of quieter mornings months ago when you’d surprised him the same way.

“Like I said, you set the bar pretty high,” he said, quoting himself from that morning with a crooked smile.

“Thank you,” you murmured, your smile gentle and touched with sleep.

He made his way over and climbed into bed beside you with the tray. You shifted slightly to make room, sitting up a little straighter against the pillows he’d fluffed and stacked behind you the night before. He settled in next to you like it was second nature, his thigh pressed warmly against yours, careful not to jostle the arrangement supporting your head.

The tray rested comfortably across your lap, 

“How are you feeling?”

You took a moment before answering, eyes flicking down to the plate in your lap. “Okay,” you said slowly. “Still a little off, but… I don’t feel dizzy. And my stomach isn’t doing somersaults, so that’s a win.”

“Good. That’s good.” He nodded, though the crease between his brows lingered. Then, more gently, “How’s the head?”

“I’ll give you some meds after breakfast,” he said, his voice low, edged with concern. “Something mild, won’t knock you out.”

You nodded slowly, leaning into his touch just a little.

“Okay.”

He let his hand rest there a moment longer, thumb brushing lightly against your temple. “You scared the hell out of me, you know that?”

“I know...and thank you for yesterday at the ER, and last night...for taking care of me"

“I’m just glad you’re okay,” he said, his voice low.

He just gave you a soft smiled and leaned in and kissed your forehead—slow, steady, like he needed reassurance as much as you did. When he pulled back, there was a softness in his eyes that lingered just a beat longer before he shifted the mood.

Michael exhaled quietly and gave a half-smile, nudging your shoulder lightly with his own. 

“Though I kept it light,” he said, nodding toward the plate. “Hoping it’s not bad enough that you threw it up like the chicken noodle soup a few times last night.”

You groaned through a laugh, nudging his arm. “Stooopp,” you said, drawing the word out as your smile spread. You knew he was joking gently, lovingly and it made you feel lighter somehow.

He grinned and leaned in, his lips brushing your temple in a soft kiss. “Just saying… if you do throw it up, I’ve got the basin nearby. We’re a well-oiled machine at this point.”

You laughed again, more freely this time, “You’re the worst.”

“Nah,” he said, handing you the fork. “Just your personal chef, doctor, and comedian all rolled into one.”

You smiled as you picked at the fruit, choosing a slice of melon first. Michael reached for a piece of toast, took a bite, and chewed beside you in comfortable silence.

Then, you glanced over at him, something soft but serious settling in your expression.

“Can we talk?” you asked quietly.

His chewing slowed. He looked at you—really looked at you—and nodded like he already knew what you meant.

“You sure you wanna do that now?” he asked gently. “We don’t have to… we can wait.”

You shook your head. “No. I think we should.” Your fingers toyed with the edge of the tray. “Is that okay?”

“Yeah,” he said immediately, setting the toast back down. “Of course. Whatever you wanna do.”

Together, without saying much else, you both reached for the tray. He helped steady it while you shifted slightly, and you slid it carefully onto the nightstand beside you. The plates clinked lightly as they settled.

He turned back to face you, one leg bent slightly on the bed, elbow resting on his knee as he looked at you with quiet patience.

“I thought about what you said—the night of my ceremony, sitting on that park bench, and then the morning after, when you told me I needed to figure out what I really want, what I truly need. You said if I kept pushing people away, I’d only end up hurting people who care. And I realized even myself and… after everything went down in the elevator, I broke up with Aiden that night. I told him I was done. That I needed to be on my own. I’ve been working on myself since then. I still am.”

Your voice faltered slightly, but you held his gaze, feeling the weight of every word between you. It wasn’t easy to say, but it was true. You were trying, really trying, to heal.

“You told me a man won’t make me question whether I’m loved… He won’t make me beg for affection, or make me feel like I’m asking for too much just by wanting to be seen.”

You swallowed hard, vulnerability threading through your voice. “That man… that man is you, Michael. And I want you. I want us.”

Your hand found his, fingers intertwining gently, searching for reassurance. “But I still have so much work to do on myself. I want to be whole before I can really be with someone. I hope you understand.”

Michael’s eyes softened, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Hey,” he said quietly, “we don’t have to rush into anything. We’ll take all the time you need.”

A warm relief washed over you, and you exhaled slowly, your heart beating steadier.

“We’ll go slow,” he continued, voice steady and certain. “At whatever pace feels right for you. Because you matter. And this—us—it’s worth waiting for.”

“You’re not worried?” you asked.

“About what?”

You hesitated. “That I’m… 25. Naive. Stupid… I don’t know…

You looked down at your guys hands. 

Michael didn’t speak right away. His, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet but steady.

“The age gap crossed my mind,” he admitted. “You’ve still got so much ahead of you. And I’ve lived through a lot. I worried I might hold you back. That one day you’ll see all of this differently, me differently and regret it.”

You didn’t answer right away. The silence stretched, heavy but not uncomfortable. Just full.

After a moment, Michael’s grip tightened just slightly, as if to anchor both of you.

“But the truth is,” he said softly, “being with you… it’s never felt like a mistake. Not once. I’m here because I want to be—with you—not because I’m trying to relive anything, or because I’m afraid of being alone.”

You looked up, meeting his eyes, searching for the certainty you needed.

“I know you’re young,” he continued, “and that life still has so much to show you. But I don’t want to hold you back. I want to walk beside you, whatever comes next.”

Your heart fluttered, caught between hope and fear.

“Do you really mean that?” you whispered.

Michael smiled gently. “More than anything.”

“Like k said we’ll take it slow. You set the pace—always. No rushing, no pressure. It’s about us, moving at whatever speed feels right for you.”

His fingers tightened gently around yours.

“I just want to be here—with you—however that looks.”

You felt the tension ease, like a weight lifting from your chest.

“Whatever you need, we’ll figure it out together….okay” 

“Okay” you smile. 

Your lips find Michael’s—soft, lingering kisses that make your heart flutter, but you can’t help the giggles that escape between each one.

He pulls back slightly, a crooked smile tugging at his lips as he searches your face, his eyes warm and curious.

“What? What’s so funny sweetheart?” he asks, chuckling softly, his brows lifting in genuine curiosity.

You press your fingers to your mouth, still grinning. “Your beard… It’s tickling my face.”

Michael chuckles, brushing his thumb gently along your cheek. “Oh really?” he teases, leaning in closer, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“It didn’t bother you before,” he says, raising an eyebrow playfully.

You smirk, teasing back, “Because when you first kissed me, tensions were high. I was too distracted by everything else to notice the tickles.”

He laughs quietly, the sound low and easy. “So you’re saying my rugged charm is… too much for you to handle now?”

You laugh again, softer this time, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him a little closer. “I’m saying your rugged charm needs a trim”

His grin widens, eyes twinkling with amusement. “I’ll take that under advisement,” he murmurs, pressing another gentle kiss to your nose. “But no promises.”

No more questions, no more worries—just a shared understanding. Whatever the future holds, you know you’re not alone. You and Michael are on the same page now, ready to take the next step, however slow or steady it may be.

Tags: @im-nowhere-but-also-somewhere@beebeechaos@antisocialfiore@delicatetrashtree@xxxkat3xxx@homebytheharbor@woodxtock@letstryagaintomorrow@livingavilaloca@elkitot@annabellee88@hagarsays@emma8895eb @the-goddess-of-mischief-writing @jazzimac1967@lafemme-nk @kmc1989@whos6claire@harrysgothicbitch@trustme3-13@qardasngan@silas-aeiou@k3ndallroy@ohmystrawberrycheesecake@ay0nha@404creep @dantemorenatalie @obfuscateyummy@steviebbboi@alliegc28@catmomstyles3@ardentistella@madprincessinabox@circumspectre@the-one-with-the-grey-color@thatchickwiththecamera@violetswritingg @valutfromlune @baileythepenguin@capj-1437@airgoddess@nah2991@interestellarprincess@laurensfilm@peachjellyy@aj3684@sorryimstupidrn@escapingjune@robbyslittlelamb@nicisthename92@littlezee80@lucidanne@spooky-librarian-ghost@the-salty-asian@lonelyheartsm@lovelyjulieee @memoriesat30 @glamorizethechaos @guiltypleassure243 @princessjayll @teapartydreams

Across The Hall | (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11)

[majestyeverlasting]

Would you do a inexperienced reader x joel? For your requests😊

𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲 | 𝐣𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞����

This piece contains 18+ content

pairing joel miller x female reader

summary you stay the night at joel’s because it gets harder to leave every time [no outbreak, fluff, smut, wc 3.5k] 

a/n really enjoyed writing this request! there's something about a man who's mature, and attentive, and knows what he's doing...

⠂⠁⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂

Stay. The request repeats in Joel’s head like a broken record, but never weakens or distorts. It teeters on the tip of his tongue, but he has yet to utter the word out loud. It persists as he sees you to the front door and watches you step into your shoes to mark the end of another memorable night. One that made him realize he very well may be in love. 

Part of him always feared he wouldn’t be able to recognize the feeling when it arose, that it’d slip between his fingers before he could curl them and hold on tight. But Joel knew it was love because it had gotten to the point where even your laughter knocked him off his feet. He was so attuned to your happiness that he clung to every iteration. 

A small smile settles on your face as you meet his gaze, purse on your shoulder, ready to go. Joel rubs the back of his neck, but he’s not nervous. He knows what he wants to ask, and the raw energy of that desire buzzes beneath his skin. 

“Feels like you just got here,” he laments as he lowers his arm. If that were true, the moon and stars wouldn’t be visible in the night sky. 

You nod despite the fact that you’d eaten dinner with your knee against his, talked through a movie tucked into his side, let yourself relish the comfort of being in his home. These days, it feels like yours too. 

“You make it harder to leave every time,” you admit. It’s a light dig.

Joel tilts his head just enough for you to notice. “Do I now?” 

You nod thoughtfully. “You treat me really well,” you say. “Really, really well.” That hadn’t been the case with everybody who entered into your life. Perhaps you’d already expressed that to him in a million different ways, but the emphasis doesn’t feel wrong on a night like this. 

You’ve never had a relationship as steady and constant as what you have now with Joel. The sincerity of  your words warms a proud part of him. 

“I’m happy to,” he says. “You know that, don’t ya?” 

That’s what terrified and delighted him—the ease of it all. Maybe things would be different if it felt like a chore. 

“I know.” 

A smile tugs at Joel’s lips as he steps closer. “Also reckon you know I gotta steal one last good night kiss.” 

Butterflies burst to life in your stomach when Joel cups your cheek and presses his soft lips to yours. He pulls away much too soon, and you’ve never felt the lingering ache of want quite like this. The feeling weaves itself between the bones of your ribcage. 

“I’ve been thinkin’,” he starts, hopeful. “Would you wanna stay the night?” 

A lump forms in your throat. You hadn’t brought any extra clothes or toiletries. And you’d left the light on above your stove to ensure you didn't come home to a dark apartment. Even then, the response to Joel’s question is a reverberating yes in your mind. It’s the only answer that makes sense when you’ve been unsure about so many decisions in this life. 

“If you’ll have me.”  

He kisses you in place of an answer, large hands kneading your waist like you’re his tether to Earth. A small sound rises up your throat when his tongue runs over your lower lip in a light, almost ticklish sweep. 

Joel pulls away, eyes searching yours. 

“M’sorry,” you breathe shyly. 

He strokes your cheek with his thumb. “I like hearin’ ya.” 

The new warmth that spreads through you is deeper, unfamiliar, more consuming. Joel has never been one to refrain from dishing compliments or a well-timed remark. Now something different burns beneath the gruffness of his voice. 

“Wish I heard you more sometimes,” he continues. “You’re my little church mouse.” There’s a disarming glimmer in his eyes.

You pout as a smile threatens to break through. “No I’m not.” 

You could be loud if you needed to be. Joel had the singular ability to hear you even when you hadn’t said a word. You never had to vie for his attention or assert yourself for fear of going unheard. 

As a stillness settles between you, he slips his thumbs beneath your shirt to brush your stomach. He smirks when you look down at his hands to escape his gaze. 

A pleasant flame has kindled within you.  

“Might as well get comfy again since you’re stayin’,” he says, then amends, “Since you can’t seem to get enough of me.”

You huff a laugh and look up at Joel again. He’s handsome in the dim light of the foyer. A few strands of silvering hair fall onto his forehead. His dark eyes bear that same intensity that always drew you in instead of away. This time, it’s you who raises a hand to his face. Your fingertips run over his prickly scruff, and his eyelashes flutter when you run a finger down the slope of his nose. 

That indescribable tug within you hasn’t faded away 

“Like what you see?” Joel asks, voice low, partly teasing. 

He doesn’t move for fear you’ll pull away. You trace the dip of his Cupid’s bow, and when you go lower, he puckers his lips against your finger in a delicate kiss. Your gentle touch and heavy eyelids have made more warmth kindle low in Joel’s belly. It’s your thoughtfulness that does it for him. You’ve never been quick to rush into anything. You always think, then think some more, and he can see that’s what’s happening now. 

“I’ve always liked what I’ve seen,” you finally say. 

“Well, there’s a whole lot more of me.” He presses in. “We can take this upstairs if you’d like.” 

“Alright,” you murmur, lowering your hands from his face. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

Joel offers his hand. It nearly engulfs yours as he leads you towards the staircase. 

•••

In his bedroom, his lips find yours in an fervent kiss, hands firm where they grasp along your sides. You’re so dizzy, you lose track of everything except Joel. Reality rushes in when you begin to fall backwards. 

After your back hits the mattress, Joel’s plush lips trail a line to your jaw and down your throat. His body is solid above yours, but you don’t feel the brunt of his weight. Your hands shakily comb through his disheveled hair as your heart hammers in your ears. It feels like you’re a live wire and he’s the water making you spark. 

When he stands, leaving you lying there, the rise and fall of your chest is embarrassingly pronounced. You watch with hooded eyes as he pulls off his shirt. Wispy hair is splayed across his chest, and a darker line of it leads down from his navel. He’s broad and rugged. 

“Told you there was more,” he drawls with a smile in his voice. 

You’ve never wanted another person as more as you want Joel now. But you can’t help but be aware of the fact that you’re out of your depth. Aside from what you’ve gathered vicariously, this is new. You don’t have half the courage you imagined you would. 

You manage to push yourself upright on shaky arms. That’s when Joel notices the look in your eyes. 

“I didn’t hurt ya, did I?” his brows furrow with worry. “M’sorry.”

You swallow and shake your head. “I’m just a little nervous.” 

“Nerves are okay,” he assures. “Long as you want this.”

“I do,” you promise. 

Joel studies you to be sure. “I want you real bad, but the world’ll keep turning if we don’t have sex tonight.” 

There’s something about his shamelessness and directness that makes you want him even more. 

“Don’t wanna screw this up.” You exhale a self-deprecating laugh, and Joel purses his lips. Then the deeper truth comes out, “Want it to be good for you.”  

Joel scrubs at his scruff with a husky chuckle. “Got me all wound up, so I’d say you’re off to a helluva start,” he says, then his gaze softens. “It’s already good for me.” 

His words give you enough courage to lift your shirt over your head. Your bra is trimmed with lace, and the crotch of his jeans grows tighter. You’re so beautiful that sometimes he can’t believe it—mind and body. 

You still his hands as he begins to unbuckle his belt. 

“May I?” The way you blink up at him makes him curse under his breath. 

You pull his belt free from the loops when you’re done. After popping the button and dragging the zipper down, Joel goes weak in the knees when you peer up at him with a sweet, shy smile. Then his breath catches when you lean forward to kiss the pudge of his belly. You bite your lower lip as he pushes his pants down and kicks them to the side. 

The bulge between his muscular thighs is prominent through his gray boxer briefs. It swells as you unexpectedly unclasp your bra and toss it to the floor. 

“Christ, sweetheart,” he groans, palming himself. 

With his free hand, he gingerly cups one of your breasts and runs his thumb over your pebbled nipple. The sensitivity makes you jolt. 

“Wanna scoot up the bed for me?” 

You move before the full sentence has left Joel’s mouth, a little braver now. The mattress dips as he crawls overtop of you. It all happens so fast. His lips find the pulse point of your neck, then descend along your sternum in a line of kisses. He strays off course to pepper some over the supple skin of your breasts, then even lower. Your hips shift as he kisses your stomach. 

With deft fingers, he undoes your shorts and helps you shuck them to the floor. Joel guides your knees to a propped position, then lays between your legs like he belongs there. The muscles of your thighs twitch with the threat of closing as his finger teases along the seam of your panties. 

“Joel…” you say his name because you’re not sure what else to say and it feels like you’re on fire. 

“Just admiring,” he assures, stilling. “You doing okay? Just say the word.” 

The thought of this ending pains you. “Please don’t stop.” 

Joel hides his knowing smile in the hot kiss he presses beneath your bellybutton, then over the top of your mound, then over the damp fabric where you ache for him. An unsteady breath leaves you when he hooks both index fingers beneath your waistband and stares into your eyes so deeply you want to hide. 

“How ‘bout we get these outta the way...” 

Joel is nothing short of careful and attentive as he drags the fabric down your legs. Upon resettling between them, he kisses your inner thighs, noting the way your muscles jump. He’s so close, the fan of his breath feels cool where your arousal has gathered.

“So here’s the deal,” he starts in a low timbre that makes you clench around nothing. “I’m really good with my hands… amongst other things.” He pauses to trace the crease of your thigh. He’s surprised his own voice doesn’t waver at the sight of you glistening for him, because of him. “Just gotta let me know when something’s workin’ for you and we’ll be aces.” 

It’s a miracle you don’t melt straight through the mattress. 

“Okay.” It’s your quietest response all night. 

“Okay,” he parrots with a glimmer in his eyes. 

You’ve never been this turned on in your life. This hot. 

“I don’t think I’m gonna make it,” you admit in a murmur.  

The thicker, dazed quality of your voice makes Joel kick up in his boxers. As his lips twitch in amusement, he fights the urge to take you right this second. 

“Guess we’ll pray for the best then.” 

The world freezes when the pad of his middle finger finds your clit and begins to rub firm circles. When your brows pinch together, he trails it downwards through your slick entrance as it flutters in want. 

He ventures back to your swollen bud to work a steady pace. The pleasant tension within your core roots even deeper than before, snaking and expanding. Holding your breath and tensing your muscles seems to make it swell faster. 

“Relax, sweetheart,” Joel soothes. “It’ll feel better on the tail end if you do.” 

You’re too worried he’ll stop not to listen. 

“There ya go,” he praises. “Think I’m ready for a taste.” 

There’s no further preamble before he presses a feathery kiss to your clit. At your jolt, he suckles it into his mouth and feels out your reactions. Your fingers immediately curl into his taupe sheets, but that’s not enough, so you bury them in Joel’s hair to scratch against his scalp. The stimulation paired with the warmth of his mouth grows to be so much that your thighs involuntarily close around his head. His stubble prickles against your velvety skin. 

The vibrations of Joel’s hum remind you that he’s a real person down there, and you force your legs back open with what’s left of your coherency. He rewards you by running the flat of his tongue from your opening to your clit. Electricity prickles beneath your skin as you arch off the bed to chase him. 

This time, he sucks your clit into his mouth with more pressure than before and you lose yourself in the sensation. 

Before long, he lifts up and replaces his mouth with his finger. 

“Feelin’ good?” His question comes as you cant up into his touch with a quivery breath. “What’s my baby want more of?” 

You whimper because, as impossible as it seems, he hasn’t done anything you don’t prefer. You want more of everything—whatever he’s willing to give. If he does happen to fall off the mark, you’re certain he’ll find it again before you even say a word. 

Joel is gracious enough not to make you spell it out. He takes it upon himself to draw an orgasm so strong and concentrated out of you, that all you can do is shut your eyes and surrender to the swell as he sees you through. 

Your eyes flutter open just as he shuffles back off the bed to push his boxers down. His cock lifts towards his stomach in a smooth, impressive swing. Traversing veins are strained along the length of him and his mushroom tip is flushed in a testament to his need. Dark, wispy curls surround his base. 

A fresh surge of eagerness and anticipation warms you down to your toes. Joel smiles shyly when your eyes flit up to his, and it’s the first time all night he’s looked a little self-conscious. You’re the first person he’s bared himself to in quite some time. 

Words escape you as he crawls back over your frame. He braces one hand beside your shoulder and uses the other to give himself a few tugs to ease the ache. You’re beautiful beneath him, all wide-eyed and longing. 

His stomach clenches when you reach out to replace his hand, tentative and careful as if he’ll break. You give him a couple strokes, and even though there’s a bit more friction than he would normally prefer, it feels good because it’s you. He’s rigid in the palm of your hand, throbbing in dull pulses. You’re not sure if gorgeous is the appropriate word, but it’s the only one you can think of. 

“I’ve been missing out,” you lilt after working up the courage. 

Joel flushes as he laughs, those lovely crinkles forming at the corners of his eyes. He lowers to kiss you, then guides the tip of his arousal to your cunt. The beady pearl of his wants mixes with the glide of you, and you frown when he stops to reach towards the nightstand drawer. 

As he resumes his position, you realize he’d grabbed a condom. He rips the packet open with his teeth and promptly rolls the rubber down himself. 

“Think m’gonna pass out if I don’t get inside you soon,” he says, eyes searching yours to check in. Even in his brazenness, there’s a familiar honeyed quality to his voice that sets you at ease. 

You laugh even as a small spell of apprehension returns. Joel notices, and refuses to let the levity dissipate so you don’t fall back into your head. 

“Is that funny?” he asks in feigned offense. “You’re the one who’s got all the goddamn blood in my head rushing south.” 

He playfully pinches at your waist and a breathless giggle stutters out of you as you squirm. When you helplessly look up at him, Joel smooths a hand over your skin as fondness settles in his dark eyes. 

“Hey. Remember what I said?” he asks as he lines himself up between your thighs. “Just say the word.” 

The sensation of him pressed hot and heavy against your entrance has cleared everything from your mind except desire. 

“I’m okay.” An encouraging smile pulls at your lips. “Just need you really bad, Joel.” 

Hearing his name makes him twitch as he runs himself through your folds. 

“M’right here, baby.” He notches at your entrance. “Deep breaths for me, okay?” 

A dull ache thrums through you as Joel eases into your warmth. You whine after the thickness of his tip has breached. 

“That’s it,” he coos. “Just like that.”

All you can do is hum airily and watch where he disappears within you.

“Feels like heaven already,” he compliments. “Keep breathing, we’re getting there.” 

Tears prick in your eyes because the stretch is new, and beautiful, and overwhelming. That soft, focused look in his eyes only adds fuel to the fire because pleasure and eagerness burn just beneath. You never realized how harrowing it was to be wanted so intensely. For the longest time, you wondered if it was possible for someone to feel such a way about you, and here Joel was in the flesh. 

“Know there’s a lot of me,” he grits. “Doing so well…”

When he bottoms out, both of you sigh in relief. It feels like you’re floating even though you’re pinned beneath his strong frame. Warmth radiates from his skin. 

“Oh—god,” you breathe. 

Joel chuckles as he eases out of you, “Close.” He thumbs a circle around your clit. 

The initial pressure subsides as Joel begins to thrust, biceps flexing as he shudders with pleasure. He takes it slow and steady, each drag more intoxicating than the last. His reach deepens as he lowers himself onto his forearms and you hook your ankles around the backs of his thighs. Stroke after stroke, he hits that spongy spot within you just right. Joel can hardly believe how snug and warm you are. 

“You’re in trouble,” he rasps. 

“W-why?” you whimper. 

“I’m never gonna get my fill of this.” 

You paw at his biceps and shoulders, not exactly sure how or where to touch him to ground yourself. Scratching your nails down his back earns a satisfied growl, and when you dig your fingernails into the meat of his backside, he gives a pointed thrust that makes you bite back a cry. 

“Lemme hear those pretty sounds, mouse.” 

You’re unable to help the next breathy moan that escapes you. 

“You’re perfect,” The moment has you so blinded that’s all you can see him as—his cock included. 

It’s a broken confession.

Joel dots a few lazy kisses over the apple of your cheek, then touches his forehead to yours. It’s almost too much—his wrecked grunts, the graze of his chest, the sound of skin meeting skin where he stretches open the most tender part of you. 

It is too much.

“I’m gonna—” your breath catches in your throat. “Joel.” 

“Let go for me, babygirl,” he coaxes. “Lemme have it.” 

The tension embedded within you winds undone in an instant. Pleasure radiates as your walls contract around him in strong, rhythmic pulses. In another life, where he wasn’t completely gone and taken by you, Joel would’ve been able to hold out. But he’s only a man. 

A gasp escapes you as he gives one last deep thrust. His balls draw up as the insistent tug low in his gut drives him to spill into the condom, stomach tensing with each relentless spurt. You rub his back as he rides it out with a shudder. You’re achy, but more than content to shiver through the aftershocks. The two of you stay like that for a while, basking in each other’s closeness, the haze. Still joined as one. 

Something in the air shifts, the gravity of it all finally pressing in. 

Joel looks spent and satiated as he lifts up to meet your gaze. “You okay?” he wipes the tear off your cheek. The way you look at him suggests you’re expecting him to answer for you. As if you’ll be whatever he says. 

“You’re okay,” Joel decides, kissing your forehead. 

You weakly cup his cheek and guide him to kiss you. 

“I love you,” he whispers against your lips. 

Your chest flutters. “I love you too.” 

All Joel can think about as he reluctantly slips out of your heat is that he’s glad you stayed. When he begins to soothingly massage your thighs, you’re almost certain you’ll never want to leave again. 

-

Thank you so much for reading! Please know that you’re feedback means the world to me. I love reading your thoughts and it makes writing for you guys all the more worth it. Likes, comments, and reblogs greatly appreciated. ♡

JOEL MASTERLIST 

ALL MASTERLISTS

[heliosunny]

Hiiii have you ever watched sousou no frieren or frieren beyond journey's end?. If so then could u please write mage+elf reader × yandere phainon. I was able to finaly watch them recently and the main couple caught my attention. I imagined that phainon was that kind of soft spoken and delusional yandere type.

Feel free to take you time>>>

Hero's Quest

Yandere!Phainon x Elf Mage!Reader

The cave trembled, dust sifted through the cracks in the ceiling. Phainon clenched his sword, but there was no enemy to fight, only the slow, inevitable collapse of the earth beneath them.

Lucien was bleeding, Rya was exhausted, and Eno was trapped, cursing under his breath as he struggled against the slab of rock pinning him down.

Phainon slammed his fist into the ground. "Damn it."

