#anyway yeah thank you again for all the recent support

[mroddmod]

they are like puppies. 2 me

[joelsgoldrush]

“guilty pleasure” | 8.6k

worst!logan howlett x f!reader

SUMMARY: After saving Earth-10005 from impending disaster, Wade convinces Logan, the alcoholic and easily irritated mutant, to stick around for a while. He’s convinced that nothing good can come out of this experience, until he meets you: the charming bartender with a soft spot for swearing that matches his own. Suddenly, sticking around doesn’t seem so bad after all.

WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni - smut 18+ fluff. drinking. dirty talk. slow-burnish. grumpy!logan x sunshine!reader. reader is really kind but cracks a lot of jokes. age gap (25 vs 200 - they’re basically the same age). oral sex (f receiving). fingering. finger sucking. soft dom!logan. wade being the funniest asshole. logan calls reader "kiddo/kid”.

A/N: HI! first of all, i'd like to thank you for all the support you showed me on my recent post. let me just tell you that i’m LOVING writing for logan. but none of this would be possible without YOU, so yeah, i fucking love y’all.

** regarding this story, i was planning on making it even longer, but writing these two has been so much fun, and i didn’t want it to end just like that (i have attachment issues as you may infer from this note). therefore, i’ve made the decision to write a second part to this fic, which will contain fluff and other stuff (you already know the drill). i don’t know when i’ll be posting it, but i’m sure it won’t take me that long.

*** i’m also working on other one shots (purely fluff/domesticity because i want this man to cradle me in his arms). anyway, i don’t know if anyone’s going to read this, but still, all I have to say is THANK YOU FOR READING MY WORKS! i hope you really like this silly story i made up :)

**** english is not my first language so if you come across any mistakes don’t hesitate to tell me :)

special recognition to @zloshy who allowed me to rant about my own fic 😭 the sweetest human ever

The bar is far from packed, but then again, it never truly is.

Studying your regulars has become your favorite hobby. Soon you end up knowing their names, the drinks they like, and what time they come through the door. It’s what happens when standing on your own two feet and refilling glasses lose all their charm. A part of you thinks you also do it to make them feel safe. No matter how much you try to deny it, you truly care about their well-being.

Is this your dream job? Nope. Definitely not. You’re pretty sure that holding some stranger’s hair while they empty their insides wasn’t on your bingo card for this year. But sadly money doesn’t grow on trees, and university isn’t going to pay itself. Plus, this was the only job in which your resume was not immediately rejected. It should also be stressed that the drunks happen to love you. 

Perhaps this isn’t the life you had always imagined for yourself, but you were getting closer to it. You’d often talk to Adam, a retired psychologist in his seventies. He was without a doubt one of the most loyal clients you’d ever encountered. In the past, he’d even given you free advice on some of your failed hookups. You once told him that in less than two years, you’d be just like him when you got your degree in Psychology. To your surprise, he replied: “You’ll be much better than me, doll. I’m a mess, can’t you see it? You don’t wanna be like me,” his voice was hardly above a whisper as he continued. “I should be at my daughter’s birthday right now, but I didn’t get an invitation this year. Believe me, you don’t want to end up like this old man.” 

Like Adam, most of the men who frequented the bar day-to-day saw it as an opportunity to hide within the shadows. In comparison to the other pubs in the area, the one you work at doesn’t receive that much attention from the general public. A dimly lit place where only music from the 80s is allowed. You’re certain that if a health inspector ever came down here, you’d be in serious problems. But hey, you know what they say: do not worry about tomorrow; instead, live in the now.

The atmosphere of the bar shifts dramatically as the main door slams shut with a resounding thud, pulling you abruptly out of your daydreaming. You turn to see who’s arrived, but as soon as your eyes meet his, you’re compelled to look away. Nevertheless, the brief glance you catch of the stranger’s features is enough for you to unlock your phone and send a quick text to your best friend. 

You:

cutie patootie alert

there’s this really handsome guy at the bar

i don’t think i’ve ever seen him before

i think i’m in love with him

my night just got a 100% better

Allison:

age

what does he look like

is he bald?

You:

he looks like he could be in his early fifties??? it’s hard to tell UGH i wish you were here

brown hair, beard, 6’2 if i’m not wrong 

i didn’t stare at him for too long

otherwise that would’ve been very weird

and no he’s not fucking bald

that happened only once and i was not aware of that gentleman’s lack of hair 

Allison:

so you’re dating retired now

get it grandma!

You:

oh fuck you allison 

Allison: 

it’s okay girl we all have our flaws

just make sure it’s nobody’s father

wait it’s not mine right?

You:

nah your dad’s way hotter don’t you worry about it

Allison:

bitch 

Even with the music blasting through the speakers that are attached to the ceiling, you can still hear the low murmur and the whispers. The mysterious stranger seems to have attracted the attention of the other patrons, some of whom have even raised their phones to take photos. Your eyebrows draw together. Why would they do something like this, approaching the man as if he were a celebrity? Since curiosity never fails to kill the cat, you decide to get involved.

“Do I have somethin’ on my face?” you hear him ask the crowd, his raspy voice making your knees wobbly. He sounds enraged. You step on your tiptoes, trying to see what all the fuss is about, albeit it’s pretty hard considering how these men are caging him with their bodies.

The glow of a phone’s flashlight catches your attention, and suddenly, a chair is dragged without much elegance. “Enough of that, y’hear me?”

Enter you now. “Okay, gentlemen, I’m sorry. I’m gonna need you to make some space for me, alright?” you mumble as you gently push them aside. “Thank you, thank you. Y’all can be real sweethearts when you put your minds to it.”

Then you spot him, and it becomes clear why everyone is making such a fuss. 

Gary, your worst client ever, steps forward. His nasty breath clouds your senses as he rests one of his sweaty hands on your shoulder. “Doll, it’s the fucking Wolverine. Don’t ask him for a picture, though. He doesn’t seem to be in the mood for that.”

The last thing you needed to see today was a fight (despite your knowledge of who would be the winner). You locate yourself amidst them, shaking your head like a disappointed mother, so as to add a tiny bit of drama to the situation.

“Guys, what you’re doing here is completely inappropriate. I thought I’d taught you better. Imagine if I were to pull this crap on you. You wouldn’t have it.”

Adam presses his lips together, flushing a bit. “She does have a point.” 

“Thank you, peanut. You’re still my favorite,” you flash him an honest smile. Scrutinizing the rest of the men, you continue with your speech. “You can still make up for it and fill my tip jar all the way to the top. Deal?” they all scoff, barking their disagreement. “Oh, you don’t like the sound of that? Then leave him alone, okay? Class dismissed! Back to your places,” you clap your hands repeatedly, signaling them to go away. “Chop chop. All this alcohol won’t be drinking itself.”

Just like that, everything goes back to normal in the blink of an eye. Wolverine sits back down in his chair, leaning closer to the table and resting both elbows on it. He examines you, lifting his chin while his brown eyes take in every inch of you.

“Thank you,” he utters, his eyes still trained on your features. 

“No need to. It’s what I’m here for,” you point to your work clothes, which consist of an antiqued apron and a silly sticker that has your name written on it. “Can I get you anything to drink? It’s also Burger Night. You can get one for half the usual price.”

(No. It’s not fucking Burger Night. You just happen to find yourself deeply attracted to him.)

He doesn’t seem too eager to hear you talk. “Not hungry at the moment. But I could use some whiskey.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, kid. Very sure.” Well, now he does look annoyed.

“Great. I’ll be back in a minute,” you move as if you were in a race, returning to him after a hot minute. Setting his glass down on the table, you fill it with some old whiskey you don’t even know the name of. Still, he omits that detail, gulping down two-fingers of whiskey as if it were water. “I see you’re thirsty.”

“Could you leave the bottle here?” those brown puppy eyes are begging you to do as he says, and although you’d be happy to oblige, rules are rules. 

“Actually, I can’t. The bottle stays on the counter. But you can always join me at the front,” your proposal doesn’t appear to have the desired effect on him. “I won’t talk to you if that’s what you want.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” he rubs his neck, drawing a long breath as he stands up. 

You can feel many pairs of eyes searing into your soul. The others ask you for more drinks and you pour them, pricking up your ears when you hear them talking about him.

“What a weirdo. Didn’t you see it on TV? He’s not even from this universe,” Gary explains, looking for accomplices to hate on Wolverine. “Let me tell y’all something: he shouldn’t even be here. He’s fucking dead on this earth.”

Yeah… that you knew.

It had been all over the news for weeks. Some would even swear that he was back from the dead, but that was until the representatives from the TVA spoke their truth. If someone would’ve told you a month ago that multiple universes were a thing, you would’ve laughed in their face.

As if that weren’t already difficult to process, your mind does the job of reminding you that there’s a man with metal claws sitting a few meters away from you. Despite that, you can’t seem to be scared of him. There’s something magnetic about his personality and that don’t-come-near-me-or-there-will-be-consequences expression that he has. Why had you promised not to speak to him? Dammit.

“I can hear your thoughts,” a muscle in his jaw twitches after knocking back another glass of whiskey. He squeezes his eyes shut before tapping the table with two fingers, silently asking for a refill.

“I thought you didn’t want me to talk,” you raise one of your eyebrows, and you behold how the corners of his mouth turn up for an instant. “I can assure you your liver hates you.”

“Alcohol won’t kill me, so don’t be afraid. Keep ‘em coming.”

For nearly twenty minutes, he does nothing but drink. He attempts to light a cigar at some point, and you stop him. “You can’t smoke in here.”

“No special treatment?” he inquires, placing the cigar between his parted lips and tilting his head back. He’s so… dreamy. He has to know it.

“I saved your ass today. The least you can do is not cause me any trouble.”

His eyes widen at your words, blinking owlishly. “You saved my what?”

“Your goddamn ass. You were about to start a fight.”

“Blame the idiots you have for clients,” he says, jerking his thumb toward your direction. “I was just mindin’ my own business. They came for me, not the other way around.”

“Look, Wolvie. I–”

“Wolvie?” giving a bitter laugh, he rams a hand through his hair. “That’s the worst nickname I’ve heard in a long time,” he looks at you through his lashes, getting rid of his leather jacket. “It’s Logan.”

“Wow. Your name is very boybandish.”

You succeed in making him laugh once again. It’s the perfect opportunity for you to observe his face without feeling like you were just about to get caught. He has deep creases and worry lines etched between his eyebrows, a brown beard that perfectly frames his jaw, and a few white hairs scattered in his sideburns. Pearly teeth that go hand in hand with one of the most impeccable smiles you’ve ever seen, and a pair of brown eyes that make you feel weak in the knees. You know for a fact that he’s a lot older than you; his exact age remains a mystery, but his appearance is enough for you to start fantasizing.

Shit, you want him. You should feel sickened by the mere thought of being with him. He was born God knows when, has lived hundreds of years. Still, the idea of tracing his cheekbones with your fingers while lying on his chest doesn’t leave you. This is fucked up. You are fucked up. A fucked up Psychology student. The joke is pretty much self-explanatory.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding, you preening slut. Can’t even bother to answer my calls now?”

The tension between you shatters like a glass dropped onto the floor. He doesn’t dare to look in the direction of the owner of that voice, not even as the seat next to him gets taken. He pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Wade, what the hell are you doin’ here?”

“It hasn’t been exactly easy, raising our kid on my own. I don’t even have money to hire a babysitter, Lo. I spent nine months carrying your child, and for what? You end up going after a bartender,” the masked man turns to you, giving a sly wink. “No offense, baby. You must be a real sweetheart. In fact, do you want my number? The name’s Wade, but you can call me whatever you like.”

“You dumb fuck. Are you flirtin’ with her?”

“No shit, smartass. You’re the future of this country.”

A soft giggle escapes you despite your attempt to hold it back. You take a step back, admiring the two men. “Well, aren’t you two a beautiful couple?”

“You should see our little munchkin. He’s got my eyes and Logan’s hair. His first word was gubernatorial.”

“Would you like to have a drink while you’re here?”

“A beer would be great. Thank you, sugarbear. You’re the cutest,” Wade sinks back into his chair, resting his chin on his palm. He jerks his head in Logan’s direction, bumping his shoulder. “She’s the cutest. Are you two together?”

Logan rubs his forehead, speaking through gritted teeth. “How did you find me?”

“It's the power of love, baby. I had It’s All Coming Back To Me Now on repeat for hours. Couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Handing Wade a cold beer, your eyes scan Logan’s face. “I didn’t know patience was your strongest suit.”

“Me neither.”

“Enough of that! I can’t stand not being included in a conversation,” Wade throws his hands in the air, and you look at him. “There you are. So, what about you? Are you even allowed to be here? Did bars change their policies?”

You can’t help but snort. “I’m 25.”

Wade looms closer, lowering his voice. “Now that I think about it, you could totally be Logan’s caretaker. He’s been having some issues recently, given his age. Do you… know anything about adult diapers?”

But then Logan’s face contorts, turning crimson. He rises from his seat, grabbing Wade’s arm. “That’s it. We’re leavin’,” his eyes lock on you for a moment. “How much do I owe you?”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s on the house.”

The things you’re willing to do for a man, right? You should be ashamed of yourself.

(But you aren’t.)

His mouth hangs open in disbelief. “Kiddo, are you–”

“Completely sure,” you finish his sentence for him, bowing your head and clasping your arms behind your body. A tight-lipped smile takes over you. “Just don’t tell my boss.”

Wade shifts his gaze back and forth between Logan and you. “I usually don’t mind third-wheeling, but I sort of feel left out.”

“I’m gonna sew your mouth shut, Wade.”

“Oh, come on! I was just making small talk,” the masked man tries to excuse himself while Logan pushes him towards the door. “It was a pleasure meeting you, sunshine. I’m free on Thursdays. Hit me up if his whiskey dick fails to impress you! Mine’s way more agile and young!”

As you watch them leave the bar, you remain frozen in your place amidst the clamor of ongoing chatter and clinking glasses.

What the fuck had just happened?

“Patrick’s normally the first one to get wasted during weekends,” you explain to the blonde woman sitting in front of you, and she writes that information down in her notebook. “He can usually handle himself, but at some point, he’ll try to call his ex-wife, and that’s when you know you need to stop serving him.”

She clicks her tongue, the color draining out of her face. “This is… definitely a lot to remember. I think I already forgot half of what you said.”

You shake your head, shoving your hands in your pockets. “You’ll get used to it, believe me. I’ll be with you at all times, so if you have any doubts, just ask me.”

After a whole year of working solo at the bar, you finally get to have a coworker: Gwen, a mother of two teenagers in her forties. You had met her at the grocery store, and in the process of helping her find a specific brand of cookies, you found out that she had recently lost her job. One thing led to another, and now she’s your trainee.

Your savior complex strikes again!

It has been four days since your first encounter with Logan. The thought that he could show up at any moment makes your heart race and your hands sweat. Allison had received countless voice messages where you narrated the entire experience in full detail. 

Touching your arm softly, Gwen’s face lights up. “Another man came in. Is he a regular? I don’t think you told me about him.”

Fuck, it’s him. Manifesting does work wonders. He locks eyes with you and raises a hand in greeting.

“Leave this one to me,” you tell her as your feet take you to where Logan’s sitting, contemplating the way in which his leather jacket hugs his wide frame. “Long time no see.”

“Hey, kid,” he grins. “What’s up?”

“Nothing much. Nobody has puked yet, so that’s a good thing,” you crinkle your nose, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “Whiskey?”

“You know me so well,” a smirk takes place in his lips, and he smiles cockily. “Though this time, I won’t be leavin’ without payin’.”

“We’ll see about that,” you go back to your usual spot behind the counter, looking for a glass. Your cheeks kind of hurt from smiling so hard. Next to you, Gwen studies your reaction to seeing Logan. “Is that your boyfriend?”

You almost drop the whiskey bottle. “God, no. He’s not my boyfriend. Barely know the guy.”

“It’s funny,” she says, raising her eyebrows with a knowing look, as if she knows something you don’t. “He hasn’t stopped looking at you since he arrived.”

“It’s probably because of this,” you reply, lifting the bottle in her direction before pouring a small amount into a glass. Just as you’re about to walk over to him, a girl slides into the sit beside him, her long blonde hair swept up in a ponytail. She’s wearing a stunning red dress and black heels. You wonder if she’s a model, because she certainly looks like one.

Her hand creeps up his arm, fingernails scraping against the worn leather. Although Logan’s expression is hard to read, he doesn’t even flinch.

“You know what? Here’s his drink– You take care of it. I’ll stay here,” you don’t give Gwen a chance to talk back, instead staying behind the bar, engaging in small talk with other clients. 

“Doll, are you okay?” Adam asks you after noticing you struggling to open a beer bottle. He takes it from your hands and opens it with ease. “There you go.”

“Thank you, Adam. I’m fine, never been better. Why you ask?

“You sure?”

“Affirmative.”

“You mixed up our drinks,” he explains in his most psychologist-like voice. “This never happens to you. Michael has my wine, and I’ve got his martini.”

“Fuck! I’m so sorry. I just— I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you chew on your bottom lip, rubbing your temples. “I feel stupid.”

“Oh, please. Don’t say that. You’re far from being stupid,” he sits up straight, reaching for your fingers and giving them an apologetic squeeze. “If you ask me, I think you’ve got your mind on someone else,” he must notice how you visibly get tense because he adds: “Remember: I know when you’re lying. You didn’t charge him the other day, which means that you must really like him,” taking a tentative sip of the martini he didn’t even ordered, Adam shrugs. “I’m a great observer. That’s all.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see the blonde girl from before returning to where her friends are chatting. Logan is left alone, and you watch him grab his glass and head towards the counter.

“As I said, your mind’s somewhere else,” Adam sighs, a tiny smirk tugging at his lips. “Go get your man. I’ll survive.”

“Not my man. But thanks, older-and-wiser-version-of-cupid.”

Pretending not to have seen Logan, you continue with your work. He remains silent for some minutes before finally saying: “Hi.”

Hi? It sounds so out of character for him.

“Hey, claws,” you force a smile, still avoiding to meet his gaze. “Do you need anything?”

Logan points to his empty glass, like a toddler asking for more cereal. “I also wanted to talk to you.”

“I thought you were busy over there,” you say, surprisingly managing to sound nonchalant, despite the jealousy bubbling underneath your friendly tone. “Did you get her number?”

“What? No.”

“Why not? She’s cute.”

Yeah, maybe you don’t sound as collected as you think.

Whether Logan notices it or not, he chooses not to mention it. He folds his arms over his chest, fixing his brown eyes on you. “I’m not interested.”

“And what is it that interests you, champ?” your question elicits a low chuckle from him. Just as he opens his mouth to seemingly reply, Gwen appears out of nowhere to ask you about the price of a certain drink. Your gaze shifts between her and Logan, who remains focused on you while sipping his drink.

After that, Gwen leaves. The man in front of you goes poker-faced, pursing his lips, and his abrupt change in demeanor alarms you. “Wade wants to have dinner tomorrow at his apartment– well, our apartment. I live with him now. It’s complicated,” he adds with a dismissive wave of his hand, and you laugh. “Anyway, he asked me to tell you that you’re invited. I know we don’t know each other that much, but… he said you seem like someone worth havin’ around,” he mumbles awkwardly, eyes downcast. “I think the same as well.”

You could die at peace.

“You’re a lucky fucker because I don’t work on Sundays,” you quip, smiling. “I’d be more than happy to attend your feast.”

“Great. I thought you would turn down the invitation.”

“Now why would you think that?”

“‘Cause you barely know me– us,” he corrects himself rapidly. “Plus, Wade’s annoying as hell when he puts his mind to it. You’ll see.”

“Marital problems?” he actually in response. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’. Oh, I’ll bring the dessert.”

“You don’t have to.”

“But I do want to,” you tilt your head in an effort to hide your longing for him.

“Just want to get under my skin, huh? I can see why Wade likes you,” Logan beams, reaching out to tuck a $100 bill into the pocket of your apron. “The tip’s included.”

“I don’t know how things work in your universe, but you’re giving me way more money than you’re supposed to. I can't accept this.”

“Oh, but you will,” his gravelly voice fucks your system up, and you’re glad he can’t see how you squeeze your legs together behind the bar.

He writes down Wade’s address on a random napkin, holding his breath as he stands up. “I should get goin’. See you tomorrow then.”

Before he walks out the door, you stop him. “Logan? You didn’t answer my other question.”

His back shakes momentarily with laughter. Turning around to face you, his stare leaves you even more confused. “Good night, doll.”

This is becoming a habit: every time he goes away, you feel as though you’ve just run a marathon with no water available. Your mouth is completely dry, your fingers are numb and there’s a knot in your stomach that’s becoming all too familiar.

“Would you mind telling me where you got him?” Gwen’s voice makes you almost jump out of your skin.

“He’s not from around here. I think he’s Canadian.”

You’ve got this. You’ve got this. You’ve got this.

Knocking softly on Wade’s door, you step back, the container holding the tiramisu cold to your touch. It’s your first time trying out this recipe, so you’re expecting it to at least not taste like shit.

Wade answers the apartment door, acting surprised when you remain silent. “Well, look what the wind blew in: if it isn’t my husband’s lover. How dare you? We’re still going to couples therapy.”

You show him the container, and he squints at it. “Tiramisu. You want it or not?”

“I hate twenty-somethings,” he says with a defeated sigh, stepping aside to let you into the apartment. 

Leaving your purse on the nearest surface, you scan the living room, wondering where Logan might be. There’s a small mirror beneath the couch, and you check yourself for the hundredth time tonight. “Don’t get too excited. He’s still showering,” Wade’s voice rings in your ears, and you turn to look at him, your eyebrows knitted. “Yeah. I noticed. You’re already drooling over that big piece of metal between his legs.”

“Keep quiet!” you cover his mouth with your palm, noticing the scarred state of his skin up close. “Wade, you fucking dog. Are you licking my hand?”

“Couldn’t help it. You taste like mascarpone cheese and espresso.”

Then Logan emerges from the bathroom, with only a white towel draped around his waist. Droplets of water fall from his wet hair, tracing the muscle of his abs, ending somewhere beneath his happy trail. Your eyes keep flickering between him and his torso until he clears his throat. “I thought you were comin’ later.”

“Me too, but I…,” you trail off, your brain struggling to catch up, “I didn’t know what else to do at my place.”

“It’s fine. Just– let me put on some clothes.”

“Please don’t,” Wade murmurs next to you, but Logan only scoffs. “I was just being honest. Communication is key.”

When Wade and you are alone again, he lets out a harsh breath. “That was probably the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. My pants are really tight right now.”

“Thin walls, buddy!” Logan shouts from his bedroom, earning a laugh from you. 

Like A Prayer starts playing. Wade moves his hips to the beat, getting lost in the melody. “Is that your phone?”

“Yeah, but I always take a few seconds to dance to it. Such a banger!” he says, then picks up his phone, accepting the call. “Hey, Ness! What´s up?” Wade covers the speaker before telling you: “It’s Vanessa. My ex-girlfriend. We fuck once a week, sometimes even twice.”

From behind, Logan nudges your arm with his, looking at you. ”Hey, kid.”