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. They were close to the Demon King’s fortress. Suddenly, they saw light, a streak of silver-blue split the darkness. The collapsing ceiling stilled mid-fall.

And then you appeared. An elf, gliding above the chasm, your staff gleaming from the spell you used. You didn’t look at them, just flicked your fingers.

Phainon’s stomach lurched as the world tilted, then righted itself, the ground firm beneath his boots once more. They were on the surface.

By the time he caught his breath, you were already a distant silhouette against the clouds, vanishing as quickly as you’d come.

"Who was that?" Rya asked.

Lucien exhaled "A mage?"

Phainon stared at the empty horizon. That effortless power, he wanted to team up with you.

Eno groaned, dragging his battered body upright. "Next time," he muttered, "let’s not walk into any other trap."

Phainon barely heard him. That night, as the others slept, he kept his eyes on the stars, half-expecting to see a streak of light against the dark.

The fire crackled gently under the night sky. They were still recovering from the deathly trap. Phainon sat apart from the group, sharpening his blade. Rya muttered something like a healing incantations under her breath despite her sleep.

The bushes rustled.

Everyone immediately woke up, grabbing their weapons.

A man stumbled into the clearing, clutching a rusted hatchet with trembling hands. “Leave your food. All of it,” he rasped. “Or I’ll gut you and take it myself.”

Lucien stood, sword half-drawn. “You’re outnumbered and outmatched.”

Rya raised her staff. “Back off, or we won’t be so kind.”

But Phainon stood slowly and stepped forward.

“You’re shaking.”

The man flinched, eyes darting between them.

“You hungry?”

“What—?”

Phainon turned, knelt, and scooped half the stew into a spare bowl. He handed it to the man. “Here.”

Rya’s voice hissed behind him. “Phainon, what are you doing?”

“He’s starving.” Phainon said simply, without looking back.

The man stared down at the food like it was a hallucination. His lips trembled as he took the bowl with both hands. “I—…thank you.”

He ate like a man who hadn’t tasted warmth in days.

“You… you going up the mountain?”

“We are.”

“To kill the demon king.” Eno added, still eyeing him with suspicion.

The man went quiet for a long moment, then sat down beside the fire.

“I came from a village at the foot of that mountain. I was out hunting three days ago.”

Lucien frowned. “What happened?”

The man didn’t cry. His face had gone far beyond grief. “The demon king’s hounds descended at night. When I came back.. everything burnt to ashes.” His voice shook. “I buried what was left...”

Silence blanketed the group.

Rya lowered her staff. Even Eno looked away.

Phainon stared into the flames.

When the dawn came, the man stood beside the edge of the trail, axe slung across his shoulder.

“I can’t follow you,” he said. “But I hope you kill that demon so no one else goes through what I did.”

Phainon nodded. “We will.”

With that, the man turned and vanished back into the trees.

The mountain loomed ahead, taller, darker than it had looked before. But the group didn’t falter.

Rain began to drizzle by the time they reached the small village tucked between the mountains, lanterns swaying like sleepy fireflies. An inn waited for them, a sign creaking with the wind: ꋪꍟꌗ꓄ꀤꈤꁅ ꃅꂦ꒒꒒ꂦꅏ.

Inside, it was quiet. A fire crackled in the hearth. No other guests. Only one figure stood at the center, a hunched woman in layers of patterned cloth and jangling beads. Her skin was a shade of crumbling parchment. She smiled before any of them spoke.

“Ah… you’ve finally arrived.”

Rya hesitated. “You were expecting us?”

“I’ve been waiting,” the old woman said, “The hero and his swords. You walk toward the demon king with such conviction… and yet your hands tremble.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your blades are dull. Your future, uncertain. If you want to succeed… seek the hidden vault. Only then can the demon king fall.”

The group stood silent, her gaze turned to Phainon.

“You, especially..”

BOOM

The door flew off its hinges. And you walked in.

Hovering just above the ground, wind wrapping around your cloak. Without a word, your staff glowed in your hand.

You pointed it. “ᚠᛚᚢᚲᛏᚢᛊ ᛚᚢᛗᛖᚾ.”

A beam of concentrated mana fired like a spear.

The old woman hissed, her form glitching, twisting, and then everything around them shattered.

The illusion peeled back, and in its place stood two demons, now sizzling and crumbling into black ash where they’d once disguised themselves as harmless wood. One had its claw inches from Eno’s exposed neck.

The group stared at the space the inn had once been.

Phainon’s eyes locked on you. His sword was still sheathed.

You turned to leave again.

That same attitude like you didn’t even care that you just saved them again.

“Wait.”

You paused.

“You’ve saved us twice now.”

“I didn’t do it for you,” you said, not even looking back. “I just hate demons.”

“Then help us kill the worst one.”

That made you stop.

A gust of wind tousled your hair as you finally turned.

“If you really want the demon king gone, then stand with us.”

You looked at him, saw the conviction in his eyes.

“Fine.”

And then your staff drifted lower, planting softly on the ground. You stepped down, landing with the grace of a falling feather.

The storm came fast. Even Phainon’s stubbornness couldn’t argue against it.

“Trees won’t hold against this.” Lucien muttered, shielding Rya with his arm as thunder cracked across the sky.

You sighed, clearly irritated. You hated wasting energy on trivial things like weather, but even you could see it, this was no passing shower.

“Hold on.” you said.

You raised your staff toward the sky.

“ᛏᚱᚨᚾᛊᛁᛏᛟ ᛚᚢᚲᛖᚾᛏᛟ.”

The rain was gone. You dropped to one knee, the cane clattering beside you as your body pitched forward slightly. Your breathing was heavy.

Phainon was already at your side before anyone else.

“You alright?”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not.”

Without waiting, Phainon scooped you up in his arms. You were light.

“Put me down.”

“Not a chance.”

---

The others were already speaking with the startled innkeeper, trying to secure rooms and request the use of the kitchen. Apparently, this place was known for its hot baths, it couldn’t have been more perfect.

Phainon carried you up the stairs, careful not to jostle your staff still clutched in your fingers. He laid you on a futon in one of the guest rooms, then turned toward the door.

“Stay here. We’ll bring food.”

The scent of something warm - food - filled the air an hour later. You emerged from the room, hair damp from a quick bath, looking slightly more like yourself.

Rya waved you over. “You made it out of bed.”

You sat down at the low table, “Only because I smelled ginger and garlic.”

Phainon set a bowl in front of you. “We used the inn’s kitchen. Lucien’s good with spices. Eno tried to poison it but I stopped him.”

Eno gave a lazy shrug.

You took the first bite like someone trying not to show just how starving you were. But the silence that followed was telling.

It was good.

Phainon watched you, elbow on the table. “Delicious huh.”

You glared over the rim of your bowl.

“You’re welcome.”

You grunted in response but kept eating, faster now.

After dinner, you leaned back against the wall, “You’re all incredibly naive.”

Rya blinked. “Excuse me?”

“To think you could kill the demon king with chipped blades” you said bluntly. “He’s not some cursed spirit you can cleanse. You need more.”

Lucien frowned. “We’ve trained—”

“And yet you walked into a death illusion and nearly died because of some demons.”

That shut him up.

Phainon didn’t seem offended. “So what do you suggest?”

“You need real weapons. Forged by someone who’s seen demon blood before.”

Eno leaned forward, interested now. “You know someone?”

You nodded. “We’ll leave for the blacksmith tomorrow. She won’t like seeing me again, but she owes me a favor.”

Phainon raised an eyebrow. “Ex-friend? Ex… something else?”

“Don’t push it.”

He held up both hands in mock surrender, but there was a grin tugging at his lips now.

“Rest up. Tomorrow, we start getting serious.”

Then you walked off toward your room again.

The sun was barely up when the group set out, the rain finally behind them but the path ahead slick and steep. You were slouched, half-awake and unbothered, cloak pulled tightly around your shoulders. The others were ready to move, but you… not so much.

“Hey,” Eno whispered to Rya, gesturing toward you. “Are they… asleep while walking?”

“I think so?”

You let out a soft, annoyed groan and tugged your hood lower over your face. “Too early....”

“Unbelievable…” Lucien muttered.

Phainon just sighed, then turned his back to you and knelt. “Come on.”

You didn’t hesitate. Within seconds, you were on his back, arms loosely looped around his neck, chin against his shoulder. Your staff was lazily strapped to your side, your finger occasionally lifting to point through the trees as you mumbled directions.

“Left.”

“Straight.”

“Right… no, your other right.”

Rya watched in silence as Phainon carried you without complaint. “He’s just… letting them sleep up there?”

“Apparently,” Lucien said. “This is the person who vaporized two demons in one blast?”

“You're heavy.”

“No I’m not,” you said sleepily. “You’re just weak.”

He huffed but didn’t argue.

By midday, you arrived.

The forge was buried into the mountainside, half-hidden by ivy and stone. Smoke curled from the chimney, and the clanging of metal rang out into the crisp air. This was the kind of place people didn’t find unless they were told exactly where to look.

Phainon set you down with a grunt. You stretched your arms with a yawn, hair slightly mussed, and walked forward like you’d just woken from a ten-minute nap.

The forge door opened.

And there she was. A tall, broad-shouldered woman with soot-dark skin and a scar across her brow. She wore a blacksmith’s apron, gloves.

“...You!!”

You offered the smallest smirk. “Laria.”

“You’ve got a lot of nerve showing up here again.”

You shrugged. “You owe me.”

She scowled but didn’t argue. Her eyes scanned the group behind you, pausing on Phainon. “These the lambs you dragged into your mess?”

“They’re planning to kill the demon king,” you said, already wandering toward the anvil. “They’ll die without better gear. You're the best.”

Laria grunted. “Damn right I am.” She tossed aside her gloves and crossed her arms. “Fine. I’ll help. But I don’t have enough materials for a full set. Demon-forged steel doesn’t grow on trees.”

Rya spoke up. “We can look for those materials.”

“You’d never find enough in time. But…”

She looked at you. Then at Phainon.

“There’s one sword..”

“What sword?”

“It’s buried in a ruin not far from here. The legends say only the true hero can pull it free.”

Eno raised an eyebrow. “That sounds conveniently cliché.”

“It is,” you replied. “But it’s strong enough to rival the demon king’s blade, if it accepts the wielder.”

“So you think I’m that hero?”

“I think we’ll find out.”

Rya frowned. “Wait, you want to separate?”

“Two teams,” you confirmed. “You three stay with Laria. Help her gather what materials she can use. Phainon and I will go to the ruins.”

Lucien opened his mouth like he wanted to argue, then glanced between you and Phainon, then wisely shut it.

Phainon gave a single nod. “Let’s go.”

“Try not to die!” Eno called after you.

You didn’t answer, just waved lazily over your shoulder, already walking into the misty woods.

Phainon followed, just a step behind.

The entrance to the ruin had those carved sigils along the arch half-worn by time.

You stepped in first, staff lit at the tip like a torch. “Watch your feet.”

Phainon took a step forward and you immediately grabbed his arm.

“Not there.”

“What?”

You knelt and tapped a seemingly normal tile with your staff. It shimmered.

“Would’ve launched spears from the wall.”

Phainon blinked at the wall beside him. Sure enough, faint slits ran across the stone. “...Woah.”

“Keep walking like that and we’ll never make it past the first floor.”

He chuckled under his breath. “Didn’t realize you were an expert in booby traps.”

You raised your cane and chanted under your breath. A soft shimmer of light passed over his eyes.

“What was that?”

“A detection spell. You’ll see the traps like I do.” You smirked, clearly pleased with yourself. “Designed it myself. Took three years to get it stable without causing blindness.”

Phainon was impressed. “You’re full of surprises.”

“Obviously.”

The first chamber passed quickly with your guidance. Phainon’s new enchanted vision making it easy to sidestep the remaining runes. The second room, though, was another story.

The moment you crossed the threshold, your magic flickered.

“Anti-magic stones,” you muttered. “They’re buried into the walls here.”

Phainon looked ahead.

A crumbling stone bridge stretched across a dark chasm, narrow and half-collapsed. On the far end, several grotesque creatures waited. They have skull-headed, long-limbed things with blades for hands and no eyes.

“They can smell us.” you whispered. “But only if we move too fast.”

Phainon frowned. “So we can’t sneak past.”

“I can’t fight like this.”

“Then I’ll handle it.”

Before you could argue, he stepped forward. The beasts hissed and charged as he met them head-on, but he was outnumbered, and the bridge was far too unstable.

You gritted your teeth.

Then your eyes landed on the stones embedded high on the side wall.

You glanced at the monsters, then at Phainon’s back.

“Screw it.”

You climbed, gripping the half-cracked wall, you dragged yourself upward toward the source. Your magic refused to activate, but your body could still move. With effort, you reached the cluster of nullifying stones and ripped them free.

The moment you tossed the first one toward the monsters, it exploded with a wave of destabilizing energy. The beasts shrieked, faltering mid-attack.

Phainon didn’t miss a beat. He cut through two cleanly and dodged the third.

Then he looked up and saw you, now barely clinging to the side of the wall. “Are you insane?!”

You grinned, panting. “Maybe. Now get me down.”

He sheathed his sword and raced to the end of the bridge, where a frayed rope hung. Without a second thought, he looped one end around his shoulder and the other around your waist after dragging you down from the wall.

“You’re stronger than you look.”

“Hold tight!”

He leapt, the rope snapped forward like a whip, and you both swung across the chasm, the ruined bridge crumbling behind you as the last creature tried to follow and plummeted instead into the abyss.

You landed hard on the other side, tangled slightly together.

You rolled off him with a huff. “That was reckless.”

“You threw magic-nullifying stones at a horde of murder beasts.”

You grinned. “And it worked.”

He looked at you, your flushed face, the dirt on your hands, the little flicker of pride in your smirk and laughed.

The final chamber lay beneath a ceiling of crystal, faint starlight filtering in from cracks above. A stone pedestal stood at the center, ancient runes etched into its base. But there was no sword.

Phainon stepped forward. “Are you sure this is the place?”

You paced slowly around the pedestal. “The magic seal’s still active.” You narrowed your eyes. “It should be here.”

A low growl echoed from the shadows behind the columns.

You both turned.

Something stepped out.

Tall, vaguely humanoid, its body covered in blackened plates of armor that seemed to melt into its skin. Its face had no eyes, only a mouth stitched shut with gold wire.

Phainon drew his sword instantly. “What is that?”

You stepped back. “That… is the sword.”

He whipped his head toward you. “I’m sorry—what?”

“This is part of the trial, only the chosen can return it to its original shape.”

“Well, I’m flattered.” Phainon muttered, dodging a swing from the creature.

Phainon blocked a flurry of attacks while you cast more spells for distraction. Even without full mana, you could still make a difference.

“Try striking the runes on its chest!”

Phainon dove forward, landing a clean slash across the glyph-marked plate. The creature recoiled, then began to glow. Its body shimmered, warping unnaturally.

You held your staff steady. “Now!”

You and Phainon struck at the same moment.

When the smoke cleared, a sword hovered in the air above the pedestal, spinning slowly before settling gently in place.

Phainon stared at it. “That’s more like it.”

You gave him a lazy grin. “Congratulations, hero.”

By the time you both returned to the forge, the sky had gone dark.

You looked like you’d walked through a war zone. Phainon’s coat was torn, your own cloak was shredded at the hem.

Rya was the first to see you.

“What happened to you two?!”

Eno asked. “Did someone eat you and spit you back out?”

Lucien stared. “Is that the sword?”

Phainon raised it slightly, letting the light catch the blade. “Yeah. It fought back.”

The blacksmith, Laria, snorted from the forge entrance. “Damn thing’s still got personality, huh?”

You waved them off. “We’ll explain later. Right now, I need food, a bath, and twelve hours of sleep.”

Dinner was hearty that night. Venison stew. Hot bread. Even some spiced wine someone had managed to trade for. You sat with your feet up, your magic finally returning to normal.

Phainon, on the other hand, barely touched his food—his eyes glued to the sword resting beside him. He turned it over, watching the way the runes lit when his fingers grazed the hilt.

Rya leaned toward him. “Are you going to sleep with it, or—?”

“Maybe.”

That night, while the others slept peacefully, Phainon dreamed. He stood alone in a black void, then, from the darkness, it appeared.

A figure cloaked in shifting shadows.=

“Phainon.”

He instinctively reached for his sword, but found only air. The figure chuckled.

“You’ve taken the sword. Now let’s see if you’re worthy of it.”

“Who are you?”

“Not your enemy. Not yet. I’m here to see who you really are.”

Then came the questions. Would you kill to save the world? Would you sacrifice a teammate? A friend? Yourself?

“What is your greatest weakness?”

“Ah… there it is.”

His heart jumped.

“Fascinating. So let’s test that.”

Before he could react, the dream shattered, his body jolting upright, drenched in sweat.

But the worst part wasn’t the nightmare.

It was the cold, metallic ring now encircling his wrist.

Silvery, smooth, fused to the skin. Not a bracelet.

He scrubbed it with water, soap, even tried to burn it with a spark of magic. Nothing happened.

And every time his mind wandered to you, the metal crawled up, just a little. He hid it beneath his glove.

Two days later, the first gate of the Demon King's territory opened.

The sky was darker here, red-tinged clouds swirling overhead.

Their first enemy awaited.

A horned monstrosity, standing twice a man’s height.

The battle was brutal.

Your team fought in perfect rhythm—Lucien tanked its blows, Rya healed, Eno found gaps and slipped his daggers through.

You held your ground at the center, flinging incinerating magic.

Phainon swung his sword, but something was off.

His footwork, usually flawless, faltered.

Lucien glanced at him mid-fight. “You alright?!”

“Yeah.”

He felt the weight on his wrist spreading. The metal had crawled up to his forearm. He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to move.

But then he heard you shout his name.

His eyes snapped toward you.

His heart skipped.

And the metal surged.

His hand stiffened.

He nearly dropped his sword.

He forced his body into action, cutting down the monster’s legs just before it could pounce on Rya. The creature shrieked and finally collapsed under a final team assault.

Cheers rose. But Phainon stood back, gripping his right arm tightly.

Rya touched his shoulder. “Phainon? You’re pale. You sick?”

He forced a smile. “Just tired. I’m fine.”

You frowned slightly but didn’t press him.

Later, while the others rested by the fire and you were perched up in a tree to scan the next path, Phainon sat alone.

The metal now reached his elbow.

It fed off his feelings. The more his thoughts drifted to you, the faster it grew.

He couldn’t let anyone know.

The next battle came swiftly, another guardian at one of the Demon King's gates. Not as powerful as the last, but fast.

You hovered slightly above the group, your cane gliding over the terrain. You looked down, half-expecting Phainon to gesture again to give you a piggyback ride.

He didn’t.

“I’m getting tired.”—a phrase that usually earned an eye-roll and a solid lift onto his back, he didn’t even look up.

Just a soft chuckle. “Then fly.”

Your fingers tightened on your staff.

He kept his distance the entire time. When you struck down a fire beast with a perfect shot, he didn’t offer a nod like he used to. When Rya stumbled and you helped her up, he didn’t meet your eyes.

Even when you were close enough to stand beside him after the fight, his back turned.

That night, the group camped near the edge of a dry canyon.

Phainon sat apart, facing the cracked rock, glove pulled tight over his right arm. The metal had now passed his elbow. He could barely curl his fingers.

He missed the casual banter. Missed the fleeting weight of you clinging to him half-asleep during a teleport jump.

But now, every time he thought about you— The metal crept higher.

He closed his eyes and slept.

The void returned.

“Tell me what this is. What’s happening to me?”

“It’s the Sword Trial’s consequence. If you carry the blade but fail to carry what’s in your heart… you become like the one before you.”

Images flickered: that beast they’d fought at the ruin.

“He was the last wielder. He let his feelings spiral. It consumed him. And so, the sword consumed him in return.”

“So what, I’m just doomed? Because I—?”

“Solve it, or become nothing more than a blade waiting to be held.”

He woke before dawn.

The others were still asleep, save for you, sitting a little distance away, pretending not to be watching him.

You’d had enough.

Later that day, while the group rested after a minor skirmish, you approached Rya, Lucien, and Eno.

“He’s acting strange.”

Rya frowned. “You want to confront him?”

You shook your head. “I don’t want to corner him if he’s not ready.”

“Then what do we do?” Eno asked.

“I’m going back to the ruin.”

All three stared at you.

“I want answers. If whatever this is started there, maybe it left something behind.”

Lucien hesitated. “You’re going alone?”

“I’ll take a few days. You all avoid any major fights until I return.”

Rya looked concerned. “What if something happens while you’re gone?”

You looked over at Phainon, standing distant and stiff by the ridge—his hand clenched like it hurt.

You lowered your voice. “Something already is.”

That night, you packed quietly and left before sunrise. Your cane lifted you from the camp, gliding above the clouds.

The ruin was as cold and empty as you remembered.

You scoured the pedestal. The walls. Every crack.

But there were nothing. No answers waiting to explain Phainon’s strange behavior.

You sighed, frustration bubbling. This place had given you only questions and curses.

That’s when the ground trembled.

“What a surprise. The elf came back alone.”

You turned slowly, staff already raised.

A demon stood near the cracked archway—slender and tall, draped in layers of red, his eyes glowing. He looked half-human, half-serpent, and full of himself.

“One of the king’s right hands.” you muttered. “Perfect.”

“You think you stand a chance without your little hero?”

The blast of power that followed your whisper split the ceiling in two.

The demon didn’t even have time to beg.

Emitted from the demon, hovered toward you, an orb of residual essence. It sank into your chest.

Voices.

Not all at once.

Thoughts.

You could hear them. Like faint echoes threading the air.

One at a time.

You returned to camp midafternoon, gliding down from the sky.

They were by a slow, shimmering river. Lucien was baiting a hook while Eno tried to nap on a log.

You landed softly. Everyone turned.

Phainon looked up, visibly surprised, but his expression quickly fell back into its guarded calm.

Rya came over first. “You’re alright?”

You nodded.

Lucien grinned. “Catch anything out there?”

“Caught a demon.”

That shut everyone up.

“...And?” Eno asked, sitting up.

“It’s dead,” you said. “But it left something behind.”

Your eyes were on Phainon, who had quietly turned back to the river.

You strode toward him.

“Wait—”

Your cane slammed softly against the ground. “ᛊᛏᛁᛚᛚᚨ ᛗᛖᚾᛊ.” The spell hit him before he could dodge.

You stepped closer, raised a hand and placed it gently against his chest—right above the heart.

“I want to know.”

His thoughts came like thunder, deep and layered and loud beneath the surface:

“Don’t let them see. Don’t let them worry.” “It’s crawling up my arm.” “Why now?” “If I lose this fight—if I lose myself—I don’t want them near when it happens.” “I’ll turn into a sword. I know it.” “I can’t stop thinking about them.” “I can’t stop it from growing.” “Please. Don’t touch me. Please.”

You pulled your hand away slowly.

Phainon’s head lowered slightly, ashamed.

You undid the spell.

He looked at you fully for the first time in days.

And still, he tried to smile like none of it mattered.

“So,” he said quietly, “now you know.”

Phainon sat on the log like a man headed for the gallows, his right arm hidden beneath the long sleeve of his coat.

“I should’ve told you.”

His voice was rough with guilt. “If I don’t stop it, I’ll become like the last wielder..”

Then Rya stood up and slapped him square across the shoulder.

“You idiot!” she snapped. “You could’ve died, and we would’ve had no idea why!”

Lucien rubbed his temples. “You’re lucky the elf here figured it out before you fully turned into a metal statue.”

Eno just huffed. “I knew something was off. Just didn’t think it’d be that dramatic.”

You, sitting beside the fire with your staff resting against your knee, said nothing at first.

Your eyes didn’t leave him.

Phainon looked at you, he wanted to explain himself further, but your expression made him stop.

You simply asked, “What do you want?”

“What?”

“This curse feeds on desire. So what is it that you want?”

Phainon looked down.

He didn’t say it.

He couldn’t.

So the group, after some yelling, a bit of pacing, and more than one nervous look at his wrist, decided there was only one thing to do.

“Let it play out,” Lucien muttered. “Wait until his next dream.”

Phainon agreed, reluctantly.

And the next hour? Eno caught two fish and declared himself superior to nature. Rya made a stew out of it, Lucien added spices, and the meal turned out surprisingly good.

You sat beside Eno, mostly because he handed you the bigger bowl.

Phainon watched from across the fire, chewing slower, his eyes flicking over to you, then narrowing just slightly.

You laughed at something Eno said.

That was it.

Phainon stood, walked around the fire… and sat directly between you two.

“Someone’s territorial.”

Phainon didn’t respond, but his shoulders were a little straighter now.

You side-eyed him, the corner of your mouth twitching.

The metal in his arm pulsed faintly beneath the fabric.

He didn’t care.

Later, the fire dimmed. The team dozed in their tents or curled beneath cloaks under the stars.

You laid by the edge of the firepit.

But you weren’t asleep.

You waited.

Time passed.

Phainon sat up slowly, bracing his back against a log, staring at his hand in the moonlight.

You watched from behind half-lidded eyes.

He rubbed his forehead. His brow was drawn, his thoughts weighed down.

The familiar black void greeted Phainon like an old friend he didn’t ask for.

“I want a cure.”

“Desire feeds the curse. But desire also frees you, if it’s honest.”

The shadow stepped aside, revealing something behind it:

A vision of a house. Inside was a table with mismatched chairs. Your laughter echoing from a garden.

He reached for it, but the vision dissolved into mist.

“You've seen it now. That’s enough.”

Phainon jolted awake.

And froze.

Because you were barely a breath away, kneeling in front of him, staring dead at his face like you’d been examining a strange statue.

Your lips were dangerously close.

“Hey—!”

“You’re awake.”

“Am I? I was having a nice dream. And you’re here trying to steal my first kiss?”

You tilted your head, deadpan. “I was checking your pulse.”

He touched his mouth. “Still counts.”

You rolled your eyes. “Who’s going to take responsibility then?”

“That’s what I’m saying!”

You sat back finally, still watching him. “Did you at least ask the shadow about the cure?”

Phainon rubbed the back of his neck. “Kinda. It mentioned a place. A hot spring that heals anything.”

Your eyes lit up slightly.

Then, your cane struck the ground.

The entire team reappeared in a lush valley, surrounded by fog-draped trees and steaming rivers winding through flower-choked meadows.

Lucien collapsed to the ground, stunned. “What the hell just happened?!”

You yawned. “Healing spring.”

Then you promptly curled up beside the luggage and fell asleep like teleporting all those people across three regions was just another light errand.

Phainon stared at you, then looked around.

He followed the steam trail toward the spring. He stepped in, letting the water climb past his knees, then to his chest.

The pain in his arm eased.

He watched in awe as silver peeled away, melting into light and disappearing up into the steam. His hand flexed freely again.

He returned to camp, wet sleeves pushed up, steam clinging to his skin.

You were still asleep beside the bags, arms tucked beneath your head.

And beside your foot lies little patch of wildflowers.

Phainon sat down and picked a few.

He wove them clumsily into a crown.

He set it gently atop your head and leaned back beside you.

“It worked... But we need to end this. Return the sword. Or it’ll start again.”

His voice dropped lower.

“I’m not afraid of turning into a sword anymore.”

“…But I am afraid of never getting to build that house I saw.”

He looked at you, the crown tilting slightly in your hair.

“I want to make it real.”

---

The warmth of sunlight tickled your cheek. You stirred awake on the grass… only to realize it was silent.

The luggage was still where you left it, untouched. Your cane rested at your side. But the others, they're all gone.

You stood up slowly, scanning the misty valley. No sounds of chatter. Just mist. Trees. And something strange on the hill ahead.

A house. With a stone path and a wooden door just slightly ajar.

It hadn’t been there before.

You gripped your staff tighter and walked toward it.

There he was.

Phainon, sitting at a table beside the window, hands folded, smiling gently.

“Phainon the human?”

He stood, approaching you.

You narrowed your eyes. “Where are the others?”

He didn’t answer.

You stepped back.

Then you stared directly into his eyes.

They didn’t reflect light.

“...You're blind” you murmured.

He tilted his head like a broken puppet.

You ran. The door warped behind you as you burst out. The house shimmered and collapsed into smoke.

Eight long, jagged legs. The false Phainon let out a horrible screech as its skin peeled away, revealing a massive spider. With blind, weeping eyes, half-stabbed and oozing black blood.

You sprinted across the field, heart hammering.

A dark cave ahead.

You dove in, and there they were. Cocooned tight, your friends hung from the walls. Lucien’s sword still stuck out of one of the monster’s severed eyes, he must’ve done damage before they were taken.

Phainon stirred first, gritting his teeth.

“Y/N!!!!”

You slashed through the webs. “The fake you kissed me.”

“WHAT? WHY? HOW? WHEN? WHERE?... Nevermind, I’ll kill it.”

Together, you helped the others down. Lucien cracked his knuckles. “So what the hell was that thing?”

“Probably the demon king's pet,” you said.

Eno spat. “Creepy spider. Great.”

“Just a warm-up.”

You emerged from the cave, the spider already waiting, thrashing through the trees with rage. Its illusion no longer working, it screeched in fury, flailing to grab you all in its legs.

“Focus on the legs!” you yelled.

Your cane spun, hurling arcs of searing light through the mist. Rya cast a wave of fire across one limb while Lucien charged in. Eno appeared atop its back with a dagger to its spine.

Phainon sprinted beneath its body, severing joints with sharp, merciless strikes.

It screeched and dropped, just enough for you to leap forward, driving a spell into its eyes.

It exploded into black mist.

The team stood together, panting, more focused than ever.

“We’re close,” he said. “I can feel it.”

You nodded.

Your team left the valley behind, heading into the deadlands where the Demon King awaited.

One last fight.

As expected from the Demon King’s lair - twisted architecture of bone and obsidian.

Magic surged. The ground cracked beneath your feet.

You were sucked into a trap, meant to isolate the strongest of the group.

You slammed into a dimension made of mirrors. You pounded on the wall of the void. But you couldn’t get out.

Back in the real world, the Demon King sat hunched on his grotesque throne.

“You depended on your precious elf,” he sneered, “Without them, you are nothing.”

Phainon stared up, sweat rolling down his brow. Beside him, Lucien was barely standing.

“You should’ve killed us when you had the chance.”

The battle raged.

The Demon King was furious, his power shaking the walls with every roar. But one by one, each blow from your side chipped away at him.

He didn’t expect them to last this long.

Only Phainon was left standing.

Where are you…

The sword in his hand pulsed.

It responded to his fear.

But in that hesitation, the demon made an attempt to attack Phainon.

Phainon raised the sword, but not fast enough.

But just before the strike hit, something ignited.

A shockwave burst from his body.

The curse flared once more, coating his entire right arm in silver. His torn tunic blew off with the blast, his chest marked with glowing runes.

The sword levitated for a second, then locked back into his grip.

The Demon King stumbled back.

Phainon raised the blade. “You took my friend from me.”

He launched forward.

Each slash left trails of light in the air. The king roared in fury, casting waves of darkness, but Phainon cut through them with savage clarity.

But the king wasn’t dead yet.

A sharp crack split the room.

You dropped through the air, the dimensional prison shattered behind you.

You just raised your cane and let loose a searing stun spell, knocking the Demon King to his knees.

“Phainon—now!”

He surged forward and drove the sword through the monster’s throat.

Ash scattered.

The lair cracked apart slowly around you.

He took one look at you and stepped forward.

“I thought I lost you.”

He wrapped you in his arms, pulling you close, body still trembling.

“I’m never going to leave your side again,” he murmured, “Not in this life. Not in the next. Never again.”

“…At least put some clothes on first.”

He blinked, pulled back slightly.

Looked down.

“…Oh.”

The rest of the team groaned behind you.

Lucien: “Gods, can we go now?”

Rya: “Let them have their moment.”

Eno: “Please tell me someone packed him a shirt.”

The Demon King was dead.

Villages once choked by fear now echoed with laughter. Markets reopened. Children ran through the streets with wooden swords pretending to be you or Phainon or whoever made the final blow.

The team scattered back to their homes.

You and Phainon?

The sword hummed in Phainon’s hands as he stepped forward, the pedestal before him glowing faintly.

You stood beside him.

He looked at you once before he placed the blade back into the stone, and it locked in with a low, final thrum, like the closing of a door.

“…Now what?”

You didn’t answer at first. Just turned, slowly gathering your things.

“You’re leaving?”

You nodded. “There are other places I want to see. Other things I want to do.”

Phainon stared at you. “Then I’ll come with you.”

“No,” you said. “You need to go home.”

“I don’t want to go home,” he said, “Not without you.”

“We defeated the demons together. Doesn’t mean I promised anything beyond that.”

His expression crumbled a little.

“…So all those moments meant nothing to you?”

“They meant something. But not everything.” You softened. “You’re still sorting yourself out, Phainon. You’ve seen one vision and decided that’s the rest of your life.”

You turned again.

He stepped forward. “Then tell me what to do. Just—don’t leave.”

You looked back. “You’re strong, you’ll survive.”

And with that, you began to walk.

He watched your figure disappear. One step. Then another.

“…Fine!” he shouted behind you.

“I’ll do it! I swear—if you take another step I’ll hang myself right here in this stupid ruin!”

You stopped. Slowly turned.

He was climbing dramatically onto the edge of the pedestal, cloak flapping behind him like some tragic prince with absolutely no dignity left.

“Right here! I’ll become a legend—‘The Hero Who Died of Elf Rejection!’”

You squinted. “Phainon.”

“No no—don’t stop me now! I’m fully committed!”

He took a wobbly step like he might actually fall.

“I fought demons for you. I turned silver for you. I cried in a damn hot spring!”

“…You really cried in the spring?”

“Not the point!”

He gestured to the sky. “All I want is for you to come home with me. You don’t even have to marry me yet. I’ll propose every day if I have to. Just—don’t leave.”

You sighed.

Walked back slowly.

“Get down.”

“You’re not going to stop me?”

“I am stopping you. Come down and stop embarrassing yourself.”

“…Is that a yes?”

“It’s a ‘we’ll see.’”

He jumped down, grinning wildly, wrapping his arms around you before you could slip away again. You didn’t return it, but you didn’t pull away either.

The road back was long.

But this time, you didn’t walk it alone.

And Phainon?

He didn’t mind waiting.

Even if he had to propose every day for the rest of his life.

[gloomwitchwrites]

i love love loooooved jerk/off! thank you so much for sharing it with us. would you be interested in writing something similar but with the boys c*mming at the sight of the reader? like they're touching themselves and are so close and when the reader catches them they just-- hehehehe ^^/ whether you consider it or not, thank you for reading my message and thank you for everything you've done for this fandom. we areso lucky to have you :')

Thank you! And I am more than happy to write this. Since you mentioned jerk/off, I took those scenarios and upended them a bit, shifting the story to reflect the prompt (except for Ghost; his is different.) Enjoy!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: swearing, masturbation, premature ejaculation, suggestive themes, yearning, flirting, praise, cum eating, dirty talk, roommate au, established relationship (Ghost)

Word Count: 1.4k

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Naked from the waist down. Trainers off and kicked to the side. Kyle’s hand fisting his cock.

The workout did bloody fucking nothing. Only made the desire worse, stringing it along until he believed it had disappeared entirely. It reemerged when he was finally alone. Larger. Hungrier. A clawing itch beneath his skin.

Depraved is what he is.

Diabolically smitten.

Wanting you like this is a sin. You’re off-limits. You’re dating someone else. And he shouldn’t fucking feel this way. But Kyle does, as much as he’s loathed to admit it. Hard to stare something in the face when it’s staring back.

And that something is a rock-hard erection that won’t go away. No amount of running or weights or steps chased it off. Which is why Kyle is spread out in his private bunk with the door shut. It’s not an invitation, and fuck if he’s going to go to the communal showers to work this one out.

The last bit of lube from the bottle in his side table is working overtime.

Kyle grunts loudly, a flare of arousal sparking hot, and nearly taking him over the edge.

There is no knock. No announcement. One moment, Kyle is in his very own porno, imagining you riding him. The next, you’re in the room with him. Not a manifestation but flesh and blood and bone and—

“Fuck!” moans Kyle, both in surprise and pure satiated pleasure.

His cum lands on his stomach, just below his naval. It runs down into his happy trail, but Kyle hardly notices.

“Sorry,” you say quickly, but you’re not leaving. You have your hand on the doorknob, nearly shut. Not enough space for you to slip through and away. “That was—” you begin, lightly biting down on your bottom lip.

Oh. No. Oh, hell.

“That was what?” prompts Kyle, not recognizing his own voice.

There is longing in your gaze, like the fact that he came at the very sight of you pleases you more than anything. Maybe he’s wrong. Maybe you’re not happy with that someone else—or maybe that someone else isn’t around anymore.

Opportunity. It’s gold-glowing.

“Come here,” he commands, voice gruff.

You go to him, and effortlessly fall to your knees in front of him.

“Lick it up. Know you want to.”

Devilish thing. You don’t even break eye contact as the tip of your tongue slides through the mess.

John Price

Leaders should have decorum. They should have composure.

John is the antithesis.

Clenched jaw. Teeth bared. Beads of sweat along the brow.

There is a reason why he’s doing this at night. A reason why he’s in his poor excuse of an office. No one will disturb him here. No one will intrude. The only people alert and active on base are the few that have to be. Technically, John should be off the clock, at home, doing this activity in bed.

But he’s a sucker for a pretty face.

And yours is effortless. Glowing.

With that image in his head all damn day, John needs to expel some pent-up hunger. It’s a shame he has to do this in secret. Better if you were here, with your hand around his cock instead of his.

Off-limits. You’re not to be touched.

And John fucking knows this.

John slides his hand up, lightly squeezing the head, a pearly bead of precum blooming in the slit. His eyelids flutter. Close. Lips singing a little groan. He doesn’t hear the door open. Doesn’t know you’re standing there in the doorway until you audibly gasp.

The reaction is completely out of his control. One look at you, and it’s over. The result: betrayal.

“Fucking hell,” he stutters, attempting to sit up and cover himself while his cock shoots cum all over his hand and pants leg.

All it took was one look. Gazes met, and his body reacted without thought. How the fuck is going to explain this? At least he didn’t moan your fucking name.

“I’m sorry!” you blurt. “I didn’t mean—I should have knocked.” You smack your hand over your eyes, but you’re not backing out. You’re still bloody standing there.

And that’s when John sees it, and inwardly grins.

A small separation of your fingers. Peeking. You’re watching. You want to look.

John grits his teeth, knowing that from this point on, when it comes to you, he’s utterly fucked.

John "Soap" MacTavish

Johnny drops onto the sofa with a heavy, contented sigh. You won’t be home for hours, and Johnny can fantasize about you in peace. The designated roommate, not the secured lover as it ought to be. But Johnny yearns from afar, teasing you, sending flirty remarks your way, doing everything but telling you how he feels about you. Usually, he hides away in his room to do this, but his room doesn’t smell like you, and the living room does.

Spreading his legs, Johnny revels in his nakedness, picturing you straddling his lap, your hands on his shoulders as you bounce on his cock. The dream is only fantasy, but it feels fucking real to him, enveloping his senses until your scent invades his lungs.

You won’t be back for a while. He can indulge. Pretend that you’re his for a bit.

Johnny doesn’t hear the key in the deadbolt. Every stroke and tug of his hand around his dick inches him further to what he desires. To get off. To live in fantasy. To drift in desire.

In his lower back, a tension builds. His balls draw up. Johnny pictures your eyes, how they’d stare into his when he comes.

A soft crinkle bleeds through the dream, ripping Johnny back to reality as your name leaves his lips on a groan.

Johnny’s eyelids snap open, legs forcing him upright. Every nerve is on edge—wound tight. It’s seconds. But his heart drops into his dick.

“Fuck,” he says, his body betraying him. His release explodes outward, hitting the hardwood floor. “Shit.”

“Oh my god.” The plastic grocery bags in your hands fall to the floor. “Johnny.”

He coughs, both hands dropping to cover himself. Johnny might have big hands, but they can’t hide everything. They certainly can’t cover up the cum on the floor.

“What the fuck,” you murmur, arms outstretched, hands up.

“You’re home early,” he smiles, attempting to cover up his embarrassment.

Your lips part. “You were moaning my name.”

“Was I?”

The aloof act doesn’t work.

“Johnny,” you breathe.

He has to bite back another groan. “Gotta stop saying my name like that, lass.”

“I—” You glance away. Glance back. Look at his dick. Go back to his face. Look away again. “I need to put the ice cream away before it melts.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

You’re not home. And Simon can’t get off.

No matter how many times he strokes himself, no matter how many fantasies of you he draws up, it’s more like edging, and not the fun kind. Simon is jerking himself so much the lube is starting to disappear, the progress of his erection stagnant.

Hard as fucking steel but nowhere near to bursting.

Simon sinks further into the soft bedding, trying one more time, attempting to flick the annoyance away like a pesky fly. He is going to come. He is going to get off. And when you come home, he’s going to fucking pounce on you and rut like a goddamn animal. As Simon drifts off, picturing every naughty thing he’d like to do to you, something tugs at him, drawing him out of his head and back into the moment.

You’re standing in the bedroom doorway, eyes wide, one hand on the doorframe.

The release is instant. It drives forward, pushing upward. Simon grunts, the end of it softening into a whimper as his cock ejects his releases onto his hand and stomach.

Your surprise turns into a sultry purr. “Did you just come at the sight of me?”

Simon drapes his arm over the pillows, leaning further back to give you a clear view. “And if I did?”

Your hand drops from the frame, stalking toward him. Placing your hands on the edge of the bed, you bend forward. “I’d say I’m flattered.”

[harrysfolklore]

Future wife pre Silverstone dinner with George and fam?! Or!! A look back on Silverstone with them over the years 🥹

something short but i wanted to write for our favorite babies before silverstone !

You're parked outside your parents' house for the Silverstone weekend family dinner, but Lando's lips on your neck are making it very difficult to remember why you need to go inside.

"We're going to be late," you breathe, even as you tilt your head to give him better access.

"Mhm," he hums against your skin, "Probably."

"My parents are waiting..."

"Five more minutes," he murmurs, finding that spot behind your ear that makes you gasp.

"That's what you said ten minutes ago," you manage, but your hands are already threading through his hair.

"Can you blame me?" he pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes dark. "Do you know how good you look in that dress?"

"The dress you're trying very hard to ruin?"

"I'm not trying to ruin it," his hand slides higher. "I'm just... appreciating it."

"Is that what we're calling it?"

He grins wickedly. "Would you prefer a more detailed description of what I'm—"

A sharp knock on the window makes you both jump apart.

"If you two are quite finished," George's amused voice calls through the glass, "Mum's about to send out a search party."

You roll down the window, trying to fix your hair. "We were just—"

"Yeah, I know what you were 'just'," George smirks. "But maybe save it for after dinner? When I don't have to watch my sister getting felt up in a car?"

"Jealous, Russell? That you're not getting felt up in a car." Lando asks sweetly.

George's face scrunches up in disgust. "I'm telling Mum you're being inappropriate."

"What are you, twelve?"

"Children," you cut in, straightening your dress. "Can we go inside like adults?"

"He started it," they say in unison.

"I did not!"

"Did too!"

"Oh my god," you open your door. "I'm dating a child."

"Hey!" Lando protests, following you out. "I'm very mature."

"Says the man who was just trying to convince me to skip family dinner for car sex."

"I wasn't..." he stops at your raised eyebrow. "Okay, maybe I was. But in my defense, you look really good in that dress."

"Gross," George comments. "That's my sister."

"Your sister who looks amazing in this dress."

"Stop talking about my sister like that."

"Make me."

"Boys," you warn as you reach the front door. "Behave."

They both straighten immediately, making you roll your eyes. Some things never change.

Your mum opens the door after two knocks, face lighting up when she sees Lando. "There you are! We were starting to worry!"

"Sorry Mrs. Russell," Lando says sheepishly. "We were just—"

"Snogging in the car," George cuts in with a smirk.

Your mum's eyebrows shoot up while you elbow George hard in the ribs.

"We were not," you protest, though your flushed cheeks probably tell a different story.

"The state of your dress says otherwise," George mutters, earning another elbow.

"Well," your mum says, fighting a smile, "come in, come in. Dinner's getting cold."

You're sitting between Lando and George at the dining table when your dad fixes Lando with an intense stare.

"So, Lando," he says seriously. "Your intentions with my daughter..."

"Dad," you groan. "We've been dating for months."

"Yes, but this is the first time he's been to family dinner," your dad points out. "I think I'm entitled to ask about his intentions."

"I'm going to marry her," Lando blurts out, then turns bright red. "I mean... if she wants... obviously not right now, but someday... if she'll have me..."

George snorts into his drink while your mother beams.

"Well," your dad says, fighting a smile. "That's certainly direct."

"Sorry," Lando mumbles. "I just... I love her. A lot. And I've kind of been planning to marry her since we were teenagers, so..."

"We know, dear," your mum says kindly. "You used to tell everyone who would listen that YN was going to be your wife someday."

"Mum!" you protest, but Lando perks up.

"You knew about that?"

"Everyone knew about that," George rolls his eyes. "You weren't exactly subtle."

"Says the one who helped him track my dates," you shoot back.

"You knew about that?" George looks betrayed.

"Everyone knew about that," you mimic his tone. "You weren't exactly subtle."

After dessert, your dad clears his throat. "Lando, fancy joining me on the balcony for a moment?"

"Dad, absolutely not," you protest, but Lando squeezes your hand.

"It's okay," he says softly, following your father outside.

You stay in the living room with George, nervously watching through the glass doors.

"He's probably going to scare him off," George says, "You know, say that it's not convenient that you have a brother driving for one team and a boyfriend driving for another."

You give him a horrified look.

George laughs. "I'm just kidding, sis. Dad knows Lando's been in love with you forever. Pretty sure he's just giving him the obligatory father speech."

When Lando returns, he's grinning, and your dad looks suspiciously misty-eyed.

The goodbyes are warm - your mum hugging Lando tight, your dad clapping him on the shoulder with obvious approval, and George threatening to tell everyone about the car incident if Lando doesn't let him win at Silverstone.

Back in the car, Lando pulls you close, kissing you softly.

"What did dad say?" you ask against his lips.

"That's between me and my future father-in-law," he grins.

"Future father-in-law?"

"Well, I did announce I'm going to marry you at dinner," he reminds you. "Might as well commit to it." You laugh. "My home race weekend, dinner with the family... everything's perfect," he murmurs.

"Even with George catching us in the car?"

"Especially with George catching us in the car," he smirks. "Now we can traumatize him forever."

"You're ridiculous."

"But you love me."

"Yeah," you smile. "I really do."

[rimzaaa]

The Order, No One Dared To Question

Oneshot! (Request)

Pairing: Frontman(young-il) x Female reader (y/n)

Fandom: Squid Game (오징어 게임)

Summary: What happens when Player 110 — the girl the Frontman secretly loves — loses a game by just one second?

Will he let her die like the others… or break character to save her? And if he does, how will he cover his tracks when all eyes turn to him?

Warnings: Mild violence, death mentions, canon-typical tension, manipulation, secret identity, intense gaze & protective behavior, morally grey character, suggestive power dynamic.

Author's Note: This one was actually a request, and honestly, it was a bit tricky to pull off — but somehow, I made it through! Think of player 196 as y/n or it's your choice. I really hope you all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Reblogs and comments mean the world to me 🤍

Words Count: 911

Tag list: If anyone wants to get tagged, lemme know in the comments.

@salesmancarddd @marymun @astronomicalastro-blog1

The moment Frontman saw Y/n — Player 110 — during Red Light, Green Light, something inside him shifted. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt the urge to protect her. To shield her from the horrors of the game and… keep her for himself.

He told himself he was joining as Player 001 to keep an eye on Gi-hun, who had returned for the second time to take the whole system down. But deep down, he knew — it wasn’t just about Gi-hun anymore.

It was about her.

He could’ve stayed in the shadows, sipping whiskey and give orders to protect her. But he didn’t want distant control.

He wanted closeness.

To earn her trust with his own hands.

So the Frontman became Player 001, giving himself a new name: Oh Young-il.

•••

The game hall buzzed with tension. Everyone awaited the next round.

Frontman — now just another numbered contestant — was watching her. Always watching her.

Then came the first spark.

“You got a death wish, or you just dumb?” sneered a tall, purple-haired thug known among players as Thanos.

He had y/n cornered, mocking her for accidentally bumping into him.

Y/n didn’t reply. She was clearly trying to de-escalate, her eyes cast low.

But then, a calm voice cut through the thick air.

“Is there a problem here?”

Everyone turned.

Player 001 — Young-il — had stepped between them.

Thanos scoffed. “What, old man? You gonna protect your little girlfriend?”

Young-il’s fist answered the question.

It was fast — too fast for a man of his supposed age. One punch, right to Thanos jaw, and the purple-haired bully was on the floor. The nearby guards glanced over but didn’t interfere. Too minor to matter.

Y/n stared at him in disbelief.

“You okay?” he asked, voice softer now.

She nodded, stunned. She didn’t even ask how or why he did that. She just… felt safer.

And from that moment, a seed was planted.

•••

Later that day, all the players were gathered in a big game hall. The robotic voice echoed through the room.

“Form teams of five.”

Frontman moved instinctively toward her — but she had already joined a group: an old woman and her son, plus Hyun-ju and Young-mi.

He ended up in a team with Gi-hun, Jung-bae, Junhee, and Dae-ho.

Then, the game started.

Six-Legged Pentathlon.

Each team member had to complete a traditional game — Dakji, Gonggi, Spinning Top, Jegichagi, and Flying Stone — within five minutes. If one failed, the entire team died.

Y/n took Jegichagi. She was confident — until it was her turn.

One by one, her teammates succeeded.

Now, it was on her.

Thirty seconds left.

She tossed the shuttlecock.

Missed.

Tried again.

Missed again.

Ten seconds.

She was trembling now. Her fingers cold. Her team holding their breath.

Finally — she tried one more time — and it worked. The shuttlecock bounced

One

Two

Three

Four

Fi..

Beep.

“FAIL.”

Y/n’s eyes widened. What? Didn't she make it?

She looked up at the clock. Had she been just a second late?

The guards moved forward. Guns raised.

Panic swept her team. They screamed, cried, begged for the guards to double-check. But the decision was made.

Or so they thought.

“WAIT!”

Everyone froze.

Player 001 was on his feet.

“Lower your guns” he ordered — and the guards obeyed.

Gasps rippled through the crowd. Why were guards listening to a player?

Y/n blinked at him, heart thudding. Again… he was protecting her.

Sensing the growing suspicion, Young-il added quickly:

“She finished in time. I saw it. Check your cameras — you do have footage, don’t you?”

The guards — who knew exactly who he was — didn’t question it. They knew what he was doing—saving her, though she had actually lost by a second. But who would dare to question him?

One of the guard quietly called it in.

A pause.

Then the robotic voice returned:

“PASS.”

A masked overseer stepped in.

“We apologize. This team has passed. A technical delay caused the error.”

Relief flooded the room.

Y/n collapsed to her knees, breath ragged. Her team surrounded her, crying in joy.

But she? She looked up, locking eyes with Young-il again.

Young-il turned his head, sensing a few players still eyeing him with suspicion.

He narrowed his gaze, voice cool and sharp as a blade.

“What?”

The single word, laced with quiet danger, was enough to make them snap their heads away. No one wanted trouble—not after what he did to Thanos.

He scoffed under his breath, adding just loud enough for those nearby to hear,

“Incompetent staff… always too eager to pull the trigger. That girl was faster than she looked.”

He made it sound offhand, casual—like he was just another player with a sharp tongue, not the man behind the entire game.

•••

That night, back in the sleeping quarters, she found him sitting alone in a corner.

“Mr. Young-il!”

He turned.

She stepped toward him with a nervous smile. “Thank you. Again. I don’t know what would’ve happened if you didn’t speak up.”

He looked at her gently. “You don’t have to thank me..”

“I’ll protect you..”

“Always.”

Something about the way he said it — as if it wasn’t just about the game — made her heart skip.

“C-Can I… Can I join your team for the next round?” she asked hesitantly.

Young-il’s lips curled into a smile.

“Of course. I’d be honored.”

He motioned for her to come closer.

“I’ll introduce you to the others.”

And as she walked beside him — trusting, smiling — he knew it.

He had her trust now.

And soon… he’d have her.

Forever.

[rafecameronssl4t]

Two pink lines || dad!Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: Getting pregnant at nineteen by Rafe—who was still knee-deep in his issues and drugs—wasn’t exactly on your bingo card.

Warnings: s1rafe…..yeah….. mention of cocaine

Word count: 1,413

A/n: I acc enjoy writing s1!dad!rafe a lot… lmk if u want more!!

MASTERLIST (dad!rafe au masterlist)

The two pink lines showed up fast—too fast. You stared down at the test, perched on the edge of your marble bathroom counter, like it might suddenly disappear if you looked away. But it didn’t. The second line deepened, steady, undeniable. Solid pink. Positive.