“No, I’m not busy at all,” Wade exclaims, grabbing his crotch and thrusting into the air. “I’ll be there in ten, cupcake. See you,” he spreads his arms wide and whistles. “Someone’s getting laid tonight!”

“You made me come all the way here… and now you’re leaving?”

“What? My friend Wolverine wanted to invite you over. I just had to provide the apartment,” in one quick movement, he presses a kiss to your cheek, then does the same to Logan. “Shave yourself, will you?”

“Go fuck yourself, will you?”

“Love you too, honey. Hope you two lovebirds have a good night, because I know I will!”

Wade throws a wink over his shoulder before heading out, the apartment going dead silent. Logan and you stand frozen, staring at each other, although he quickly drops his gaze, unable to maintain eye contact. A giggle threatens to escape you: he wanted to see you. Could he possibly enjoy your company as much as you enjoy his?

Logan watches the spot where Wave had just been. The absence of his chaotic energy makes the room feel strangely empty now. He coughs lightly, the sound awkwardly loud in the quiet room.

“So... I, uh, bought pizza,” he says, his voice a little too casual, as if trying to cover up his nervousness. Averting his eyes, he focuses on the pizza boxes on the table.

You catch the hesitation in his tone, your curiosity piqued by his discomfort. Tilting your head, a teasing smile forms on your lips. “Pizza, huh? You sure know how to impress a girl.”

Logan chuckles, the sound strained, as he scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, I figured it was a safe choice. Didn’t want to ruin it, y’know?”

You move closer to the table, the warmth from the pizza boxes radiating against your hands as you open one of them. The rich smell of melted cheese and pepperoni fills the air, a comforting scent that makes your stomach growl softly. “Thank you. I’m a big fan of pizza.”

He sits in the chair across from you, taking a bite of his slice. You watch him quietly, your own thoughts churning. The truth of his origins had been a shock at first, but now, it just made you want to know more about the man. What was his life like in the other universe? Did he miss it? Was he happier here, or was he longing to return?

“Logan…,” you begin, your tone gentle but probing, “Can I ask you something?”

He glances up at you, eyes widening. There’s something in your eyes –an understanding, maybe– that makes him feel like you could see right through him. 

“Sure,” he replies, trying to sound more at ease than he really feels. “Ask away.”

You hesitate for a moment, not wanting to push too hard. “I was wondering... would it be okay if I asked you some questions? About, you know, your life. Where you're from.”

The bite of pizza suddenly feels heavy in his mouth. He hadn’t talked much about his world, not even with Wade. Partly because it was too painful, and partly because he wasn’t sure how to explain how things turned out for him. He nods slowly, setting his slice down. “Yeah, it's okay. I’ll answer what I can.”

“I just... I want to understand you better.”

“Well, first and foremost, I’m no hero. You should know that by now.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Kid, I’m the worst Logan. A complete failure. Of all the variants out there, Wade just had to pick the one despised by every living soul on his earth,” Logan looks away, his voice low and heavy. You’re wondering if doing this was a good idea. “I need a drink.”

He gets up and you follow him into the kitchen. He rummages through the fridge, in search of a cold beer. Meanwhile, you attempt to find the right words. “I don’t think–”

With a sharp flick of his wrist, three metal claws sprout from between his knuckles. A gasp catches in your throat as he uses his claws to pierce the beer can, drinking from the punctured holes. Once he’s done, he goes back to staring at you. Your gaze, on the other hand, is still glued to the now-empty beer can. “What?” he asks, exhaling slowly.

“That was completely unnecessary,” you mutter, and he lets out a bitter chuckle, tossing the can into the trash. “But, back to what you said before– I don’t think you’re the worst Logan.”

“You didn’t know me back then, darlin’. I fucked it up,” he leans against the counter, arms crossed defensively over his chest. “Like the Logan from this universe, I once belonged to the X-Men too. I remember that Scott used to beg me to wear my suit. So did Jean, Storm, Beast– All of them,” his gaze grows more distant, and you can tell that memories are flooding his mind. “Wanted me to be part of the team, but I wouldn’t do it. Told them they looked fucking ridiculous.”

The pizza’s long forgotten. You take the risk and get a bit closer to him, your eyes never leaving his. 

Logan’s silence stretches for a moment before he speaks again. “One day, while I was off on my own, the humans came. They went mutant hunting.”

Your heart clenches at the pain in his voice. He still remembers everything as if it had happened yesterday. “I can guess the rest. You don’t have to–”

But he cuts you off. “No, let me say it. I need to say it,” he takes a deep breath, lowering his head. “By the time I stumbled home, shit-faced from the bar, it was too late. They were dead. They called after me and I walked away.”

Reaching out, your hand gently brushes against his. He doesn’t pull away, but instead searches for your eyes. “My suit's all I've got to remind me of who they were. What I did. I found them and they were… dead. I started killing, and I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to stop. I turned the whole world against the X-Men.”

You tighten your grip on his hand, knowing there’s nothing you can do to change how he feels. “You’re not a bad person, Logan,” he shakes his head, mumbling something you can’t quite catch. “I mean it. What happened back then doesn’t define you. You took the blame for their deaths upon yourself. I can tell you loved them deeply, and I’ll never fully understand the pain you feel. I wish I could. I wish I could take it away, make you forget somehow, but I can’t. That’s not how life works. But you got your second chance: you saved this world. My world,” gently cupping his face in your hands, you allow your fingers to caress his cheeks. He leans into your touch, watching you with half-lidded eyes. “You’re my hero. I’m your biggest fan– after Wade, obviously, which is a lot to say.”

He grins, letting out a laugh. “Easy there, bub.”

“Should I give you some space?”

That’s the last thing he wants from you right now. You already know that as he looks you up and down, placing his hands on the small of your back, his thumbs drawing small circles on your skin. There’s no turning back– The warmth between you feels almost like a fever dream. “For a long time, all I wanted was to disappear. I couldn’t stand waking up every morning, knowing that another day awaited me.”

“And what happened?” your breath mingles with his, his closeness becoming nearly intoxicating. “What changed?”

“I met a pretty girl at a pub, that’s what happened,” he murmurs, his dilated pupils flicking up to meet your gaze. “I’m gonna kiss you now.”

“Do all your kisses come with a warning?”

“God, do you ever shut up?”

You don’t have time to respond because he kisses you there and then. His stubble scrapes your skin as your mouths meet again and again, needy hands that hold you as if you were prone to breaking. Logan licks into your mouth, sliding his tongue against yours and swallowing every one of your whimpers.

“So this is what it takes to shut you up, huh?” he murmurs against your lips. You can feel him smiling, and it makes your heart skip a beat. 

“Keep talking and you won’t get a single bite of my tiramisu,” you tease him, kissing him again, the taste of beer numbing your senses. “I really like kissing you.”

“The feeling’s mutual, but now that you’ve mentioned that tiramisu…”

“Am I that easily replaced?”

“No. You’re just a pain in the ass.”

Jokes aside, you’re as happy as a clam.

Since that night you and Logan kissed, you’ve been living your best life. Like a freaking schoolgirl with a crush. Some things never seem to change.

He hasn’t been to the bar in three days. Yes, you’re counting them. No, you haven’t lost your mind. You want to see him, but there’s something about making the first move that gives you the chills. What would his reaction be if you showed outside of apartment?

It’s been a long time since you’ve been with anybody. On top of that, all the guys you’ve dated were your age. Being with someone that older than you certainly wasn’t no your plans. You’d be lying if you said that the mere idea of being with him in that way didn’t excite you.

Oh boy, you miss him. You miss his scruffy voice, his gorgeous hair. And you two aren’t even official yet. To be honest, you don’t even know what he wants from you. Is he even the type to be in a relationship?

“Nighty night, gentlemen,” you say to Gary and his friends as you find yourself in front of them, smoothing your apron. Gwen had called in sick tonight, so it’s just you at the bar babysitting a bunch of grown-men.

“What’s up, doll? You’ve forgotten about us. We miss you coming in here to chat,” Gary’s eating his burger at the same time he speaks, something you find repulsive, but you’ve seen worse. “Y’know, I’d love to take you out someday. I have a place you’d like.”

The other men laugh and punch him in the back, just boosting his ego. Pathetic. 

“I’ll let you know when I’m free,” you reply with the most polite smile you can offer, intending to go on. “What are you having tonight?”

“You always pull that shit, baby. I don’t think you’re so busy that you can’t accept a date.”

You hate the way he’s looking at you, as if you were wrong for not being interested. As if you didn’t know any better.

“You’re reading minds now? Shocking, Gary.”

“Oh, doll. That attitude of yours shows you’ve never been with a real man like me, that’s all,” he leans back in his chair, resting one of his arms on the table and the other one near his crotch, manspreading. “It’s alright. I like you bratty.”

“I’ll be back when you finally have something to order,” you attempt to turn around but he grabs your wrist, pulling you closer. Your eyes lock, and he seems to enjoy this: being in control. Like a predator hunting his prey. “Come on, Gary. I don’t want to have to kick you out.”

“It’s not that you don't like me, right? You’ve already got your mouth full.”

“Careful.”

“What? Don’t tell me you’re not fucking that useless mutant. I see you like ‘em older. Pretty little things like you drive me wild.”

You laugh in his face, showing him your teeth. “It was never about your age, Gary. You’re right: I do like them older. I’m just not into bald, vertically-challenged pricks.”

His entourage of idiots goes silent after that. He looks up at you, eyes burning with hatred. His grip on your wrist tightens, probably leaving a mark. “Fucking bitch.”

“Get your hands off her.”

Logan’s voice forces the two of you to look in his direction. It seems that he’s just arrived at the pub, his jacket still on. 

“You joining us? We’re just getting started here, big boy.”

“Did you not hear me?” Logan lunges forward, his nose almost touching Gary’s. “The fuck is wrong with you?”

“Easy there, cowboy. I’m just having a chat with your girl. She’s one of the good ones, I’ll give you that,” arching a sly brow, his forehead puckers. “You don’t like sharing? We can even take turns.”

Logan clenches his jaw, lips set in a grim line. “Say one more word, and I’ll fucking kill you.”

“I’ll give you a full sentence instead: can you even get it up?” 

The tension in the air is thick, every second stretching out as Logan's anger simmers dangerously close to the surface. Gary’s smug grin only makes it worse, pushing him to the edge. Before you can react, Logan’s fist swings forward, connecting with Gary’s jaw with a sickening crack. Gary staggers back, realising your wrist. Blood seeps from his nose, his white shirt becoming stained with it. “You fucker! You broke my nose!”

“We’re just getting started here, big boy,” Logan mocks him, repeating his previous words.

“Stop!” you shout, moving quickly to grab his arm, trying to pull him back. But he’s beyond hearing, his rage blinding him to everything else. He shakes you off, and with a fierce growl, drives another punch into Gary’s stomach. The latter doubles over, gasping for air, the wind knocked out of him. He then falls to the floor, curling into a ball. People start to gather around you, and soon your beloved bar becomes a box ring.

“That’s enough, Logan! He’s barely conscious,” you murmur under your breath, stepping between them, hands up in a desperate attempt to create some space. Logan pauses, chest heaving, fists still clenched, as he finally looks at you. The wildness in his eyes starts to fade, replaced by a dawning realization of what he’s done.

“He deserved it,” he nods vigorously to himself, as if trying to explain his point. “He was hurting you.”

“If you keep that up, you’re going to kill him. My bar is not a fucking cemetery,” your voice trembles a little bit, expecting to talk some sense into him. “I won’t let you do this.”

The room is quiet now, the only sound being Logan’s heavy breathing as he stands there, still tense, still processing. You turn to Gary’s friends, cold fury in your eyes. “Get him out of here,” you watch as they haul him up, practically dragging him to the door. The other clients continue to stare at Logan, their mouths hanging open. “Everybody out, right now! Go home. We’re closing earlier tonight.”

Adam is the last person to leave, slamming the door behind him. You rush to the counter, searching for a mop to clean the fresh blood off the floor. Still agitated, the images of Logan hitting Gary flash in your mind. He approaches you from behind, his fingers circling your forearm. “Bub–”

“Don’t. Now is not the time.”

“I was protecting you.”

“I told you to stop, and you didn’t. You just shook me off,” you snap, glancing at his knuckles which are not even bruised. Slamming your eyes shut, you get to your feet and wash your hands in the sink, the remaining water becoming reddish for a moment.

Logan moves closer, resting his chin on your shoulder. He wraps his arms lazily around your middle section. ”I’m sorry.”

You turn in his arms, your back flushed against the sink and your nose in the air. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“I don’t have a phone.”

“But– Jesus, Logan. You could’ve come sooner. I thought you regretted what happened the other day,” you say and the muscles in his face twitch, his body stiffening at your words. “Thought you no longer wanted me.”

“No, bub. I– I still want you. I want all of you, trust me,” he murmurs, and you allow him to press his body against yours, the scent of the cigar he must have smoked recently enveloping your senses. “I just… don’t know how to do this. I have a habit of ruining things, and I’m trying to figure out the best way to be with you without hurting you.”

“Pushing me away also hurts,” your eyes flick up to meet his gaze again, and he whispers under his breath. “I can’t read your mind. You need to tell me what’s going on in that ancient skull of yours.”

His face falters, flashing you a mischievous look. His hand creeps under the fabric of your shirt, fingernails scrapping against your spine. “I’m sorry, princess. I truly am.”

“You can’t just say ‘sorry’ with that voice and expect me to–”

You’re cut off by his lips crashing down onto yours. You melt into the kiss, unable to deny what your body has been craving for the past days. 

“I thought your kisses came with a warning,” you say, detaching your mouth from his, a smile spreading uncontrollably in your face as you see his toothy grin.

“Shut up and kiss me, will you?”

In a clash of tongues and teeth, your mouths meet once again. Tugging the hair at his nape, you feel him growl against your lips. His strong hands trace every curve of your body, kneading the flesh of your hips and undoing the knot at the back of your apron. You’re becoming one with the sink, but in a moment like this, you couldn’t care less. Logan’s hard on nudges your lower stomach, and he ruts against you like an animal.

“You said you wanted to know what’s on my mind, right?” his teeth nibble on the skin of your neck, syrupy voice going straight to your core. “Well, I’d love nothing more than to touch you right now.”

“Right here? On the counter?”

“Yeah, on the fucking counter,” he grabs you by your thighs, hosting you up and placing your body on top of the cold bar. He nudges your knees apart, his bulge meeting your clothed cunt deliciously. “Will you let me, baby? Can I make you come in here?”

“Please. I’m glad we have such a low budget. Camera installment is t–too expensive these days.”

“Do you always talk this much?” he slowly unbuttons your pants, and you help him to remove them.

“Yes. Next question,” your breath hitches in your throat as you feel the pad of his thumb circling your clit through your panties. Your eyelids drop, your head lolling back. “Fuck, that feels good.”

Logan hums, mesmerized with the way your hips roll into his hand, your whimpers sounding like music to his ears. “You have any idea how I felt when I saw him touching you? Wanted to rip his hands off you,” his eyes drift to your chest, how it rises and falls with impatience. “But it’s me who gets to have you like this. He can fantasize about you all he wants: I’m the only one who touches you, ain’t I right?” you sigh with content as his fingers graze your slit, aimlessly bucking your hips. He doesn’t go any further, and you tug at the collar of his flannel, needing more of his callousand hands on you. “Nuh-uh. You want something, you gotta use your words. Got it?”

“I w–want your fingers inside me,” you don’t even recognize your own voice at this point. The few guys you had slept with had never been very talkative during sex. But Logan isn’t like them. This is just the beginning and you’re already starting to realize that he has a dirty mouth, that expectant look on his face as he waits to see your reaction to his words. “Please, Logan. I want you so bad.”

“Oh, I know, bub. There’s something about me I don’t think you know,” he inserts one of his fingers in your cunt, your slick coating the palm of his hand. “These claws I have… they didn’t come on their own. Let’s just say my sense of smell is… pretty good,” Logan can almost see the gears turning in your head as you try to think coherently. He moves his middle finger in and out of you, stretching your walls. “And you… have been wet ever since the first time you saw me. Always nice to everybody, making sure they feel at ease,” you feel like you’re being stretched even further, another one of his fingers sinking into your warm pussy. “But you’re so needy, too. How long has it been since someone touched you like this?”

“Too long, f–fuck. Too long,” you’re squirming, a totally whiny mess. He retratcs his wet fingers and instead goes back to flicking your clit, this time with much less delicacy. His left hand squeezes your tits, and you hate the fact that you’re still wearing clothes. “Shit, Logan. I need you to fuck me. Please. Need your cock.”

His face comes to rest at your neck, and you feel lingering kisses and bites that keep you grounded to earth. “Not here. I need a bed to fuck you properly. You’re only getting my fingers now,” he positions them inches away from your entrance, testing your patience. “Tell me who owns this pussy.”

“L-logan–”

“Tell me and I’ll make you come,” his husky voice is making you dizzy, tears shimmering in your eyes. “Come on. Know you want it as much as I do.”

You succumb to the tentation, like divinity turned to sin. He kisses you roughly, and you struggle to find the correct words. “It’s you, Logan. You own my pussy. It’s f-fucking yours.”

With that, he goes back to nudging that spot that makes you see starts, that filthy squelching sound getting mixed up with your moans. The knot in your belly keeps growing tighter the more he pumps his fingers in and out of you. 

“I said you were only getting my fingers for now, but fuck… I need to gest a taste of this sweet cunt.”

He’s on his knees in an instant, urging your legs apart to make room for his body. Your thighs tighten around his face as he licks a hot stripe up your folds, tracing a heated path on your cunt, not wishing to waste a single second. Pleasure builds quickly, your breath hitching as your hands find their way into his hair, pulling him closer when your body begins to tremble. 

“I’m close,” you pant, breathing hard, grinding your hips against his face. “I’m so close.”

“That’s it. Come in my mouth like the good girl you are.”

Who had given him a damn script for this?

The release is explosive. Like the peak of a roller coaster: you go up up up, ascending higher. You think you almost see Jesus, but at some point, you also have to crash down with force. Your shoulders slump, your entire body cramping up; yet he doesn’t let you go that easily, his fingers still working, scissoring within you while you ride out the final waves of your high, drawing out every last moment of ecstasy.

Once you finally manage to open your eyes, there he is, staring down at you. He taps your lower lip with his fingers, and then mutters: “Open.”

And you do, because you’re just as messed up as he is. Your mouth parts, and he slides his fingers between your lips, dragging them smoothly across your tongue. His knuckles brush the back of your throat, and you gag around the intrusion, tasting yourself. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, clearly satisfied with the way you’ve cleaned them off.

“I think we should really pay a visit to your apartment,” he suggests, groaning in defeat, and you feel his bulge poking your hip. He must be painfully hard. “I meant what I said earlier. I need a bed if we’re going to fuck. My back’s hurting.”

You raise an eyebrow, the corner of your mouth curving into a smirk. “Why not go to yours?”

“Wade’s in there. I wouldn’t be able to concentrate.”

You can’t help but laugh, pausing a moment to collect your thoughts, heat rising to your cheeks. “So we’re going rodeo?”

Aiming to silence up, Logan kisses you, pinching your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Only if you can handle it.”

part 2: “GIVE ME THE FIRST TASTE”

dividers by: @/cafekitsune thank you!!! :)

[ambrosiagoldfish]

Can you write more Adam fics plz there so freaking good

Benefit of the Doubt PT.2

Adam x 3rd Spouse! Reader

Viewer discretion is advised

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff to Angst to comfort, General Adam TW’s, Reader lowkey-highkey has a complex about being loved, Panic attack (I’m not even sure if this is correct term or not), Adam is afraid of heights (makes sense in story) This is set way before the show, and Gn! Reader (Y/n is once again not used lol)

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4

Request Box: Open

Word count: 3136

A/N: Hi! I’d like to Thank you all for the love and support on Part 1! It means a lot that you all enjoyed it as I loved writing it! I’d also like to apologize for this being a week late, I honestly had 0 idea on how to start this one and then a bunch of stuff in my life happened, so it was a mess.

So as an apology I tried to make this one longer than the first! (I seemed to go a little overboard but it’s fine)

Anyways I hope you all enjoy part 2 to ‘Benefit of the doubt’ and as always, if you do, please tell me if want another part in replies/requests/DM’s!

Proofread but of course could have missed something

Tags: @tired-of-life-86

To think love could feel this good.

You were made for it, to give it, receive it… You’ve waited your entire existence for this love, This closeness. It doesn’t even feel real now, even as you’re walking down the golden lined streets of heaven with his arm wrapped around you, all while you’ve been showing him around. The best places to eat, entertainment, or just a nice park. You made sure to show him all of it.

He kept his wings tucked to his sides, the gold contrasting with the white of his robe. The feathers at first glance looked sharp, but now, being so close to him, you could see each of them individually and how soft they must be.

“Hey Sweetcheeks, my eyes are up here”

You jump slightly “Sorry… Adam.” You avert your eyes away from him and focus them in front of you.

Adam laughed “I didn’t say you had to fuxkin’ to stop”

His wings truly were beautiful. It was hard to keep your eyes off them. Adam had only got to heaven recently, it made you wonder if he had the chance to use them yet. You remember when you were first created, wings took forever to get used to. You crashed and fell so many times before you figured out how to use them

Properly.

“Ok seriously, you keep staring, what the fxck is up with you?”

“It’s nothing, just…. Have you tried out your wings yet?”

“Uh, yeah totally, they’re rad as hell” Adam’s voice drifted off, the LED eyes of his mask looking away from you as you both walked. Was he… lying? Why would he lie?

You quickly walked in front of Adam, leaving his warm embrace, gently you took his hands as your wings picked you off the ground. The gust of wind with each flap softly blew around you.

“Well, come on, it will be faster than walking.” Your voice was soft and airy. Slowly, so very slowly, you lifted yourself higher from the ground, Adam’s hands locked firmly in yours, as he was pulled with you in the air.

“W-Wait a- shit- Wait a- motherfuxking second“ Adam yelled strand after strand of curses as you both lifted further and further into the air. His body flailed and his legs kicked against nothing. You pull him to you, his arms quickly snake around your waist, holding on for his dear After-life.

“Adam… did you lie to me?” Your voice was still so soft, so calm, so sweet.

“Fuck- yes I lied, I’m sorry, so put me the fuck down you crazy asshole-“ Vulgar as ever, his voice had fear in it, the LED eyes were forced shut and his grip around you was getting tighter and tighter.

Your arms wrapped around Adam’s head as you laid back, letting The wind breeze from the air pull and push you along its path with your wings soaring through the clouds..

“Adam, it’s ok, I promise you’re fine, all you have to do is open your eyes.”

You pet the back of his neck trying to sooth him which seemed to work after a few seconds. Adam didn’t want to, he really didn’t want to open his eyes. But the longer he kept them close, the more you would whisper soft words of encouragement to him. Eventually, his eyes slowly but surely opened.

“See? There is nothing to be scared of. I’ve got you.”

You hold him closer in your embrace. Adam looked below, the white vastness of heaven’s clouds beneath you both felt unreal, but as amazing a sight it was, Adam’s grip on you didn’t loosen.