Your hand shook as you placed the test back down, chest rising in shallow, quick breaths. You were nineteen. Nineteen. You lived in a gilded prison of beachfront houses and Sunday brunches and family names that meant something. You had a trust fund, an inheritance, a reputation to protect.

You were supposed to be the good one, the composed one, the one who didn’t end up barefoot and pregnant like one of the Pogues your mother whispered about behind cocktail glasses. And yet—here you were. Pregnant. Because of one stupid, reckless night.

A night where Rafe had gotten too bold, too desperate, too handsy in the backseat of his truck after a kook party. You’d both been tipsy. Things had gotten heated. You were both tipsy, the windows fogged up, your judgement clouded. There was no condom in the console. He’d promised it would be fine. “Just this once, babe. I swear I‘ll pull out.” You’d let him.

You were drunk on him, his kisses, the way his fingers tangled in your hair like he couldn’t get enough of you. And God, you wanted to believe him. You pressed your knuckles to your lips, trying to stop the bile from rising. This was real. This was happening.

You stumbled back onto the cool tiles of the floor, legs folded beneath you, trying to breathe through the panic clawing at your chest. You didn’t cry. Not yet. You couldn’t. Not until you talked to him. So, you called him. The phone rang twice before his lazy voice answered.

“Babyyy,” Rafe slurred, all soft and syrupy. You could hear the fan in his room spinning. “It’s—what time is it? Why you callin’ me at—” He yawned. “—the middle of the night?” It wasn’t the middle of the night. It was 9:43pm. But you didn’t bother correcting him.

“Rafe,” you said, your voice too shaky. “Are you—are you high right now?” A chuckle. “Only a little bit. Nothin’ serious.” You closed your eyes, pressing your fingers to your forehead. He’d promised he’d stop—at least slow down. But that was always after the fact. Always a “next time.”

“I need to tell you something,” you said. “Yeah? Can it wait, babe? I’m about to pass out, not gonna lie…” “No,” you snapped, and your voice cracked. “It can’t wait.” That made him go quiet. You could almost picture him blinking up at the ceiling, brows twitching slightly in confusion.

“…Okay. What’s goin’ on?” You swallowed. “I’m pregnant.” Another beat of silence. Then: “…Wait. What?” “I’m pregnant,” you repeated, each syllable like a stone in your throat. “I took two tests. I—I’m late. I’ve been nauseous. I’ve never been late. Rafe, I’m pregnant.”

There was a long, slow exhale from the other end of the line. Not panic. Not urgency. Just a half-baked sort of curiosity.“…Damn,” he muttered. “For real?” “Yes, for real,” you snapped. “Jesus, Rafe—this is serious.” He hummed softly, as if he were still trying to wrap his sleepy, high brain around it.

“Well, I mean… it’s not the end of the world, right? I mean, you and me—we’ll figure it out.” You blinked, stunned by the casualness in his tone. “What?” “I’m just saying, like, we’ve been together a minute. You know I love you. This ain’t gonna ruin anything. Don’t freak out, alright?”

You stood up, pacing now, your robe trailing behind you on the tile. “Rafe—we’re nineteen years old. You’re talking like we’re some married couple on the verge of starting a family. We don’t even know what the hell we’re doing tomorrow, let alone—raising a baby.”

“We’ll get help,” he said easily. “You’re parents are loaded. My dad’s loaded—he’ll chill once he knows it’s mine. I mean, you think Ward’s gonna not help with his grandkid?” You let out a sharp, humourless laugh. “Rafe, Ward can barely handle you. He’ll lose his goddamn mind. And my parents—fuck, my parents are going to kill me.”

He paused, and for a second you thought maybe something was finally clicking in his head. But then: “Look…you’re stressin’ for no reason. You don’t gotta do anything right now. Just…breathe. It’s you and me, alright? We’ll figure it out.” “No, Rafe,” you snapped, voice rising.

“You don’t have to do anything right now. You get to lay in your bed, high out of your mind, and pretend this is no big deal. But I have to carry this. I have to tell people. I have to be the one to face everyone’s disappointment and judgement and—and—”

You stopped, breath heaving. “I’m scared,” you whispered. “I’m really fucking scared.” And that’s when he finally sobered—at least a little. “…Shit,” he muttered. “I didn’t know you were feelin’ like that.” You sat back down on the edge of your tub, clutching the phone tighter. “Yeah. Well. I am.”

The line was quiet for a long moment. “I’m sorry, baby,” he said quietly. “I swear I didn’t mean to act like it wasn’t a big deal. I just—I’m not good with this stuff. You know that.” “I need you to be,” you whispered. “I need you to be good at this, Rafe. Because if I do this—if we do this—I can’t do it alone.”

“I won’t let you,” he said, more serious now. “I’ll get clean. I’ll get my shit together. I’ll—I’ll go to that place Rose keeps talkin’ about. I’ll do whatever you want. Just don’t shut me out.” Your heart ached at the promise. You wanted to believe him. You wanted to. “Okay,” you whispered. “Okay.”

“We’ll figure it out,” he repeated, softer now. “I swear to God, I’ll be better. For you. For the baby.” You stared down at the test again. Two pink lines. Clear as day. “…We’ll see,” you said.

[formulafanfics13]

your writing is so incredible :) can you do one where Lando has never had a girlfriend who can match his sex drive, until her. she suffers even more than him when he’s away for a race and she’s not there. so when she watches him win in austria from home, she’s sitting there literally almost feral until he finally comes home..

Desperate Measures - LN4 🔥

Masterlist

Summary: Lando wins a race. You’re at home. Horny. Alone. You text him. He flies straight back and fucks you within ten minutes of walking through the door. No soft reunion — just filthy, fast, desperate sex on your kitchen counter like he’s been waiting since the podium. You both end up naked and wrecked on the floor, vowing never to be apart again on race weekends.

Warnings: Smut. Post-race adrenaline sex. Public teasing via text. Intense emotional and physical desperation. Rough fucking (counter sex, clothes ripped off, no time for the bed). Language. Praise kink. Possessiveness. Mutual obsession.

He’s never met anyone like you. Not just hot. Not just funny. Not just the kind of girl who could wreck his entire life with one look. You’re hungry. Properly. Madly. Obscenely turned on by him at all times.

And for once in his chaotic, fast-paced, overstimulated fucking life, someone finally wants him just as much as he wants them. No games. No faking headaches. No “I’m tired” or “again?” or “you’re insatiable.”

Just: “I was thinking about you all day, take your fucking pants off.” Just: “You didn’t even let me finish showering last time.” Just: “I don’t care. I want it now. Get in.”

It’s a match made in heaven. Or hell. Depending on the state of his back. And it’s never harder than when he’s away racing.

You can handle some of the distance. You’re used to the calendar. The long stretches. The back-to-backs and triple headers. He FaceTimes you from planes and paddocks. Sends you photos with captions like “thinking about your mouth” or “you’d ruin me if you were here right now.” You’ve got toys. You’ve got videos. You’ve got memories from the last time he fucked you sideways against your bathroom sink.

But none of it helps today. Because he’s in Austria. And he just fucking won. You’re home. Alone. Knees pulled to your chest on the sofa. Wearing one of his hoodies and nothing else. The race is still playing on the TV, Lando grinning wide on the podium, champagne in his hair, that smug sparkle in his eye. Your phone buzzes with a message from him:

LAN: U watching, baby? Did I make you proud?

You send back:

YOU: I’m not wearing underwear.

The typing dots appear immediately. Then:

LAN: Get the fuck ready. My flight lands at 9.

You’re already a mess by 8:15. You’ve tried everything. Showered. Changed. Changed again. Put your favorite playlist on. Opened the window. Closed it. Tried not to rub your thighs together but failed seven fucking times.

You thought watching him race got you going, but winning? Seeing him drenched in champagne and adrenaline? Hearing his voice on the team radio cracking with joy?

Baby I can’t wait to see you.

It’s game over. By 8:55, you’re pacing. By 9:03, you’re wringing your hands at the front door like a wife in the 1950s. By 9:11, you hear the key turn in the lock and nearly scream.

He steps in. Smiling. Tired. Still in team gear. And the second he sees you, hoodie off, skin glowing, lips parted, his whole body tenses. “You’re gonna ruin me,” he says softly.

And then he drops his bag and takes your face in his hands. The kiss is immediate. No gentle reunion. No soft smiles. Just teeth. Tongue. Desperation. He walks you backward into the hallway, lips on yours like he’s trying to inhale you. You’re moaning into his mouth, already clawing at his shirt, nails dragging over his stomach as he kicks the door shut with his heel.

“I missed you so bad,” you gasp.

“Fuck,” he growls. “I’ve been hard since the podium.”

“Then do something about it, Lando.” 

He doesn’t need telling twice. He fucks you like he’s been dying of thirst and you’re the only water on the planet. Hard. Deep. Sloppy. The kind of sex that doesn’t bother with conversation, just sound. Breathing. Cursing. Begging. The kind of sex that feels earned. He lifts you onto the kitchen counter before you even reach the bedroom. Rips your top off. Buries his face in your chest and groans like he’s finally breathing again.

“You’re shaking,” he whispers, kissing your collarbone.

“I’ve been dripping since Oscar nearly took you out.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

He doesn’t even take his shoes off. He just yanks your hips forward and sinks in. You scream. It’s raw. Loud. No rhythm at first, just his hips slamming into you, your legs locked around him, both of you fucking like the world ends in ten minutes and this is your last meal. He’s groaning against your neck, saying “you’re mine, this pussy’s mine, fuck I needed this so bad.”

You come first. Hard. Shaking around him, nails in his shoulders, crying out his name like a confession. He comes soon after. Deep. With a gasp and a whimper and your name falling from his lips like prayer. And when you both finally collapse, sweaty and fucked out and completely wrecked on your living room floor, he just laughs.

“What?” you mumble, panting.

He pulls you into his chest. “Next time I win, I’m flying you out. No excuses.”

You grin. And pull him on top of you again.

[r66dusthewriter]

heyy dear, can you write some fluff with daryl and gf reader where glenn gets one of those polaroid cameras and start taking pictures of everyone at the prison, and when he checked the photos he noticed that daryl is lovingly gazing at reader in all the photos they appear together? even when glenn or carol starts teasing daryl about it he still ask glenn if he can keep them🥰

Picture perfect

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x fem!reader

Masterlist | Who am i? | REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

a/n: here goes another extra fic this week. I swear it won't always be like this but i have far too much free time and i don't know what else to do with myself.

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: none.

Era: Season 4

Word count: 0.9k

“You’re gonna run out of Polaroids,” Carol said with a smirk, arms crossed as she leaned over Glenn, who was hunched at a table like it was a science project.

He didn’t look up, just grinned. “Already did. Totally worth it, though…look at this.”

He fanned out a handful of glossy squares, all slightly curled and sun-warmed. Carol leaned in, her expression curious until she saw it. You and Daryl, in nearly every shot but the focus wasn’t on the two of you smiling. In most, you were doing something completely ordinary…laughing with Maggie, cleaning your knife or merely walking next to the others, but in every single one, Daryl was looking at you, really looking. Unfiltered, soft-eyed and completely unaware of the camera. Sometimes he was in the background, sometimes next to you but never not watching.

Carol blinked and looked up. “What am I supposed to be seeing here?”

Glenn smirked like a kid holding a secret. “Blackmail, Carol, gold-tier. I'm talking ‘Dixon blushing’ level ammo.”

Carol laughed. “Oh, no. You don’t wanna play that game, Glenn.”

“Oh but I do. He stole my candy bar last week, this is divine justice.”

Despite her warnings, when Daryl finally rode back from his run that afternoon, Glenn was already posted up by the third gate like he was waiting to serve papers.

Daryl climbed off his bike with dust and grime smudging his neck and arms and his crossbow still strapped to his back. He dropped his bag onto the seat and looked around, automatically searching for you.

“Looking for someone?” Glenn teased, a grin stretching on his face.

Daryl scowled. “You know where she’s at?”

“Depends. How bad do you want to know?” He paused. “That hatchet you got there’s pretty sweet,” Glenn said with a sly grin, nodding at the weapon strapped to Daryl’s bike.

Daryl squinted, suspicious. “Ain’t for you.”

“It is now,” Glenn smirked, pulling a single photo from his pocket like it was top-secret intel. He glanced around dramatically before flashing it.

The archer looked down at it, then let out a low scoff, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “Think she dun know I look at’er like tha’?” he muttered, tapping two fingers against Glenn’s temple once, snatched the photo and then, thwap!, he flicked Glenn’s ear, muttering “You creepin’ on me now?”

“Ow! What was that for?!” Glenn hissed. “You’re the one gazin’ like a lovesick outlaw.”

“Ain’t news to her, dumbass. Now, move.”

Grumbling, Glenn backed off but a few steps away, Daryl’s voice called after him. “Hey, Glenn!”

He turned. Daryl just stretched his hand out and Glenn sighed like he’d just lost a poker game, face falling. “All of them?”

“All of ’em.”

A second later, a stack of photos landed in Daryl’s palm, photos he quickly tucked into his bag without another word, meaning to look at them more closely later.

The sun warmed your skin as you approached the scene, steps slowing as Glenn passed you on his way back inside, rubbing his ear with a crooked smile.

“Hey…” you said, brow raised.

“Hey,” he muttered, shooting a sheepish glance over his shoulder at Daryl. “He’s all yours.”

“Right...” You frowned confused, then turned toward Daryl with that big smile he always pulled out of you. “Hi, handsome.”

He glanced up, immediately straightening a little, lips twitching upwards as he hid something behind his back. “Hey.”

“What was that about?” you asked, motioning toward the way Glenn had gone.

Daryl shrugged. “Kid’s troubled.”

“And you’re not?”

He smirked, still holding something behind him. “Maybe, but ya like it.”

“That I do,” you grinned, stepping closer. “Now, what are you hiding?”

With a little grunt, Daryl pulled two leather-bound journals from behind his back. One was your favorite color and unsurprisingly, it made the gift all the more meaningful. Your jaw dropped.

“Are you gonna start journaling with me?” You asked excitedly, taking them both from his hands.

Daryl scratched the back of his neck, glancing down like it was no big deal. “Kinda tired of watchin’ ya do it alone before bed. Even started wonderin’ if ya got a secret crush or somethin’.”

You wrapped your arms around him, laughing softly into his shoulder. “It’s you, so not very secret.” He hugged you back then, gentle and a little awkward, like always…exactly in that way you loved.

“Ya gotta teach me what t’ write, tho’, or it’s gonna turn into sum’ creepy book ‘bout ya.”

You pulled back with a giggle. “Doesn’t sound awful”

“Really doesn’t.” He reached out to gently squeeze your side, making you yelp and bat his hand away, but the more you looked at him, the more you could tell he was still hiding something.

“So…what’d Glenn give you?” you asked, poking at his bag with the journals.

Daryl hesitated for a beat before pulling out the photos, thumbing through them like they were old keepsakes. “Journaling material, ‘cause he’s nice like tha’” he said.

“The…troubled kid” You repeated in the same tone he had used.

“Mhm, the one.” He pointed at the pictures now in your hands, “For scrapbookin’. That wha’ ya call it?”

You smiled and nudged his arm teasingly. “Look at you, already learning and collecting.”

“Kinda fell into my hands,” he mumbled.

“Uh huh. I’m sure it did.”

You watched him a second longer, your heart fluttering as he carefully took the photos and tucked them into his vest’s inner pocket, like they were precious.

“You always look at me like that?” you asked, pointing at where the pictures were now carefully kept.

He shrugged looking away, ears already a faint pink. “Nah. Just when yer breathin’.”

[lostinlovingrevery]

Magic Man

70s Logan Howlett X F! Virgin Reader

Try, try, try to understand, he's a magic man

A/N: This man bout to risk the whole future for some pussy.

Anyway big thanks to the lovely @damimami1994 who has been like a cheerleader for me and read this fic so many times I lost count and helped me so much!!!! <3

Warnings: MAJOR SMUT. 16K+ Word Count, reader is 20+ college student, loss of virginity, logans a goddamn menace, creepy dude flirts and gets rough with reader, reader doesn't really have a survival instinct (its the 70s) , unprotected piv, handjob, F! Oral recieving, fingering, missionary + doggy (yay!), logan is NOT beating pervert allegations, overbearing mother (tbh i can't blame her), 1 (one) booty smack, logans dirty talking off the roof, cum eating?, mutant politics kinda, reader smokes a few times, some fluff, and aftercare

Magic Man - Heart

“Where the bloody hell are you going now?” Logan glanced back at Charles, who stared at him with crossed arms and an indignant look on his face.  “We leave in the morning, Logan. You are the one wanting to pull off this heist.” “Don’t worry, I’ll be back before then.” “Yeah?” “Yeah. Got something pressing.” “More than saving the future?”  Logan smirked, “I’m going to see my girl. See ya later.”

“Yeah can I get a uuuuuh…..Toms Triple Decker Burger- but leave out the lettuce, tomato, all the healthy crap, can you do that darling?”

You forced a smile. “I sure can! just bacon and cheese then?” 

“Yeah sweetheart….a side of these uh…Toms extra cheesy cheese fries too. And a diet coke.” 

“That’ll be all?” 

“And your number?” 

Your smile dropped, and you quickly replaced it- more forced than usual. Your skin crawled at the look that your customer was giving you. Greasy, twice older than you, and had his two kids at the table with him- both staring at you with confusion. An awkward laugh escaped you as you finished writing down his order. 

“Not on the menu sir. But thank you-” You gave him a polite nod, then smiled at his poor kids before turning to walk away, ripping the order off your notepad and shoving the notepad and pen into your apron and making a face of actual disgust at your coworkers who watched you with amusement. 

“How bad was he?”

“Asked for my number in front of his kids.” You scoffed, handing it to your fellow waitress, Maria, to take to the cook. 

“Why it always the greasy ones?” Kim sighs. 

“As if you wouldn’t.” Maria teased her, “Remember Arthur?”

“Arthur was nice!” Kim remarks, her nasally voice becoming high-pitched in her defense. “He was a good father,”

“He was a good husband too, till you came around.”  

You laughed, shaking your head while Kim huffs around. 

“Oh, by the way….” Maria shot you her msichevous look. “ you’re very popular today.” Maria leans onto the table and nods to something behind you. Her voice turns low and saccherine. “That handsome fellow has been watching you for a while. Tried to get his order but he waved me off- Staring at you.” She poked at your shoulder with her manicured nail. A her painted lips tilted into a sly grin.

You didn’t look right away. Twiddling your fingers nervously. Finally you lifted your head, turning to look at who she was talking about. You felt your heart stopped when you met his eyes. 

He was handsome. And he was staring right. 

At. 

you.

“Oh my god.” You muttered quickly looking away.

“Are you going to talk to him?”

“Me?!” You stammered. “Oh, Maria, no way. I could never. Plus he’s like…Way older than me!”

“The older the better.” Kim winks. Maria cackles. “You should talk to him! It’s just talking, what’s the harm?”

“Yeah, poor guy looks hungry.” Maria makes a mock sympathetic voice, tilting her head and pouting her lip. “Go on, try to get his order.” 

You sigh, butterflies turning in your stomach. You hopped off the diner stool, scowling at your friends as you forced yourself to walk to the corner where your so-called admirer sat. It felt like there were rocks in your feet, every step hesitant and slow as you approached him, not looking up until you reached his table. 

You pulled out your notepad and pen, “Hello sir, how are you today?” You looked up- your best customer service smile plastered on your face- only it quickly melted into a real smile just by the look in his eyes. He looked even better up close.

Hazel eyes looked back into yours. Chestnut brown hair slicked upwards, mutton chops that ran down to his chin. Broad shoulders and nice hands. A nose you wanted to nip and lips you wanted to kiss. You couldn’t dream of a finer man than him.

“Was wondering when you’d make your way over here.” He smirked, his voice a low rumble that made your knees weak. 

“Well… Yeah, sorry about that.” You nervously tucked your hair behind your ear. You hoped he didn’t catch how flustered you were feeling. Fortunately, working customer service is a wonderful opportunity to mask emotions. 

Usually anger, but you can improvise.  

“Can I get your order?” 

“That guy over there, with the two kids. He make you uncomfortable?” 

You mouth fell open, as you looked back to the table you were previously at. The kids were fiercely drawing with crayons on the paper you’ve given them- brows concentrated on their masterpiece. Their father seemed to have no interest, reading a newspaper he picked up at the door. 

“Oh, no it’s- it’s fine.” You smiled shaking your head. “He was just being friendly.” 

“Mm.” The man was shooting daggers at the fathers back. 

“Sir?” 

His attention snapped back to you. You gave him a kind smile, tilting your head and your hair fell over your shoulder. “Is there anything I can get you? Maybe a coffee?” 

He stared at you. There was recognition in his eyes, something soft and loving but you didn’t know. He was intense, you could feel a certain aura of darkness to him- something that should send warning bells off- but it only made you curious.

“Yeah, sweetheart. A coffee would be good.” He nods, clasping his hands together and resting his elbows on the table. 

“Cream and sugar?” 

He paused, a heartbeat passed. “Black is fine.”

“Anything else?” 

“What would you recommend doll?”

“Uh…Well,” You considered the choices. “We have this really good c-”

“Chicken sandwiches?” He asks. You smiled, tilting your head with a small scrunch of your nose- wondering how he managed to finish your sentence. “I’ll take one.” 

“With fries?”

“Sure.” 

“Okay!” You returned your notepad to your apron. “It’ll be right out.” 

“Thanks.” He replies leaning back in his seat. You lingered for a moment, wanting to talk to him more- but you didn’t know what to say, just nodding and turning to return to the counter where your friends were both smiling at you devilishly.

“Let me guess, he ordered something?”

“Shush, maybe he wasn’t hungry yet?” You argued, going around to their side of the counter, where you went to a pot of coffee that was brewing, and grabbed a mug from the shelf above it. As you poured, you snuck a glance back at the man. He was still watching you. 

Quickly snatching your eyes away from him, you focused on the coffee. 

“Oh, breaks over.” Kim looks at her watch, “It’s your break.” She looks at you, reaching for the coffee, “I’ll take over till you come back.”

“No-” You took it away, tone defensive before realizing your mistake as Kim raises her eyebrows “I- I’ll give it to him. Then go on break.” 

“Alright.” She smiles, side-eying Maria who looks equally amused. Embarrassment filled your soul as you sigh dejectedly, going back around the counter, avoiding the stares of the girls as you brought the coffee to the mans table.

“Thanks sweetheart.” He reaches for it, his fingers brushing over yours in a move that felt purposely, he looked up at you as he set it on the table. “Going on break?” 

“Uh..” You blinked in surprise. Eavesdropping much?

“Yeah.” You nodded. “Um, she’ll-” You nodded to Kim at the counter, “Will bring out your food for you.”

“Alright,” He sips his coffee. Brows raised in surprise. “Pretty good. Was told you guys had great coffee.”

“Oh, yeah uh…The owner gets a real special brand. He’s a real stickler about good coffee and all. Wants the diner to be one of those diners that can truly say it has the worlds best coffee.” You threw your hands up, before smoothing them over your apron.

He nods, leaving you both in quiet silence. 

“Um, well…” You smiled, “Enjoy!”

“I will.” He looked up at you, taking another sip of the coffee. “Enjoy your break.” 

“Thanks. You too!” 

He quirked a brow, the corner of his lip tilting up in amusement. 

“I-” You didn’t bother coming back from it.

You turned around, making a face at yourself and walking away from his table where you headed towards the kitchen, making fists at your side. Why did you have to be so awkward?

“He’s checking out your ass.” Maria mutters to you as you passed her- and you felt the embarrassment dig itself deeper. Ignoring her, you entered the kitchen passing the cook and out the back door- grabbing your purse on the way, scoffing at yourself for being a complete weirdo. 

Cold wind blew over your face- giving you a feeling of freedom from your job that you can feel is slowly taking away bits of your soul with every fatty meal you serve. 

You found a quiet spot at the back of the restaraunt. Your usual spot to hide from nosy coworkers or customers so you can decompress. The diner back into a vast woods, one that you have explored many times growing up and knew like the back of your hand. It was your favorite place- the only place where you could taste freedom, to be open and curious about the world. 

Reaching into your purse, you pulled out a pack of reds and a lighter, picking a cig from the pack and placing it between your lips. Truth be told- you didn’t actually like smoking. It tasted awful, made you smell, and was honestly a waste of money.

Yet you liked the feeling of choosing to do it anyway.

You used your hand to protect the flame of the lighter from the wind as you creased your brows in concentration, taking a deep breath as the butt begins to burn and ash. Smoke filled your lungs- and made you cough. 

You stared off into the distance- watching a cardinal as it lands on a branch, its wings fluttering as the cardinal seems to decide it’s next move. Then tipped your head up to the sky. Blue with some white fluffy clouds that seemed to idly float by. 

“Shouldn’t be smoking those.” You heard a deep voice by your side. You nearly jumped out of your skin, almost dropping the cigarette. You looked at him with wide eyes, and he just smirked. Reaching over, he plucked the cigarette out from between your fingers. “They’ll make you sick. You don’t even like em.” 

You scoffed- open your mouth wanting to share a few choice words for how he just walked up to you and snatched your cigarette away. You stared at him incredously- unbelieving of the nerve of this stranger, but your expression quickly fell and heat bloomed in your cheeks as he stuck your cigarette between his lips, and you could see his tongue run over the end- like he was trying to taste you off it. 

“How do you know?” You managed to say, sounding less angry than you wanted, your eyes looking up at him from your stolen cigarette, which was now resting on his lips. You were trying to be accusatory, to stand up for yourself against the stranger who’s presence had now become overwhelming- but your voice was instead quiet and timid. You didn’t realize when he was sitting in the booth just how big he was. He was towering over you. “You don’t know me.” 

His eyes trailed over your figure. “No, I don’t.” He says, a moment of hesitation in his voice. He took a puff of the cigarette. “But I can take a guess. You’re a pretty, young, innocent, lil lady, going to college in her hometown, working at a little diner just to make ends meet. You got an overbearing mother, you drive a ‘61 Chevy Corvair, passed down from your granddad. You like art, painting especially, blare your music with the windows down, and you hate ketchup- you think it smells weird.” 

You blinked. “Have you been stalking me?”

“It’s just a lucky guess, sweetheart.” 

You scoffed, crossing your arms and looking away. Now put off by him, figuring you encountered just another creep- this one happened to just be handsome.  “Well, maybe you should go away.” 

“Aw, cmon.” He removed the cigarette from his lips, dropping it to the ground and stomping it out with his foot. “Don’t be like that.” His hand came to your cheek, gently leading you to look back at him. He was even closer to you now. The scent of cigars and cologne clung to him, and made you lightheaded. “I can make a few more lucky guesses about you…” He grinned. ”That you carry the world on your shoulders, considerate and kind. You crave adventure. You want to see the world and what it’s got to offer….” 

His thumb brushed over your bottom lip. His eyes flicked down from yours, tracing over your parted lips. His turned low and suggestive. “and you want someone that’ll take good care of you, don’t you princess?” 

Now your heart was pounding out of your chest, holding your breath, unable to take away your eyes from the handsome stranger who had now completely captivated your attention. He had this arrogant look in his eyes but you couldn’t bring yourself to care despite all the signs that told you he was trouble. You could only imagine how you must look to him. 

“What…What’s your name?” You asked, remembering to breathe.

He seemed to pause for a moment. “James. But you can call me Logan.” His voice turned soft, lips forming into a handsome grin. Your knees went weak at that smile. His hand dropped to his side, and he braced the other against the wall as he leaned towards you. 

“Logan.” You repeat. “Why did you come back here? Don’t you have food you were waiting for?”

“Guess I was missing your face already.” He says. “You don’t see someone as beautiful as you often.” You pressed your lips together and looked away, bringing your hands together and anxiously fiddling with them. This man was so strange. 

You were used to unsolicited flirting, but for once you couldn’t mind him. Despite how…Brazen and odd he was being.

“Couldn’t wait another 10 minutes?” You remarked.

“Clearly.”

You smiled, a bit bashful as you avoided looking at his face. Silence filled the air, and all you could think about was how good he smelled. You could feel him staring at you, unable to take the silence longer- you decided to deflect him, distract from the strange feeling you had in your heart. 

“So..Logan, why are you here? Like why did you come to this little town? Not much to see around here, y’know. Unless it’s to lecture me about my habits and ask my recommendations off the menu…” 

A smirk at your comment. “Passing through.” He responds, his smile dropping. “Just uh……” He trailed off, and you could see him thinking. “Seeing a good friend of mine.” a half smile grew on his face as he says it and a glimmer in his eye. 

You nodded, dropping your gaze to the concrete and crossing your arms.”Who? I probably know them. Almost every knows everyone around here.”

“Ah, you wouldn’t.” He says. You looked back up at him.

“Try me.” 

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You really wouldn’t, sweetheart, trust me.” 

You sigh exasperated, and in the back of your head, it made you wonder if maybe it was a woman. There’s no way a man like him doesn’t already have a lady- probably multiple ladies under his arms. It irked you, to know that you’re likely not the first- or only woman who’s going to flirt with today. 

You’ll likely never see him again, though. 

“Where’d you come in from?” You ask, in attempt to find out more about the stranger- who seems to be so “lucky” at guessing about you. It’s not like you told him that it was true, but you needed to know his story.

How did he know your story? Was it that common? Were you predictable?

“New York. Westchester.” He says. 

“That’s a nice area. You live there?”

“Not exactly.” 

You pout. He smiled. 

“You’re cryptic aren’t you?” You mutter.

“For good reason, don’t worry about me.” He says. He reaches out, fixing a strand of hair back into place and smirking. 

“It’s still a little weird you know so much about me.” You say crossing your arms. “Or-” You caught yourself, “What you think you know about me.” He chuckles, silent for a moment- His eyes observing you.

“Your friends told me.” He says finally, letting the truth fall out. Your face fell. He smiled sympathetically. 

“I’m going to kill them.” You sighed dropping your arms to your side. Your friends mean well, always encouraging you to do more, especially in romance- but this was too much.

“I asked.” He tipped his head towards you. You looked up at him.

“Couldn’t ask me yourself?”

“You seem a bit shy…”

Embarrassment rushed through you. Only you were distracted by his hand gently gripping your chin to turn you to look back at him. 

“That’s okay.” He smiles. “It’s cute, seeing you like this.” 

The phrase was strange, but you couldn’t pay attention to that when you looked into his eyes. A pretty hazel color, you found a new sense of appreciation for it- It almost green in the sunlight. You couldn’t help but lean in closer to him. His smile grew. 

“Your breaks over- Ah-! Sorry!” Kim stops in her tracks as she pushed the door open. She suppressed a grin at the intimate moment you found yourself with the stranger. You quickly stepped away, while Logan dropped his hand to his side. 

His expression held a tiny bit of annoyance, not glancing at Kim. 

“Better get back to it, little missy.” He teases you. You rolled your eyes, 

“Your foods ready by the way, sir-” Kim says a bit awkwardly. He nods. 

“See ya inside.” He winks. 

He turns to walk back around the building, and you stood there watching him- completely dumbfounded. Kim was watching to, a faint smile on her face as she turned to look at you. You finally broke you stare when he turned around the corner, and met with Kims eyes. 

“That was cute.” She scrunched her nose. 

You shook your head, “I’m not talking to you.” you say in passing as you walked inside. 

“wh-What? I didn’t mean to interrupt the moment!”

When you went back inside, to your relief- or despair, Logan was gone, having taken the sandwich with him. He left behind his payment, and a hefty tip. You went to split it with Kim, since she technically did half of what you did. 

“No no, that was definitely all for you.” Kim giggled pushing the money away. 

“You literally gave him the food.”

“Yeah but he wasnt even at the table anymore when I brought it out. That tip is for you. Didn’t leave his number though…” 

“Are you sure?” You ask. “You said earlier you were strapped for cash.”

“Yeah but I helped that creepy dad with his kids while you were on break too, and he gave me a huge tip, and his number.” She winked. You gave her a forced smile, nose scrunching in digust.

“Your taste in men worry me.” Maria remarks. “Have you considered a therapist?”

You went through the rest of your work day, it was slow, and when you got off work decided on spending some of your hard earned cash at your favorite shop.

You drove down the familiar suburban streets and parked in the towns square, a busy little center of your small town with a park in the center, and various shops and restaurants surrounding it. As you walked the sidewalks, you found yourself searching for Logan. If he was visiting a friend, surely they would come hang out somewhere around here? Your little diner was just a fluke place that happened to be nearly on the outskirts of town- almost everything was located inside the square. 

You didn’t spot him anywhere to your disappointment- his eyes lingering in your memories. Shaking it away, you continued about your day, entering your favorite shop.

You stepped outside of the shop after a half hour of browsing, indecivisely deciding on what you wanted to buy. New records, jewlery, perfume, and a candy bar- for a treat.

Looking at the small park that was filled with people. Children were riding bikes, shooting out in front of cars who lay their horn. Couples holding hands as they walked down the street. Various other folks, playing frizbee, jogging, or just enjoying the afternoon. 

Your little small town was a beautiful place- and you did appreciate and admire it’s quirks and people. However, a nagging feeling resided in you- a feeling of wanting to see more. Like there was something out there- Meant for you.

That man, Logan, had hit the nail on the spot for what you wanted in your life- especially right now. 

Who was he really?

You thought about his face, his eyes and smile. It was like he walked right out of dream. You hope you’ll see him again; then again, maybe not. Him, with an awkward girl such as yourself? 

No chance that’s happening. 

You were lost in thought, walking on autopilot as you thought about the mysterious man that was Logan, and honestly, what an odd interaction it was.

You didn’t notice the man you were walking towards, but he noticed you.

“Well, hello again, honey.” 

You almost didn’t hear or notice him until his hand went to your shoulder to stop you. You looked up in surprise, and felt your stomach sink in dread.

Your customer from earlier, the father who had more of an interest in a girl twice younger than him, rather than an interest in spending time with his children. The one who somehow managed to get lucky enough to appearance Kims poor decisions and have her take his number. His smile made you uncomfortable, and the grip on your shoulder sent alarms off. 

Gently stepping away, you forced a smile.

“Hello,” You say simply. 

“You off work?” 

“Uh…”

“Silly question.” He laughed, “Seeing you got groceries and all. I’m done too, yknow, babysitting.” He makes a cringing face, as if spending time with his kids was unwanted thing. 

“Okay.” You nodded, glancing around for an excuse to escape this awkward interaction. 

“Now I know you turned down giving me your number earlier but uh…Seeing we both got free time, maybe we can go get a coffee?”

“Oh-” You forced a smile. “I’m sorry but I’m just not interested, and I have assignments for classes that are due tomorrow and all.” You nod, hoping he’ll take that for an answer. He doesn’t.

“It’s just for an hour, what’s the harm?” 

“I’m sorry but no-” You say firmly, turning away to get away from the creep. Only you felt him grab your arm and yank you back to him. 

“Why are you being so rude? I was polite to you lady.” 

“Hey, let me go-” You try to tug your arm free, but his grip tightened. 

“Your generation is full of stuck ups, you know that?” He sneers. “I-”

“Hey bub.” 

You and the man both turned your heads, where Logan stood- an unimpressed look on his face. He grabbed the wrist of the hand holding you- squeezing it so tight the asshole had to let go of you, which you quickly yanked yourself away and watched with wide eyes.

“Hey! Mind your business, let me go!” He shoves at Logan who didn’t even budge from his touch, before attempting to wiggle his arm free. Logan twisted it, making him shout in pain, before his other fist come up to his face.

You watched in bewilderment as three sharp and boney, claw-like appendages slid out from between his knuckles, in front of the eyes of your attacker. He shouts in surprise.

“What the hell?!” 

“Don’t touch her, don’t look at her, don’t even fucking think about her- or these are going to go where the sun don’t shine, got it?” 

He barely lets out a whimper before Logan shoves him to the ground. You let out a small gasp, your eyes staring at the claws on his fist- not even the man as he attempts to scurry away in fear. You watched them retract back into his hand- small bloody cuts that healed over just as quickly as they appeared. 

You were so flabbergasted you didn’t even hear Logan ask if you were okay. 

“Hey-” He snapped his fingers in front of your face, snapping you out of your trance. “You got your head in the clouds sweetheart, you need to be careful.” 

“Oh- Um..Thank you.” You say, blinking a few times. “I didn’t even notice him.”

“That’s what I mean, he’d been watching you since you left that shop.” He says, brows creasing as he looks down at you. “Gotta get out of the pretty head of yours and focus on what’s going on around you. Wouldn’t want you to get hurt.” 

“Right.” You laughed nervously, attempting to snap out of the haze you were finding yourself in. You couldn’t get the image of his claws out of your head, as your eyes went down to his fist again. He caught you staring. 

“That scare you?” He asks, and you watched his fist clench at his side. 

“Well it was…A little strange to see- Did I see that right?” You looked up at him. He smiled, noticing people approaching from behind you. His hand went to your hip, gently encouraging you to step to the side into an alleyway next to where you were.

He didn’t need to be flashing those all over the place anyway.

Your mind went to the feeling of his hand on your hip- noticing how warm it felt, like it belonged there. 

“Why don’t you see for yourself?”

His hands made a fist, and you gasped as you heard a Snikt! Revealing boney claws protruding from between his knuckles. Your mouth hung open, as you reached your hand up to touch them- but stopped, looking at him. 

“Go ahead, just be careful, they’re sharp.” 

You nodded, touching one and feeling the rigid surface. “That’s…” You shook your head. “That’s amazing! And you can heal too?”  

“I sure can.”

“Is it…Like magic?”

He smiled, like he knew you were going to say that. “I’m a mutant sweetheart.” 

“A mutant? I thought…” You pulled your hand away. “I thought they… were dangerous.” 

He frowned, his claws retracted back into his fists. “Who told you that?” 

“Well….” You looked away, a nervous laugh escaping you. “You know how the world is. Everythings bad news now.”

“Do I look dangerous to you?” He stepped closer, his voice low. You looked down, fiddling with your hands, stammering with your answer but his hand came up to cup your chin- forcing you to look up at him. “Hm?” 

“You…You seem nice.” Your voice was practically a squeak, and he smirked. “I just…You hear all this stuff about them.”

“I know. You don’t know better. Yet.” 

You blinked up at him. His eyes regarding you with gentleness, understanding. It felt like he understood you. Like he gets it, everything you feel. Like he saw right through you.

“Logan?....” 

“Yeah?” 

“I-”

“Who is this?” 

Your body and soul jumped at the shrill sound of your mothers voice. You stepped back and Logan only looked extremely irritated. 

“Mama-” 

“What are you doing?” She walks over. “You- Stay away from my daughter-!” She points at him, but he didn’t look too impressed. 

“Ain’t here to hurt her, ma’am.” His tone one of annoyance. He dropped his hand to his side, claws retracting.

“Sure you’re not, you mutie.” She hisses. “I saw your…Your claws! You freak!” She sneers, and spits at his shoes, but he only smirked. “Come on, I’m taking you home.” She snatches your arm, dragging you along with her out of the alleyway. 

“Mom!” You tried to argue but she only tugged you to continue following her.  “I’m sorry,” You looked back, apologizing to Logan, but he smiled. 

“S’alright sweetheart, I’ll see you later.” He winked at you, before moving to pull a cigar out of his jacket. You stumbled, and looked back at him- fascination growing in you as the magic man stood in the alley, watching you with half-lidded eyes as he smoked. 

Something inside you stirred, hearing his words. He’s so sure of it.

You were going to make sure of it as well. Initially brushing Logan off wasn’t the plan anymore- You felt like a magnet, drawn to him.

Your mother shoved you into her car, before her heels clicked against the concrete loudly as she walked to the drivers side. She was silent as she got in, keys clashing and her purse tossed to the floor of the car by your feet. 

“I have my own car.” You argued, 

“Well clearly you can’t be trusted to be alone. We’ll go get it tomorrow.” She mutters. You scoff in disbelief, but she didn’t say another word.

You didn’t say a word either. Frustrated by your mother's protectiveness. She insists the world is out to get you. You had to fight tooth and nail to go to college, to have most of your independence. Some days you feel like you won the war, your mother letting go of her tie on you just a little bit more- but then things like this happen.

It was silent the entire drive home- but you held your own. Irritation of her interrupting your conversation with Logan. Yes, maybe you were curious, Logan was handsome, he seemed kind, he had your attention - but you’re not dumb. 

You kept your head high and shoulders straight. 

It wasn’t until she pulled into the driveway that she finally spoke. 

“Why were you with him?” She asks, her tone full of irritation. “Who was he?”

“A customer. I was saying hello to him because I saw him earlier today.” You say casually. 

“So what, he was just…showing you his…Mutation?” She says with disdain. 

“So what if he was?” You asks. “You always acted like mutants are sooo terrible, but why? They’re just people. They’re bad people out there too, that aren’t mutants.”

“We’re not talking about other people we are talking this man you’re hanging out with. How old is he? He looks much older than you.” 

“Okay? And?” You say. “We were just talking.” You finally turned towards her. “He actually helped me, I was being harassed by another man and he scared him away.” 

Your mother scoffs, shaking her head. “Using his claws?” She asks in disgust. 

You rolled your eyes. Grabbing your shopping bag and purse, you left the car without saying another word to her.

On one hand, you knew your mom meant well. She was screwed over by your father who you never met- young and left alone to raise a child in a society who looked down on her... There was a time where you two were best friends but as you grew older, curious, and wanting your independence she clung to you tight- but it would made you struggle harder. 

On the other, the hatred she spews about other people. Especially mutants. You never took her too serious. The way she treated Logan though- awful.

You went straight to your room, changing from your work uniform into a simple outfit, jeans and a blouse. There was a paper for class due in a few days - but working on it seemed futile. Logan kept crowding your mind. After another attempt to reread a passage of the book your paper was about- you slammed it shut and looked at the ticking clock that sat on your messy desk. It was evening now, as you glanced out the window and saw the sky was beginning to fade, the blue of it still visible, but the evening sun had grown tired and was beginning to set. 

You hadn’t snuck out in a long time. A very long time. Able to more boldly leave the house in the past but this time you didn’t feel like having another argument or dealing with the headache of your mother's worries. 

You wanted to see Logan, a man who just seems magical to you. He seemed so confident, sure of himself and the world. 

Walking over to it, you shoved your broken window up, the frame was uneven, making the window nearly impossible to open without having to smack your palm against it to push it up. It squeaked, fighting against you before you finally got it up enough that allowed you to squeeze out. 

You turned back to grabbed your bag, and when you looked out the window-

You’re greeted by the sight Logan on your lawn. 

“Sneaking out darling?” He calls up to you.

“What!- What are you doing here?” You kept your voice low, at risk of your mother hearing you- or noisy neighbors who snitch. 

“Was going to do some old fashion serenading but I forgot my guitar.” He smirks at his sarcasm. “You going somewhere?”

“Uh….” You turned to sit on the windowsill, looking away from him. You didn’t want to admit you were sneaking out to see him. You wanted to talk to him more, you liked his kindness, fascinated that he was a mutant- but you couldn’t admit that.

Or maybe it was the way he looked at you. Someone to be desired.

“I was thinking about just going out.” 

“Why not use the front door?”

“I got into a fight with my mom.” You say, embarrassed at how childish it sounds. You began to fiddle with your hair, trying to style it and distracting yourself. 

“And don’t feel like dealing with her more, yeah?” 

You sighed, letting your hands dropping in your lap. 

“I don’t blame ya. Come on sweetheart.” He waved his hand at you to come out. “Lets go for a drive.” 

You face fell at his offer- you probably shouldn’t go drive around with a man you just met, but then you look at him and your mind led you to wonder if Logan was searching for something more than the pleasure of your company- with the way you see his eyes scanning over your figure; and you wouldn’t mind giving it to him. 

So you smiled, and nodded. Returning to climb out, you first stuck your legs out until your hips were out the window. You had to be careful, your window was located several feet from the ground. Not a terrible fall but wouldn’t feel great if you did. 

Fortunately, you’ve had a lot of practice. 

Twisting yourself so you were now facing your bedroom, you began to climb out. You felt his hands on your hips, holding onto you securely as you climbed out, allowing you to hop to the ground safely. He didn’t let go of you, making you bump into his chest. 

“Sorry,” You looked up at him, but he just smiled- his hands tightening on your hips, before letting go, reaching for your hand and taking it in his.

He led you to his car, a black Buick- a nice car. You couldn’t help but wonder if he had some money. He did say he was from Westchester. 

When you reached it, he reached over and opened the passenger side for you, letting go of your hand so you could get into the car. 

“Buckle up.” He winks at you, before shutting the door and walking to the other side. 

He climbed in, a small groan escaping him as he shuts the door, and starts the car.

“You need to put on your seatbelt.” You tell him, repeating the same sentiment. He smirks. 

“I don’t need it.” He throws the car into drive, 

“What, you can heal so you just throw yourself into danger anyway?” 

“Something like that.”

You both were in silence, save for the radio that played rock music. You reached over, turning it up to fill the silence. a Led Zeppelin song was playing- one of your favorites.

“Knew you would do that.” He says quietly, a thoughtful look on his face. You looked at him, adjusting yourself against the seat.

“How?” 

“You…” He stopped, “Just seem like the type to like this band.” 

You made a face, unbelieving of his expression. “Sure….” 

“You hungry? You have dinner yet?” He asks, quickly changing the subject.

“Um no dinner yet.” You shook your head. “I’m a little hungry, but you don’t need to buy me anything.” He turned on his blinker despite your words, turning into a parking lot of a fast food place. As he reached the speaker, the cashier spoke up asking for the order.

Before you could tell him what you wanted- He said it. The exact order you were going to ask for. You stared at him in disbelief, brows creased and lips set in a frown. After he finished yours, he said his own. The cashier gave the total and told him to pull up to the window. 

He began driving, glancing at you, and then a double take when catching your expression. 

“What?”

“I-” You shook your head. “You know what, I’m not going to ask. I’m just gonna assume maybe your mutation includes reading minds or something.” 

He smirked. He pulled up to the window, taking out his wallet and paying the cashier, grabbing the food and handing them to you. 

“I can pay you back,” You offer.

“No,” He shook his head. You reached into the paper bag, searching for Logans order, and unwrapping it for him before handing it over. “Thanks sweetheart.” He took a bite, as he continued to drive. 

“Where are we going?” You asked.

“Any requests?” 

You shrugged, tossing a fry into your mouth. “Why are you um…Y’know, trying to hang around me?”

You thought you knew, but you wanted to hear his excuse.

He quirked a brow. “The last few times we’ve run into each other is just a coincidence.” He says, before taking another bite of his food. 

“Sure…” You spare him a side glance. He showed up at your house. Another moment of silence. “Did you see your friend?”

“Yeah, I did.” 

More silence.

“Logan.”

“Yeah?”

“Who are you?” 

He didn’t say anything, but you swear you saw the corner of his lips twitch, resisting a smile. You watched him, observing the details of his face. Your eyes glanced around the car you sat in, and went to casually toss another fry in your mouth, still staring at him suspiciously. You could tell he was wracking in his head an answer to tell you.

“You’ll find out.” He says. You blink. “But I’m a friend.” He quickly adds. 

“That is SO cryptic oh my god!” You laughed, shaking your head. 

“I know it doesn’t make sense but-”

“No, no, far be it for me to yknow…Be nosy I guess.” You shrugged. He smirked. You heard the turn signal flip on, and he turned into a park. It was a place you’ve went to before with friends. It had a big lake to swim and boat in, and hiking trails. 

“Heard the sunset was pretty to watch here.” He says, changing the subject, again.  

“It is.” You ate another fry as he parked the car. “I would come here to watch it with my friends.” 

“Yeah.” He sits. “C’mon, lets watch it.” He opens the driver door, stepping out. You stared at him dumbfounded as he walked around the car, and opening the passenger side. He waves with two fingers for you to hop out, grabbing the fast food bag for you. 

He had you sit on the hood, laying his jacket over it and lifting you up to sit. Everytime his hands touched you- you thought about the claws. You didn’t feel a single ounce of danger though. Logan felt safe, his touch was warm, and the way his eyes regarded you- it made you bashful, unable to look at him for long. 

You ate together in silence. 

“So, what do you want to do, after college?” He asks.

You don’t recall telling him you’re in college- oh well.

You answered, telling him about your degree. He listened to every word, eyes focused on you. He smiled at the stories you delved into, yapping away without realizing. It just felt comfortable to talk. It simply isn’t easy for you to open up to anyone- especially a stranger like Logan. There was an energy between you that fit. He interjected occasionally, his own sarcastic comment or to compliment you. You talked like you were old friends.

At some point his hand reached over, brushing against your thigh. You glanced at him with a curious look. 

He quirked a brow, “Just grabbing my cigar.” He says, hand climbing into the pocket of his jacket.

“Oh.” 

You watched him. A single claw popped out, slicing the cap of the cigar off, before he stuck it between his lips, lighting it with an old flip lighter. 

“Can I try?” 

He glanced at you. “You don’t like smoking.” 

You rolled your eyes. “I just wanna try.”

He clicked his tongue, handing the cigar to you. You barely under how to hold it- to big between your fingers like a regular cigarette. So you settled to keep it pinched between your thumb and forefinger. Your brought it to your lips.

“Just don’t-”

You took a deep inhale, only to fall into a rough coughing fit that brought tears to your eyes. You gave it back to him, hacking a lung and he reached a hand over to rub your back. 

“Okay.” You cleared your throat, quickly wiping away the tears. “You’re right I don’t like it.” 

“It’s about the taste sweetheart. You’re not supposed to inhale it.” 

“Yeah? I’ll pass anyway….” You trailed off, now embarrassed that you hacked a lung out in front of him. 

The sky changed into oranges and pinks, the deep blue slowly bleeding into it as the sun disappeared in the horizon, leaving you and Logan in the dark. Your food was finished, and you both sat in empty silence.

“Ready to go home?” He asks. 

You didn’t want to. You didn’t want to leave Logan either. You nodded anyway, taking Logans hand as you hopped down from the hood. He grabbed his jacket and pulled it on, before following you to the passenger door and opening it for you.

“Logan.” You stopped, leaning against the open door. 

“I don’t really want to go back home yet.” You say quietly. He smirked.

He brought you to the motel on the outskirts of your little town.

“Stay here, I’ll pay for a room and come back, k?” 

You nodded, watching him climb out and leaving you in the car. You waited quietly, listening to the crickets chirping softly outside. You were left to your thoughts until a knock on the window took your attention. The door opened, and you climbed out, where Logan put his arm around you and led you to the room. 

He unlocked and opened the door, before handing you the key. 

He walked in after you, shutting the door behind him. “One of the nicer motels I’ve been to…” He mutters quietly looking around the room, walking to peer into the bathroom, and then the closet- he looked like he was checking for people. “Should be safe, but keep that door locked.”

He was right, you never actually stayed in a motel before but heard stories- this place, It wasn’t bad, it looked clean with simple cream painted walls, and the typical brown checker patterned curtains and bedsheets and red carpet to match.  You look at him over your shoulder.

“You’ve been to a lot of motels?”

“I’ve traveled a bit.”

“Yeah? Like where?” Your face brightened, as you turned to sit on the edge of the bed and tilting your head.

He chuckled, walking over to sit next to you, the mattress groaning under his weight. “Lots of places. Been all over the states, and a few countries.” 

“Wow, really?” You brought your legs up, criss crossing them on your lap. “For fun or?”

“Uh. Work.” He says. “Mostly. Some of it was because I didn’t have a home, so I was just wandering.” 

“No home?” You asked softly. “You don’t have any family or anything?”

“Well….” He looked at you. “I do. I just didn’t always have them in my life.” 

You smiled. “They are now?”

A heartbeat passed, a solemn expression on his face before he quickly turns neutral. “Yeah.” 

You nodded, taking a deep breath, before looking back at him with excitement. “So, the places you visited?”

“Ah, heh.” He leaned back on the bed on his side, using his elbow to brace him up and looked up at you. “Few places in Europe, France, Germany, England, some other smaller countries around there. Vietnam, Japan.”

“Vietnam…” You fiddled with you fingers, glancing down and back up at him, “Were you in the army?” 

“Yeah, I was.”

You nodded, deciding not to ask more about it. It was a sensitive topic these days anyway. 

He continued recounting a few places he traveled. “There’s city called Madripoor I was living in for a bit- for work- it’s in Southeast Asia.” 

“Really? What was it like?”

“Ah, this place was disguised to look like a paradise but it was filled with trash. Crime-ridden and everything. It had it’s own charm though.” 

“Sounds like an interesting place.” You sounded amused. 

“Heh, you…” He trailed off, his smile fading for a moment. “You didn’t-” He stopped, correcting himself. “- wouldn’t have liked it, so you’re not missing out.” 

You added that to your growing list of odd things about Logan.

“No?” 

“Nah.” He pushed himself back up. 

“Well, out of all the places you’ve been to, which one would I like? Especially since you seem to know so much about me anyway….” 