“So… I’m guessing you don’t know how to fly yet?” You laugh a little, rubbing a spot on his back, just between his wings comfortingly.

Adam huffed and looked away “oh! I couldn’t fxcking see that!”

You held him close to you. The embrace seemed never ending, and you loved every second of it. Feeling the warmth of his plump body next to you was like a dream come true.

“Here let me just…”

You moved your hands slowly down his arms, caressing the soft flesh as they moved to eventually be at his hands behind you. You began to leisurely undo the grip he had around you.

“What do you think you're doing-“

“Shhh, relax, just trust me, ok?”

With each finger being removed from you, the grip lessened bit by bit, until eventually his hands were fully in yours. Your face leaned closer to his,

“Come on, just give your wings a good flap, trust me.”

“Ugh…. Fine but I swear to god if you let go-“

“I won’t.” Your voice was firm, yet still remained reassuring.

Adam didn���t want to do this. He really didn’t want to. But what other choice did he have? He gruffs and extends his wings from his body. The wind brushed and tickled at his feathers. The way the light hit them caused a glare of gold to be cast from them, enveloping you both. Then, he gave two hard flaps of his wings, he lifted up slightly before quickly falling back to where he was.

“There you go! Now keep doing that.”

Adam continued, his wings slowly pushing him up and up before being sent back down when he stopped. This repeated for a few minutes until he finally got a grip on it. The entire time, you were laughing. Pure unadulterated laughs of joy.

Truly, to think love could feel this good?

“See? You're a natural!”

“Of course I am! I’m the Original Dick, obviously I’d… be good at this… flying… shit.” With all the parading he was doing he kept forgetting to use his wings causing him to fall. ‘A natural’ may have been an overstatement on your part, but hey? At least he hasn’t fallen flat on his face yet!

Gently, you led him through air, giving him reassurance every few feet you flew, never letting go. Seconds turned to minutes, minutes to hours. Before you knew it a brisk orange sunset encased you both with its hue. That’s when you realized just how long you both had been flying.

“You must be tired with sightseeing all day… I think it’s time we go home and rest, yeah?”

“Home?” Adam’s voice sounded for a moment genuinely confused. Had he not been told he’d have a place to live in heaven? As much respect you had for Sera, you’ll have to file a complaint to avoid this with future souls.

You gripped his hand and opened your wings letting the wind lead you through the clouds and above the city. The angels below look like ants at the height you both were. It was peaceful, the flight back home. But it did seem… off? So… quiet? You couldn’t put it together, at least not at the moment, But Adam hadn’t spoken a word since you both left.

Adam, while yes, he was initially confused, it made sense to him, why wouldn’t heaven have a place for its people, a place for each of them to relax, to feel safe, happy, at home.

Home was such a weird word for Adam. Has he ever felt like a place was his ‘home’? The closest thing to it was the Garden of Eden but even that proved to be anything but a home for him. Ever since that snake entered his garden.

No. He can’t think about that now. He doesn’t want to have to think about that again. But oh-do thoughts love to worm their way back into your mind when you least want them to. He’s snaps out of his thoughts when your voice picks up

“Ok, we’re here! Just get yourself settled in and I’ll go make us something to eat. I didn't really know what food you’d like so I mainly just have junk food… I hope that's ok.”

Adam nods his head nonchalantly

You smile, waking him over to the small, plush couch in the living room and handing him a blanket and some pillows. Telling him to wait a second as you fetch some food, leaving him alone.

Adam thought your house seemed welcoming enough, ‘well… our house’ Adam thought. The living room was dark aside from a few luminous lights around the room as well as the small blue gleam from the windows from the night sky.

The couch was comfortable and the pillows just as much. And the blanket you gave him was soft and warm. This really was heaven, huh?

His thoughts are, once again, interrupted by your voice, “Ok here we go, I’ve got snacks and some soda” you say, handing him some of the many food you ravaged from your fridge and sitting beside him, wrapping yourself in the shared blanket.

Grabbing the remote lying next to you, you flick on the TV flipping through the channel before ending on a cheesy sitcom, you keep the volume low wanting to enjoy any conversation with Adam. Except… he never started one. So that’s what felt off.

The entire time you flew back home, got snacks and found something to watch. He hadn't said a word. You may not have known him long but even you had already picked up that he was an advid talker in a conversation.

“Is… everything ok Adam?” You whispered, not want to scare him with your random words.

“What kind of question is that, I’m fxcking fine… I’m fine.” His voice trailed off at the end almost getting as quiet as yours.

“Are you sure cause-“

“I said I’m fuxking fine!” His voice roared through the dark room. Gritty and callous, but you could tell it was meant to hide something. Something he didn’t want you to see.

“I’m sorry…” you paused. What did you want to say from here? What could you say? You took a deep breath and tried to continue. “I… I know I said this earlier… when Sera left.”

Adam’s LED mask looked away from you half shut eyes and a frown forming a scowl on it, but still he let you continue.

“But I’m going to say it again anyways cause… I mean it. I’m really happy to have you here. To finally have you home” you place your arm around Adam’s back rubbing it soothingly as let your head slowly lax onto him, gently cuddling close to him.

That word again… home. That’s all he could think about ever since he first heard you say it. Why? Why couldn’t he get it out of his head? His breathing was becoming unsteady with each new thought and image his brain made. Lilith and Eve, they were made to be apart of his home, for him to be apart of their homes. So why? Why did it end that way?

Suddenly Adam leap from the couch as fast as he could, the shear force knocking you to the other side of the couch, sending the food to scatter and drinks to spill to the floor.

“Adam!?” Your voice was frightened at the sudden movement. Adam looked just as frightened as you, at least from what you could tell through the LED mask. He suddenly began running, where? he didn’t know, the rooms in the house looked the same. But all he knew is that he needed to be away from you. You followed quickly behind him and pleaded for him to tell you what was wrong, but eventually he ran into a room and locked the door.

He looked around, already out of breath. He was in a bathroom. He felt his knees give out under him as he tried to slowly sit down by the tub. His breath heavy, it was hard to breathe, this stupid mask. He needed it off. But just as he went to do so,

*rattle rattle rattle*

The doorknob began to move followed by frantic knocking on the door.

“Adam! Are you ok?!” Your voice pleaded through the wood of the door.

“Fuxk- I'm fine! How many times do I have to tell you that shit” his voice cracked a few times followed by a strand of curses leaving his lips.

Home. The word repeated like a mantra in his head. Like it was mocking him. Was he not meant to have a place he called a home? To have someone to return to, who would tell him “welcome back!” Without even being told to?

Lilith hated him, Eve betrayed and hurt him like no one else before, ever. They were made to be with him, one was literally made to be his other half. The garden, his home, was taken from him because of something, someone he couldn’t control. it all comes back to him. That albino snake in the grass.

Lucifer, ‘The dreamer’… was this some sort of game to him? To toy with his emotions, treat him like some kind of plaything to mess with, to screw over? What kind of life was it? To have every opportunity and opening be broken down by him, And Adam being powerless to stop it?

“Adam! Please open the door!” Your voice was even more frantic now, knocking every few seconds before it quickly quieted down. Your body slumped against the door.

“Adam… I’m sorry if I hurt you or… or if I was going too fast… I didn't mean to… I’m so sorry…” your breath hitched with tears.

And then there was you.

You have been nothing but kind to him since you met him. You showed him around heaven, taught him how to fly and welcomed him home without having being told to. You were so different. So, so very different. Adam figure that out a while ago now. But in reality, it’s exactly why he was terrified.

To have someone who loves him so... unconditionally.

*click*

The sound of the door unlocking drew your attention and was followed by it slowly opening from Adam on the other side, still on the floor.

“Adam!” Your voice was low, already tired from crying. You crawled your way toward him before stopping in front of him, tears still falling from your face, “I’m sorry Adam, I’m sorry-“ you were cut off by a quick movement.

Warmth enveloped you, clouding your senses as a soft weight laid onto you. Arms wrapped their way around you in an embrace.

“Shit- it's not your fault, it was never your fault…” Adam’s voice was surprisingly soft, a stark contrast to his regular tone. Sincerity evident with each word. All you could do was hide into his large frame and cry at the words.

Adam was never good at comforting people. He himself was never comforted, so the concept was more than a bit foreign to him. But even still, he tried. Slowly he helped you both up from the bathroom floor and made your way back to the couch.

The floor was covered in the discarded food you both left behind. The spilled soda is now dried and sticky. Crumbs everywhere.

“Here.. let me get a mop and broom-“

“No just sit down, I’ll clean up the shit I made” you lay down on the couch and watched as Adam swept and mopped the mess from the floor. The entire time the silence hung in the air by a thread. Neither of you wanting to be the one to snap the string and speak.

Finally Adam got done cleaning the mess and made his way to the couch. He sat down and gestured for you to come closer. Crawling over to him, he wrapped the blanket around you both allowing you to snuggle into him.

“Do…” your voice barely audible “Do you want to talk about it?”

Adam looked hesitant but nodded.

“You know about everything, right? About… what all happened in Eden?

You nod against his chest content on listening.

“When… When Lilith left me, I thought I didn't care as much as I did. I thought she was a bitch and that was that. And it didn’t help that as soon as she left, I got Eve…”

He paused

“Then, when I found out about that shit between Eve and Lucifer… I didn’t care then either, but I didn’t understand why…” his voice hitched “but when I ate that damn apple… I realized how hurt I should have been. All the concepts of right and wrong, good and evil, learning all of it through that fruit, I realized one shitty truth… that the one I loved betrayed me.”

You hugged him tighter softly, your hands caressed his stomach as some form of comfort before he continued.

“For the same person- Both of them for that snake…”

“Adam… I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”

“And that’s why… I’m scared. Scared that I will fuxk up again and get… attached to you. Because every. single. time. He ruins it. And I don't want to see that happen with you.”

Your heart ached for him, the saddening look of his LED mask as he talked only furthered your emotions. Slowly your hands made their way to his face, he looks at you confused, your fingertips crept under the mask before his hand shot up and held your wrist slightly, carefully not holding it too tight.

“Sorry fuck- I’m.. I’m not ready.”

You smile and nod understanding “Adam. I love you… with all of my heart. And I would never do what those two done to you. “

Adam thought for a moment deciding what to say.

“Promise?” was all he could think of, his voice, mind, and body were all too tired to speak more about it.

You slowly remove your hands from his mask, instead taking one of his hands into yours.

“I promise, I would never betray you, let alone talk to that man” ever-so lightly, a soft golden glow burned between yours and Adam’s hands, the gold flame was warm and comforting to both of you as it rose and grew in strength.

From the flame, a string wrapped and warped itself around both yours and Adam’s pinky fingers. The string tightened and loosened as it moved, before finally melting away leaving only two solid gold rings behind, One on Adam’s finger and the other on yours.

“What the hell was that?” Adam’s voice was filled with bewilderment

“A deal- or I guess a promise. In this case”

“Shit, You didn’t have to do that-“ this time it was your turn to interrupt him. You bring Adam’s hand to your lips, and give a kiss on his newly formed ring before lying down and cuddling into Adam.

“I know.”

For once in his life, Adam felt at ease with love. How easy it was to fall for you.

Is this what home feels like?

[sungiescheotluv]

champagne supernova ⭑.ᐟ park jisung

pairing: park jisung x gender neutral reader

word count: 4.2k

tags/warnings: fluff, friends to lovers, emo(ish) jisung, non-idol au.

summary: making friends as an adult is difficult. luckily for you, the rock/alternative online community welcomes you with open arms, one person in particular catching your interest.

notes: hi thereee! 😁 back again with another jisung fic, one that i actually came up with myself lmao. since getting back into the dreamies, i've been a bit surprised by (but absolutely loving) jisung's taste in music. hence this silly fic, which i do hope you enjoy! thank you so much for all your recent support, it makes my heart smile whenever you like or comment on a post! anyways, happy reading! much loveeeee! <3

The concept of internet safety is lost on you. How else could you explain sharing a hotel room with someone you’d never met before in real life? 

Perhaps, you should retrace your steps. See how you’ve managed to find yourself in such a dangerous position, the front door locked and your body pinned to the bed.

Making friends as an adult is difficult. On par with counting every grain of rice in a field, you’d say.

You underestimated how easy maintaining friendship was when younger, third places like school, daycares, extra-curricular activities demanding your presence, inadvertently strengthening your social life. Not that you were the most social, you had a hard time approaching people actually, but maybe that was a part of your charm. Bringing you out of your shell, like all your friends did before your bond was cemented in tree trunks or sandy beaches. University is the last place you take this ease for granted, exposed to all different kinds of people and relationships, some platonic and not-so much. Either way, despite the barge of assignments and countless nights out, you’d make it into adulthood relatively unscathed.

Adulthood, however, doesn’t turn out as you expect. You’d been sold a dream, one eight-year old you envisioned dabbling with the stars accompanied by a lavish life and all the ice-cream you could get your hands on. Unfortunately, no star would be rubbing shoulders with you anytime soon and any that would, you’d have to pay a large sum of money to even see. A large sum you did not have. So, yeah. Just that, toxic work culture, endless bills and a whole host of other obligations linger above your head like a grey cloud.

What helps is finding the small joys in life. Slow mornings when the city is asleep, the scent of coffee at the crack of dawn, the sunshine against your skin, friends who despite their busy schedules carve out time to see you. All pieces of your life that make it worth living. Music is in there too, the art of melodies and lyrics strung together having the strange ability to carry you throughout even your worst days.

Your moods refuse to stick to a certain genre and in the midst of dark afternoons and frost covered roads, you find yourself gravitating towards alternative music. Slow, steady and aching. Like how your life moves with the severe lack of sun. It’s not a genre your circle of friends dabble in as much as you do. It’s to be expected, anyone who deviates from a standard of ‘normalcy’ was outcasted, one too many examples found in your high school days where kids got called weird and satanic for wearing a Green Day t-shirt to school. The thought makes you laugh now, but back then, when all that matters is fitting in, it was sad and suffocating. Seeing a part of yourself denied before your very eyes. Sometimes you’d hang out with those kids, bond over your collection of CDs and even go to a few gigs together. However, when Monday came around and they’d approach you and your friends, raving about the concert - you froze. Confronted into either owning yourself and being outcasted like the rest of the emo kids or ignoring them, deny yourself for the sake of social standing. 

You pretend like they’ve grown two heads, feigned confusion knitting your eyebrows together while your friends laugh and hurl insults at someone who you considered a friend - a better one than the ones at your side. And yet, you let the laughter continue, a coward with its tail between its legs as you depart, the taste of iron on your tongue.

Maybe this is payback for those poor decisions. A dead-end job, a successful but shitting ex and enough inner turmoil to make a therapist clutch their pearls. 

You abandon those friends when you get to university, getting better ones that wouldn’t make someone feel small due to their own insecurities. You make amends with the emo kids, your apology marking the true end of your friendship. You search online spaces for like-minded people, showing up as yourself and being embraced as. Everyone in the Reddit community is unbelievably sweet, sharing their music recommendations, concert wishlists and pictures of their cats. Some members, including yourself, form a closer bond, taking your conversation to a Discord server that becomes your escape in a way. A channel for heartfelt discussion that extends past your love for music. You’re not as active due to work obligations, but whenever you pop up, one member in particular always greets you with a warmth like no other. 

Linkin.parkjisung is his user, his icon the rock and roll hand sign over his face. Likes Blur, Green Day, Oasis and of course, Linkin Park. He’s like you, dips in and out, types a few responses before he’s gone again. It’s a scenario where other members grow closer, and your anxiety around speaking in the group begins. They’re already close, it seems almost futile to interrupt, right? 

What if you’re ignored? What if you’ve missed your window of opportunity? 

It’s a line of thinking that crosses your mind when you send in an apology for being inactive, moments later your phone pinging with a notification.

Linkin.parkjisung: no need to apologize! life gets busy for everyone, myself included. hope you’re doing ok (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ

Other group members echo his message, sending in their own real-life obligations that the group ends up bonding over, complaining of rising car insurance and overly demanding bosses. 

It’s the start of it all, really. That one message, a hand extended to yours that breaks you out of your shell and kick starts your friendship with Jisung. From that day onwards, you move more freely throughout the server, making good friends with everyone but better friends with Jisung. Somewhere down the line, you end up privately messaging each other. What starts out as simply giving each other music recommendations (since he apparently always loves the songs/artists you send into the server) becomes sneaking into the bathroom during a busy family reunion to call Jisung about how your grandmother wore a catsuit to impress her ex, your grandfather. You grow that close, no details spared on life events. How else is there space for secrecy when you’re video calling drunk, watching festival performances of Fontaines D.C.?

In any case, you’re close. You text everyday and call every week like clockwork, namely because you live some hours away from each other. During your calls, he’s shrouded in a low darkness, self conscious of the way he looks, he says. You’re unconvinced, slivers of his features in photos he sends you with his roommates’ three cats or on call saying otherwise. Regardless, you let it slide because Jisung becomes more than his face - he becomes a source of comfort, someone who makes you laugh as much as brings you calm, someone you slowly can’t imagine your days without. In hindsight, this is where your romantic feelings develop. And with convenient timing too because one of the bands you recommended to Jisung, Wunderhorse are on tour, set to perform in a city two hours from the both of you.

“Tickets are going onsale at 10 am on Thursday,” Jisung murmurs, the clicks of his cursor coming through your laptop speaker. “Remember to set your alarm.”

“Will do. Lemme set a remin-” opening up your calendar, you see an unwelcome surprise. “Fuck.”

“What’s up?” Jisung’s voice echoes with sincere concern.

“I forgot I have a shift that day,” you groan, already knowing by the time your lunch break came, the event would be sold out. “We’re understaffed as is, so there’s no way I can get someone to cover for me.”

A deep hum vibrates from Jisung’s chest, a few more clicks of his cursor sounding before he asks in a small voice. “Well, I could just get the tickets for us both.”

“You would?”

“Yeah, I’m meant to be working from home that day anyways. And not to flex, but my internet’s pretty decent.”

You laugh. “Is that for your job or your crippling gaming addiction?”

“A bit of both,” he chuckles back, the sound blooming a warmth of happiness in your chest. “Working in CompSci has its perks.”

“So, I’m finding out,” you smile, an underlying layer of discomfort shifting you against your desk chair. “Are you sure, though?”

“Of course. I’d hate if you lost out on this knowing I could’ve done something to help,” Jisung explains. “You were the one to introduce me to them anyways. Plus we’d have a better chance of sticking together in the pit if we get them together, right?”

You swallow a lump in your throat, something taking flight in your airy chest. “Yeah, you’re right. Just send me your bank details so I can transfer you the day of.”

“Coming right up!” he jokes, and you laugh, however lame he claims himself to be.

On Thursday, he sends you a photo of his solid black high-tech set-up, a PC he’s constructed himself with more monitors than you can count. The side of his face is included in the picture, silky black hair, a brown eye and a beauty mark on his cheekbone you dream of kissing later that night. You find out he secures the tickets on your lunch break, your debt towards him being booking the hotel you’d be staying at. Due to the limited funds you’re working with, you end up getting a shared room, an option that gives him pause before he agrees in a tremored voice. You’re a bit apprehensive yourself, but you booked for two beds, so it should be fine. If worst comes to worst, and something happens between you two – like him turning out to be a sexist neckbeard loser he couldn’t take no for an answer - you’d sleep in your car (or kick him out, actually). At any rate, you had options (and a friend tracking your live location).

In no time, weeks fly by and Wunderhorse drops their latest album. It’s the best thing you’ve experienced since sliced bread, an opinion Jisung shares as you two listen to it over call late one Friday night, speaking about your favourite songs amongst other things. You don’t know how it starts, perhaps it’s a lyric that sticks out to him that he mentions or something else entirely, but suddenly, you’re reminded of high school you. How deeply you wanted to be accepted by others, and how that satisfaction depended on the person you got it from. That you preferred conformity instead of individuality, because being seen with popular shallow kids meant something to you.

“I wasn’t a good person in high school,” you find yourself admitting, your body hollowed out with guilt. Regret like ash on your tongue. “I hurt people because I valued other people’s opinions over my own. I know I was young, but-”

“You said it yourself: you were young,” Jisung comments, the serious intent in his voice catching you off guard. “The fact you recognise your behaviour and feel remorse for it shows how much you’ve grown. I mean, high school can be very unforgiving because nobody really knows who they are or what the fuck they’re doing, so it’s only reasonably to make choices you may regret. What’s important, I think, is how you’ve chosen to move forward,”

“You said it yourself, you’ve apologised to those you hurt. Not many, if any person in your position, would do the same, which shows how much you genuinely care to make things right,” you sniff, vision blurring with tears of relief and sadness. “So, if you ask me, I think you’re being a bit hard on yourself. It’s all a learning curve, you were doing what was best to protect yourself then. And now, you’re a better and kinder person because of it.”

Another time you should’ve known you’d fallen for him. Yet, you remain none the wiser. All the way until concert day, getting off work early that Friday afternoon and making the journey down to the bright city lights of Seoul. Everything twinkles and dazzles, a 180 from your modest living in your hometown. You suppose your excitement for the concert has some role in this too, but considering the lack of vibrancy in your life, you allow yourself to sink your teeth into this. Feel the goosebumps against your skin, the lightness in your limbs and the uptake in your heartbeat.

You check into the hotel first since Jisung has a last-minute team meeting at work, setting yourself up on your side of the cosy room of wooden and white hues. As you slip on your Hello Kitty headband to do skincare, a knock rasps against the door, audible above the sound of your music.

With furrowed eyebrows, you approach the door, revealing a sight that stops your heart in its tracks.

On the other side of the door is who you should’ve expected: Jisung. What you don’t expect, however, is his sharp features, black smooth hair with matching formal clothing to contrast so beautifully with his porcelain skin. The dark, ocean blue contacts he wears with a pretty pink lip tint. Not to mention that beauty mark you’ve been thirsting over for the past few months? Yeah, that’s all in eye-view now, close enough to touch and it’s this fact that sends your brain into overdrive.

While you malfunction, Jisung dips his head, a large fist curled to his lips to hide his sheepish smile. Chuckles in a bit of an awkward and embarrassed way. 

Oh my god?!

“Nice to finally meet you,” he greets, black leather overnight bag clutched to his side. A fluffy blue and pink keychain of Little Twin Stars hangs off the zip, a cute juxtaposition to his intimidating outfit. And height. God, he really wasn’t lying when he said he was nearly 6 ft. 

“I texted you I’d arrived, but you hadn’t read them,”

A forceful blink out of your trance brings you back to reality, one where you’re not openly drooling over how handsome your internet best friend is. “Yeah, sorry. I was busy getting ready.”

“I figured so,” his eyes scan your clothes - your ripped baggy jeans, leather platform shoes amongst what you have on - and his lips curve, admiration in his eyes. “You look great.”

If there weren’t societal ideals of an inappropriate reaction to that compliment, you would’ve tattooed it to your forehead, or on your lower back. Maybe ripped off your shirt and kissed him before combusting because what do you mean, this very handsome man, thinks you look great?!

“Thank you,” you blush, your body running hot like a furnace. Even so, you decide to take advantage of the situation, leaning in for an embrace that he reciprocates as you mumble into his shoulder. “Nice to finally meet you too.”

The rest of the afternoon blurs, the few moments of scattered glances and awkward silence incomparable with the ease of conversation that flows between you once his favourite song, Poppy, comes on. Catching up to speed with each other’s day as you two get ready, it’s not lost on you how domestic the scene is - how familiar, or right it feels. Jisung, in all aspects of the word, is endearing - flustered by the compliments you send his way, brightening up at the new additions to the setlist and best of you, timid with pink cheeks when he hands over a ‘first meeting’ gift - an assortment of snacks, a Hello Kitty plushie and a card that makes you coo. It takes everything in you not to sink your teeth into him, overwhelmed by the sweetness that laces his actions and words, riding the high he and the music gives you as you make your way to the venue after you’re both finished.

Long lines snake around the arena, grey clouds permeating the area as rainfall clatters to the pavement. Jisung, ever so prepared, brings along an umbrella that you share, squeezing underneath so much you feel the warmth of Jisung through his bare, very defined bicep. How someone looks so good in a silver sequin top under a tattered sleeveless black vest is beyond you. Then again, him being single is beyond your comprehension too. Considering his calm and thoughtful demeanour, coupled with his good looks, you would’ve expected people lining up by the thousands to plead their case. However, whenever you two talked about this, he’d simply say his go-to phrase and change the topic, his phrase being:

“I’ve got my eye on someone. Just working up the courage to ask them out.”

Whoever managed to catch his eye, you’d thought to be lucky. Maybe they’d saved a small village in their past life because as people push when the doors open, Jisung shields you from any damage, reminding you how good of a romantic partner he could be. Especially so when you’re inside and he snaps all your photos, accompanying you to the bar and merch table where you get matching t-shirts before he keeps them with him so you’re free throughout the concert. Dimmed red lights and chatter fill the spacious hall, a flood of warm bodies surrounding you as you peer at the stage, the band all set up and ready to go come showtime. You sing along to the host of songs the venue plays beforehand, enough nudges in the shoulder to get Jisung to sing along and of course - of course - he has a beautiful voice too. At this point, you were convinced he either had a missing toe or had weird opinions about the order of cereal because the more you spent time with him, the more he shines in your eyes.

Eventually, the chatter dies down and all lights go off, screams rising through the crowd as Wunderhorse comes onto the stage. Buzzing at a frequency unheard of, you bounce off the balls of your feet, hand holding Jisung as you exclaim, “It’s them! It’s really them!”

Missing how flushed Jisung becomes at the contact, you sing with all your heart - offkey and all - to their opening song, Midas. The energy is through the roof, a dizzying world of flashing lights and music that retches the lyrics straight out of you. In a moment’s chance, Jisung and you turn to each other mid-song, smiles bright as the stage lights outline your damp faces, chest heaving with a mouthful of lyrics in their wake. It’s the happiest you’ve been, holding his hand like this, and as the night winds to simmer, you sway to slow songs and thank your lucky stars for finding your way back to this.

After the show, you two chatter with other adoring fans before trekking to your nearby hotel, stomachs growling for food. Jisung finds a great Chinese place that delivers until 2 am, a gesture you simper at, unaware he’d even remembered you’d liked the cuisine. At this point, you’re drained in the best possible way, a dull ache in your feet but riding a high of something you’ll remember forever. 

Now, you’re all up to speed. Great. Let’s get back to your current dilemma.

Somehow, someway, your unlaced and stubborn platform shoes cause a stumble, one that Jisung tries to save you from but ends up caught in the mix. How, you might ask? Well, you’re not entirely sure but what you definitely know is that you’ve fallen on one of the beds, Jisung’s body caging yours as he braces his own fall. Face-to-face. With you.

Ok.

You’re close enough to share a breath, within reach to see his long lashes and shaky pupils that dart from your eyes to your lips, back to your eyes again. Suddenly, the room temperature dials to an unprecedented heat, walls closing in on you two as you lie in waiting. Waiting for the other to make their move. To lean in or pull away, heads or tails on a coin.

His phone rings, cutting through the tension-filled air with a knife. The moment, gone. 

“You okay?” he rasps, a knit in his eyebrows as if he’s holding himself back. You blink wordlessly, your answer in an absent nod. “I’ll, uhm…get the food.”

It’s not a suggestion, nothing that you can object to, particularly when he’s long gone and you’re clutching at your chest, months of infatuation knocking the breath out of you.

When Jisung returns minutes later, you’ve turned the TV on, preparing to fill the silence if need be. It proves necessary, only groans of pleasure and compliments to the chef shared between you two as you eat your weight in noodles. Not much is said when you’re getting ready for bed either, brushing your teeth together as if you're a couple and settling into separate beds, all the lights turned off.

Still reeling for the fall, and convinced his shallow breaths allude to his slumber, you’re startled by the call of your name, head turning towards Jisung beside you.

“Yes?”

“You sure you’re ok?” he asks before clearing his throat. “That was…some fall.”

You can say that again.

“I’m ok,” you lie. You’re on high alert, frazzled at every end with a heart you’ve just realised longs for the man not even two metres away from you. “Are you?”

Silence. The only feedback you hear is the crinkle of his duvet as he shuffles in his bed.

“Ask me another question.”

You turn to him, shrouded in darkness. “Like what?”

He doesn’t speak again, lets the silence devour the space between you before he says. “Ask me about the person I’m interested in.”

Water that rivals the arctic pours down your back, a harsh call to reality as you remember. Right, he has someone he’s interested in. Someone who he’ll devout his time to, listen to their music recommendations and hold their hands at concerts. And you? Well, you’ll still be friends, just not as close. Maybe not even friends at all.

The thought closes an iron fist around your heart.

“Why haven’t you asked them out?” is what you manage, because it’s on your mind - what time and place he’ll find himself in when he confesses his feelings.

“Because I’m scared,” he admits, small and in a whisper. “Considering we met online, it’s kind of hard to gauge their interest or read any signs. You don’t give me much to work with,”

You still. “I don’t?’

“I mean, I haven’t been too obvious, but I’m crazy about you,” he confesses. “I love the light in your eyes and the kindness in your heart. You’re so deeply human and live life like it’s your first and last. There’s no one like you and I think the idea of knowing how special you are triggered my fear of rejection. Because what would my life be without watching festival performances drunk with you? What would it be if you didn’t laugh at my lame jokes and didn’t command my every thought?”

Jisung shuffles again, a flicker of dim light in between you two at a lamp source as he stares over at you, wholehearted and vulnerable. “It’d be an empty one - not worth living.”

Slowly, your body brings you upwards, the two of you hanging off the edges of your bed. So close if you’d reach out, your hands would touch. 

“When?” you croak, unable to meet his eyes. “When did you…start feeling this way?”

His eyes lower, a slight curve to the corner of his lips. “Around November?”

Electricity zaps your back straight. Five months ago? “When we joined the server?”

“Shortly after that,” he admits, a coy grin breaking out against his flushed features. “I was having a really hard day and you’d recommend a song in the chat, Favourite by Fontaines DC, and said how nostalgic and hopeful it felt to you. I gave it a listen and…it was like a battery in my back. I cried, but I also smiled too because I understood what you meant by it all,”

He threads his fingers together, peering up with shining eyes as he adds, “it felt like a peak into your soul, and mine too….I think that’s where it started.”

Your hand finally reaches out, overlaying his as tears fill your sight. “You know you’re my favourite, right?”

“No one stood a chance after that drunk video of you singing along to Champagne Supernova,” you share a laugh, reminiscing of the video he accidentally sent into the server one December night. A die-hard Oasis fan till the end. “I mean it. There’s no one I’d want to spend my days with, listen to music with and discover all there is to life. No one but you.”

His bottom lip gives a wobble, hands unearthing from yours as his thumb grazes your knuckles, bringing the hand up in a searing kiss. One he looks you right in the eyes for as he says, “Can we push the beds together please?”

You bark out an unexpected laugh, fondness shaping your smile as you speak with all of your heart. “I would love nothing more.”

[doctorgirlsblog]

Chicken Soup (MV x reader)

Note: a quick one-shot inspired by recent events and Influenza virus going around. Kinda lame, but I really don't give a F.

Max was just like every other man. Tough. Until he gets sick. With Influenza season on the run, he was bound to get his part of it, sooner or later. What you didn't expect, was him becoming an instant child as soon as his nose started running.

It didn't start off bad. You got it first, presumably at the work, not even making a big deal out of it, still going to work, coughing and sneezing the whole time, but managing just fine with some medicine. As Max refused to sleep in guest room until you got better, claiming he was strong enough not to get infected, you knew it was just a matter of time.

And you were right. Exactly five days later, as you two were laying down at the evening, watching some movie on Netflix, you felt him squirming around the sofa.

"Baby is everything okay?"

He huffed, wincing slightly and you couldn't help but smile a little bit. "Yeah, just tired. Could you maybe give me some of that medicine you used? I just want to feel rested tomorrow, that's all." You pushed your hand on his forehead, feeling him up. "Baby, I think you're burning up a little."

And that was the moment Max Verstappen, 4-times World Champion, decided to become a child.

He layed down on the sofa, spreading his limbs everywhere as he sighed loudly.

"Wait here, I'll bring you something." You fetched a cold washcloth, putting it on his forehead, before putting medicine in his mouth. He shuttered slightly.

"Oh come on love, don't be a baby. It's not that cold."

"It's freezing." He whined softly, leaning into your touch even more.

"Do you want me to make you some lemonade? It will freshen you up." He nodded only, looking at you with wide eyes. You smiled again.

When you came back with lemonade, you found him snorring, his mouth slightly open.

You hated to wake him up, but you had to bring him to bed, or he'd get really sore on the couch.

You nudged him lightly, brushing his hair back from his forehead.

"Baby, come on. Let's get you to bed, then you can sleep." He murmured something incohorent, but you still managed to pull him up somehow, supporting his weight on you and bringing him to your bed. He dropped under the sheets instantly, his snores filling the silent space. You put a fresh cold washcloth on his forehead again, before snuggling into bed yourself.

You felt something nugging you in your sleep and as you woke up blinking in the dark, you saw Max's siluette sitting in the corner of the bed. You pulled yourself up.

"Baby? What's wrong?"

His voice was soft and almost whisper-like as he answered.

"I can't sleep. My throat hurts, and my head. I'm also cold."

"Oh love. Come here." So you opened your arms and he was there in an instant, snuggling against your neck, inhaling your scent. "I don't wanna be sick." He whined, making you smile once again.

You massaged his scalp softly and whispered: "I know love. It will get better, I promise."

He fell asleep again.

Next two days were pure agony, with Max calling your name the moment you left his new patient room, aka sofa, which he didn't leave unless he had to go to a toilette. Every time Max whined for a new blanket, or a different soup, you felt your patience wearing thin, but you fetched it anyway, knowing that soon, the tables would turn.

"But I want *your* chicken soup, the one with the little noodles inside."

"But I don't want to shower in cold water; it will make me sicker."

"Ican't eat that soup; I'm sleepy now. This cold makes me tired."

"You know, my mom never made me wear wet socks when I had a fever."

You promised to yourself, you will live this through. After all, only the women who gave birth knew the suffers of man with a cold right?

So you tended to his every wish and whine during the next couple days until he finally got better at Saturday, making you thank God in all possible languages.

Now, it was your turn to be whiny.

So you started with some basics, making him cook you your favourite meals, calling his name as soon as he went outside the room just to tell him you miss him and you became terribly clingy during night, where usually you two cuddled before sleep and then everyone slept on their own side, enjoying the space.

Max was getting hold of it, until you became whiny at Tuesday, telling him how you need to eat some strawberries.

"What, like now?" You were both currently laying in bed, already in your PJs. "You're not pregnant are you?"

You couldn't help but laugh. And you kept laughing as Max stared at you, confused. 'No, Max, I'm not pregnant. One child for now is more than enough for me.' You leaned over, kissing him on the nose. The playful glint in his eyes, which had been missing for days, returned. He scoffed, pulling away, but the petulant edge was gone, replaced with a familiar warmth. 'I'm not a baby,' he murmured. 'Sure thing, lover boy. You're more of a sex machine.' You couldn't help but tease, as he hadn't even tried anything since he got sick last week. As he cuddled into your side again, stealing a good part of your blanket, he murmured into your neck again. 'I'm totally your sex machine.'"

You smiled, a knowing glint in your eyes. "We'll see about that," you whispered, as you pulled him closer, the night promising to be much warmer than the past few spent in fever had been.

[rapturously]

I haven’t seen any billy loomis content on your blog ,,, would love to see some smut of him! nothing specific, I know you’ll write something good!

devil in disguise.

➾ pairing ; billy loomis x fem!reader.

in which billy decides to visit you once your father leaves for his shift — but there’s an additional element.

FORMAT: one-shot — requested.

WORD COUNT: 6.7K.

WARNINGS: SMUT (mdni), loss of virginity, rough sex, unprotected sex, p in v sex, multiple positions, multiple orgasms, sex during a storm, dirty talk, fingering (f!receiving), cunnilingus, oral sex (f!receiving), heavy knifeplay, billy is a little deranged in this, begging, creampie, cumplay, bloodplay, tiddy sucking, mild body worship, biting, hickeys/marking, choking, hair-pulling, finger sucking

AUTHOR’S NOTE: not gonna lie, I was suffering from billy brainrot and this emerged from my brain. I love him so much !!! I do want to write some more mickey & ethan landry content too, but I do need to tell y’all about my new influx of blorbos lately LOL! love you all so much and thanks for your continued support! Means the world to me!

Whenever it rained in California, you considered it to be a once-in-a-lifetime occasion — wisps of black clouds fluttered overhead, accompanied by the haze of an overcast sky. Even for the evening, the skies were unnaturally dark, making it seem like nighttime altogether. The scent of encroaching dewdrops drifted through your bedroom.

“Honey?” Your father gently tapped his knuckles against the white pane of your door, dressed in his police uniform. “Mind if we talk?” He asked, clearing his throat. The badge of the Woodsboro Sheriff’s Department glistened on his ironed shirt.

With the recent killings of Casey Becker and Steven Orth plaguing your school, your father had reason to be concerned. He was the Chief, after all — he was cleaning up mess after mess, investigating these murders without any leads. Stress shimmered upon his features, showing up as heavy bags underneath his eyes.

You swiveled around within your seat, busying yourself with homework for the evening. Books were strewn across your desk, accompanied by a computer that barely ran nowadays anyway.

“Sure,” You cleared your throat, awkwardly shuffling away from your chair to the edge of your bed. “What’s up?” The relationship with your father was somewhat tenuous — being the daughter of a police chief came with unwanted attention and his constant overprotective nature.

“You know about the murders,” He began, looming in the doorway of your bedroom. His countenance glistened with a thinly-veiled anxiousness, but also a bit of fear. You rarely saw your father show anything remotely close to terror, but here he was. “About your classmates.”

“Yeah,” Your brows furrowed together — where was he going with this? “You don’t want me to leave the house anymore, do you?” An exasperated sigh escaped you, but he immediately shook his head.

“No, no. I just think …” He clicked his tongue. “No visitors for a while, not until we clear everyone at the school as a suspect.” A sinking feeling pooled within the pit of your stomach, accompanied by disappointment. It meant that your boyfriend couldn’t come over — indefinitely.

Billy Loomis was a mysterious boy, cunning and charming with a silver tongue — he constantly wrapped you up in it, time and time again. He’d broken up with Sidney Prescott last year, not long after her mother had passed away. He was more than good to you, but your father wasn’t convinced.

His suspicion of Billy wasn’t subtle whatsoever, and it irked you at times. You’d gotten into several arguments about the morality and character of your paramour, and your father had inevitably relented, letting you date him — but there was always protest involved.

“I think you want to say Billy, Dad.” You uttered, lips curling into a sour frown as you stomped back to your chair with an indignant huff. “You’ve always disliked him. This isn’t about anyone else I hang out with — it’s about him.” Your tone became clipped and volatile, prompting you to return to studying.

Chief Burke let out a deep sigh, knowing he’d upset you with this news. “We’ll talk about that later,” He murmured, checking his watch with a thin-lipped expression. “I have to get going to the station.” Your father stepped forward, attempting to press a kiss against the top of your head — but you’d flinched away.

Gritting your teeth together, you attempted to maintain a shred of kindness towards your father. You wanted to explode, but it wasn’t a good time. He was under a lot of stress. “Love you.” You sighed, grabbing your pencil as you returned to writing something down in your notebook.

“I’ll see you in the morning.”

From behind the curve of your shoulder, you watched as your father retreated from your bedroom, shutting the door behind him in the process. A twinge of guilt flickered through you, and you couldn’t help but feel like the villain. Your mother was out on work-related business, and your father was drowning away in work.

Oftentimes, you were left to your own devices, absorbed in school, hanging out with your friends, or spending time with Billy — but that was all on an eternal hiatus, it seemed. You pressed your tongue against the inside of your cheek, stepping toward your door. The house was eerily silent, just you and the encroaching thunderstorm.

A clap of thunder rattled the skies, causing you to nearly jump out of your own skin. Goosebumps formed along the column of your spine as you crept down the stairs, traipsing towards your kitchen. Being home alone had a plethora of perks — the alcohol being one of them. If your father knew about all of the underage drinking, he’d likely have a heart attack.

There were so many things that he didn’t know about.

A brief flash of lightning illuminated your surroundings, casting the kitchen in a quick burst of white. You opened up the refrigerator, carefully removing one of your dad’s Abita’s from the side door. After rattling around in the cupboards, you found the bottle opener, popping open the amber lager as a stream of vapor emerged from the top.

You were swift to retreat back upstairs, latching your bedroom door in the process. You placed the beverage along the edge of your desk, listening to the atmospheric deluge of rain pattering outside, falling against the rooftops. You left your window open, lulled into a sense of comfort from the stormy evening.

A sharp thump reverberated against the side paneling of your house, prompting you to rock forward. Normally, you wouldn’t have given it much thought, but considering that someone was killing your classmates, it filled you with a pang of dread.

Hesitant, you crept toward the window, and through the haze of rain and darkness, you noticed a figure moving against the tall wall of lattice that climbed around the back of your home. You squinted, head canting to one side as you realized who was sneaking around.

Billy’s soaked frame appeared before you within an instant, still scaring you as a strangled gasp escaped your lips. “Billy!” You squeaked, lips parted as you noticed his hair, slick and plastered to his skull. The blue-and-white flannel he wore atop a white t-shirt remained stuck to him like a second skin.

“Hey,” He greeted cooly, flashing you one of those little smiles that made butterflies erupt within your stomach. Those warm, earthen-colored hues shamelessly flickered across your attire, finding some sort of attraction in the long-sleeved nightgown you wore. “Cold?”

“Not really,” You mused, nibbling along your lower lip as he ogled the still-icy beer sitting atop your desk. A bemused chuckle left him as he sauntered forward, head cocked to one side. “You’re soaked. Did you walk all the way here?”

“Thought I’d walk, but I wasn’t expecting the rain,” Billy murmured, taking a hold of your drink. “A little brazen, don’t you think? Aren’t you worried that your father might arrest you for underage drinking?” He teased, mouth curling into a playful grin as he took a swig of lager.

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” You chimed, nose wrinkling in amusement as he passed the bottle to you. With a brief exhale, you took a drink of lager, feeling the bitter twang of alcohol swarm your mouth as you swallowed. “Do you need me to throw anything in the dryer?” For someone soaked to the bone, Billy remained unphased.

He shook his head in dismissal, clicking his tongue soon afterwards. “No,” Billy’s brows furrowed together for a moment, and then he peered toward the door. “Your old man not around tonight?” Normally, he was always quiet for your sake — and you were often a ball of nerves, but you seemed so carefree tonight.

“He’s gone until the morning.” It was a declaration and a not-so-subtle hint — you could stay. Your relationship with Billy was still somewhat new and flourishing, but you were hoping that it would only continue to intensify. You hadn’t really done much of anything outside of making out and touching. He was patient with you, too.

Billy hummed, gaze surveying your bedroom with a sheen of curiosity. He often searched for new details or anything he found intriguing. His fingertips grazed across your quilted bedspread, and then toward the open window. “Do you like thunderstorms?” He asked. “Or do you keep the window open for me?”

“Would it make you feel better if I said both?” A bubbly burst of laughter escaped you as you tidied up your desk, putting your studying aside for the time being. You enjoyed the lightheartedness of it all despite the dour weather and less-than-savory conversation you’d had with your father twenty minutes prior.

His footsteps were light across the carpeted floor until he approached you, palm cupping your jaw with a certain level of care. At the very beginning, he asked you for everything — for a touch, for a kiss. You didn’t want him to ask nowadays, careening into the warmth of his hand as he brought you in for a kiss.

This bout of shyness always rippled through you whenever he was near — his presence was so enigmatic and overwhelming in the best of ways. He smelled like a smoky cologne, accompanied by the scent of dewdrops. You shivered when his arm crept to your hips, lightly massaging at your waist over the cotton of your nightgown.

Billy was an incredible kisser — always walking a fine line of soft and voracious. You wondered what it would be like for him to really give in. It was a fantasy that had crossed your mind more than you could count. His head tilted slightly, thumb tracing over your chin before he withdrew, stare bleeding with a thinly-veiled desire.

“You’re beautiful,” He uttered reverently, idly dragging the pad of his thumb across your lower lip. “Prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.” Billy’s voice was husky, an alluring drawl that was barely above a whisper. It sent a shudder of delight cascading down your spine, anticipation pooling within the pit of your stomach.

A brief sigh left you, trapped within your throat as you tilted inward, hands pressed against his chest. The material was damp underneath your palms, not that you cared. He had snuck through your bedroom window countless times — but it felt so much heavier this time around, given your father’s stark statement of not wanting you to see him.

You ducked your head, heat crawling across your body as you chewed at your lower lip. Billy knew that you were smitten, and he devoured every scrap that he could, but something felt off, as if you had something to tell him, dancing upon the tip of your tongue. “Hey,” He murmured, titling your chin up to meet his gaze. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, just …” You couldn’t lie to him. Billy had this radar for bullshit, able to see right through you, pierce your armor with ease. “It’s my dad, that’s all.” Admittedly, you were hesitant to reveal the truth, considering that Billy sometimes had a strong reaction to things.

Billy had a feeling that your father had it out for him — an intelligent man, to be certain. Of course, such suspicions were true, but he wasn’t about to make that known. A huff of laughter escaped him, followed by another debonair grin. “What, does he want to arrest me?” He mused, pressing a string of soft kisses along your jaw.

“Something like that,” You mumbled, burying your face into the crook of his neck. He smelled incredible, like a dusky night, drawing you in with his magnetizing pull. “He doesn’t want me to see you right now because of all of the killings and stuff.” The confession felt like a weight within your chest, but oddly enough, Billy didn’t seem too angered by this.

“Does he think I’m a suspect?” Billy questioned, point-blank. His tone became rather blunt, but still held that little shred of amusement. In the grand scheme of things, he was on the right track — unbeknownst to you, of course. It would stay that way.