He laughs, and without hesitation answers your question, looking off at the wall with a dreamlike expression. “France. You would like France.”

“Yeah? Sounds nice…Too bad I probably won’t ever get to go there one day.”

“Ah, don’t worry sweetheart. I get the feeling you will.” He reached a hand over, placing it on your knee and squeezing it. You looked up at him, 

“Must be true, because you know everything about me.” You mention again. He didn’t say anything, but looked at you. “How do you know it all?”

“I’m just good at reading people.” 

You laughed, shaking your head. “That’s more than reading people!” You giggled. “You knew I don’t like ketchup because of it’s smell! You knew my exact order at that restaurant, That i’m a college student and..those other things…I know you said that you asked my friends but they said you didn’t ask them anything, unless they’re lying…” You shook your head. “Is this just some…Really elaborate prank?” 

“No prank sweetheart.” He says. 

“No? So…” You clasped your hands together in your lap. “Why are we here?” 

“You asked to come here.” 

“Well-” You stammered and looked away.

He smirked, leaning in closer to you. Your heartbeat grew fast at his proximity. “I just- this is really strange I mean…You’re visiting your friend, and I’m...just some random waitress?” You glanced down at his lips. 

“You’re not just some random waitress. You’re also gorgeous” He hums. You laughed again, attempting to hide your fluster. 

“You’re changing the subject.”

“For a good reason.” He leans in closer. 

“Being?” You didn’t budge, even as you could feel his breath on your lips, your eyes didn’t leave his even in his close proximity. Your heart was pounding out of your chest. 

He hummed, his lips brushing over yours as he talked. “Remember how you called me magic earlier?”

“Yeah…”

“Lets just say all this is magic. Alright baby?” 

You stared at him incredously, your lips just barely touching, and you burst into laughter. “Magic, yeah?” 

He chuckled at your mirth. “Yeah, it’ll make sense one day.” 

You didn’t stop him as he leaned in to press a kiss against your lips. It was so soft you could barely feel him. You felt yourself leaning into him. His hand resting on your knee squeezed it gently, before sliding up your thigh. 

It was like something triggered in you, and you stood up abruptly and stepped away from him.

“Shit, I’m sorry.” He says standing up, concern on his face.

“No! No, don’t be. I just…Realized how insane I’m being right now.” You reassure, and nervously laugh. “God I just- What am I doing?” You looked at him. He raised a brow. “I don’t know you but I just…Snuck off with you like it was nothing?” 

“Well…”

“Every time you look at me I just get this feeling like…Like in the pit of my stomach-”

“I could probably tell you what that is.” His tone cocky as he smirks, but you just shot him a scowl. 

“Not that.” You scoff. Although you couldn’t deny you felt that too. “It’s like… Like I’ve always known you. I never felt that before. Like I could trust you. Then you act SO weird and know all this stuff and honestly I should have ran away back at the diner but instead I just want to be closer. Now I’m here in some random motel- with you, I only known you a few hours, and it feels right but…” 

He stepped closer. “Then why deny it?” 

“I…Don’t know.” You looked at him, wides eyes and nerves on fire. “I don’t know what I should do.” 

He brought his hand to your cheek. “C’mere. I’ll show you.” 

Leaning in, he met you for another kiss. Sweet and gentle- you never shared one that felt so loving. Past kisses felt awkward, forced, but his felt like he knew how to fit his lips against yours. You leaned forward, deepening the kiss. His hand moved from your cheek, climbing into your hair. 

His lips moved against you, parting open to lick your bottom lip for entrance and you let him in. The feeling of his tongue surprised you. Warm, invasive- you weren’t sure how to counter it. A small chuckle escaped him. 

“Don’t be shy gorgeous.” He purrs. “Just follow my lead.” 

You swallowed, heart pounding in your chest. You pushed down your doubts, hesitation, for once you were going to take the leap and do something absolutely insane. Finally nodding, you kissed him back, attempting to return the same passion he was giving you. Another warm chuckled escaped him,

“Hey!” You muttered, “I’m new at this….”

“I know darling, you aint’ doing nothing wrong.” He brought his other hand to caress your cheek. “C’mon, give me some more sugar.” 

Now it was your turn to giggle. “That was so cheesy!” You teased him, ignoring the rush your body felt when he said it.

“You liked it though, didn’t you?” He hums, pressing his forehead against yours. 

“Maybe….” 

“And you like how I taste, hm?” 

Your face turned hotter, your thighs pressing together at his words. You nodded in reply. He was impossible, but you couldn’t stop now.

“You have no idea sweetheart, the things you can do.” He mumbles. “Don’t worry about me, alright, because all I am to you is someone who wants to take care of you- alright?”

Meeting his eyes, they were so intense the way they looked into you- right through you. You nodded. Maybe putting your full trust into someone you met wasn’t the smartest thing to do. You, all in-experienced and awkward shouldn’t be hanging with a man twice your age-

But hey, its memories, right?

He met your lips again, and you responded with the same eagerness. Slowly, but surely, you began to figure it out- melting into a deep sensual kiss that made you moan- your body pressing into him and your hands tightening its grip on his jacket. You were becoming light-headed- unused to the lack of air- you had to pull yourself away gasping, a string of spit connecting your lips. 

Logan’s eyes looked dark, he didn’t give you much time to catch your breath, his hand came to cup the back of your neck, pulling you back to him again as he captured you in another deep, searing, messy kiss. He swallowed your moans, responding with his own that made your panties uncomfortably wet.

His free hand, settled on your hip, slid up your shirt, cupping one tit and you gasped pulling back. 

“Too much?” He asks gently, 

“I- I just…”

“It’s okay, we don’t gotta do anything you don’t want to…” He mumbles gently, bumping his nose against yours. You shook your head,

“I want to. I just never did anything…like this.” It makes your face burn to admit that, a hit to your ego- especially to admit it to a man like him who is likely able to get ass whenever he wants. It made you wonder, 

Why me?

“S’alright. We can take it slow, stop whenever you want. How about we start with me first?” He smiles. He leaned back, grabbing your wrists. “Take off my jacket.” 

You nodded, helping him slide it down his arms, dropping it to the floor. He leaned down, catching you in another kiss as he brought your hands to the first button of his shirt. Your fingers traced over the cool fabric, before you carefully undid one button. 

“Thatta girl.” He smiled against your lips. “That’s what this is all about, taking care of each other. Understand?”

You nodded, undoing another button, and another, your fingers working quicker with each one to get the shirt off him faster, anticipation filling your lower belly. He rested his forehead against yours, waiting patiently as you undressed him and helped you slid the shirt off his shoulders. 

Your eyes practically bulged at his biceps, your hand coming up to stroke his muscles- you noted that his bicep was bigger than your entire hand. 

“You like it?” He smirked at your expression. He flexed, making the muscles, along with several prominent veins pop out. Your mouth fell open in a soft gasp.

You’re not going to survive this.

You traced your hands to his chest, where a white undershirt left it covered, your hand resting where his heart was beating. You didn’t catch the look he gave you- a look of yearning, an ache in his eyes. 

“You like your layers don’t you?” You smiled looking up at him. He laughed. 

“I’m from Canada.”

“That explains a lot.” 

He grabbed your hand, pressing his lips to your palm. “That suppose to mean something?” he mumbles into it. You stared at him a bit dumbfounded by his lips against your hand. He smiled down at you, leaning forward to catch you in another kiss- reminding you of where you both were. 

Feeling more confident, you grabbed the bottom hem of his tank, tugging it free from being tucked in his jeans, you lifted it over his head breaking the kiss, only to immediately return again. You pulled away once more, hands pressed to his pecs as you take in his chest- wide, hairy, muscular, you bit your lip and began wondering how the actual fuck you got so lucky.

You noticed the dogtags that rested on his chest. Your hand slid over to take them between your fingers. Two sets of tags, one had his name. “James Logan Howlett” You whispered.

“That’s me.”

The other, “Wolverine?” You looked up at him. A gentle expression in his eyes, he brought his hand over yours. 

“That’s me as well.” 

“What does it mean?” 

“It’s a long story.” He says. “Not all of it good. But it’s led me here…” He stepped closer. “In your arms.” 

You looked up at him with bright eyes, and nodded. “You’re here with me.” You say. He smiled, squeezing your hand.

“Now…Want to see more?” He asks, his low, almost a purr. He took your hand, bringing it down to his belt. “You can take it off.”

You stared at the belt, fascinated by the buckle that you traced with your fingers. Hesitation at first- wondering if you thought you were ready. You looked up at Logan, who waited patiently for your next move, and he gives you an encouraging nod. 

The belt clinked as you removed it, and then in turn focused on the button and zipper of his jeans. Your hands shook slightly, as you noticed the bulge that sat in the confines- but curiosity only made you keep going. 

Tugging the zipper open, you found he didn’t even have underwear underneath. Greeted by a bulging vein and a mess of dark curls that disappeared deeper into his jeans, you looked up at him with wide eyes. 

His arrogant smirk grew wider as his thumbs hooked into the belt loop of his jeans and he pushed them down. 

An audible gasp escapes you as you take in his girth. He was big. Hair covering most of him. His cock hung heavy, a thick vein ran from his pelvis to his tip, red and swollen- you could almost see it throbbing. 

You felt your mouth water staring at it. 

“What do you think?” 

“I-” You couldn’t think of a reply. He once again grabbed your hand, placing it on his belly. 

“Go on baby, you can touch it. It’s all for you.” His voice rumbles low, sending shivers down your spine. Your nails gently scraped the skin of his belly, lowering to his base. You fingers tracing the vein to the tip- soft, like you were afraid you would hurt him. “Here…” 

He gently led your hand to wrap around him. You noted how firm he felt, his skin hot, and he throbbed under your touch. “I like it like this.” He squeezed your hand, making you hold him tighter. A small groan escaped him. “Normally, you want to get it a little wet first.” He removed your hand, and spit into your palm, then nodded at you to return. You obliged, and began stroking him up and down. “Good girl..” He breathes, “Just like that.” He tipped his head back, his Adams apple bobbing in his throat as he swallowed hard. “Lil faster…..” 

You watched a milky white fluid bead at his tip, your hand coming up around it, and rubbing your thumb over the slit.

“Fuck- that’s good baby, keep doing that.” He mutters. His hand on your shoulder climbing into your hair, and he tugged you forward to kiss him. Hot, open mouth kisses, he began pressing them along your jaw and neck. You slowed your stroking over him, distracted by the feeling of his teeth and tongue, a small wince when he nipped at the crook of your neck. You heard breathy groans leaving him with each press of his lips as you stroked him faster- now wanting to watch the end result as you felt him grow harder in your hand. 

But he stopped you. 

Breathless, he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “That’s good sweetheart-” 

“But-”

“Lets save that part for the end yeah?” He mumbles, taking your hand off him. His head fell to your shoulder and you watched his stomach flex- resisting the building orgasm until the tension in his belly disappeared. 

“Want to give yourself a try?” He mumbles into your ear. 

“I….Maybe. I think so…” You say quietly. You had butterflies, a million worries in your mind over the thought of undressing and being with this man- for your first time ever. 

“Don’t worry, you’ll enjoy it.”

His voice was like a growl, goosebumps ran down your arms as he met your lips again. He slowly took your shirt off, before returning to kiss your lips, before messily moving down your chin and your neck. You shrieked when he suddenly picked you up, hands on your thighs and placed you onto the bed. 

Moving down to press kisses to your collarbone and the top of your breasts, his hand kept him supported above you, while his free hand roamed over your curves. 

“Just tell me if it becomes too much, alright?” 

You nodded, but you already knew you didn’t want him to stop at all. It didn’t matter how overwhelming it felt, how the butterflies in your belly felt like they were ravaging your insides. You wanted him, 

You needed him.

He had some kind of spell on you. He talked to you like he’s known you your whole life. His eyes carried something inside that made you want to discover what it was. His hands, calloused and rough, still felt delicate when he touched you. In your head flashed the claws that he so menacingly threatened the creep from earlier today with- but you felt no fear. He mapped out your body like he knew it- he was a stranger to you but his touch wasn’t strange.

He grabbed the cups of your bra, tugging them down to expose your breasts. Your nipples peaked to the cool air. You heard him muttering, ‘perfect’ under his breath. 

You gasped when you felt his tongue swirl over a bud. Then he switched to the other one, repeating the same motion. He pressed kisses over your breasts- gentle and filled with tenderness as he worships your breasts before finally taking one into his mouth and sucking, using a free hand to play with the other one. 

The feeling of his lips and tongue made your core ache, almost painful. Your hand came up into his hair, shutting your arms and arching your back into him, desperate for more. 

He let go of the first one, turning his attention to the second and repeating the same action. His tongue flicked at your peaked nipple as he looked up at you with a sinful smile. 

“You got some pretty tits darling.” He grinned, and heat rushed through your body to your core at his words. Only managing a small gasp in response.

He continued pressing pecks over your breasts, upgrading to small love bites before he moved down your belly. 

He hands moved to your jeans, sitting up to unbutton them slowly and carefully watching your reactions. You were nervous- but you were nowhere near ready to stop. “Want me to take this off?”

You nodded, helping him by lifting your hips off the bed as he slid your jeans off, along with your shoes and discarded them to the side. He stood over your, his eyes grazing over you barely-clad figure. 

He leaned back over you, slow and careful in his movements. One hand on your knee, he gently pushed it open, allowing him to slot himself between your legs. He braced himself on an elbow over you, his free hand reaching to snap at your bra.

“Lets get rid of this pesky thing, hm?” He asks. You nodded. His hand clenched, and a single claw came out, making you gasp as you watched him carefully tuck it under the center piece of your bra, and ripping it. He then ripped the straps, and tugged the torn remnants of your bra to the side, leaving you completely bare over him.

He towered over you, his weight a comforting- but a significant presence against you. His cock rested on your belly. He pressed a few more soft kisses to your lips, and along your jaw. 

“Doing alright darling?” He hums in your ear. You brought your arms to wrap around his waist, and nodded. “Yeah? You sure?”

“I’m okay.” You reassure.

He pressed a kiss to your temple, leaning down to nip your ear. “Fun fact about me sweetheart….The claws, and the healing factor ain’t the only thing I can do.” 

“No?” You tilted your head to look at him. 

“No. I got some good senses too. I can hear how fast your pretty heart is beating.” 

Your lips parted as you processed what he was saying. He moved to press a peck to the tip of your nose. 

“Could hear how fast it was every time I got close.” He was looking into your eyes now. “I can smell you too- how wet you were getting. How wet you are now.”

His hand slithered between your bodies, finding your panties and pressing over them, two fingers rubbing circles into the fabric where you clit was. He smirked at your expression. “Panties are soaked. First time a mans touched you like..Right?”

“Uh…”

“Nothing to be embarrassed about.” He leans down to nuzzle against your cheek. “I’ll show you how to be taken care of- just the way you like it.” 

Pressing another reassuring kiss to your cheek, he began working down your torso again, leaving kisses to each tit, and then a trail down to the hem of your panties. As he reached your core, he pushed your thighs onto his shoulders, before dragging you down to the edge of the bed with his arms hooked around them. 

“Mm.” He hummed, admiring your wet panties, leaning forward to take a deep inhale. “Fuck.” He cursed under his breath. You covered your mouth at the sight of him. “Smell fucking amazing sweetheart.” He groaned. He stuck his tongue out, lapping at the wet that stained your panties and moaned, his eyes rolling back as he licked at it again, using more pressure that made your muscles tense in reaction. He noticed, opening his eyes to look up at you. “Relax darling, it’s going to feel better if you do, promise.” 

You watched him return to your core as you attempted to settle your nerves. Leaning forward, he found your clit through your panties and wrapped his lips around them.

“Oh!” You gasped, your head falling back at the warmth that engulfed you. You stared up at the popcorn ceiling, mysterious stains speckled over it but you couldn’t focus on that as Logan sucked on your clit through your panties. 

His hands cradled your thighs, small groans escaping his throat as he savored your taste. He finally lifted his head, tugging your panties off and discarding them to the side. You closed your legs as he returned his hands to your knees.

“Come on.” His hands squeezed your knees, his eyes heavy with lust. “I want to see your pretty little pussy.”

You nearly imploded at his words, but he just grinned and forced your legs to spread, his large hands felt warm against your skin, pushing them apart 

“Ah!” You couldn’t tear your eyes away. He was looking down at your core, practically drooling at the sight. You saw his cock jump against his stomach, his tip beading more pre-cum. His hands firmly kept your thighs spread as he lowered his face to your core and began teasingly lapping at your folds. Your breath hitched at the feeling of his warm tongue, hands snapping into his hair. His eyes opened to look up at you, lifting his head up just enough for you to see, he teasingly flicked over your clit with a sinful grin. 

Filthy.

Your grip in his hair tightened, and he groans, diving further into your pussy, as he continues to drink up everything you were giving him. Only coming up once to speak,

“Taste like fucking heaven darling-” He coos, his beard and lower half of his face glistening with your juices, before returning to his place.

You squirmed, his tongue swirling over your clit in circles. Lifting your hips off the bed, you began to wiggle, your hands tugging at his hair. You grind your hips against his face involuntarily, your body instinctively seeking out the finish you were craving. 

“Logan-” You whimpered. His hands came up, pinning your hips to the mattress. He mumbled something against you but you couldn’t understand or bother to even focus. 

You felt his tongue delve into your hole, and you tugged at his hair hard- it must have hurt, because he moaned in response. Loud.

The longer he lapped at you like a man dying of thirst, the tighter the feeling in your lower belly grew. Your muscles tensed, and you squeezed your thighs around his head. His lips wrapped around your clit again, and finally you reached your peak. 

It was stars in your eyes, ripples of pleasure rushing through your body. Your mouth fell open, repeating Logan's name over and over- you didn’t even know what you were doing, your body just reacting on impulse. 

You never felt something so good before.

Just as it ended, you wanted more. 

Logan seemed to understand that. He never stopped. His eyes falling open to look up at you as your chest heaved and aftershocks ran through your limbs. His tongue returned to playfully flicking your clit, making you flinch from the overstimulation. 

“How’d that feel sweetheart?” He hums, adjusting his position, bringing two fingers to his mouth and began to suck on them while waiting for your answer..

“I….” You couldn’t think. 

“Yeah that’s what I thought.” He chuckles as he pops his fingers out. He brings them to your pulsing hole, soaked with your arousal and his spit, gently teasing it. “You looked real pretty cumming like that. Lets do it again yeah?” 

He sunk one finger in slowly and you gasped at the feeling. His hands were already big, that one finger making you feel full already. Slowly he began to pump it in out and of you. He pressed his thumb to your clit, rubbing teasing circles into it and smirked at your face. 

“Barely got started and you’re already fucked out.” He hums. 

“No…” You let out a small whimpered and shook your head. “I don’t want to stop-”

He pressed soothing kisses to your inner thigh. “Who says anything about stopping sweetheart?” He coos. Slowly, he adds another figure. Your breath hitches at the feeling of his fingers stretching you open. “You okay?” He asks as he stroked his fingers in and out of you slowly, curling them to press into the perfect spot inside you- like he knew exactly where to touch. 

You took a shaky breath and nodded.

“That’s my girl.” He grinned, moving to press kisses along your pelvis. His words sent shivers down your spine. 

He continued gliding his fingers in and out of you, stretching you open. Pulling out, he stuck them into his mouth, sucking them clean with a deep moan. “Can’t get enough of you…” 

He leaned down to latch on your clit again, returning his fingers inside you and continuing to curl them, pressing into the same spot that was making you see stars. Small satisfied grunts escaped him as he swallowed down your essence. 

You managed to prop yourself on your elbows, tipping your head back,a grin grew across your face. Your second orgasm was fast approaching. Logan wasn’t slowing down, seemingly picking up on your cues. 

You heard a snapping noise, and look down at him. He snapped his fingers from his free hand to get your attention, his eyes open while half his face was buried in your cunt. He made a motion with his freehand, telling you to keep watching. 

You nodded, your hands clenching the sheets. Your second wave of pleasure finally came, taking ahold of you but just as Logan ordered- You didn’t look away, didn’t shut your eyes. He wanted to watch you come undone on his mouth and fingers. He wanted you to see him.

Your body shook with each pulse that Logan dragged out with his fingers and tongue. You could barely register the drunk look on his face as he swallowed you, unable to get enough. 

You finished, muscles relaxing and collapsed back on the bed. 

Holy shit.

He sat up, an arm going around your waist and pushing you further up on the bed as he settled between your thighs. 

“Looked real pretty that second time princess.” He coos, nearly breathless and face flushed. He gave you a quick peck. You could taste yourself on him, his face drenched with your juices. He licked his lips. “Ready for the main course?” 

Without waiting for your answer he sat back on his knees, hands going under your thighs to spread them open further. His cock resting over your pussy. With a small thrust, he pushed through between your folds. A loud wet noise filled the room. You squeaked in embarrassment, your hands rushing to cover your face. 

You didn’t know why that made you so embarrassed. It was lewd, uncomfortable sounding, yet Logan didn’t pull away. You could feel him resting on you. Hot and heavy, an occasional twitch before he slides through your folds again in a swift motion. You pressed your lips together- unable to look at him or anything.

“Why don’t ya take a peek, darling? Don’t be scared.” He cooed. His hands came to your wrists, gently pulling your hands away from your face and pining them to the mattress, revealing a flustered expression and pouty lips. He smirked. 

Your eyes finally glanced down to where his cock was resting between your folds. He begin with long, drawn out thrusts, his tip bumping into your clit- sending shivers into your thighs as you gasp from the dirty sight. 

“See? Don’t you like how that feels baby?” 

You nodded, pressing your lips together as you watched him push his cock through your folds. More pre-cum beaded at his tip, leaking onto your clit. 

He didn't seem to pay mind to the wet noises your bodies were making together. He kept moving, gathering all your wetness over his cock. He was watching it- admiring it like it was art. 

“Look at this baby-” He murmurs, “Gorgeous sight ain’t it?”

God he’s such a pervert.

He’s right though.

He told you he was going to do things, just the way you like them. Yet you didn’t even know what you liked yet. You just knew that you did like everything he’s done tonight, how could you not? 

“Logan…” You were breathless. The butterflies raged inside you as you considered your next word. “Inside?”

The grin he gave you was devilish. “Whatever you want.” He leans down to give you a soft kiss, one arm going around your hip to lift you up more comfortably. He gathered a bunch of spit on his hand, using his free hand to lube his cock and aimed his tip to your hole. Leaning forward to hold you in a kiss, he pushed inside. 

“Oh-” You gasped, the sting of the intrusion was already too much as you felt yourself being stretched open. You grabbed onto his arms in response to the sting, tempted to tell him to stop, but you didn’t want him to stop either.

“S’alright, deep breaths.” He pressed his forehead against yours. “You can take it baby. I know you can.” 

Your nails dug into his skin while he gave you a moment to adjust. Then he pushed deeper inside.

“Logan-” You whined. A part of you wanted to do good for him- to take all he had to give. He just has a lot to give.

“Oh I know darling.” He coos softly. “It’s a lot ain’t it? But you’re being a such a good girl. You feel so good, just give it a minute, just relax.”

He leaned down to press his nose against your cheek, continuing to praise you as he went deeper. You took deep breaths, spreading your legs wider to accommodate his size as tears began to spring in your eyes. His fingers didn’t compare to the size of his cock, but you couldn’t complain. The longer it went on, the more the ache went away and you find yourself melting into the mattress feeling the warmth he filled you with. 

“There we go… Feels good now, doesn’t it?”

“Mhm.” You barely nodded, shutting your eyes, and tipping your head to the side. You took deep breaths, still growing used to the feeling of being so full. He cradled your head with his arm, while keeping his other arm wrapped around your hips and slowly pulled out, before thrusting back in, equally as slow. “It’s a lot” You breathed, your arms wrapped around his neck. 

“Just keep breathing baby-” He coos, “I got you.” 

You nodded, eyes squeezing shut at the feeling of him inside you. He buried his face into your neck, pressing soft kisses and murmuring sweet things into your ear, as he slowly thrusted in and out of you. 

He lifted his head up, hand coming up grip your face and make you look at him. “This is how a mans supposed to treat you darling. Supposed to gentle, make sure you’re happy.… Got it?”

“Mhm.” Your lips puckered as he squeezed the plush of your cheeks together. He smirked.

“Course, with me, you don’t need to worry about that.” He rests his forehead against yours, a breathless sigh escaping him. “You ready for more princess?”

“Yeah…” You nodded. Your brain was static- the feeling of him inside made you dumb, never felt this way before. 

You and your friends have gossiped about sex before. Most of your friends who have lost their virginity complained about it being boring- the guys they were with not knowing what they were doing. Other friends described it as the most magical thing of their lives- and you’re pretty sure they were lying. 

You didn’t know how your first time would go- you expected, or at least hoped it would be with someone you cared about- who cared about you. That it wouldn’t be painful- or a snooze fest. 

He braced a hand beside your head, his arm still cradling your waist as he began thrusting faster. A new shock of pleasure ran through you as his cock glide against your walls. Your mouth falling open and your eyes growing heavy. 

His moans graced your ears, as he kept a steady pace thrusting into you. Your body melded into his, as your head rolled back and forth- the new pleasure that Logan was giving you was so much. Your nails dug into his back, and you hooked your ankles around his hips- wanting him to be as close as possible.

Definitely not a snooze fest.

“Taking my cock so good sweetheart-” You heard him, “Like you’re fucking made for me.” 

A whine escaped you as he began thrusting faster, one hand coming up to cradle you face. 

“What’s that sweetheart?” His thumb brushing over your lips. “Feeling good aren’t ya? Doing okay?”

You nodded, shutting your eyes. You felt his lips on yours, giving you a messy kiss as he continued to fuck your brains out- You were in another world, mind lost in a swirl of new pleasures and unable to return his kiss. 

“C’mon-” His hand gripped you face again, making you open your eyes. “Kiss me properly darling.” 

You pouted, only making him more arrogant. 

“I know my cock feels so good doesn’t it?” He cooes, almost taunting. “but if you don’t want me to stop you better give me a real kiss.” He began to slow down his thrusts. The heavy swirl deep in your belly began to fade and you cried out.

“No, no! Don’t stop!” Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him down as you kissed him desperately. Hands climbing into his hair and tugging as he returned to his pace, his body pressed yours into the mattress. Your thighs tightened around his hips, refusing to let him go. 

You moaned into his mouth, and he swallowed each one with a moan, licking into your mouth, as spit was shared and left your head spinning. You couldn’t focus- his cock pounding into you, while his lips distracted you, and his body weight kept you trapped underneath him. 