“I don’t think so. He’s just skeptical, I guess. It’s his job.” You hesitated, drawing away just enough to get a look at your boyfriend’s handsome visage. “I just don’t want you to feel threatened or feel like you can’t come around. I don’t care what he says — I want to be with you.” You murmured, brows furrowing together.

His jaw tensed, gaze incendiary and oozing with a lasciviousness as he pressed a lingering kiss to your mouth, fingers idly stroking aside some of your hair. Billy had grown very fond of you, but with that, there was always some twisted desire to corrupt — the obsession that blossomed with it all.

“You have me,” Billy exhaled, body pressed against yours, hands pinning you close. “This all feels a little defiant, doesn’t it?” His tone had dropped an octave, akin to a delicate purr as he brushed his mouth against yours. You leaned in this time, pressing your lips against his as you chased after that sensation with a fervor.

“Yeah,” You whispered, feeling a newfound thrill churn within your stomach, coupled with exhilaration. “Can you stay tonight?” You asked, fingers gently weaving themselves into his mousy tresses, tugging at the hair around the nape of his neck.

His head cocked to one side as he arched an eyebrow. “I thought I couldn’t,” Staying implied one thing — sex. You had never propositioned it until now, let alone entertained the thought. “Unless you’ve changed your mind.” He didn’t want to rush anything or pressure you into something that you weren’t prepared for.

The constant feeling of doom hung over you — religion and saving yourself had always been a point of contention in your family. You were worried that Billy would leave you if he had you, but you knew that wouldn’t be the case. You were ready to have your first time and have it be with him.

Your head began to bob in a little nod, heat creeping across your body as it blossomed within your cheeks with a burning sensation. “I want you,” You whispered, breath hitching within your throat. “I — I need you, really. I don’t want you to go, Billy.” You mumbled, nearly gasping when his hand began to caress along the curve of your thigh.

“Are you sure?” Billy asked, brows knitting together in a moment of concern. “We don’t have to do anything intense,” He reassured, pressing another kiss against your jaw, and then to your neck. “I don’t want you to feel rushed.” Admittedly, he wanted nothing more than to touch you, to take your virginity, make you feel good, but it needed to be on your terms.

It felt good — the spark of retaliation and rebellion against your father, seeing Billy again in such a secretive fashion. You knew that if anyone found out, namely your parents, you’d be in a world of trouble. Fortunately, it was just the two of you and an empty house.

“You’ve been really patient with me,” You murmured, a soft sigh drifting from your lips as you sank forward into his embrace. “I want this.” Billy’s constant chase for consent and ensuring your comfort was beyond attractive, and you were thankful for it, but this was long overdue.

A soft laugh burst forth from his chest as Billy stroked at your cheek, calloused fingertips traveling across the delicate plane of your visage. “I would wait for as long as you wanted me to.” He uttered, gaze shifting from affectionate to incendiary, simmering with an unmistakable sensuality.

He was so good to you — your ex-boyfriend paled in comparison to Billy Loomis in more ways than one. “I know,” You sighed, lips twitching into a smitten smile as your digits plucked at the damp fabric of his shirt. You pressed another chaste kiss against his mouth. “Should I shut the window?”

Billy clicked his tongue, mouth twitching into a faint smirk. “No,” He swept strands of hair behind your ear, cradling your cheek within his warm palm. “You’ll have to be quiet. You think you can handle that?” The little evocation of a challenge was prevalent — your insides turned to metaphorical mush as you shivered.

“I can’t promise anything.” Your voice was wrought with excitement, barely above a whisper. The blood was rushing to your head and heart, hot and fervent as Billy gently guided you toward your bed. His smirk morphed into a wolfish grin, unable to tear his eyes away from you.

As he placed you down against the mattress, atop your quilted bedspread, he crawled in between your legs, lips hungrily returning to kiss you. He tasted like a lick of amber lager, intertwined with breath mints and the hint of cigarettes. Your heart began to beat faster as Billy’s hand rubbed along your thigh, digits flicking at the hem of your panties.

The ambiance of the thunderstorm outside provided a rather atmospheric setting, on top of the dim lighting throughout your bedroom. Rain noisily pounded against rooftops and the surrounding neighborhood, as if masking the salaciousness of your actions. Your hands pushed at his flannel, and he took it off, along with his white t-shirt.

“May I?” You whispered, eyes wide and mesmerized as Billy let out a brief chuckle. He was so painfully handsome, especially when he smiled — it only served to make you squirm, goosebumps erupting underneath his wandering touch.

“You’re sweet,” Billy murmured, voice deliciously husky as he pressed a kiss against your mouth, teeth playfully snagging your lower lip. The sheepish, stupefied reaction you had was well worth it, prompting him to grab one of your wrists, steering your hand to wherever you wanted it to go. “I want to see you.”

His composure was beginning to crumble, foundation being chipped away at. You were so infectious, like a fever, and Billy only wanted more. He had to restrain himself from being rough, watching with lustful eyes as you sat up a little bit.

You shivered when his hands slipped underneath your nightgown, curling into the hem as he helped you take off the lengthy, frilled garment. Billy licked at his lower lip, hooded stare eating you alive once you were stripped of that coverage. The pastel brassiere and panties you wore were just in the way.

“Lay down.” Billy husked, presence exuding a domineering edge without even trying. You silently obeyed, breath hitching within your throat as he covered your body with his, all sinewy muscle and tan skin. His mouth clashed with yours, voracious and all-consuming as he kept himself propped up with one arm.

Curious, needy digits found their way to your chest, groping and kneading at your chest over the material of your bra. “Billy.” You sighed, moaning into his mouth when he bit at your lip again. It was sharp and somewhat painful, but admittedly, you found that minuscule prick of discomfort to be exciting.

With a brusque tug, Billy’s palm circled around your bare breast, massaging at the sensitive flesh as he tugged at your nipple. Your hands flew to the nape of his neck, dragging through his hair as his mouth tore away from yours, only to find their purchase against the slender column of your throat.

Your flesh was velveteen underneath him, warm to the touch as he began to suckle against the sensitive flesh of your jugular. Teeth and lips created a series of marks — some were more obvious than others. A clap of thunder caused you to jump, a soft gasp escaping you as your body clashed with Billy’s.

His grin was tangible, like an imprint seared into your collarbone as he peered at you with those shimmering brown hues. “Scared?” He murmured, flashing those pearlescent teeth in a brief grin. Billy felt your skin erupt with goosebumps, creeping like a wildfire across your body.

“No,” You protested, tongue absentmindedly swiping across your lower lip. You gently tugged on his hair, hands wandering about until you were cupping his narrow face within your palms. “You’re so perfect.” A soft, enthralled sigh escaped you as he stared down at you.

That calculating, searing gaze would have burned right through you if it were possible — you could feel the desire that oozed from eyes alone. Billy turned his head, planting a kiss against your palm as he grabbed your wrist, fingers tangling with yours.

“You’re beautiful,” His voice dipped into a low, lascivious purr, a delicious octave that made you shudder. “You’re mine.” Billy uttered, and for a moment, there was something dark and innately possessive within his voice, something that you hadn’t heard before. While some might’ve found it strange and obsessive, you were hooked.

You swallowed the growing lump within your throat, feeling his lips press against yours again with a vigor and urgency. Silence drifted between the two of you, but the intensity and desire only seemed to amplify. His kisses were ravenous and passionate, accompanied by teeth and tongue.

“Take this off,” Billy murmured in between kisses, tugging on your brassiere for emphasis. His digits deftly felt along your body, ending up between your legs as he began to touch you. You were barely able to unclasp your bra without squirming and wriggling, hips jolting forward. “Hold still for me, baby.”

Inclined to obey, you ceased your movements, breath hitching within the back of your throat as his hand dipped beneath the waistband of your panties. You felt absolutely pathetic, already wet from just the tension and kissing alone. With this discovery, Billy grinned, letting out a soft laugh as his digits ghosted along your cunt.

“You’re wet for me and I haven’t even touched you yet,” Billy crooned, pressing a heated, sloppy kiss against your collarbone. His other hand torturously tugged and caressed at your breast. “So sweet.” He uttered, nipping at the soft flesh of your chest.

You moaned, body set ablaze as he dragged two digits along your cunt, allowing them to sink inward as he briefly touched your clit with his thumb. “Billy,” You whimpered, legs parting for him as he settled between them, reveling in your pleasured expression. “Please, please don’t stop.” You wanted to cry.

A low hum emerged from his chest, mouth pressing gentle, lasting kisses around your breast. “You’re so pretty.” He mumbled, taking your hardened peak into his maw as he sucked at your nipple. Those experienced, quick fingers developed a rhythm as he stroked along your slit, thumb lazily circling your clit.

Billy could only imagine what you’d be like if he were rough with you — if he had a knife in his hand, licking the blood from your swollen mouth. The thought alone made his cock throb within his jeans, but he would save it for another time.

As he bent you to his will, making you submit with his fingers alone, your body viscerally reacted to his ministrations, back beginning to arch. “B—Billy,” You sighed with passion, goosebumps beginning to coalesce along your spine. “God, feels so good.”

Innocent — that’s what you were. Vulnerable and pious, something to covet. Billy wanted to possess you, breathe you in, control you.

Akin to a canary trapped within the talons of a predator, you squirmed with delight, desperate for his embrace. His digits dipped toward your warm entrance, teasing you with gentle prod. “I’ll try to be gentle,” He crooned. “You make it so hard for me. Just relax.” Billy mumbled, teeth grazing your nipple as he licked at your sternum.

You nodded, stomach churning with molten heat as you felt some pressure. Your fingers dug into the nape of his neck, leaving behind crimson crescents as he kissed along your stomach. His digits sunk into you with some resistance, pushing into your tight cunt. A wanton moan escaped you, mouth agape.

It was a foreign sensation, but you savored every second, cunt clenching pathetically around his fingers as he began to find a sluggish rhythm. Billy kissed his way toward the heat between your thighs, tongue raking liquid heat over your aching core.

A spasm ran through you as a choked whine escaped your mouth, countenance rippling with surprise. “O—Oh,” You croaked, awash with delight as his mouth carefully roamed over your slick cunt. He began to lick and lap at your core — slower, at first — more exploratory. “Billy!” You squeaked.

The myriad of sensations you were experiencing were excruciatingly pleasant. It was pure bliss, feeling his lips caress your slit, digits steadily pumping their way in and out of you as he toyed with your clit. Every mewl and moan only spurred him on.

Something dark and alluring danced within his eyes, and when you lazily rolled your head to look down, his stare could’ve burned right through you. A flash of lightning only contributed to his sinister countenance, lips twitching into a smirk as he lapped at your cunt.

Billy ate you out like a man starved, touching you in places that you’d only dreamed of. His tongue was hot, raking hot embers over your slit as he showered you in endless attention. A strangled gasp escaped you as his fingers stilled, nose bumping against your clit.

His palm splayed out along the meat of your thigh, nails digging in, fingers pressing down hard enough to leave behind bruises. You clawed at his hair, hips lurching forward, but he pinned you down without hesitation, shivering at the sound of your sweet, innocuous moans.

Part of you wanted him to be rough, to really show you how much he desired you. Every fiber of your being ached for him in a way that made you itch, heat crawling across your supple flesh. “You can be rough,” You whispered, feeling the subtle hitch in his throat, tongue stilling atop your clit. “Billy.”

Billy’s jaw tensed, gaze dancing with a subtle malevolence, intermingled with obsession. His darker side often festered under the skin, but when you asked him to be rough, he knew he needed to be careful. He didn’t want to hurt you or scare you away with his potential antics.

“You want me to be rough?” His tone emerged as a low purr, murmured into the pliant meat of your inner thigh. Billy’s teeth suddenly nicked flesh before he licked at your cunt again, grazing your clit in an effort to tease you. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.” It was more of a warning than anything else.

Maybe he was right — you hadn’t the slightest clue of where this could lead.

Whatever darkness you saw, part of you viewed it as an act, as a facade for the sake of intimacy. Nonetheless, you still wanted him to be a little more forceful with you. As much as you savored his gentle streak, you wanted the intensity and the heat of the moment.

He wanted to let you stew on it for a little while, lips greedily pursing around your clit as he began to suck a the sensitive clutch of nerves. Billy’s fingers pushed themselves inside of you again, evoking a barrage of pleasured whines and moans from you. It very nearly derailed your train of thought.

With quivering digits, you reached for his hair again, raking through his tresses with a fervor. Billy felt you tug and pull, which only served to spur him on as he finger-fucked you into a blissful oblivion. It was intermingled with delicate licks to your clit, causing you to writhe in-place.

“I’m close,” You whined, hoping that he would keep going or be rough. Part of you wondered why he was so hesitant, but you didn’t want to push the matter. “Billy, please don’t stop!” With a shrill cry, his ministrations only intensified, fingers pistoning in and out of your cunt.

Billy gazed at you with eyes that almost appeared black, simmering with an unrestrained desire. “Yeah?” He purred, lips dutifully returning to suck and lap at your clit. The sensations were mind-numbing, nearly overwhelming as your stomach surged with a churning heat.

He curled his digits inside of you, letting you simmer on that sensation alone before he stopped. Billy finger-fucked you, accompanied by the tantalizing movements of his mouth. He couldn’t get enough of you, delighted to lap at your sweet cunt.

You nodded several times over, bucking toward his mouth as he continued to kiss and suck at your clit. Billy led you into the white-hot abyss of your orgasm, digits drenched in your slick as he withdrew, licking at his lower lip.

The pleasure was almost blinding, body hot and borderline feverish as you attempted to regain your composure. Your chest rose and fell with quick pants, mouth dry as Billy crawled up, covering your body with his as he placed two fingers against your lower lip.

“Open,” It wasn’t a question — it was a demand. Billy’s countenance had become shadowed, jaw tense as he watched you sheepishly open your mouth. You felt filthy for doing something like this, visibly flustered as his digits landed upon your tongue. “Only right if you have a taste.”

You shivered, a noise stirring within your throat as you began to suck, able to taste yourself in the process. He seemed delighted, lips twitching into a subtle smirk as he made you continue to his satisfaction.

“You sure you want this?”

His question was sharp and succinct, annunciated with something penetrating. Billy knew that if he went to his roots, to become something close to who he really was, he ran the risk of scaring you away. Brown eyes bored into you, hawkish and calculating as you withdrew his fingers from your mouth.

“Yes,” You replied, wondering what exactly he had in-mind in terms of being rough. “I trust you.”

A big mistake — your naïveté was laid bare, stretched out along your sleeve. Billy was untrustworthy, a sinister force with the means for destruction, but you were none the wiser. He liked your innocuous nature, the sweetness that oozed from every pore.

“Stay here.” Billy murmured, slipping off of your bed as he made for your bedroom door. You very nearly questioned him, wanting to know where he was going, but a rancorous clap of thunder effectively silenced you as you sank down into your mattress.

You counted — Billy was only gone for three minutes.

When he emerged through your bedroom door, it almost didn’t feel like the same person — not your charming, debonair brown-eyed boyfriend. He seemed possessed, as if something else had grabbed ahold of him. The glint of silver sparkled within his right hand, and that’s when you saw the large kitchen knife.

Something heavy swirled within the pit of your stomach — exhilaration intermingled with fear and uncertainty. You knew that he wouldn’t hurt you, but being rough was a different matter entirely. You gulped, throat thick as Billy moved toward the edge of your bed, available hand grabbing your thigh.

He dragged you close, looming over you with a shimmer in his eyes that told you he was still mostly himself. Even then, that pang of terror gripped you as he prodded the tip of the knife into your thigh.

“Billy,” You exhaled, goosebumps forming underneath the knife’s sharp blade. He continued to trace it across your supple flesh, moving it along your hip bone until he let it ghost above your stomach. “Want you t—to fuck me.” You stammered.

“You want me to fuck you?” Billy murmured, leaning inward, knife in-hand. You felt the blade jut into the swell of your breast, causing you to shudder from the icy chill of the steel. “Maybe I’ll gut you with this, instead.” He stated, though his voice held some modicum of playfulness to it, just enough to ease your nerves.

The doe-eyed look you wore made him frenzied — he wanted nothing more than to see you like this all the time. Billy hastily reached down, unbuckling his jeans with a sudden haste as he crawled on top of you, sticking the tip of the knife into your ribcage.

You gasped, and when you attempted to lean away from the knife, he simply pinned you there. The tip of his cock was oozing with precum, erection desperately grinding along your slit. “Billy!” You whimpered, afraid that he would accidentally dig the knife a little too far.

“Gotta stay still, pretty girl. You don’t want my hand to slip.” He warned, pressing a hot, incendiary kiss to your lips. You reciprocated, cunt throbbing from the added thrill of the blade as he began to ease himself inside of you.

The sudden intrusion made you cry out — you hadn’t done this before or gone this far, and Billy knew that. A myriad of breathy moans escaped you as you attempted to adjust, feeling his leg nudge you apart, spreading you open for him.

He pressed a series of kisses against your face in an effort to soothe you, teeth nicking the soft flesh of your jawline. Billy hesitated, waiting for you to have some time to adjust, heart pounding erratically, akin to the beating of a drum. You reached for his neck, hands tangling together at the nape.

“Still want it rough?” Billy murmured into your ear, hot breath fanning out across the side of your cheek. The blade of the knife prodded into your abdomen, as if it were issuing a stark warning — to turn back, or to proceed. You wanted him more than anything else — rough or not.

You couldn’t deny the excitement and sick thrill you gained from this, as if it had suddenly unlocked unfamiliar territory for you. Billy’s gaze danced with a lustful fire, tongue swiping across his lower lip.

After enough deliberation, you nodded, nearly shying away underneath his shadowed stare. “Yeah, I do.” You whispered, throat becoming thick as he thrust his hips forward, cock burying itself deep into your tight cunt. The feeling was intense, but his eyes were worse.

Billy grinned, throat erupting with a sardonic chuckle as he clicked his tongue. “That’s my girl.” He kept the knife against your stomach, threatening to dig into skin as he began to fuck you. The friction was delicious, breathing heavy, chest to chest, silvery blade prodding at your belly.

“Billy,” You moaned, back arching into the brutality of his thrusts, legs rattling like leaves. His hand grabbed at your leg, hitching it around his waist for better leverage, hips rutting forward in a series of sharp thrusts. “A—Ah! Please don’t stop!”

His teeth brazenly snagged across your lower lip, biting down hard enough to draw blood. He kissed you then — vitriolic copper intermingling between mouths, breath hot and labored as he fucked you in some frenzied state. Your poor cunt clenched around him, drawing him right in.

With a brief adjustment, he moved onto his knees, cock still pounding away at you as he used the grip on your leg as a crutch. Billy dragged the knife along your body, digging the tip into your sternum, letting it ghost above your breasts. He wanted to lick the fear in your eyes — drink it right from the source.

“Look so pretty like this,” He purred, using the cold flat of the knife to press into your chest. It caused you to moan, eyes rolling into the back of your skull as he continued to fuck you at a rather brutal pace. “You like this, don’t you?” Billy huffed, noticing the way your flesh prickled with a barrage of goosebumps.

You nodded, somewhat reluctant to admit to enjoying the roughness of it all. You felt the tip of the knife press just underneath your jaw, causing you to shudder, hips pushing forward as he met you halfway.

Every fiber of your being felt feverishly hot, like a live wire, coursing with raw electricity. The fire that burned bright within your belly demanded to be extinguished, cunt clenching around his cock as Billy continued to fuck you. He very nearly pulled out before ramming himself right back into your tight heat.

Billy momentarily abandoned the knife, grabbing at your hips as he turned you over, manhandling you onto your stomach. You gasped, letting out a series of moans and whimpers as his fingers roamed through your hair, tugging fistfuls of it as he rutted into you.

It was hot and quick, as if he didn’t have any time left at all. “Billy!” You cried out, feeling somewhat abashed as his cock slapped into your cunt, body pressed to yours. Once he’d gotten himself going, you felt the intrusive chill of the knife again, scraping back and forth along your spine.

“I—I’m close,” You panted, hands clawing at the quilt beneath you, nails threatening to pluck the strings and fabric away. Billy didn’t stop for anything, fucking you at a very erratic, feral speed, yanking on your hair. The knife added an element of danger, liquid heat coalescing between your thighs. “Don’t stop.”

“Yeah?” He purred, gritting his teeth together as his cock throbbed with an urgency. Billy groaned — a deep, unrestrained noise, and you yelped when the blade had cut too deep. He didn’t intend to cut you — it was a shallow, superficial wound, but it only drove him crazy. “Fuck, you’re perfect.”

The cut on your back oozed with rivulets of blood, not nearly enough to warrant any concern. You moaned, huffing and writhing atop the quilt as Billy pushed into you once more, cumming inside of you without a second thought.

He pulled out midway through, leaving behind a sticky mess of his seed along your cunt and inner thighs, intermingled with your arousal. Your body twitched and spasmed, awash with a sense of relief.

“Shit,” Billy murmured, clamoring away to find you a towel. He pressed it against your back, hoping to wash away some of the blood, even if it wasn’t very much at all. “I’m sorry, baby. I got carried away — I didn’t even think.” He sighed, watching as you attempted to clean yourself up.

“It’s fine, Billy. I know you didn’t mean to,” A soft exhale escaped you as you attempted to regain your composure, hoping to seize another towel as you sheepishly wiped his cum off of your body. You were sensitive and hot to the touch in the aftermath of it all. “I did enjoy it.”

Billy appeared perplexed, neglecting to comment for now. He wanted to take care of you as any dutiful boyfriend would do, retrieving your panties and nightgown as he helped you get dressed again. Outside, the thunderstorm continued to rage on.

“You did?” You shouldn’t have said anything — Billy’s thoughts went somewhere dark and salacious. Now, he wanted to fuck you with the knife all the time. If he were lucky, you’d bear more than one scar. It was a possessive mark, a reminder that you belonged to him.

“Yeah,” You confessed, laying down on your bed. Billy hastily zipped his jeans up, declining to put his shirt back on, given that it was still soaking-wet from the rain. “That was amazing. I’m glad I got to do it with you.”

As he laid down beside you, his gaze became dark and shadowed once again. His finger idly traced across the newly-formed cut on your back, lips pressing themselves all over your neck. “Maybe we could try something different next time.” He proposed.

“Like what?” You asked, admittedly curious as you snuggled against him. His digits idly roamed throughout your hair, mouth briefly pressing against yours before he withdrew altogether.

There was a sly, indiscernible look within his eyes — you didn’t know if you should’ve been worried or not.

“Maybe a costume next time.” Billy murmured, and despite the bemused grin on your face and his subtle smirk, you were entirely oblivious to the multifaceted meaning of his words.

Fortunately for you, you were safe — for now.

[benispunk]

Who's That Girl?

Chapter 12: All I Want For Christmas

Y/N spends Christmas with Logan and Wade, and Logan's wondering what he really wants to find underneath the Christmas tree.🎄

logan howlett x reader

TW: language, angst & fluff, D&W.

word count: 5K+

A/N: Merry Christmas everyone!!! before saying anything about this special chapter, I just wanted to thank you all for all the support on this series!! I love you guys so so much!!! and although this chapter made me giggle and kick my feet in the air, then I got a little carried away and...turns out Christmas isn't the happiest time of the year.....so sorry....enjoy? (don't worry, I will NOT let you down)

→ this fic is inspired by the TV Show New Girl, Wade and Logan aren't Deadpool and Wolverine (no powers/mutant gene etc) but I did take most of their character traits and storyline!!

Masterlist /Previous Part / Next Part

The scent of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the apartment as Y/N shuffled into the kitchen, her steps quiet against the floor. Her pajamas hung loose, her hair a tousled mess from sleep, but she didn’t care— not yet, anyway.

And then, she saw him.

Logan stood by the counter, leaning casually as he sipped from his mug. His hair was still damp from a recent shower, the dark strands curling slightly at the ends. His shirt clung just enough to his frame to hint at the muscles underneath, and for a moment—just a fleeting, traitorous moment—her eyes lingered a little too long.

When he reached for something on the top shelf, the hem of his shirt lifted, revealing a strip of skin and a flash of muscle along his waist. She swallowed hard, shaking her head. What is wrong with me? It was just Logan. Her roommate. Her very grumpy, very private, very…

“Morning,” he greeted, his voice rough but warm, breaking her train of thought.

Y/N blinked, her cheeks heating. “Morning,” she replied, forcing herself to look away as she reached for a mug.

The cup was warm in her hands, grounding her as she poured herself some coffee. She took a sip, savoring the bitter edge of it. This is fine. Everything is fine.

“So,” Logan started, watching her over the rim of his mug. “What’s your plan for Christmas?”

Y/N hesitated, swirling her coffee. “Nothing, really. My dad and brother are in Europe, and flights to California to see my mom… well, not exactly in the cards right now.” She offered a small shrug, though there was a hint of sadness in her voice.

Logan frowned, his grip tightening on the handle of his mug. After a beat, he said, “Wade and I usually celebrate here. Althea, his old roommate, comes over. It’s nothin’ fancy, but it’s good. You should join us.”

Y/N blinked, surprised. “Logan, I don’t want to intrude—”

“You’re not intruding,” Logan interrupted. “You’re family, Y/N. ‘Course you’re welcome.”

Her heart warmed at his words, and a smile spread across her face. “Thank you, Logan. That… means a lot.”

Just then, Wade barreled into the kitchen, already half-dressed for work. “What’s up, my favorite morning people?”

Logan smirked. “Y/N’s joining us for Christmas.”

Wade froze mid-bite of a piece of toast. “Yes!” he exclaimed, his face lighting up. “Y/N, you and Blind Al are gonna hit it off. She’s got this whole ‘beautiful disaster’ vibe going on, but you’ll love her.”

Y/N chuckled, feeling genuinely touched by their enthusiasm. “Thanks, Wade. I’m looking forward to it.”

“You better be!” Wade called as he rushed out the door. “Oh, and save me some cookies or I’ll never forgive you!”

The apartment settled into quiet again. Logan finished his coffee, setting the mug in the sink. ��What about you? What are you doing today?”

Y/N tilted her head. “I need to run some errands, maybe pick up a few Christmas gifts. You?”

Logan shrugged. “Not much planned.”

She paused for a second, wondering if her next question was a good idea, then she smiled. Why wouldn’t it be? “Wanna come with me?”

Logan would be a liar if he said his heart didn’t skip a beat. “Yeah, sure. Why not?”

———

Logan had never liked shopping. Too many people, too much noise, and too many choices. It was the kind of thing he avoided at all costs—until today.

He trailed behind Y/N as she navigated the aisles, her attention flitting from one shelf to the next with a focus that he found oddly endearing. She examined items carefully, turning them over in her hands before either placing them back or tossing them into her cart.

Every now and then, she’d turn to him, asking his opinion. Like now.

“What do you think Wade would like?” she asked, holding up a pair of novelty socks with comic book characters on them.

“Probably those,” Logan said with a smirk. “The more ridiculous, the better.”

Her laughter was soft but genuine, and it tugged at something deep in his chest. She smiled easily, even when he barely gave her much to work with. She always had a way of drawing him out, making him feel… less guarded.

“Noted,” she said, tossing the socks into the cart.

As they continued, Y/N brought up another name. “What about Althea? I want to get her something too.”

“You don’t have to get everyone somethin’,” Logan said gruffly.

“I want to,” Y/N insisted. “Christmas is about giving, right?”

Logan shook his head but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his lips.

“Oh, and don’t think I forgot about you,” Y/N teased, nudging him lightly.

He stopped in his tracks. “Wait—you got me somethin’?”

“Of course,” she said, smiling sweetly.

“You didn’t have to—”

“Logan,” she interrupted. “It’s Christmas.”

Before he could respond, she turned and headed down the next aisle, her focus already shifting to whatever caught her eye. Logan stayed rooted to the spot, watching her go.

For a moment, everything else faded—the noise, the people, the chaos of the store. All he could focus on was her, the way she seemed to light up even the dullest places.

His chest tightened, an unfamiliar warmth spreading through him. He didn’t know what to call it, didn’t want to call it anything, but it was there all the same.

“You’re somethin’ else, Y/N,” he muttered under his breath, the words barely audible over the chatter of the store.

After a moment, he shook his head, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets as he trailed after her.

———

The coffee shop buzzed with a quiet energy, the hum of conversation blending with the clatter of plates and the hiss of the espresso machine. Logan sat across from Y/N, the table between them littered with sandwiches, pastries, and steaming mugs. She was talking, her voice animated as she recounted a story about one of her students.

“...and then he looks me dead in the eye and says, Miss, I’m not late. Time is just a concept.’” Y/N laughed, the sound warm and unguarded, and Logan couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips.

“Smart kid,” he said, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Too smart,” she replied with a shake of her head, still smiling.

But then something shifted. The lightness in her expression dimmed, her smile faltering as her gaze fixed on something—or someone—behind him.

Logan’s brow furrowed. He turned slightly in his seat, his eyes landing on a man approaching their table. The guy was average-looking, nothing particularly striking, but there was something about the way he walked—like he knew he belonged in her world, or at least used to.

“Y/N,” the man said, his smile tentative. “Wow, it’s been a while.”

“Hi, Mark,” Y/N replied, her voice polite but strained.

Logan glanced at her, catching the subtle tension in her posture, the way her fingers gripped the edge of her mug just a little too tightly. So, that was Mark.

The man’s gaze flicked to Logan, his smile faltering slightly. “And… you are?”

“Logan,” Y/N said quickly, before Logan could respond. “My roommate.”

Mark’s eyebrows lifted, and his smile thinned. “Oh. Roommate.”

Logan said nothing, his face impassive, but he could feel the weight of Mark’s scrutiny, the unspoken question hanging in the air. Is that all you are?

Mark turned his attention back to Y/N. “So… how’s everything?” he asked, his tone forced, as though he felt obligated to make small talk.

“Good,” Y/N replied, her voice clipped. “Good. You?”

He hesitated, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah, uh… I’ve been going to therapy,” he said, his words tumbling out awkwardly.

“Oh,” Y/N said, her lips pressing into a tight smile. “That’s… good.”

An awkward silence settled over the table, heavy and suffocating. Logan’s jaw tightened as he watched Y/N’s discomfort. He wanted to say something, to cut through the tension, but he knew this wasn’t his moment to step in.

“Well,” Mark said finally, his smile brittle. “It was good to see you.”

“Yeah,” Y/N replied softly, not quite meeting his eyes.

Mark gave a small wave and walked away, disappearing into the crowd.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Y/N stared down at her coffee, her shoulders slumping slightly.

“You alright?” Logan asked.

She exhaled slowly, lifting her gaze to meet his. “Yeah,” she said, though the tightness in her voice betrayed her. “I just wasn’t expecting to see my ex today. Sorry, that was really weird.”

Logan nodded, his chest tightening inexplicably. “No need to apologize, he was the weird one.”

That made her chuckle and he smiled again. Y/N’s eyes lingered on him, her expression softening. “Have you ever had that happen?”

“Not really,” he admitted, his gaze dropping to his coffee. “Can’t say I’ve had many good relationships to begin with.”

She tilted her head slightly, curiosity flickering across her face. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he said, a small shrug accompanying his words. “I mean, nothing real or long-lasting. Guess I’m not exactly easy to be with.”

“I don’t believe that,” Y/N said, softly. “You just haven’t found the right person yet.”

Logan looked up, his eyes meeting hers. For a moment, the world around them seemed to fade, the noise of the coffee shop a distant hum. There was something in her gaze, something that made his chest ache and his thoughts scatter.

He cleared his throat, breaking the spell. “Maybe,” he said, his voice quieter now.

Y/N smiled faintly, her attention drifting back to her coffee, but Logan could still feel the weight of the moment lingering between them, unspoken and unresolved.

———

By the time they returned to the apartment, the festive glow of the city lights outside had faded into a softer, quieter hum. Inside, the atmosphere felt almost intimate as they each set about putting away the day’s purchases.

Y/N carried the neatly wrapped gifts she’d picked out for Wade and a few others to her room, her mind still replaying snippets of the day. She placed the bags on her bed, pausing for a moment as her fingers brushed over the ribbon on one of the packages.

Meanwhile, Logan busied himself in the kitchen, unpacking a few groceries he had bought for dinner. His movements were slow and deliberate, but his focus wavered as the sound of Y/N’s light footsteps from the other room reached him.

It was the kind of silence that wasn’t quite empty.

When Y/N came back out to the living room, Logan glanced up briefly, his eyes catching hers.

“Got everything sorted?” he asked.

She nodded, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “You?”

“Yeah,” he said, placing a carton of eggs in the fridge. “All set.”

It was an ordinary exchange, but it lingered, hanging in the air between them like the faint scent of pine from the tiny tree Wade had set up in the corner.

Neither of them said much else as they gathered their things to head out, but the quiet wasn’t awkward. It was... charged.

———

The bar was alive with energy, the hum of conversation and bursts of laughter filling the space. Wade was on stage, commanding the room with a confidence that seemed almost effortless.

Y/N and Logan sat together near the bar and when Wade finished his set, he bounded over to them, his grin practically splitting his face.

“Well, well,” he said, plopping down in the seat next to Logan. “Look at you two. What’d you lovebirds get up to today?”

Logan tensed, his jaw tightening as he shot Wade a warning glance.

“Ran errands,” he said curtly, taking a sip from his drink.

“Bought gifts,” Y/N added with a smile, her tone light and unbothered.

Wade’s eyes flicked between the two of them, his smirk growing. “Oh, gifts, huh? For each other, maybe?”

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. “For everyone but each other, actually.”

Wade leaned closer to Logan, lowering his voice but making no effort to hide his teasing grin. “You’re gonna spill every detail later,” he said conspiratorially. “Or else.”

Logan sighed, his gaze flickering toward Y/N, who seemed blissfully unaware of Wade’s antics. “You’re relentless,” he muttered.

“And you love me for it,” Wade shot back, raising his glass in mock salute.

For Y/N, the day had been... strange. Comfortable in some ways, yet unsettling in others. Being around Logan had a way of grounding her and throwing her off balance all at once, a mix of feelings she couldn’t quite name.

For Logan, it had been much the same. A day that lingered, heavy with a tension he couldn’t ignore and wasn’t ready to face.

As they left the bar and stepped into the cold night air, neither of them said much, but the weight of the unspoken hung between them, unacknowledged yet undeniable.

———

*Christmas Eve*

The apartment was aglow with the warm light of fairy lights strung across the walls and a small Christmas tree standing proudly in the corner. The scent of roasted vegetables and spiced desserts filled the air, mixing with the soft hum of holiday music playing from the speakers.

Y/N stood on a chair near the window, carefully hanging the last of the ornaments, a delicate glass star. She adjusted it until it caught the light just right, a satisfied smile tugging at her lips. Her long red dress shimmered faintly in the glow of the lights, hugging her figure in all the right ways while remaining elegant and festive.

Logan walked in from the kitchen, a dish towel slung over his shoulder. He stopped mid-step, his breath catching as his eyes fell on her.

She was radiant.

He couldn’t look away, and for a moment, everything else faded: the chatter from the kitchen, the music, even the sound of Wade's muffled laughter from somewhere down the hall.

For a moment, he forgot where he was.

“Logan?”

Her voice pulled him back, startling him. He blinked, feeling caught, and quickly masked his reaction.

“Yeah?” he replied, his voice gruff.

Her brow furrowed slightly, as though she wanted to ask something, but before she could, the front door swung open with a burst of energy.

“We’re here!” Wade’s booming voice broke the moment.

Logan exhaled quietly in relief, stepping aside as Wade entered, grinning from ear to ear. Behind him followed a petite older woman with cropped gray hair and a sharp yet welcoming presence. Her dark glasses hinted at her blindness, but her confident stride suggested it had never slowed her down.

“Y/N, this is Althea,” Wade announced with dramatic flair. “Al, meet the famous new roommate. Be warned—she’s deceptively charming.”

Y/N laughed, stepping forward with an outstretched hand. “It’s great to finally meet you. Wade talks about you all the time.”

“Does he?” Althea’s tone was dry, but the faint curve of her lips showed her amusement. Ignoring Y/N’s hand, she reached out instead, her fingers brushing Y/N’s arm. “Forgive me, I don’t do handshakes. May I...?”

Y/N quickly caught on, her voice warm. “Of course.”

Althea’s hands moved gently to Y/N’s face, tracing her features with practiced care. Y/N held still, feeling a blend of curiosity and vulnerability.

“You’ve got a kind face,” Althea remarked, a smile softening her sharp features. “And I’d bet beautiful too.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed. She laughed lightly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “That’s very sweet of you to say.”

Wade, observing the scene from the kitchen, raised a brow. “Look at you, Al, playing all sweet. Y/N, don’t let her fool you. She’s got a mouth that could make a sailor blush.”

“Shut the fuck up, Wade,” Althea shot back without missing a beat, her tone deadpan.

Y/N burst into laughter, startled by the abruptness of the retort. The sound of her laugh made Logan glance over from his spot near the counter. His lips twitched, caught between a smirk and something softer.

Wade caught the look and snorted. He leaned in closer to Logan, dropping his voice. “Oh, man, you’re hopeless.”

Logan scowled, draining his drink in one go. “Shut up, Wade.”

Unfazed, Wade grinned. “Hey, just saying— there’s mistletoe. Clock’s ticking.”

Logan’s ears burned red, but he turned away, pretending to busy himself with setting the table.

“Alright, ladies!” Wade called, clapping his hands. “Dinner’s ready. Let’s feast!”

———

The four of them gathered around the small dining table, the dishes carefully arranged in the center. Wade had gone all out, as usual, and the spread was both impressive and slightly chaotic.

Y/N found herself seated next to Logan, their chairs close enough that their elbows occasionally brushed as they passed plates back and forth.

“This looks amazing,” Y/N said, her eyes wide as she surveyed the food.

“Don’t give Wade too much credit,” Logan grumbled. “Half of this was my doing.”

“Hey!” Wade protested, pointing his fork at Logan. “Without me, this meal would’ve been functional but boring. Like you.”

Althea snorted, cutting in with a smirk. “Oh, please, the two of you are basically a mismatched couple from some sitcom. You just need a laugh track.”

The meal carried on, Wade cracking jokes like it was his job (it is) and Logan sighing like he couldn’t care less. Still, there was a rhythm to their back-and-forth, one that made Y/N smile even when Wade was pushing the boundaries.

At one point, Wade casually leaned back and tossed out a comment about how Logan’s “festive cheer” seemed to skyrocket whenever Y/N was around. Logan didn’t hesitate— his foot shot out under the table, hitting Wade’s leg.

Wade yelped, clutching his leg. “Rude! I’m just saying what everyone’s thinking!”

“Keep it up, and I’ll aim higher,” Logan muttered.

Y/N chuckled, her shoulders shaking slightly, but she didn’t say anything. Wade, sensing he was close to crossing a line, dialed it back just enough. The jokes stayed, but the comments about Logan and Y/N turned more playful, less obvious.

By the time the food was gone and the playlist had shifted to quieter, slower songs, the atmosphere felt easy, comfortable. Logan leaned back in his chair, his arm casually draped over the back of Y/N’s chair. He didn’t think much of it—it just felt like a natural place for it to be.

Y/N leaned back slightly, her shoulder brushing against his arm every so often. If she noticed, she didn’t say anything, and neither did he. Wade noticed, of course. He always noticed. But for once, he kept his mouth shut, letting the moment pass without a single jab or smirk.

Logan found himself watching Y/N as she laughed at something Althea said, her whole face lighting up. He didn’t realize he was staring, not really. Everything about the evening felt oddly normal, like this was just how things were meant to be.

———

Y/N and Althea sat side by side on the couch, the room warm and quiet now that dinner had ended. Logan leaned against the kitchen counter, nursing a glass of whiskey, while Wade sprawled in an armchair, pretending to be invested in their conversation. In reality, his focus shifted between the two women and Logan, who seemed utterly captivated by every word Y/N spoke, though he still didn’t seem to realize it.

Wade smirked faintly to himself, but again, said nothing.

“You know,” Althea was saying, “it’s rare to find people who make you feel at home so quickly. You’ve got a good heart, Y/N. I can see why these two keep you around.”

Y/N laughed. “Well, thank you, though I’m still figuring out how to deal with them sometimes.” She glanced playfully toward Logan and Wade.

“Hey!” Wade interjected, feigning offense. “We’re delightful.”

“That’s debatable,” Althea quipped.

They all laughed, and Y/N reached for a small bag she had tucked away under the coffee table. “Speaking of feeling at home, I actually got you a little something. Just a small gift.”

Althea’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “For me?”

Y/N handed her the bag, and inside was a plush, incredibly soft sweater in a deep burgundy color.

“For winter,” Y/N explained, smiling. “I thought it might be cozy for the colder days.”

Althea ran her hands over the fabric, her expression softening. “Alright, you’re officially my favorite now.”

Wade gasped dramatically. “What about us?”

Logan smirked into his glass, shaking his head.

“You two?” Althea said, turning her face toward the men with mock exasperation. “I don’t even know how Y/N puts up with you.”

The group laughed, the easy warmth of the evening wrapping around them like a blanket.

Once the laughter subsided, Wade and Logan presented their shared gift to Althea— a huge weighted blanket in a beautiful forest green color.

“For when you’re not here to roast us,” Wade said with a wink.

Althea ran her hands over the blanket, her lips curving into a genuine smile. “Alright, fine, maybe you two aren’t so bad. Thank you.”

———

When it was time for Althea to leave, Wade grabbed his coat and keys, patting Althea’s shoulder as they headed for the door. “I’ll drive her back. Don’t burn the place down while I’m gone,” he teased, looking between Logan and Y/N.

“We’ll try to behave,” Y/N replied with a grin, earning a chuckle from Wade and a low, amused hum from Logan.

As the door closed behind them, the apartment was blanketed in a peaceful quiet. The soft glow of the Christmas lights cast warm patterns on the walls, and the faint scent of cinnamon and pine lingered in the air.

Logan moved to the table, stacking plates. “We should probably clean this up,” he said, glancing over at Y/N.

“Good idea,” she agreed, grabbing a tray of glasses. They worked side by side in silence, their movements synchronized without effort.

“You didn’t have to get Althea anything,” Logan said after a moment, his voice low. “She’s not really the sentimental type.”

Y/N shrugged, glancing over her shoulder. “It wasn’t about that. She’s important to you and Wade, and I wanted to show I appreciate her too.”

Logan paused, his hands stilling for a moment. “She seemed to like you.”

“She’s easy to like,” Y/N replied with a smile, turning back to the sink. “I think she keeps you grounded.”

Logan let out a small huff of amusement. “Yeah, she does. She’s one of the few people who knows how to call me out without pissing me off.”

Y/N chuckled, her fingers brushing against his as she handed him a glass to dry. “That’s a skill worth respecting.”

The quiet between them was comfortable, almost tangible, but it was broken when Logan cleared his throat. “Speaking of gifts…”

Y/N turned, curious. Logan reached behind a stack of plates and pulled out a small box, wrapped neatly in dark green paper. “I, uh… I got you something.”

Her brows lifted in surprise. “Logan, you didn’t have to—”

“Just open it,” he interrupted, his tone gruff but soft.

Taking the box, Y/N unwrapped it carefully, revealing a delicate necklace with a shimmering emerald pendant. The stone caught the light beautifully, its hues shifting like the ocean.

“Logan,” she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s stunning.”

He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “I thought it might suit you.”

Her fingers brushed over the pendant, her heart swelling at the thoughtfulness of the gesture. But then, realization dawned, and her eyes widened. “Wait… is this an emerald? Logan, this is way too much!”

“It’s a gift,” he said simply, his tone brooking no argument.

She looked at him, torn between awe and disbelief. “I can’t believe you—”

“Let me help,” he murmured, taking the necklace from her hands.

Y/N turned around, holding her breath as he fastened it around her neck. His fingers brushed against her skin, sending a shiver down her spine. When she turned back to face him, their eyes met, and for a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath.

“Thank you,” she said softly, her voice thick with emotion.

Logan’s gaze lingered, his expression unreadable. He wanted to say something, anything, but the words eluded him. Instead, he gave a small nod, stepping back just enough to give her space.

“I should get your gift,” Y/N said, breaking the spell as she hurried to her room.

She returned with a neatly wrapped package. Logan opened it carefully, revealing a sleek black leather jacket. His brows lifted, his fingers brushing over the material.

“You mentioned your old one was wearing out,” Y/N said quickly. “And I thought—”

“It’s perfect,” Logan interrupted, his voice steady but warm.

She relaxed, her smile widening as she watched him try it on. It fit perfectly, the jacket molding to his broad frame like it had been made for him.

Relief washed over her, and she returned his smile. “I’m glad.”

Logan raised an eyebrow as he looked at the jacket again. "So, let me get this straight... you can get me a jacket as fancy as this, but I can’t even get you a beautiful necklace for Christmas?" he teased, his voice dripping with playful sarcasm.

Y/N smirked and shrugged nonchalantly, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "It’s Christmas, Logan. Don’t overthink it," she replied, brushing him off with a quick wave of her hand.

Logan chuckled, shaking his head. "Oh, right, of course. Christmas," he muttered, half to himself. He glanced at the jacket again, his fingers brushing the smooth material. “You didn’t have to go to all that trouble,” he said quietly.

“You’re worth it,” Y/N said before she could stop herself.

Logan looked up, his eyes locking onto hers. The weight of her words hung in the air, unspoken but deeply felt.

The moment stretched between them, the only sound being the Christmas playlist in the background, playing on low volume. Logan’s hand brushed hers as he set the jacket down, and Y/N felt her heart skip a beat.

Before either of them could say more, the front door swung open.

“I’m back!” Wade announced as he burst through the door. “I hope you two didn’t burn the place down without me.”

Y/N and Logan stepped apart almost instinctively, their brief closeness retreating into the unspoken space between them.