The feeling returned, your felt your legs shake, in the back of your mind, you registering how hard the bedframe was slamming into the wall. Hopefully you don’t have neighbors.

“Logan-” You whimpered,

“Huh? Getting close baby?” 

You nodded, mouth falling open as you tipped your head back, you felt Logans hand press over your clit, circling over it with two fingers- sending a new wave of pleasure through you.

“Cum for me sweetheart, don’t be shy.” 

“Oh- Logan…” Your body tensed up, your core felt like fire as he fucked you through your third orgasm of the night. This one more intense- seeing stars in your eyes. You squeezed his cock so hard he could barely pull out. Pleasure wracked your body, tensing your muscles as you silently screamed Logans name- voice becoming hoarse from your moans. 

Logan didn’t stop, continuing to thrust as he pants and grunts in your ear. He watched you come undone on his cock, feeling your cream soaking both him and sheets. You felt him rut into you hard, before quickly pulling out. A low moan- nearly a growl graced your ears and you opened your eyes to watch as he jerked his cock to completion- warm cum painting your belly. His mouth was open, brows creased angrily, sweat beading his forehead and muscles. 

“Fuck-” He moaned, the last spurts of him leaking out as he slowed his rhythm over himself. 

He chuckles breathlessly, sweat beading his brow as he looks down at your fucked-out form, spread open, sweat and shivers running over your body. He noticed you staring at the mess he’s made on your belly. 

“Want a taste?” He asks with an arrogant grin, his voice still on edge from his coitus.

A swiped two fingers over your belly, collecting a generous amount of his cum onto it, before bringing it to your lips. 

“Open up.” 

You listened, any common sense, intellect, pride, was gone the moment Logan pushed his cock into you. You acted on baser instinct- and that was to let him do whatever the hell he wanted as long as he didn’t stop. 

He pushed his fingers between your lips as you parted them, swiping them over your tongue. You naturally closed your lips around his fingers, and a shaky breath escaped him. 

The taste was different- not what you expected, but not entirely unwelcome either. You shut your eyes, sucking his fingers clean, teeth grazing over the skin of his fingers, your tongue flat against them, ensuring every bit had been licked clean.

“You’re a natural.” He grins. You opened your eyes, exhaustion plaguing you. Leaning down, he catches you in another deep, searing kiss. It shoots down your spine, and you find yourself wanting him again even as your legs tremble and your body wanted sleep. 

He must have read your mind, his hand swiping up your body. “Want more, yeah? Don’t blame ya.” He purrs, leaning forward to kiss you. 

You ignored the sarcastic remark. 

He sat up abruptly. “How about I show you a different position.” 

He picked you up, manhandling you with such ease and pushing you into a new position- on your hands and knees. His hand pushed your knees apart, while the other pressed into the arch of your back. 

“It’ll feel better like this babe.” He says, another hand going to your shoulder to lower your top half to the mattress. His hands moved again, grabbing your hips and pushing his cock through your folds again. 

He’s already hard again?

You admittedly didn’t know much about mens biology. You were led to believe it was one and done. Logan however seemed eager to go at it much longer. The exhaustion that was plaguing you faded, disappearing as you prepared yourself for another round. 

Your hands gripped the sheets as you felt him push inside once more. 

“Goddamn.” 

You glanced over your shoulder, watching him tip his head back with parted lips. A burst of pride went through you, over how good you were making him feel. 

Feeling confident, you arched your back more and began rocking your hips against him- unable to wait longer and wanting to show him that you aren’t some naive little virgin- even if that was exactly what you were. Your eyes rolled back at how good he felt, especially in this position. His hands tightened on your hips almost enough for his nails to break skin, as he tipped his head back forward. Watching with half-lidded eyes, he smirked. 

“Gonna take a ride, sweetheart?” He hums. He lets go of his hold on you, hands falling to his side. “Go on, show me what you got.” 

You continued rocking against him, going faster every time you felt confident you could maintain the rhythm. Logans moans spurred you on, you could feel his hips slowly start to move with each bounce on his cock. Unable to sit still for long, Logan began meeting you with his thrusts- sending a rush through your body.

Grabbing your waist and pushing it down on the mattress, he began thrusting into you- rolling his hips slowly and dramatically with each thrust, making sure you felt every inch of his cock in and out of you.

“That’s it beautiful- take it all.” He moans. He began thrusting faster. You squirmed, wanting to meet with each thrust but he had you pinned. He leaned over you, his chest pressing into your back, heavy breaths in your ear. “This pretty pussys all mine, got it?” He growled. You whined. “C’mon, I want to hear you say it.” 

“It’s yours-” You breathed out, eyes rolling back. 

“Not like that, tell me your pussys mine.” He demands, nipping at your ear. “You can do it baby, word for word.”

Despite the fact that you were currently being railed, embarrassment rose. You already were so vulnerable with him, and now he wants you to say those words?

They were filthy!

A twisting in your stomach as you urged yourself to just say it. His hand, braced on the mattress slithered up your body and over your throat. He didn’t squeeze, just tilted your head enough to make eye contact. 

“Say it.” He says firmly. His cock glides in and out of you with ease. Your mouth fell open, staring into his hazel eyes. The corner of his lip twitched upwards. 

“I-” You couldn’t take your eyes off him. “My…” Your lip quivered, humiliation pricking your senses. ���My pussys yours…” 

An evil grin grew across his face. “Damn right it is.” His hand came up to squeeze your cheeks, forcing you to keep looking up at him as he pounded into your cunt. 

You felt another orgasm approaching. You fell apart completely in his arms again, a sob escaping you, your eyes squeezing shut as you are pushed into overstimulation and he still didn’t stop. 

“Logan-” You squirmed, your hand reaching around, digging into the skip of his hip. Your eyes opened and looked up at him again begging. A look came across his face, something thoughtful came across it. 

He leaned forward, catching you in another kiss. This one just as messy, but sweeter. Tears pricked your eyes from his cock pounding into your sensitive walls, your body was becoming numb. He dropped his hold on you, both hands falling to brace himself on either side of you. He began rutting into you, small grunts escaping him before he quickly pulled out with a shout of your name, spilling himself onto the mattress. You dropped your gaze to the mattress, just in time to see the claws slid out as he grunts. They prick the bed, his hands clenched in tight fists. They retracted, leaving behind only the holes in the sheets.

Logans heavy pants filled the room, as he continued to lay over you, before pressing a few gentle kisses to your shoulder. 

“Stay right here sweetheart.” He says in a softer voice. You barely nodded, not that you could move anyway. 

He climbed off you, the mattress groaning from his disappearing weight. You heard footsteps, and the flick of a light switch. The sound of a sink running before he came back and gently rolled you onto your back. 

He gently cleaned you with a warm wet rag, careful not to be too rough. Your body shook while you were afloat in your after-sex dream world, barely able to register a thing around you. You could feel Logan's tende care though.

“Need some water?” He asks, brushing your hair back gently. You cleared your throat, shaking your head. 

He tossed the rag to the side after cleaning himself off, climbing back onto the mattress and pulling you into his side, tugging the sheets over the both of you. Your shaking slowly turned into small shivers, as Logan softly rubbed your back.

“You okay?” He asks. You nodded against his chest - noting how much you liked being close to someone- especially him. 

He was warm and flush still from your proclivities. Your arm wrapped instinctively around his waist. Sleep calling your name. His hand climbed into your hair, softly running his fingers through it. 

“You did good sweetheart.” He turns his head to kiss the top of your forehead. “Amazing even.”

“That was my first time.” You mumbled quietly, opening your eyes again to stare at the wall.

“Yeah, what do you think?”

“It was nice.”

A warm chuckle escaped him. “Yeah, it was. Get some sweet baby.” He turned to press a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll be here.”

When you woke up, it was when you felt Logan stirring. Drool was stuck to the corner of your mouth, dried onto his chest, but you could barely register anything before he spoke up. 

“Shit…” You heard him mutter. “Sweetheart, you up?” 

“Mm?” You grumbled, pulling yourself closer to him- Not ready to get up and leave the comfort of him. 

“I got to go.” 

Your eyes snap open. He gently removed your arm as he climbed out of bed. You watched with fluster and desire as he crossed the room ass naked, gathering your clothes first and setting them on the bed- and then grabbing his. 

You frowned sitting up, using the sheet to cover yourself. “Go?”

“Yeah, I got some stuff I need to do.” He says, stepping into his jeans. You watched with disappointment as his lower half disappeared, before shaking your head and snapping out of your lustful gaze. 

“C’mon, I’ll take you home.” He looks at you, before tossing some of your clothes your way.

You looked at him, a tad disappointed. On one hand- you knew that he wasn’t going to stay, another man just looking to get his and leave. You didn’t regret the night, knowing it was an experience you’ll remember forever. On the other, you were attached already- he just fascinated you. With his claws and his magic healing, the way he talks and looks at you- like you’re his world.

No one’s ever treated you the way he does.

A bit of stubbornness ran through you as you sat in place. Logan turned to look at you as he pulled his undershirt on.

“Well?” 

He waited for you to say something, but you didn’t. A small laugh escapes him as he walks back over to you. “Should’ve known you’d be too stubborn to leave. Never been one to miss out on a good thing, are you?”

You blinked in confusion at him. 

“Listen baby, I have to go.” He says in a soft voice, hand coming to tip your chin up at him. “ I got something important- really important to take care of. You- You got your life to live.” 

Your nostrils flared in frustration at his words and his smile grew. 

“Am I going to see you again?” You ask in a small voice. You wanted to come off more angry than that, but you came out more disappointed than you wished to seem.

“Yeah you will.” He says softly, his thumb brushed over your bottom lip. “It’s gonna be awhile though. A long time. You’re going to go through some serious stuff. You’ll get through it though.” He smirked, eyes glancing at your lips before meeting your gaze again. “And when we see each other again I might not going to remember this-”

You open your mouth but he holds his finger up. “There’s a good reason why- So just trust me, alright?” 

“Why can’t you tell me?” You asked. 

“It’s a long story sweetheart. I promise you though…You’ll come back home to me.” He leans in, kissing you gently. 

You melted into that kiss. The back of your head told you this was utterly ridiculous, that he was feeding you a bunch of bullshit excuses. 

Yet, another part of you can’t help but believe him. He parted. 

“We good?” He asks. 

“I guess.” You say, letting a small bit of attitude out. You had to resign yourself to accepting it anyway. He chuckles, seemingly unphased as he snatches your shirt and teasingly tosses it to your hands. You looked down at your shirt. “You ruined my bra.” You look back up at him. 

He just winks, standing back up to grab his other shirt, pulling it up and beginning to button it up while you got dressed.

Your body was limp, tired, and when you stood to pull your panties and pants on you fell back onto the mattress- unused to the shaky feeling in your legs. Logan looked over, let out a small sigh. 

He walked over to you, crouching down. “You okay? Not hurting too much are you?” His large hands rested on your thighs, gently massaging them- and you found yourself wishing he would finger you again. 

“I’m fine.” You say, a tinge of attitude in your voice, looking away as you smoothed out your pants from wrinkles. Logan smirked. 

“After the way you screamed my name last night? I know you are.” 

You gasped, shooting him a glare and he laughed, standing back up and quickly pressing a kiss to your forehead. You pulled on your pants with a grumble and stood up, only to be greeted with a smack to your ass. 

“No more attitude.” He says firmly, like he was lecturing you. 

“You’re not the boss of me.” You muttered quietly as you quickly slipped on your shoes. You really hated how much you liked that though. You followed him to the car where he once again opened the door for you.

The drive back was a bit awkward. While you claimed to understand Logan, you couldn’t help but feel used. No matter how many times you told yourself that you knew that he was just wanting some fun. 

“You got class today?” He breaks the silence.

“Um, no. Tomorrow.” You say. “I got this paper I’ve been slacking on. Probably won’t get a good grade. Going to have to work on it all day today.” 

“You’ll be fine.” He says. “Hey what’s the date again?”

You glanced at him, “It’s Thursday…the….18th.” You wracked your head. “Why?” 

A solemn expression on his face. “Uh…Nothing. Just…Be careful going to class tomorrow, alright?” 

“Okay.” You say softly just by the look on his face. You decided not to inquire more. He’ll just deflect anyway. 

When he pulled onto your street- there was a sinking feeling in your stomach. Your mother.

Fuck!

You’re surprised there weren’t cops covering the street by now, that your face isn’t plastered on every milk carton and telephone pool in the town. She’s going to be pissed.

You glanced at Logan, eyes trailing over his figure, down to his hands. Your mind fell to the soreness of your legs and core from last night.

Fuck it. Worth it.

When he pulled over in front of the house, you stared at it, unmoving. 

“Hey.” His voice drew you out of your thoughts. You looked at him. A sweet smile on his face, “You’ll be alright sweetheart. Don’t worry, we’ll be together again one day. Alright?” 

You nodded. He hopped out of the car, walking around to open your door. You stepped out, looking at the ground, before glancing up at your house again.

Your mother stood on the porch with her arms crossed. You merely glared at her back, before turning back to Logan, who only looked satisfied. His eyes met yours, and he reached for your hand, to kiss the back of it. 

You weren’t satisfied with that. 

Just as he leaned back, you stepped forward to kiss him. Grabbing his collar, standing on your tip toes and pulled him down to you. His hands rested on your hips and he kissed you back despite the growing smirk on his face.

You parted. “I’m going to totally kick your ass if you’re lying to me.” You mumbled quietly. 

“Wouldn’t expect anything less.” He hummed, brushing some hair behind your ear. You let him go and turned around, walking up the sidewalk to your porch until you reached it, your mother looking down at you.

“I hope he was worth it.” She says simply. 

You bit your lip, glancing back at him. He was still standing by the car and watching. “Yeah momma, he was. He’s a magic man.” 

[strangerstilinski]

𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: Person A falls first, Person B falls harder — With a slightly more literal approach. [ 5.7k ]

𝗰𝘄: fluff, hurt/comfort, gender neutral reader (but pls lmk if i missed anything), eddie does call reader "pretty" & "gorgeous", possibly probably incorrect dnd references, minor head injury, i am not a medical professional so don't yell at me, reader is mentioned to have flyaways but no other hair descriptions. don't mess w eddie bcos he can & will prank you <3

𝗮/𝗻: initially based off of this post but, oops! somewhere along the line the og plot ran away from me. still might fuck around and write a version more similar to the original post in the future! :)

divider by @/hellfiremunsonn

Eddie's head throbs with the kind of strength that feels a little bit like he's been hit by a car. Or a semi-truck. Or a fucking train, maybe— Because holy shit, it fucking hurts.

His lips part on a strangled gasp. He manages to pry his eyes open just long enough for the sun to pierce his retinas like a goddamn knitting needle being stabbed straight through his skull and quickly pinches them shut again with a pained groan. He's cursing like a sailor through clenched teeth, dirt and grass rubbing into his clothes when he rolls to one side, feels a stupid dandelion tickling at his nose, and then promptly rolls onto his back again. Jesus, are his ears ringing? He can barely hear the sound of his own expletives over the rush of blood in his veins. 

Jesus, he is such an idiot. He'd actually walked straight into a fucking lamppost. Like some bumbling imbesile in the Sunday Funnies. Eddie doesn't know where you are now — in any other situation he'd be desperately hoping that any bystanders somehow missed the painfully (ha) embarrassing blunder — But the only thing he can spare the brainpower to think about is the ache blooming sharply at the front of his skull. 

Then he feels the stupid, scaldingly bright sun warm him until the back of his neck prickles with sweat, and for just a moment in his melodramatic heart—Eddie knows. 

He knows he's a deadman. He's sure of it, in fact. 

No point in driving himself to Hawkins Memorial to wait around in the ER, he was already a goner. As good as dead. His gravestone would read: Here lies Edward Munson, killed by his infatuation with the relative stranger who sits behind him in Economics and his own short attention span. (But in his humble defense, your smile is bright enough to rival the sun itself, and Holy hell you looked gorgeous today. Sue him if he'd wanted to stare at you just a little longer.) 

Eddie is still rocking side to side in the grass when the sunlight over his body thins with a shadow. As if to add insult to injury, something knocks him in the ribs only a moment later. Eddie is still grumbling profanities when the fog in his ears clears enough to hear another voice, distantly familiar and so much nicer than the sound of his own. 

He dares to open his eyes again, fighting against the pain in his head to squint against the harsh glare of the sun shining out from behind the– 

Huh. He really must be dead. 

Because Eddie is pretty sure there is an honest-to-god angel kneeling over him. Shit. 

Five Minutes Earlier

You're sitting outside during your free period on one of the first few truly warm days of spring in Hawkins, trying to soak up as much fresh air as you can before the cold snap of 40 and 50 degree days the coming week has in store can wring out the final dregs of winter in the midwest. 

The past weekend had been a beautiful respite. Friday it had been sunny and seventy-five by lunchtime. It was a tease of what's to come, so close you can practically taste it. 

Finals, graduation, summer. 

Today is much the same, so by the time the bell rings to signal the start of your free period, you’re already outside basking in the warm weather and attempting to make use of your good mood by finishing the reading for your English assignment, dull as the material may be. 

You nearly drop the book cradled in your lap when the doors to the school suddenly burst open just ten feet from your sunshine-y spot in the grass outside the Hawkins High School science wing. The slam of metal hitting brick is jarringly loud. You flinch in surprise, gaze snapping toward the disruption as your heart rate works frantically to re-settle in your chest. 

Your eyes find Eddie Munson. 

He's standing tall in the doorway, his favorite leather jacket forgone with the warm weather, but he still has his seemingly very well-loved denim vest layered over a tshirt. His eyes are wild, his footing restless. His body seems to be thrumming with unsettled kinetic energy, leaving him wavering in place. He's searching for.. something — that much you can tell. His mouth presses anxiously against his knuckles as he spins in a jerky circle, cursing under his breath while the heavy doors slam shut once again behind him. 

You watch as Eddie looks longingly to the edge of the student parking lot, just barely visible around the corner of the building. His face scrunches up in deliberation for a moment before his head jerks to the side, as if listening to some noise beyond the doors that doesn't quite reach you. He turns toward the line of bushes along the side of the building, just a few feet from where he still hovers at the side entrance. It seems as if he's debating something to himself before he gives an unsure shake of his head, and then suddenly Eddie is diving into the greenery headfirst. 

The sight has you nearly choking on a gasp-turned-laugh. You watch the scene beginning to play out, feeling a bit like you must've been transported straight onto the set of I Love Lucy— like at any moment all color will fade from the world around you and leave behind only shades of gray. Cue the tinny laughter of a live studio audience. 

The doors are slamming open once more before you can so much as blink. The jarring sound of metal colliding with the brick wall again meets your ears just as the last bit of Eddie's denim-clad leg disappears within the thicket of poorly tended branches and leaves. You take in the sudden barrage of green, white, and gold that emerges from the building. Letterman jackets hang loose over the shoulders of the two jocks who have stormed out after Eddie, deep scowls on their faces, expressions pinched and nostrils flared in annoyance. 

“Damn it! We lost him-” 

“Where the hell did he go?” 

“How should I know? Shit, how's the freak so fucking fast?” 

You huff a quiet laugh of amusement, shaking your head as you attempt to refocus on the book in your hands. You've barely finished re-reading the start of the paragraph you’d unwillingly abandoned during Eddie's dramatic exit when a voice slices through your focus. 

“Hey!” One of the guys calls out. 

You catch the way he relaxes his posture into something less intimidating the moment your gaze settles on him. One hand raises above his head in a halfhearted wave, a gentle smile on his face that you're familiar enough with to not fall for — It's dripping with the same faux-charm that you've seen rake in unprecedented extensions for late assignments or subservient smiles in the place of tardy slips. He fixes that same smile on you now, the kind of efficacy that could probably land the guy a leading role in the upcoming Drama Club production. 

“–You, uh, you seen Munson around?” 

Your own acting skills are put to the test when the bushes rustle just slightly at the mere mention of his name. It's an honest-to-God challenge to swallow down the laughter that threatens to spill from your lips. You do your best to paste on an look of confused nonchalance, taking a moment to school your expression while you slide your bookmark into place and valiantly fight the urge to flick your eyes toward the white, rubber soles poking out from beneath the shrubbery beside them. 

“No, sorry.” The lie itself comes easy — The feigned apology etched into your expression, however, proves a little more difficult, “Haven't seen him.” 

The guys look to one another with clear frustration. They begin to mutter back and forth, too quietly for you to make out their words, but from the obvious anger between them, you're able to put the pieces together fairly well. You've watched Eddie Munson piss off more than enough people from afar to make an educated guess as to the motive behind their current hunt. 

The ever-magnetic Eddie Munson. 

A majority of the time it's far more difficult for you to not get sucked into his tirades and rants than it is for you to simply allow your attention to be drawn straight toward him. The captivating boy with wild brown curls, and dimpled cheeks, and expressive eyes, and a laugh brighter than life itself. 

You don't know Eddie, per say. You've never actually had a conversation longer than a few mundane interactions. During one of the more memorable ones, Eddie asked to borrow a pencil that he never actually returned — Instead he'd fixed you with an all-too-charming, lopsided grin at the end of the class and asked if he could use it for the rest of the day, seeing as he couldn't find his. Because apparently he owned only one pencil or something-

And Eddie had sauntered into class every day for the next few weeks with that very same pencil tucked behind his ear. His teeth carved little indents into the soft wood when he gently gnawed on it in thought. He'd drummed the eraser softly on his desk during quizzes, fidgeting with it teeter-tottering between his fingers while he pondered over multiple choice. The utensil whittled down more and more each time you saw him, until it was a mere stub shorter in length than Eddie's thumb — but still, he continued to use it even then. His dedication to keeping track of it for so long was endearing enough that you’d never once asked for it back. 

Point is, Eddie is kind of a secret sweetheart. And you do think you know enough to be confident in the assessment that even Eddie's craziest stunts are nearly always some sort of retaliation in defense of those he deems in need of his protection. The losers and the freaks and the outcasts. Those who would normally allow the abuse and ridicule from their classmates without putting up any real fight. Because if there is one thing you’re certain of, it's that under all of that bravado — hidden beneath layers of leather, ripped denim, and the illegal ink scratched into his skin — Eddie Munson is quite possibly the most genuine, well-meaning person you've ever encountered. 

While you're sure he'd be loath to hear it… Eddie Munson is cute. There's something real that sparkles in that easy charm he turns on the teachers when he wanders into the classroom ten minutes late, or on the lunch ladies when he's angling for an extra scoop of mac and cheese.

And sometime around December Eddie had begun leaving little doodles beside the red pen marking your grade on quizzes and assignments— Adorably disturbing animations of otherwise cute animals, a smiley face adorned with devil horns, a surprisingly detailed hand displaying a thumbs up, a stick figure with the same bald head and frizzy hair around his ears as your teacher. Whatever he could get away with scribbling in thirty seconds or so before continuing to pass the stack of day-old papers back. 

There's a sweetly endearing boy threatening to sneak through the cracks in his facade — You'd noticed, and you've been quietly and embarrassingly smitten ever since. 

Which is to say, you're well-versed enough in his antics to know that while Eddie has surely gone out of his way and done something- He probably doesn't actually deserve the brutal ass-kicking that these two obviously have in store. 

“But-” You call out suddenly when one of the guys teeters a small, unintentional step in the direction of the metalhead's current hiding spot, “I've heard he sometimes hides out from Principal Higgins in the track and field shed,” You fib easily. “Maybe you could check there?” 

The guys seem to perk up at the suggestion, shooting you grateful smiles and waving as they bid you goodbye with a quick: “Yeah, we'll go give it a look! Thanks for the tip!” 

It only takes approximately five seconds from the moment the heavy door slams shut behind them for Eddie to tumble out onto the grass just beyond the line of shrubbery. He curses up a storm all the while, letting out a little yelp when he has to kick one of his feet free from a tangle of low-hanging branches. You can just make out a few of his grumbled expletives along with the tinkling of the chain wallet clipped to his belt loop, the sound of metal on metal and twigs snapping making their way to you despite sitting at the far end of the grassy knoll. 

He scrambles back to his feet in a rush, cheeks pink, wide-eyes flitting about in the distance until his gaze settles on you. Eddie's blush only darkens at the realization that you've seen his fall, but then his cheeks are dimpling with a wide, earnest grin, one hand coming up to shoot you a grateful wave as he takes just a few long strides in your direction.

“Hey, hi, it's you!” He calls out, kicking at the ground below him bashfully as his hands fall to his hips. “I mean. I, uh, thanks for the assist, there.”

“Oh, no problem,” You laugh, “Happy to help.” 

“Well, ah… Just, let it be known that your gentle misdirection was greatly appreciated,” He finishes with a gracious little bow, and feels silly for about half a second before he hears you laugh softly at his theatrics and then any and all traces of insecurity immediately fly from his head to make room for the abundance of affection and puppy love that fills his chest. 

As your laughter tapers out, a small beat of silence settles in the vast space between you. 

“Right.” Eddie nods to himself as he speaks, waving once more when he begins to backpedal toward the parking lot a few yards behind him. “Well, don't tell anyone, but I'm cutting last period, so-”  

You mime twisting a key to lock your lips, “Mum's the word.” 

“Oh, mum, you say? Shit, here I thought you'd just send anyone else who asks after me on a futile side-quest to the track and field shed.” Eddie jokes, moving another two steps back toward the sidewalk. “My own personal mastermind rogue.” 

The reference goes over your head, but the grin Eddie shoots you as he says it is enough of a thrill to have your stomach erupting with a small swarm of butterflies. 

“I'm practically aiding and abetting,” You tease, rewarded with a sharp laugh that has Eddie's eyes glittering even from a distance. “Better be careful. Too many people come looking for you and I just might have to start keeping a tally.” 

A hand flies up to his own chest, clutching at the fabric of his shirt, “Oh, but of course!” Eddie grins. “Merely name the time and place and I'd be more than happy to repay any and all debts owed.” 

“I’ll keep you updated.” 

You find yourself smiling back— can't seem to stop smiling, actually. You sort of wish he'd invite you to skip class with him, English assignment be damned. He won't, of course, it's not as if you're friends, but… The longing is there all the same.

“Right. I, uh.. Thanks again. I'll.. see you around?” 

Does he look reluctant to leave or is your mind playing tricks? 

“Yeah,” You pause for just a beat, “See you.”

Reluctant to look away from you just yet Eddie keeps moving backwards, his sneaker catching on cement for half a second before he steps up onto the curb behind him with only a small stumble. 

He laughs good-naturedly at his own clumsiness, hands joined at his lower back as he breaks the lingering eye contact with an embarrassed bow of his head.

You watch with bated breath as Eddie nears a lamppost at the edge of the lot. Your lips part on a warning that proves to be about half a second too late. 