“Place is still standing,” Logan said, his tone calm as he leaned against the counter, arms crossed.

Wade gave him a pointed look, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly before they flicked over to the small box on the table. He didn’t comment immediately, though a knowing smirk tugged at his lips. “Good. Hate to think I’d miss out on the drama. So,” he added, as casually as Wade could manage, “what’ve you two been up to?”

“Just cleaning up,” Y/N said with a warm smile, the necklace still hanging delicately around her neck.

Wade’s eyes landed on the necklace, his smirk widening briefly before he shook it off and clapped his hands together. “Right, cleaning. Sure. Well, hope you saved me some holiday cheer. Now, let’s finish this properly and…give me my gifts.”

As Y/N moved toward the living room to join him by the tree, Wade paused briefly near Logan. He leaned in, speaking just low enough to avoid Y/N overhearing.

“Nice gift, Peanut,” he murmured, a sly grin on his face. “Now, try to take the next step.”

Logan shot him a warning glare but said nothing, shaking his head as Wade walked off with a chuckle.

By the tree, Y/N had already settled herself cross-legged on the floor, her fingers absentmindedly brushing against the pendant. Logan hesitated, standing back for a moment as Wade grabbed a gift and rattled it loudly.

“Come on, Grinch, get over here,” Wade said, louder this time.

Logan sighed and made his way over, sitting a bit stiffly on the couch behind Y/N. His gaze lingered on her as she leaned toward the tree, her movements soft and unassuming. She turned slightly, catching his eye with a brief smile that made something stir in his chest.

As the night carried on, the living room buzzed softly with warmth, the twinkle of Christmas lights casting a gentle glow. Wade lounged near the tree, holding court with one of his exaggerated stories about a gift exchange gone horribly wrong. Y/N laughed, her face lighting up as she added her own tale— a hilarious recount of a miscommunication during her first Secret Santa at work.

Logan sat on the couch, watching them. He leaned back, silent, his gaze flickering between Wade’s theatrical gestures and the way Y/N’s smile reached her eyes. The sound of her laugh stirred something warm and sharp in him, though he kept his face impassive.

The way she wore that necklace—his gift to her—like it had always belonged there. And maybe it did. But that didn’t mean he did.

The leather jacket sat on the coffee table. He still wasn’t sure what to make of it. It wasn’t just the thoughtfulness— it was the way it seemed to fit him so perfectly, like she had known something about him that even he didn’t.

“You’re quiet, Peanut,” Wade teased, nudging him with his foot. “Plotting your next great escape?”

Logan huffed, shaking his head. “Just listening.”

Y/N smiled at him, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Alright, Logan,” she said, leaning slightly toward him, “what’s the worst gift you’ve ever received?”

He blinked, caught off guard. For a moment, the question cut through the haze of his thoughts, and he scrambled to push the weight of his emotions aside.

“Worst gift?” he repeated.

“Yeah,” Y/N prompted, tilting her head with that easy, genuine interest she always carried.

“Probably a pair of socks with reindeer on them,” Logan said with a wry smirk. “Ugliest thing I ever saw.”

Wade snorted. “Bet you still wore them, though.”

Logan shrugged, his lips twitching. “They were warm.”

“I know I love mine.” Wade said as he put his feet in the air, showing off the socks Y/N had got him.

The conversation flowed on, but Logan felt himself retreating into his thoughts again.

Y/N’s fingers brushed the pendant around her neck, and Logan’s heart stuttered in his chest. She wore his gift like it was a part of her, and somehow that made the ache in his chest sharper.

The truth clawed at him, relentless. He wanted something to happen— something more than these stolen moments of warmth. But he couldn’t let himself have it. Not with her.

Not someone like her.

Someone so kind, so brilliant, so effortlessly beautiful. Someone who deserved all the light and laughter she brought into the world. Someone who didn’t deserve the shadow of his past— the darkness he never spoke about, the weight of nightmares that dragged him down night after night.

The necklace had been a mistake. A moment of weakness. When he’d chosen it, he hadn’t thought about what it meant, only that it was perfect for her. 

Oh, who was he kidding? Of course he knew what it meant.

But the moment he held it in his hands, the contrast had been too evident. It felt almost cruel to give her something so precious, as if he were trying to convince her he was something he wasn’t.

Wade’s voice cut through his thoughts, dragging his focus back to the room. Logan could feel his friend’s eyes on him. Wade always saw too much.

And Wade knew. Of course, he did. The way Logan’s gaze lingered just a second too long, the way his words faltered whenever Y/N was near. Wade saw it all, he knew it wasn’t just a simple little crush. It was probably the reason why he wouldn’t stop commenting on it.

But Logan didn’t need any of it. He didn’t need Wade pointing out how far he’d already fallen.

His heart ached with the weight of it. The selfishness of wanting to reach out, to take a chance, to risk everything for the possibility of more. But it was her. And he couldn’t. Wouldn’t.

He swallowed hard, forcing himself to meet Wade’s eyes briefly. He saw the smirk, the unspoken challenge, and ignored it.

He’d make it through this. He’d hide what he felt. He had to.

Because Y/N deserved better than him.

Logan leaned back on the couch, his face as still as stone as he forced his thoughts into submission.

“Alright,” Wade said, clapping his hands. “Time for another story— this one’s a real masterpiece.”

Logan let out a low hum, feigning interest as Wade began, but his focus was elsewhere.

Y/N’s laugh rang out again, soft and clear, and Logan clenched his jaw against the warmth it stirred.

He’d pretend. He’d hide.

And maybe, if he was lucky, it would be enough.

XXX

[thefixations-ofmine]

liquid courage and a support system

Bucktommy | 2.8k | Rated mature (no smut) Entry for the @bucktommywinterfest, round 5 Dec. 29 - Jan. 4 prompt: Midnight kiss a/n: this is an idea I got from this exchange here. Again, I suck at titles so please bear with me. There will be a follow-up smut chapter to this, that I will post for a Bingo challenge. And then next week's prompt for the Winter fest will be the following conversation in the morning. Oh and apparently Sal's wife's name is Gina (saw someone say that in the tags and I liked it).

Main Masterlist | Winter fest | AO3

“Buck, hey! What’s-”

“Eddie!” Buck shouts his name through the phone as soon as he hears his voice. He takes a giggly breath before proceeding; “I’m at a bar downtown with Lucy. Remember Lucy? When you-you quit working with us? Anyway, she told me to go out and have some fun!”

“That’s nice, Buck. So, are you having fun?” There’s a silence after Eddie’s question while Lucy tries to say something from a few feet away, and Buck remembers he’s on a phone call he initiated;

“Hey Eddie, Eddie,” he says, suddenly serious. “I need your help with something.”

“I’m sure that’s why you called.”

Buck bites the insides of his cheeks, second-guessing for a moment until a member of the 133 chimes in and convinces him to go through with the plan. They’d all been sitting around some nachos for an hour, the members of the 127 whining about Tommy’s attitude since the break-up and the 133 chipping in that there had to be an explanation to all of it. In the end, they took Buck’s side of the story, even Lucy, and he knew he hadn’t been worried for no reason.

“I need to go see Tommy before midnight.”

It’s a quick conversation after that. Eddie makes sure Buck knows what he’s doing because if Tommy hadn’t been vocal about the situation to anyone, he might not react so well to being pressured, mostly not tonight of all nights. Despite his friendly advice, Buck insists and convinces Eddie to pick him up and drive him there.

Which he does, thirty minutes and another round of Tequila later.

When they drive onto Tommy’s street, Buck turns the radio off to unscramble the speech in his brain that he intends on giving to maybe, very hopefully, get Tommy to have a conversation with him. At the very least, they both need more context and if Tommy had an actual reason to stay away, Buck would comply. But Lucy was honest when she said she saw a change in Tommy’s demeanor and it wasn’t for the best.

Buck takes deep breaths that contrast the chill December air. His window is starting to fog and Eddie notices.

“There’s still time to turn around, man.” Eddie offers, and Buck shakes his head. He’s gotta do this. For the both of them.

“I’m okay, yeah. I’m okay.” Buck rubs his hands onto his jeans - the tight blue ones he remembers were Tommy’s favourites. The same jeans he wore on the night- Buck shakes his head.

Yeah, he really needs to talk to Tommy.

The house looks a little different, and in his current state, Buck can’t really tell why. The grass is a little longer than usual, but that’s not it. Tommy was never a fancy landscaping guy so the hedge and small bushes are the same. New roof? Nope. Then Buck’s eyes fall onto the bright red, 2019 Charger parked in the driveway and his brows bend with curiosity. Did Tommy have that bad of a crisis that he made an impulsive (and expensive) decision?

Ha! Buck silently laughs to himself now. Ironic.

Eddie catches the change in energy and tries to comfort his friend; “I remember he told me he was thinking of getting a more recent sports car because working on classics was becoming expensive.”

“But he loved his truck. I loved his truck…” Buck whispers, reminiscing over their short trips and the laughs they shared eating take-out and watching planes take off at Burbank. It would make sense though, that Tommy would get rid of such a big piece of them.

Once the truck is parked by the eye-sore, Buck nods and thanks Eddie for driving him over, saying that he’d catch an Uber back to his place if Eddie got called while on his stand-by shift. He jumps out of the truck and wills himself to walk to the door, takes a quick look at his phone.

It’s eleven forty-five.

There are a few seconds too many after his first knock and Buck goes for another, impatient. The door swings open instantly this time. The comforting smell of the house drafts out, bringing up a wave of emotions. His eyes open and with that Buck loses the smile he had put on.

“Can I help you?” There’s a tall, broad man on the other side of the threshold, but it’s not Tommy. The features are similar though; blue eyes, dark hair, muscles all over and a nose that would crunch up on his cheek during a kiss like Tommy’s did. Buck opens his mouth to speak but;

“Who is it, Sal?” Tommy shouts from inside. Sal. What a stupid name.

Sal turns around to tell; “Some random mook”. Then his piercing gaze falls back onto Buck; “You’re bumming out our party. The fuck you want?”

“Um, well-” There are so many scenarios running through Buck’s mind that he forgets everything he needed to say. Tommy’s already got a date? Sure, it’s been over a month and he had his own opportunities, but Buck was convinced Tommy would be alone moping, or at least working an extra shift tonight (Tommy is not a big holiday guy, Buck had found out when he suggested they took the same days off to celebrate). But he’s already found another man to spend his spare time with and the man is gorgeous and not so different from his own physique that Buck can pass it off as an experiment.

He thinks maybe that Sal guy had been there all along. That Buck was in fact the experiment and he’d fallen into the trap. Let the man feed on his naiveness and use his inexperience as some weird superiority kink.

Well, fuck, he thinks. If he’s going down might as well put all the cards on the table and play the game.

“I-I need to talk to Tommy. We have a conversation to have.” Buck straightens up, using the little ounce of alcohol that didn’t coward out of his body to stand his ground. “He should be with me tonight.”

The man laughs as he realizes who he’s talking to, and it boils Buck’s blood.

“You? You’re the reason I had to pick Tommy off the ground?” Sal slaps his knee and looks over inside the house again but doesn’t speak. While he does so, Buck scans him over, looking for a weak point. He’s not above fighting this with his fists - remember the alcohol? - but the man could slam dunk him one-handed.

“Oh, that’s rich,” Sal adds with a deep hum. He looks Buck up and down. Bites his bottom lip. “I guess I can see it. Tall boy with the curls and puppy eyes. I would have been all up in there as well. Worth the heartache.”

“The fuck you mean?” Buck’s hands are forming into fists in his hoodie’s pockets and he’s turning the same colour as the hideous car parked behind him. Which he now understands is this prick’s belonging.

“Boy, listen. Tommy had a good run with you, but I’m here with him now. He doesn’t need to take your hand and walk you everywhere like a lost child anymore.” Sal walks back and starts closing the door but Buck’s hand is quick to stop it.

“I’m sure he didn’t mind that. You should have seen his face the first time I called him daddy. Fucked me for three days straight, something you probably can’t keep up with,” Buck spits, the taste of the statement burning like bile on his tongue. He can see surprise spread across Sal’s face, before he retorts.

“I’m the top, baby. Tommy lets me do what I want with him. And his whimpers are delicious.” Buck knows. Buck’s been on the giving end of those whimpers, and if Tommy was honest with him, he was the first one to bring him there, and-

“Maybe I can show you how to make him cry your name too.” Buck’s inside the house now, backing Sal into the dresser as they go about fighting this like bulls. He goes on to say more arrogant shit that he hopes will fall into the right ears and grant him points. Even if deep down he knows this is childish and stupid and wasting him some precious time.

“That didn’t make him want to move in with you, did it?” Sal sends the final straw as he rubs his chin evilly.

Buck’s eyes land on Sal’s hand and his stomach drops. He looks at the ring on his finger and his mouth falls open, speechless. There’s a stinging feeling of defeat cutting through his entire being, like he came all the way here for nothing. Like the last months were for nothing.

Before Buck can either fall to his knees in sobs or turn around without a word, a feminine frame comes into view and the woman circles an arm around Sal, a big diamond decorating the hand that’s running up his chest. She looks up at him, the stern expression across her face making him check his posture, and suddenly Buck’s even more confused than he was.

“Tommy, come talk to the poor boy,” she says and pulls Sal back to the living room by the hand.

Buck looks over to his right and he feels like passing out.

*

“He should be with me tonight.”

Tommy freezes in place, takes a step back to hide behind the dividing column between the living room and kitchen as if this wasn’t his goddamn house. He takes a deep breath, looks over at Gina on the couch and makes a face: that’s him, he mouths. She giggles at his frightened composure. He’s too drunk for this. 

Hearing Ev-, Buck’s voice triggers emotions he thought he had drowned deep enough with holiday cheer; shame. Regret. Love. And now all he wants is to run out, pull him into his arms tight enough until they fuse together and he can never lose him again. But the conversation has taken a turn and Tommy… Well, Tommy enjoys what he’s hearing. His body goes slack when he hears Buck fight for him. Everything he’s saying is true and he wants to prove it again. Fuck, he misses him.

He’d have a conversation with Sal later about the things he’s saying to rile him up. Slap the back of his head for good measure because Buck could have run off and Tommy’s not sure he’d have the courage to go after him and pick up that mess on top of the one he created, but for now, he chuckles and lets them ‘fight’ over him for the sake of the show. When Sal pulls out his last line though, Tommy’s expression drops and Gina darts past him before he can will himself to take a step. She defuses the bomb.

“Tommy, come talk to the poor boy.” He watches as they walk back into the living area and he meets Buck’s eyes.

He has very little time to make a decision and he probably looks like a deer in headlights. He wants to be cool and composed. Make Buck believe he’s got his life together and that leaving wasn’t the dumbest thing he did. But his baby is standing there in his house and he hates how uneasy he seems. Tommy closes his eyes and breathes in, looks at the stove on his left.

It’s eleven fifty-seven.

“Come in,” he says, barely loud enough to hear himself say it. He has to wave Buck in, and his heart skips a beat when he agrees and closes the door. Tommy turns to the fridge and gathers two beer bottles, even though their systems could do without. It’s a habit, getting something for Buck, because ‘love languages’ or whatever. And old habits die hard.

“Let’s talk on the patio,” Tommy adds, pointing with the neck of the bottle. Buck follows willingly, a faint smile spreading over his face. Tommy sees him look at Sal and Gina sitting hip to hip on the couch and he realizes he has some explaining to do, but as they walk behind the couch, Sal reaches back and pulls Buck by the hoodie.

“Sorry kid but you know I had to test you. You seem alright,” he says. “Don’t fuck up your chance though. I know where you live.” Buck looks at Tommy with worry and Tommy waves his head ‘no’ in reassurance. The room lights up in chuckles and Buck joins them, eyes watery nonetheless. Then Tommy’s gaze lands on the TV and he sees the countdown go by on the broadcast downtown. Seven, six, five, four-

Panic takes over him and when he turns to look at Buck, he’s met with the exact same questioning look. He should have had more time before this. At least say hi properly and get to the apologies first. But Tommy raises his brows and Buck nods with a shaky exhale. Then their lips collide in a clumsy but oh so perfect kiss.

The angle is awkward and this should be a quick peck, but they stay like this for several more seconds, both their hands just hovering around them not quite ready to cross a line.

Happy New Year! The TV chants, and they pull away. The scene mirrors that of their first kiss; Tommy pulls back with his eyes closed, scared that if he opens them then the nightmare will come back and Buck will be gone. But when he pushes himself to do so, Buck is standing there, a tear falling onto his cheek and he’s holding his breath, mouth agape and his eyes search deep into his soul.

Tommy’s ears are ringing but it’s not the fireworks outside. It’s the beating of his heart that’s threatening to fall out of his chest. And he listens to it, grabs Buck’s neck and pulls him back in. The second round is hungry, determined, and the beers have been set on the couch console in favor for their hands to roam freely across charted territory. Tommy finds his favourite dip at the base of Buck’s back, his other hand still wrapped around his Adam's apple. His body shivers when he feels two strong hands run up his front until they settle onto his chest for a light squeeze.

It’s raw and meaningful and unbothered, until someone clears their throat.

*

“I’ll set the dishes in the sink. The leftovers are stored away, but I’m leaving with this amazing fruit cake,” Gina says with Sal in tow.

“W-wait, I didn’t mean to stop you guys, I-”

“Kid, if Lucy hadn’t convinced you to come here before midnight, I would have personally driven mister lonesome here to your place.” Sal loves the moment everything clicks in Buck’s mind and he shoots a look at Tommy who’s turning red. “We were just keeping him company until then.” He winks.

Buck stands there speechless, a little dumbfounded but the smile on his face could light up the city. Tommy also had a plan. The same plan, as it turns out, mastered by the same minds. His dick twitches in the god awful tight jeans knowing Tommy wanted to fight for him. And maybe from the taste of Tommy lingering on his lips.

“Well, we’ll be on our way. Be safe!” Gina adds before gathering their stuff and heading for the door. Sal stops to give Tommy a hug and whispers something to him, to which Tommy nods in agreement.

“And you!” Buck goes cross-eyed looking at his finger. “Don’t be too comfortable being ‘whatever’. Put labels. Be happy that you can do that now. Let people know Tommy’s your boyfriend, whether you’re gay or queer or,” he stops and makes a hand gesture for Buck to finish.

“Bisexual,” he answers.

“There. It’s easy to say, huh? Let people know. Who ever gives a fuck shouldn’t be in your life anyway.” With those wise words, Sal walks past him and out the door. Buck almost starts liking the guy before the roaring of the Charger vibrates through the house and he remembers he could probably never deal with that ego. Tommy seems to notice the disgust on his face and laughs.

“Talk?” Tommy points towards the couch this time, but Buck takes a step closer and brings his hands to his hips.

“You took tomorrow off?” Tommy nods. “Then tomorrow.”

Buck pushes Tommy back against the counter and attacks his mouth again. That would satisfy him, really. Kissing the love of his life in his house. This is what Buck should have emphasized during their last conversation, he thinks. But there’s little time for thinking when Tommy starts undoing his pants and moans obscenely into his open mouth.

“I’ll spend the night on my knees if you ask me to, baby. Don’t worry,” Buck whispers, smug. God he missed this. He runs his hand down the front of Tommy’s pants and tears burn his eyes at the contact with his engorged dick.

“Evan,” Tommy begs faintly.

-

Next part (smut) | Next part (morning conversation)

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged for future works! Tagging:

@weewookinard

[butteredfrogs]

hello i feel like there has been a lot of negativity in the sims community recently so i wanna show some love to my fav simblrs <3 i’m sure someone has made a similar post already but i just wanna show some love to some of my fav blogs! (disclaimer i may sound like a broken record because there are so many talented and lovely people i know on this app but yeah)

@squea you already know but i appreciate you so much literally one of the sweetest and best people ever and ofc the creator of the legendary corn who i’m sure most people already know and love <3 but also you’re so talented and you make such amazing sims as well!!

@solargrove again literally just one of the nicest people ever, and also just your sims and just general aesthetic are so warm and cozy and i love it so much <3

@druidberries again the creator of the iconic elowen who i love so so much her and her spooky lil family!! also just once again such a lovely person and ofc butterberries (need i say more)

@alelelesimz once again so lovely and so talented! like your pokémon sims are stunning im obsessed and the fact you make the poses as well just makes them even better like the dedication and time just is amazing

@folkbreeze literally such aesthetic screenshots, and like such a warm and cozy vibe. also your psds and graphics and edits are incredible you’re so so talented like pls teach me how to edit like you. also like i have said so many times and will probably say so many more times just a really sweet person!!

@stinkrascal the most recognisable and iconic vlad, and also just the dedication and time and love you put into your stories is amazing and really inspiring! i also love reading your oc lore and it inspires me to write more lore for my ocs!! <3

@futurelabs honestly adore your gameplay so much and seeing it on my dash really makes me want to try do my own gameplay😭 also i admire sims builders so much and your builds are always so cozy and lovely!

@crazy-lazy-elder-sims honestly such a lovely and supportive person! also my first ever simblreen you were the first creator i got gifts from and honestly it made me so happy and you just made it such a wonderful first simblreen and it made me really enjoy the event so so much so thank you sm for that and i’m excited to see what gifts you have this year! <33

@wildmelon the BEST fantasy sims ever. also just the most stunning posts in general like your renders and even just cas photos are incredible and i just really love your aesthetic and general vibe it’s very whimsical and i love it <3

@kari-sims adorable sim style!! i love your sims so much they’re so cartoony and animated and bright and they just make me so happy whenever i see them on my dash!

@rattrait again literally such adorable sims and your renders are amazing!! <3

@stellarfalls DO I NEED TO SAY ANYTHING??????? their edits hello??? chefs kiss. incredible

i don’t wanna ramble on too much but some other blogs that i adore and have amazing sims and content that you should defo check out

@aliengirl / @alientown / @fizzytoo / @trashedfruit / @ezra-trait / @worriedrat / @velvet-disc / @zleepyhollow / @kamiiri and probably a ton more that i’m forgetting but just know i adore each and everyone of you that i follow and everyone is so talented and just yeah !!! anyway i wanted to spread some positivity that is all!!!

[megs-1800]

Come Back to Me

Notes: I really enjoyed writing this one. 2 in one day aren't you guys lucky! Thank you for your support and please as usual please leave feedback and any further requests as it will help with ideas.

This is Part 3 to my previous fics, You can read part 1 (One hell of a hangover here and Part 2 (Then there is hope) here. This is again written from Mason's POV.

Summary: You and Mason finally get the chance to speak about all that happened. Will you be able to forgive him, will you go back to him?

Pairings: Mason Mount x Reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: Angst, Fluff and Heated make out session.

Mason is stood in the tunnel in old Trafford. His hands are shaking he is so nervous, its such a big game against Man City and United have to win. His brother is here as well as his sister with the girls and obviously his parents but he wished you were here, you were always his lucky charm and he always seems to play better when you were here.