Because Eddie has already turned on his heel and suddenly finds himself too close and moving far too fast to avoid walking into it— facefirst, at full-speed. Your entire body jolts just watching the impact from afar, your own yelp in your ears nearly drowning out the awful sound of his head colliding with metal. 

You're scrambling to your feet as Eddie staggers back a step on wobbly legs, and you're abandoning your things to rush in his direction as his knees give out and he lands on his backside in the grass with a choked-off gasp of pain and surprise.

By the time you drop to your knees beside him, Eddie's already cursing up a storm. He's rolling side to side in the grass, long legs kicking out as if the constant movement might actually be able to siphon some of the pain from his head. Your knee catches him in the ribs in all of his thrashing, but Eddie seems too caught up in his hurt and his own dramatics to have even noticed. 

“Fucking–” Eddie cuts off with a groan, long and drawn out as it rumbles in his throat. “Stupid piece of– What a stupid fucking place to put a god damn pole. Jesus H. Fucking Christ! Ouch–!” 

“Oh god! Are.. Are You okay?” You manage to get in over the sound of his breathy expletives. 

All of Eddie's writhing and flailing comes to a halt as he casts a look up in your direction, big brown eyes settling just long enough to be blinded by the sun behind you. He squints hard against the sheer brightness, his gaze instantly gone a little hazy. He looks at you for about half a second, empty gaze flitting over your face like he’s never seen you a day in his life.

“Ah.. Oh, damn it, you're pretty.” He manages before his eyes pinch shut against the onslaught of light penetrating his corneas with another curse, “Real pretty. Ah shit, did I fuckin’.. Am I honestly dead right now? Fuck.”

At least, you're mostly sure that's what he says. He's grumbling under his breath more than speaking, really. Regardless, you're going to reassure him, lips already parting to do just that, but Eddie hardly gives a moment of pause before babbling on faintly, words coming out worryingly garbled to your untrained ears. 

“I-I mean, don't get me wrong, angel, alright?” Eddie’s words slur together, “I am, uh, pleasantly surprised if it's you welcoming me to eternity.” It sounds as if each word is heavy on his tongue, or perhaps, like each one is being forcibly dragged from the depths of his chest and they've lost some of their clarity by the time they reach his lips. “‘m sure you know I'm not exactly in a place to turn away a free pass into heaven, but, uh, Jesus- Or, sorry- Ow.” He finishes inarticulately. 

You reach out cautiously, making for the area of skin hidden away beneath his fluffy bangs. Eddie startles the moment your fingers brush the welt forming on his forehead, despite how deliberately gentle you are with the movement. There's a bump, swollen under your fingertips and warm to the touch already, the injured skin flushed with heat — If the poor guy comes out of this with lasting brain damage, you're going to be seriously riddled with guilt for just existing to distract him in the first place. 

“Fuck.” Eddie grumbles again in discomfort, halfheartedly swatting at your hand until it retreats from beneath his bangs. 

His warm knuckles are such a stark contrast to your own, his fingers curling around the edge of your palm before you can fully retreat back into your own space. You ignore the way the metal of the ring on his middle finger pinches your skin when he squeezes your hand. You return his grip just as solidly while Eddie's head falls back to the ground with a dull thunk, your thumb swiping anxiously over the jut of his knuckle as he begins another round of disconcerting grumbling. 

“Ohh, if I die, my– My uncle is gonna be pissed, man.”

He sure is babbling a lot for someone with a head injury. You wonder if that's normal — If it's a good sign or a horribly bad one. 

You pull in a shaky breath, “You're not dy–”

Eddie doesn't seem to hear you over the light ringing in his ears. Rather, he's continuing on before you can finish, “Shit, he's gonna move ’imself back into my room ‘nd.. ‘N he'll see the state of my mattress. God. He's gonna see the shit stuffed under my mattress–”

You bypass the more obvious implications of his second statement (read: porno mags, drugs) despite your piqued interest, but you're far too stumped and curious to bite back a question regarding the prior. 

“What's wrong with your mattress?” 

It comes out quiet, but still, this time your voice works like magic at pulling Eddie's attention back on you lightning fast, as if he's noticing your presence for the first time all over again. 

Like some sort of divine intervention, a thin cloud passes over the sky then. The filtered sunlight allows Eddie's gaze to fully catch yours, wide brown eyes meeting your open, blissfully honest expression of curiosity. 

You're momentarily stunned by the way the molten chocolate of his eyes goes honeyed in the light, his irises glowing with an enchanting mosaic of brown and gold. 

Eddie, himself, is still squinting against the light, but this time the brightness doesn't hit him with the immediate need to pinch his eyes shut again. Instead, his brain goes blissfully blank, distracted by the way the sky seems to cast a halo around your head. A few of your flyaways sway in the breeze, sparkling so pretty in the sunlight. He murmurs as much, the words nearly incomprehensible aside from the quiet utterance of ‘pretty’ that you catch slip from his lips for a second time. 

“Eddie?” 

You cut through his tumultuous inner monologue with a soft voice, worry etched into your expression. You can't help the way you scrunch the denim lapel at his neck in your anxious fist. You pull, just a little. His shoulder lifts an inch or so off the ground before you’re releasing him again, smoothing the fabric out over his clavicle with gentle fingers. 

He still hasn't responded by the time you’re finished, so you try again.

“Hey, Eddie..” 

His eyes drop from where they've been stuck somewhere just above your own, trailing slow down the length of your torso. You watch him finally take in the extent of your proximity bit by bit; your hand in his own, your knees in the grass beside him, the way your folded legs brush his hip, the fingers you have resting where his shoulder meets his neck, the little flap of denim at the collar of his battle vest caught between your fingers. 

“What?” Eddie croaks after a few seconds of silence, the sound of your name falling from his lips immediately afterward fills you with a sense of relief the strength of which you've never quite experienced. “You.. Sorry. Uh, what’d you say?”

Still recovering from Eddie saying your name in that low, grumbly tone, your mouth quirks up at the corners of its own accord, a soft smile gracing your lips.

“You said something about the state of your m-” The words trail off, hand not currently trapped in his grip finding their way to the space between his brows. The pads of your fingertips brush featherlight over the microscopic hairs above the bridge of his nose, ever cautious in their ascent upward. “Nevermind. I just- Eddie.. Seriously. Are you okay?” 

“I, uh.. Honestly, angel?” He cracks open just one eye, shooting you a playful grin, “Think I might be concussed.” 

You laugh but it’s more in relief at his cognizance than genuine amusement. 

“Here, let me-” You reach out a hand and Eddie allows you to slowly help him to his feet with minimal resistance. He sways precariously for only a moment in a struggle to regain his balance, but your hands are right there on his chest to help hold him aloft. 

You carefully usher him back toward where you'd been reading in solitude earlier. Slowly, lest the metalhead suddenly collapse to the ground. You guide him by the hand, eyes flitting between Eddie's pain etched face and where his calloused palm is pressed firmly to your own.  

As the two of you reach your abandoned belongings, you release his hand to drop to the ground and unzip your bookbag. It only takes a moment of rifling through your things, you find what you’d been looking for: a half-frozen ice pack, tattered kitchen towel still wrapped around it to protect your sandwich from going soggy. 

You remove the towel now, turning to face Eddie right as he plops down in the grass beside you. He stretches out, long legs extended in front of him, leaning back on his hands with a casual coolness that makes your head spin. He's lounging next to you as if this is a totally normal occurrence. Like he skipped class and actually chose to come spend that time with you, of all people. Like he's not currently pretending there isn't a sharp ache in his head. 

“For you.” You hold the ice pack out in offering, the plastic already beading with condensation in the warm air. “It's not frozen-frozen, but it's still pretty cold. I could run to the nurses office real quick, though, if you-” 

“Nah. No need, sweetheart. No, this is great-” He takes the proffered item, fingers brushing yours again, “A Mastermind Rogue and a Healer. How lucky I am to have stumbled into your path this morning.” 

He flashes you that entirely too charming smile again, cheeks dimpling in a way that sends your heartbeat into overdrive. You can't quite believe that before today you'd never really looked at him this close. Plenty of class periods have been spent staring at the back of his head studying the pattern of his frizzy curls — Far more time than you've ever spent actually looking at the blackboard at the front of the room. But now you've gotten close enough to notice the freckles dotting the bridge of his nose, the long lines of his eyebrows usually hidden away beneath his bangs, the short, clean stubs of his fingernails and the green tint staining the skin underneath the ring on his index finger. 

You doubt you'll ever be able to overlook him again after this. 

Eddie must take your momentary silence for confusion, because he immediately delves into an explanation into DnD classifications. He uses simple terms, laying it out in a way that would make sense even if you had no prior knowledge of the game. It's no wonder he's in charge of the after school club, because while he’s boisterous and loud and sometimes a little bit wild and scary on purpose — He can also be so gentle and patient when the situation calls for it, especially when he thinks no one of consequence is paying attention. 

But you're paying attention. You're watching the way his full lips move. The way his one free hand gesticulates while he talks. You're watching a bead of water from the ice pack drip down the soft line of his nose. You're listening as his rambling explanation bleeds seamlessly into the concept for the summer campaign he's planning. You find yourself caught up in the whirlwind of his attention and his excitement and the sound of his fucking voice. 

Eddie's rambling pauses suddenly, and when he begins speaking again, his words come with a deliberate slowness. “Sorry, I- Sometimes I get going and I don't really know when to stop.” He smiles again but this one is more of a bashful grimace as he scratches at his head awkwardly. “You can just tell me to shut up and I won't even be offended. Promise. I, uh-”

A little bit of the light has dimmed from his eyes, and you can't fucking stand it. You don't want to tell him to shut up. Actually, you'd be far more inclined to sit right here listening to him talk about anything and everything until the final bell of the day rings out, hell until the sun dips below the horizon-

There's so much more nuance to Eddie than you'd expected when he mosied into Economics on that first day at the start of the school year and dropped unceremoniously into the desk in front of you. He is so much more than just a seemingly lacksadasal indifference to his education, or the wild storm of the constant chaos that seems to erupt in his wake. 

And speaking of that chaos…

“Hey, um. Can I ask…” You hesitate for only half a second before he’s urging you to continue. 

“Yeah, ‘course, anything. Go on.” 

“What did you do? To piss those guys off earlier, I mean.” 

Eddie drops the ice pack to his lap and twists his body toward you in a rush of excitement, leaning his shoulder against the trunk of the tree and grinning at you until you turn slightly to match him. His cheeks dimple again, eyes filled with a giddy mischief that tells you whatever tale of hijinks he’s about to bestow upon you is going to be good. Or, maybe, bad? 

Eddie makes a show of dropping his voice into a low murmur, “You ever smelled a hard boiled egg after it's been sitting in a hot car?” 

Your lips quirk, “Can't say I have.” 

“Nah, ‘course not,” Eddie replies easily. “Well, you're not the only one, apparently. Swear to God. I, for one, cannot imagine how bad those idiots’ jock-straps must reek… I don't think they even bothered looking for the source of the damn smell ‘til yesterday afternoon.” 

You try to hold back your laughter, but you don't quite manage it, and Eddie's own grin melts into something all-too pleased at the sound. 

“So, how long was the egg in his car then?” You ask in a hushed voice. 

Eddie matches your tone, leans in like he's revealing some great secret. His cheeks dimple, the freckles on his nose standing out in his proximity. 

“Remember that real hot day we had? Cracked 80 or so?” 

You nod, eyes wide. “That was Friday… Right?” Three days ago, your mind supplies. 

Eddie’s still grinning, “Yep. Stuffed it into the pocket on the back of his driver’s seat Thursday during lunch.” He says it proudly.  

“You broke into his car before the weekend-” Another laugh, but you can't help it, not when Eddie's looking at you like that. “And you just… hid a hard boiled egg?” 

“Well, see, it wasn’t locked, is the thing-” He divulges, “So… The way I see it, anyone could’ve done it. Could’a been one of the guys on the math team, or drama club, maybe a spurned cheerleader-” 

“Oh, yeah, sure,” You laugh at the unlikeliness of such a thing. An angry cheerleader, maybe, but the other two suggestions are outright preposterous. “Hell, maybe Mrs. O'Donnell did it.” 

Eddie throws his head back with a cackle, clapping his hands together in excitement. 

“Fucking O'Donnell!” He laughs, “Shit, Yes! Absolutely. You are absolutely right! Yep, O'Donnell’s behind it. Nothing more than a mean old woman's revenge.”  

You try not to get too caught up in the heady fog of approval that rolls over you with every peel of Eddie’s laughter, the joy in his voice, the sparkle in his eyes. 

“Lucky for you, I happened to witness the whole thing, so-” 

“Oh, so you've got my back, is what you're saying?” Eddie teases, bumping your shoulder with his own. “I can count on you to plead my innocence?” 

“I'll insist on your innocence,” You promise slyly. “Someone comes asking questions and I'll throw O'Donnell right under the bus. And anyone looking for you specifically will be sent straight to the track and field shed with the rest of the Munson manhunt. Obviously.” 

Eddie clutches a hand over his heart, “Damn, sweetheart. I'm not sure I can afford the interest rates on a favor like that.” 

You take a deep breath to steel yourself. “I guess you'll just have to think of another way to pay me back.”

“Oh yeah?” Eddie leans back a touch, his eyes assessing, unsure. 

He looks almost… Nervous? 

“Yeah.” You swallow around the lump of anxiety building in your own throat before speaking again. “I, uh, well. I'm not busy Friday night.” You offer over the sound of your heart pounding in your ears.

“No shit?” Eddie laughs quietly, mostly to himself. “You know what? It looks like I do happen to have plans on Friday.” 

“Oh?” Oh. You try to smile despite your heart plummeting to your stomach. It’s fine. It’s fine, you’re fine- 

“Yeah, uh… Dinner and a movie?” 

Your lips part in confusion, and Eddie seems to mentally replay his own words before shaking his head. His curls whip around wildly with the movement, one hand coming up to press the ice pack to his forehead once more. 

“Jesus, sorry, I- Shit, I'm fucking this up.” Eddie curses. “What I meant was uh, you wanna to go to dinner and a movie? …With me!” He adds after a moment. The embarrassment on his face looks almost pained. “Fuck. Would you like to-” 

“Eddie?” You interrupt.

“I… Yeah?” 

“Yes.” 

[kissandtellus]

I personally headcanon Sylus as such a soft and gentle dom that every attempt from MC to act all bratty to rile him up always ends in failure. Every time MC acts like a brat, Sylus simply gives her the most gentle and heart-melting smile ever before saying something like "Now now, I know you didn't mean to do that. I know you can do better because you're my good girl", and MC just shortcircuits and immediately apologizes all flustered. Would you please write something like that as a request? I just love how patient he is in game (feel free to make it smutty if you want to)

Error of your Ways

Synopsis: After getting injured during a mission, your bratty behavior rears its head. But Sylus is quick to put you in your place:

Warning: Light choking, spit, choking, slapping, soft!Dom behavior.

Sylus sighed as he finished bandaging you up, his expression a mixture of concern and irritation. "You seriously need to be more careful," he said, his voice firm yet tinged with affection. "You're going to get yourself killed if you keep charging into situations without a second thought."

He gently touched your cheek, his touch soft but his gaze intense. "I worry about you, you know. You're important to me, so stop being such a stubborn little bird and listen to me once in a while."

You scoff and jerk your head away. “I can take care of myself you know.”

Sylus let out another exasperated sigh, running his fingers through his silver grey hair. "I never said you couldn't," he replied, his tone edged with irritation. "But just because you can handle yourself doesn't mean you have to go off half-cocked all the time. We work together, remember? We're a team."

He reached for your chin, gently turning your face towards him, his gaze locking onto yours. "Sometimes, letting someone else take care of you every now and then isn't a sign of weakness, you know. It's called being human."

You pull your arm away just as Sylus finished patching you up. “Just…stop trying to parent me.”

Oh. Now you’ve done it. Sylus quirks an eyebrow at your bratty attitude.

Sylus's gaze darkened, his irritation quickly rising at your words. He took a step closer to you, his voice low and dangerous. "Parent you? Is that what you think I'm doing? I'm trying to keep you safe, little bird. There's a difference."

He reached out and firmly grabbed your chin, his grip tight, making sure you couldn't look away from his intense gaze. "You're as stubborn as a mule, aren't you? You think you know everything, that you can handle everything on your own.”

You swallow the lump in your throat as he pushes a strand of hair behind your ear before he speak. “That’s not how my good girl speak to me. Apologize.” He orders in that cool, even voice.

The tone of Sylus's voice sends a shiver down your spine, and you suddenly remember who you're dealing with. Your defiance quickly melts into submission, and you swallow hard before mumbling a soft apology.

"I'm sorry..." you say, your voice barely above a whisper, your gaze averted from his intense one.

Sylus smirked, a satisfied gleam in his eyes as he noticed the change in your demeanor. "That's more like it," he murmured, his tone softer now. "A little obedience won't kill you, little bird."

Sylus's grip on your chin loosened, his touch becoming more gentle as he traced your jawline with his thumb. "That wasn't so hard, was it?" he said, his tone still carrying the hint of authority.

He took a step closer, his body now only inches away from yours. "You know I just want to keep you safe, right? I care about you, even if you're a pain in the ass sometimes."

His hand moved from your chin to your hair, gently carding through the strands as he looked at you with a mixture of irritation and affection. "But you just have to keep pushing boundaries, don't you? You're like a wild animal, always itching for trouble."

He let out a low sigh, his gaze hardening again as he continued. "Sometimes I wish I could just put a leash on you and keep you locked up at this base, where I can keep you safe and in check."

You avoid his eyes, hands clenching in the fabric of your pants. “You’d like that wouldn’t you…to keep me in your trophy room like a-a pet.”

Sylus's gaze darkened once more at your words, his irritation returning full force. He moved even closer to you, his body practically flush against yours. "Watch your mouth, little bird," he warned, his voice a low growl. "You're playing with fire."

He grabbed your chin again, forcing your gaze back to meet his. "Is that what you think I'd do? Keep you locked away like some sort of prize? You really think I view you as nothing more than a possession, a toy to be played with and displayed?"

Sylus chuckles and stands from his seat, rounding the kitchen bar. He pulls his finest bourbon from the shelf along with two glasses. He never needed to raise his voice to get you to behave

You watch as he pours the amber liquid into the glasses, his movements smooth and precise. Despite your defiance earlier, there was something undeniably attractive about the way he carried himself.

Sylus set the bottle down and picked up one of the glasses, swirling the contents before taking a sip. "Come here," he said, gesturing with two fingers for you to approach.

You hesitated for a moment, still bristling with defiance, but finally, reluctantly, you made your way over to him. He held out the glass, an unspoken command for you to take it.

You take the glass from his hand, your fingers brushing against his for a brief moment, sending a shiver down your spine.

Sylus leans back against the counter, eyes flickering over your form, taking in every detail. He smirks as he notices the slight tremble in your hand, the defiance in your eyes not quite as fierce as before.

"Drink," he orders, his gaze never leaving yours. "It will help numb the pain, little bird."

You stare into the glass, the liquor's rich amber color almost mesmerizing. With a sigh of resignation, you bring the glass to your lips and take a sip. The smooth, fiery liquid burns its way down your throat, leaving a warm trail in its wake.

Sylus watches you closely, eyes still studying every move you make. "Feeling a little more cooperative now?" he quips, his tone still carrying that hint of authority.

Despite your earlier defiance, you couldn't deny the soothing effect the alcohol was having on your frayed nerves. With a small huff, you take another sip, the burn less intense this time.

Sylus's smirk widens as he takes another swig from his own glass, clearly amused by your reluctant obedience. "That's my good girl," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that sends another shiver down your spine

You aren’t above playing dirty tricks to get what you want. When Sylus reaches to tuck in the string of the bad age, you give an over dramatic gasp. “O-ow!”

Sylus's eyes narrow, his concern quickly turning to curiosity at your exaggerated reaction. "Ow? Really, little bird?" he asks, his tone dripping with skepticism.

He moves closer, hand reaching out to check the area you just fake wince at, his touch surprisingly gentle despite his rough demeanor. "Let me see."

You jerk your head to the side. “No, it’s fine. I’ll just take care of it myself.”

You try to hold your ground, but the closeness of his body, the heat radiating off him, it's making it increasingly difficult to maintain your defiant facade. His gaze is intense, and you can feel the tension crackling between you.

With a huff, you finally give in, tilting your head so he can assess the area you just faked pain in. "Fine," you grumble, "you win. Take a look."

But Sylus is soft spoke . He doesn’t need to force your arm. You willingly let him look over his patch work. “How do you do that?” You question.

Sylus chuckles softly, his touch surprisingly gentle as he continues to inspect the bandages he applied. "Do what, little bird?" he queries, his eyes still trained on the wound as his fingers brush over the gauze.

"Make you obey? Make you submit?" He looks up then, his gaze locking with yours, and there's a knowing glint in his eyes. "I just know how to handle you, sweetheart."

And handle you, he does.

He kisses away any bratty complain your lips. Guiding you with a gentle hand to the couch. When your thighs meet the leather, he gives you a soft shove. Sylus has always been skilled with his hands, from firing weapons to the way his fingers wrap around your throat.

“Sy…-“

“Hush,” his thumb brushes your bottom lip. “Open your mouth. Aren’t you still thirsty?”

He chuckles at your slight hesitance. But when your lips part and your tongue lolls out, he’s gather the saliva in his mouth. He tilts your head up and lets a long string of spit drip down onto your awaiting tastebuds. He pushes the spit that dribbled down your chin back into your mouth.

“Oh?” He hums when your lips wrap around his digits. You are giving him the most insane puppy eyes he’s ever seen. His deep and rich chuckle sends a shiver up your spine. “Does it taste good, Kitten?”

Your response is a soft hum. You pout when he pushes his long fingers deeper into your mouth to the point he’s pressing them to the back of your throat. “Easy, easy, just swallow around them. Just like I taught you.”

It’s easier said than done when his calloused fingers are touching your uvula. Your eyes water but Sylus is still wearing a mask of unenthusiastic calmness. When he can feel your throat relax, he waste no time in pushing them down your throat.

A punishment.

Nothing severe, Sylus never gave you any true pain.

When your eyes water and the tone of your eyes change color, he pulls his fingers free. He doesn’t give you a moment to recover, before his fingertips come down across your flushed cheek.

“Don’t you see now? I have the power to protect you and make you see the error of your ways.” You sniffle and wipe the tears from your eyes. Sylus pulls the silk red handkerchief from his back pocket, dapping away the drool and spilled tears from your face. “My poor little bird, come. let’s get you in your pajamas.”

[puma-riki]

WAIT ON YOU

IN WHICH ── .✦ Jake has missed you all week amidst his busy life as an idol. He missed you so much that the night before his day off he fights off sleep just to spend more time with you.

Sleepy! Jake x gn! reader fluff est. relationship skinship not proofread

NOTE: I might have channeled my inner jake with this one because it is 1am as I'm writing this and idk how well my brain is functioning, if there's any crazy typos or other mistakes, please let me know!!

──────────────────── .✦

It's late and your bedroom is dark. The only light in the room is coming from your laptop perched on your lap. The movie playing on your laptop is the only sound in the room, accompanied by the low hum of the AC and your boyfriends soft breathing beside you.

At least, it was soft.

Until he stirs with a quiet, grumbly sigh and moves to shift closer to you, who's sitting up against the headboard. He nudges his nose against your arm, still slightly slouched and sinking into the pillows.

"You're still watching without me?" he mumbles, voice thick with sleep.

You glance down at him. His eyes are barely open, lashes fluttering as he tries (and fails) to look alert.

"You fell asleep, baby," You whisper with a smile, brushing your fingers through his messy hair. "I didn't want to wake you."

Jake makes a noise that's somewhere between a pout and a groan, burrowing closer into your side. "I didn't mean to," he mutters.

"Jake, you can go to sleep." a small laugh slips from your lips.

"Nooo," he whines, voice muffled in your shirt. "I didn't see you all week. Wanna stay up with you."

"You are up with me," you tease softly, running your thumb along his cheekbone.

His eyes crack open again, squinting in the dim glow of the laptop screen. "No, I'm not. I'm... barely half conscious."

You stifle a laugh. "Hmm, then maybe you should sleep."

"Nooo." He clings to your side tighter, "I'm fine. I'm awake"

"You're absolutely not." you say, amused, but he's already shifting.

With a sudden burst of determination, Jake sits up straight, swaying slightly as the movement pulls him out of his warm cocoon. He blinks hard and gives his head a quick shake like he's trying to jolt the sleep out of his system. His hair flops, sticking out even more, and he looks so disoriented it makes you laugh.

"You're acting like a puppy." you giggle, eyes crinkling.

"I'm awake." he says stubbornly, despite the way his body slouches immediately.

You sit up without moving from your spot, placing a single hand on his chest and gently pushing him back down until he's flat against the bed again. For someone so determined he doesn't resist at all. He just looks up at you with droopy, love-struck eyes.

"Jakkeee..." you whisper, dragging his name out in a way that makes his heart ache a little, "go to sleep."

Your voice is soft, so warm and sweet, that for a second he wonders if he's dreaming. He blinks up at you, eyes fluttering, lips parting to argue, but nothing comes out.

Just as you think you've finally gotten him to sleep, rubbing your thumb up and down his chest, he opens his eyes again. He stares at you for a second, eyes blinking slow.

"..Will you go to sleep too?" he asks, barely louder than a whisper, and barely coherent. His hand moves to rest over yours. "I don't want to sleep without you... please...missed you."

Your heart squeezes, "Okay," you say softly and close your laptop without another word, setting it on your nightstand. The room darkens even more, the screens glow fading out, and you shift beneath the covers to turn to face him fully.

Jake moves the second you do. Like he was waiting for the green light.

He wraps himself around you almost immediately; his arms around your waist, one leg tangled with yours, and his face burying itself in the crook of your neck with a content sleepy hum. Like this is the exact place he's been trying to get to all night.

"I miss you..." he murmurs into your neck, the feeling of his voice vibrating against your skin makes you almost shiver.

You exhale a quiet laugh and start scratching his back in slow, comforting circles, feeling him melt against you with every breath. "I'm right here, dummy"

He only hums. Definitely didn't hear you. Too far gone in the feeling of you.

Within moments, his breathing evens out again. You feel his smile before you hear it: the smallest, sleepiest exhale of happiness against your skin.

He's finally in your arms after waiting for you for what felt like eternity. Wrapped up in you, he finally let's go.

──────────────────── .✦

𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 (𝐎𝐩𝐞𝐧!)ᯓ★

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