The first half whistle blew and United were loosing 2-0 to City. Mason hadn’t had the best first half hardly touching the ball and when he did he lost the ball causing the first goal which the press were definitely going to mention. Great that’s all he needs right now. The gaffer was doing his half time talk, once he leaves Mason looks down at his phone and saw that there is a notification from you saying you have recently added to your story. Mason set notifications on your socials so every time you posted he was aware, since the break up he had to make sure you were okay. When he opened your Instagram story it showed a picture of you, you were in one of the stands in old Trafford behind the goal, you were stood on the steps looking at the pitch with your back to the camera and you had your Manchester United shirt on with Mount 7 on the back with the caption “Routing on United”. She is here I thought. I cannot believe it she is here. By the picture she is obviously sitting in one of the main stands and not sitting in the area where all the family and WAGs sit, I get that she probably knows my family will be here and doesn’t want to face them just yet.

My mind drifts off to a week ago when I attend your charity event, I asked you to come to this game which you said you would think about. I know the breakup was hard on both of us and I needed you here today, I thought if you came it might mean we have a chance. I messaged you that night after the charity event once I got back to the hotel, after seeing you “It was amazing seeing you tonight, well done again on winning the award and you looked absolutely incredible. Thank you for thinking about coming to the game this weekend it would be great to see you again x”. I got no reply until the following morning which you wrote “Hey Mase, yeah it was great seeing you too. Sorry for the late reply I crashed last night I had too much to drink. But how you doing anyway? x”. We continued talking all day, I got one of the boys to drive home instead so I could spend the whole drive speaking to you. It was so good, I thought maybe seeing eachother last night changed things for you but your non replies the next couple of days obviously proved me wrong. I got fed up of you not replying so I sent “So you just not replying to me now? I cannot believe you are ignoring me”. You gave me a quick response to that “What do you want me to say Mase, we cannot just pretend you didn’t cheat on me and broke my heart I just need you to leave me alone Mase I cannot do this”. I was angry at that reply I know I should of calmed down before I replied but I was just so angry that you gave me hope a couple of days ago when we were talking all day then you took it all away again, “You know what fuck off y/n.” You quickly went to delete the message but you read it before I could, I know I shouldn’t of said that I just let my anger overall me. Great I just blew my chance of getting you back. Rashford pulled me out of my trance “Come on bro, lets go give the fans a show”. I definitely will now knowing she is watching.

What a 2nd half we were all over City, we scored earlier on in the second half which I had an assist and I got the second goal, when I scored I ran over to the net you were standing behind and pointed to the stands That goal was for you baby girl. It was the 95th minute of 5 minutes of added time, City get a corner we just need to defend, it gets headed straight out and I bring it down. I look up the pitch and just start running before I knew it I am in the six yard box as I go to shoot suddenly I am taken out. The ref blows that’s a penalty. Bruno steps up to take it and shoots it straight in the top right corner. Ref blows the whistle for full time. I knew I needed my lucky charm.

I never got ready so quickly to leave, the boys were all celebrating the win, I didn’t care I just wanted to leave so I can see you. I was just hoping that you were still waiting around for me. When I left I was greeted by my family, they congratulated me on the win and my performance. My mum could tell I looked disappointment, I love seeing them but I needed to see you I had to sort things out. Mum looked at me “She didn’t want to hang around, she said this wasn’t the right environment to see eachother again” My heart broke I cannot believe how close I was to seeing you again and that’s it my dreams were shattered again, even my family got to see you and I didn’t. “So I gave her the key to your place I hope that’s okay, she said she will meet you there. At least you two can speak properly that way”. Damn I love my mum she always has my back, I know she is routing for me and y/n she wants us back together as well. I smiled and said goodbye to them all, we are having a roast at theirs tomorrow anyway and I rush home I need to see her.  

As I pull into the drive way I feel that rush of anxiety, I don’t even know what to say. How am I going to make this okay? As I walk through the door I can see you are sat there all curled up on the sofa on your phone. You stand up to come and greet me. “Hey mase.. your mum gave me your key I promise I didn’t break in” We both laugh at that comment “you played amazing today well done, make me so proud to wear your shirt”. I smile I look her up and down, she is  so beautiful. “You look so beautiful wearing my shirt” She gives me a small smile “Just don’t tell my dad that I wore a united shirt he would go mad that I have betrayed (your teams name).” I giggle at that comment we know how much you love your team it took me years for you to wear one of my shirts in public. “Of course not it will be our little secret. United are better then (your teams name) anyway”. I say smiling away, I think I am flirting a little. I don’t know what to say, we used to talk all day everyday and now I don’t know what to say, its like we are strangers.

“Are you ready to hear me out?” I said hopefully. You nodded and allow me to continue, I can see your hands shaking you are nervous all I want to do is hug you. “I am sorry for everything, I should of never allowed us to argue that night, I never should of got that drunk, I never should of slept with that girl and I never should of kept it from you. I should of told you and been a man about it. Its just that you are the best thing that ever happened to me y/n and I was scared of loosing you. I promise if you give me a chance I will do better”.  I looked into your eyes, I am trying to read your reactions so I know what you are going to say next but its all blank all I can see is the emotion in your eyes.

“Do better?!?! Are you fucking serious Mason. Do better! What do better not to sleep with another women or do better at keeping it from me?!” You are starting to raise your voice, this conversation is going to get heated. Your arguments always go one way or the other, it either ends in crying or shouting and today I was hoping for the crying as I do not have the energy. “I mean do better with us y/n, I will be a better boyfriend, I will be around more, show you how much you mean to me that’s what I mean”.

I can tell that sentence helped defuse the situation as I can see your rage starting to calm down and sadness has started to surface. “The thing is Mason you were the best thing to ever happen to me.. I loved you more then anything else in this world, I live and breathed for you and I saw you as someone who would never hurt me and now after everything you have put me through how can we go back to how we were? All day everyday all I think about is you Mason, you continue to ruin my life and its not fair!” You are now starting to heated again “I went on a date the other day Mason and all I could think about was you. Its not fair you keep messing with my head and my emotions and I came here to tell you to just leave me alone and let me get on with my life!” You screamed the last part.

“You went on a date?”  I questioned hurting. “Are you serious Mason?! That’s all you heard from that sentence is that I went on a date are you freaking kidding me right now Mount?!”. This time you are screaming and using your hands to talk so I know you are pissed. You continued “But to answer your question yes Mason I did go on a date, and I am allowed I have been single for nearly 8 months.” I looked down at the ground, I was so broken after the break up I couldn’t even think about any other girl let alone going on a date with one, I cannot believe you went on one, however at the same time I cannot blame you. You are an amazing girl you cannot be single forever. “What was it like?” I asked sheepishly don’t know if I wanted the answer if I am being honest. “It was good!” You basically spit at me, you then look down and shake your head “It was shit Mase, the whole date I was comparing him to you, I was sitting there thinking Mason wouldn’t do that, or Mason would do this! It was awful Mason because he was a nice guy but nope you gotta fucking ruin it”. You just kept screaming at me you wouldn’t stop, I didn’t know what else to do that’s when I run across the room and put my lips to yours. It was a passionate kiss, it was the only way I could think of to get you to shut up. I went to pull away that’s when you grabbed my neck and pulled me closer. You deepened the kiss and I can feel your tongue in my mouth. I could feel the neediness in the kiss, the desperation, the anger. Your lips are all over mine and I let you control it. You push me down on the sofa and you straddle my hips and continue the kiss. I can feel you grinding on me, Fuck I forgot what you do to me that’s when you moved your lips to my neck and suddenly starting attacking my neck. I can feel you sucking and kissing away. I know you are leaving me a love bite but I love the feeling of you doing it, I put my head back to enjoy it. Fuck you are so sexy. That’s when the realisation hits me, we cannot do this, not like this. You are doing this because you are angry and upset I don’t want you back this way and if we continue this is going to make the situation a 100 times more complicated. “Baby” You don’t stop it just gives you more fuel to continue “Y/n” I try and again nothing. I then try again “Y/n stop!” This time I said pushing you, I didn’t realise how hard I pushed because suddenly you are on the floor.

You look at me with disappointment in your eyes, I was scared I hurt you so I went to give you a hand up which you just rolled your eyes and stood up yourself. “I don’t get you Mason, you came to my charity event and all those texts and calls begging for me to come back and now I am here giving you exactly what you want and you push me away! What the fuck do you want Mason make up your mind?!” She has tears rolling down her face and the anger is back. “I want you y/n.. not just to sleep with I want all of you I want you back to being mine! When we get to have that closeness again I want to make love y/n not just a little fuck, but I want to make sure that you are mine again before that happens because I defiantly will not be able to cope if we sleep together and then you walk away”. This time I can feel the tears rolling down my eyes.

You look so broken, I can see the tears running down your face and the way you are trying to control your breathing to stop from hyperventilating. You just shake your head and make a walk to the front door. You pick your weekend bag up from the floor and put it over your left shoulder and turn around to face me. This all feels too familiar I am having flashbacks of the night you left. “Please don’t go”, It comes out just has a whisper due to the amount of crying its barely even audible I am not sure if you even heard it. You turn back towards the door and stand there, you stand there for about 30 seconds. I wonder what you are doing. You turn to look at me, your eyes are all red and puffy, I just want to take the pain away.

You go to say something but choke so you cough and try again “We can try again, but we are taking it slow Mase. I am not moving back in and we go back to how we were before because I cannot cope with that, I am not giving my whole life up again for you to ruin it. I am staying in my flat in (Your hometown) and we can do the long distance until I know I can trust you again and I can figure out what I can do about my company”. I look at her in disbelief she agreed we can try again, did I hear her right? I just stand there staring at her, I am in shock I have been dreaming of this since you left but I never thought you would take me back. We continue to stand there until she says “are you go to say anything?” I smile at you and I run across the entrance hall and wrap my arms around you. I give you the biggest hug I think we ever had like I will never let you go. You pull away from the hug “so what do you say Mase?” I smile at her, I am so happy right now I want to stay in this moment forever. “Of course, I will do anything y/n to make you mine again, whatever it is we will make it work. Does this mean I have to wait for 2 months of talking and 3 dates before you put out?” I wink at you and you laugh “well that depends on how amazing the dates are”. You wink at me.

“I am not really sure where I am staying tonight, I didn’t get that far in my plan I just kind of focused on seeing you.. is it okay for me to stay here tonight? Its completely okay if not I will get a hotel”. I bring your chin to look at me as we are still in a full cuddle. “Are you kidding me y/n, you do not need to even ask whenever you want to stay you stay okay, even if I am not here”.  You smiled and pulled away from the hug. “Okay thank you, I am just going to take my bag upstairs then and get changed into something more comfortable. What you cooking me for dinner I am bloody starving?”. I laugh of course always thinking about food, then I remember I really do not have much in at the moment, I haven’t really bothered since you moved out I just got what I wanted on a daily basis never really planned ahead. “You got get changed I will order us something in”. You nod and start walking up the spiral staircase. You stop halfway up “Mase” you caught my attention and I stopped in my tracks “I saw your family today, it was so good to see them! They invited me over for the family roast tomorrow I wanted to make sure if that’s okay? I didn’t want it to be awkward for you” Of course she can come I love how my family have already offered for her to come I love that. “Of course it would be amazing to have you there, they have all missed you especially Summer and Mila they keep asking where auntie y/n/n is”. You giggle at the memories of those girls, you love them like your own nieces. “Great. Your mum said I need to bring the dessert as she wants my baking so I am going to go out tomorrow morning and get the ingredients and make something to go with”. I know how much my family love your baking. At that you run up the rest of the stairs to the landing upstairs.

I go to sit on the sofa in the living room and pull out my phone, I stop at my families group chat. I write “She came back to me guys, she came back. She cannot wait to see you all tomorrow”. I put the phone down and rest my head on the back of the sofa and let the relief overcome me. I cannot believe she has come back to me. My mind wanders to the engagement ring in my bedside table, I brought it a couple of weeks before ‘you know what’ happened, I was going to propose whilst we had our weekend away in Paris but I never got the chance. I never wanted to take it back just in case, it was tailor made to you. I smiled at the thought that I might get to use that again one day. You came back to me.

[cheshireliam]

"The Fairytale Keeper's Final Assessment" Story Event: Chapter 1

Liam Evans

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection; expect mistakes, grammatical errors, and some creative liberties. All original content and media used belongs to Cybird. Please support the game by buying their stories and playing their games. Reblogs appreciated.

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◄ Prologue

<< This story is from Liam's POV >>

Liam: “As long as a treacherous man is near, even love becomes untrustworthy”

Liam: “A woman’s vow to the partner in question and to her own conscience is…” … uhh… 

Tom: Stop! You seem out of it today, Liam.

Liam: Sorry, I… 

Tom: Even the most prodigious stage actors have bad days. A stage directing genius like myself has those days too! 

Tom: The weather’s gloomy anyway, so let’s call it a day early.

Liam: … Thanks, Tom.

…

(I ended up worrying everyone at The Scala. I’m such a good for nothing…) 

The reason I couldn't focus on rehearsals was a particular conversation I had with Victor earlier today. 

= Flashback Start =

Victor: You shall spend a day with her and sign here at the end of the day.

Victor: “What if I don't agree”?

Victor: If that happens, then we will have to bid farewell to Kate. Ah, please keep all of this a secret from her.

= Flashback End =

(... I can’t bear the thought of saying goodbye to Kate.)

(If we get separated… I’m definitely going to break.)

— Kate’s love that knew no bounds was what kept my heart beating. 

If we ever part ways, I’ll likely start searching for ways to stop my heart from beating again.

(... As soon as I get home, I’ll sign the agreement and hand it to Victor.)

(So I can keep living by Kate’s side.) 

Gathering my resolve, I looked up and say Kate standing in the hall.

(My longing for her isn't making me see things… right?)

Kate: Oh… Liam!

Kate seemed to notice me too and came running over looking delighted. 

Liam: What brings you here, Kate?

Kate: It looked like it was going to rain, so I brought you an umbrella. 

Kate: The weather is still chilly this time of year, I don't want you catching a cold from getting wet in the rain. 

Liam: I see, thanks… wait.

Liam: It’s fine since I ended rehearsals early today, but were you going to wait here the whole time if I didn't?

Kate: Well, um…

Kate looked down awkwardly, so I gently pulled her closer and wrapped her in my arms.

Liam: Your body's so cold… sorry for keeping you waiting. Let’s go home. 

Kate: Waiting for you isn’t a bother, so I’m perfectly okay with it! 

Kate: But… I’m sorry for making you worry.

Liam: Don’t be. I’m truly happy you came to pick me up, Kate. 

Kate: Next time, I’ll leave a message with someone from The Scala and wait somewhere warm.

Liam: Yeah! That’d make me feel more at ease.

(Kate always takes both of our feelings into consideration.) 

(... I want to be that kind of person too.)

Liam: … Shall we go now? I want to return home as soon as possible, so I can hold you tight and warm you up.

I reluctantly let go of Kate and took the umbrella from her hands.

As we walked home side by side, I thought about what I planned to do afterwards.

(Just like how Kate does, I want to cherish both of our feelings.)

(Therefore… I’m going to talk to Kate and listen to how she feels about this, before submitting the signed agreement to Victor.)

(And so the first thing I need to do is…)

…

Kate: A guided tour of Crown…?

Liam: Yup. A new Cursed One was recently found, so there's a possibility of them being scouted by Crown.

Liam: So I thought it’d be nice to have a guided tour ready to help them settle down. 

Kate: That’s a great idea! But why are you telling me about this…? 

(The real purpose of the tour is to make Kate want to stay in Crown, but…)

(I can’t let her figure out that this is part of her final assessment, so I must keep up my act.)

Liam: I want you to have a trial experience of the tour I planned. 

Liam: I want your opinions of things like… whether it sufficiently conveys Crown’s positive aspects and if it makes you want to stay. 

Kate: Of course. I’d be happy to help! 

Kate: When I first joined, you showed me all the places related to Crown.

Kate: It was all thanks to you that I had the courage to start my journey as the Fairytale Keeper. 

Her words brought back memories of the time she just arrived at Crown’s castle.  

(In the garden, I saw Kate gazing up at the sky.)

(Back then, I thought that she needed help and I wanted to be the one to help her.)

= Flashback Start =

Liam: Found you, Kate.

Kate: L-Liam.

Liam: Hey, Kate. Want to go on a date with me right now?

(I thought that if I helped her… she wouldn't hate me, and would come to love me.)

The hand I extended to her, who was lost in the darkness, was filled with kindness and a tinge of selfishness. 

= Flashback End =

(I didn’t want anyone to hate me. I wanted everyone to love me.)

(But… I’m different now.) 

(Now, Kate’s love is all I want…) 

Kate: You’re so kind for being considerate of the next person to join Crown, Liam.

Liam: Nah, that’s not true.

Kate smiled, her facial expression filled with affection. It made me feel guilty for not having pure intentions. 

(I’m sorry for lying about this whole guided tour thing. … But I really don't want to be separated from you.) 

(I’ll do my best to show you how great Crown is.) 

…

And so, our tour began.

Liam: Before we proceed with the tour, can you close your eyes for a moment?

Kate: Like this?

Kate obediently closed her eyes.

(She’s completely off guard, how cute.) 

Seeing her defenseless expression and putting her full trust in me caused a tight, aching feeling deep inside my chest.

Resisting the urge to kiss Kate’s adorable face, I leaned in and whispered into her ear.

Liam: You came to Crown as a Cursed One. You’re feeling anxious because you don’t know your way around.

Liam: … But, at the same time, you hold a small glimmer of hope for the new life ahead of you. 

Liam: Now… once you've imagined yourself in that scenario, open your eyes.

When her beautiful eyes fluttered open, they met mine first.

Then she looked up at Crown’s castle and slightly squinted her eyes, as though dazzled by its presence. 

Liam: This is Crown’s castle where we live, and it’ll also be your home to return to from today on. 

Kate: Oh… um, it’s so grand that it's intimidating to look at.

(Hm? She hesitated… is there something she finds difficult to voice out about?)

Liam: Kate, are you thinking of something else?

Kate: Huh?

Liam: You seemed hesitant in your response… but it’s fine if it was just me overthinking it. 

Liam: I’d really appreciate it if you could share your most honest opinions with me, so I can improve on the tour! 

(I don’t think it’s because she doesn't like Crown’s castle…)

(But if it is, I need to think of how to make her want to live here.)

(Maybe I could propose to Her Majesty to fund renovation works to make the castle suit Kate’s preferences?) 

I started brainstorming ways to improve the appearance of Crown’s castle, while waiting for Kate’s response. 

Kate: Um… when I opened my eyes, the man standing in front of me was so dazzlingly handsome, I was caught off guard.

Liam: … Are you talking about me? (surprised)

Kate: Fufu, is there anyone else here?

(I totally misunderstood her for a second…)

Kate: I felt so anxious when I first came to Crown. When you welcomed me…

Kate: I thought, I’d definitely be captivated by that dazzling smile of yours. 

Kate: It was like finding a bright star in an empty night sky. 

Kate’s eyes gazing at me indeed looked dazzled by my presence. 

Liam: If I could be a source of strength for you… I mean, for any new members, it would be my greatest honour. 

… There was a time when the old me thought the admiration in people’s eyes wasn't truly directed at me. 

Hey, Liam. This applause isn't for you.

This passionate gaze, like someone looking at a bright shining star, isn’t directed at “you”. 

After every performance, a voice would whisper to me, “don’t get your hopes up”.

(But, now… I believe.) 

(Kate’s genuine, unwavering love is truly meant for me.) 

I want to keep charming her. I want her to always have her eyes on me.

(That’s why, today, I’ll do my best even more than ever.)

Liam: Alright, let’s head inside. If we’re lucky, I might even have the chance to introduce you to someone.

Liam: May I have your hand, my lady? 

Kate: Certainly. 

Kate placed her hand in mine, her warmth transmitting to me. 

(I’m doomed…)

(Even if Kate says after this tour that she doesn’t see the appeal of staying in Crown…) 

(... I have no idea how to let go of this hand.)

[writingstoraes]

begin again 🌷 (split pt. 3)

pairing: charles leclerc/fem!reader

type: instagram imagine, social media au

notes: the long awaited part 3! this took so long only cause i had no idea how i want it to go lol anyway i hope u guys love this one :D lmk what u think!

about: almost a year after your split with charles, fans take a trip down memory lane and wondering why the two of you seemed to have watered things down after soft launching other people months ago. a bunch of rumors also set twt crazy along with speculations at your paddock appearance where you apparently support ferrari.

read: part 1, part 2 (can read on its own, but the parts provide context hehe)

yourusername

liked by isahernaez, lilymhe, landonorris, and 231,298 others

yourusername back at the happiest place on earth ❤️

lilymhe Have fun, love xo

yourbff Looking that good just to watch a race????

tyretactics QUEEN I ALWAYS LOOK FORWARD TO YOU EVERY RACE

charliez1655 miss mam twt is on fire we all miss you 😪

leclercsluv wdym shes almost always at every race ricciardoshooey no they meant w charles lol

yourusername recently added to her instagram story!

Now playing: Charles Leclerc, 2023 Austrian GP, Post-Sprint Shootout Interviews

yourusername

liked by yourbff, lilymhe, carlossainz55, and 210,593 others

yourusername on a wednesday, in a cafe, i watched it begin again

lecslover looking GOOD AS HELL QUEEN

sainzplaylist god shes back to the man shes been soft launching i think i am going to be: sick

1655lecs that might be charles, we don't know 🙏 sainzplaylist yeah i think its time we let that go lol

wagsqueens mam im sorry wym by begin again???

charles_leclerc

liked by pierregasly, finemidnights, carlossainz55, and 982,221 others

charles_leclerc It's nice to have a friend 🌅

tyreexpert u cant tell me thats not y/n 😪 she's his friend after all...

joris__trouche Looking sharp!

lecssainz16 war is over you guys theyre back at it i am in my acceptance stage now

Some months later...

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, pierregasly, lilymhe, and 756,293 others

yourusername i am and willl always be your number one fan. words cannot encapsulate how proud i am of you; truly, you deserve all of this and so much more. congratulations, my love ❤️

it's nice to see you running towards me again :)

ps. yes we've been soft-launching each other the past months hahaha

leclercfan AM I DREAMING SOMEONE PINCH ME

livwatchraces i screamed when i saw you guys on the screen!!!

carlossainz55 Aaand they're back 🎉

charles_leclerc Thanks, number one shipper

charles_leclerc

liked by landonorris, maxverstappen, arthurleclerc, and 1,982,384 others

charles_leclerc Sunshine in human form.

A few months ago, I started hanging on to the fact that in good faith and in good time, things will eventually work its way out. Almost a year ago, it seems as if we have closed a chapter but today, we are living proof people who are made for each other can begin again.

Ce sera toujours toi 🤍 It will always be you.

scuderiaferrari We missed you tons, Y/N! ❤️

wagsf1 the queen of all queens is back we love to see it

lecslover it's years later and he still talks about her the same way he always have 🥹

sainzchamp The way theyve been soft launching each other all this time and that one rumor of Charles being with another girl was still Y/N 😭

yourusername sold our apartment already? too bad 😆

charles_leclerc I never actually sold it, if I did, I'd probably buy it back

---------

tagging: @slytherheign, @honethatty12, @siovhanroy, @mehrmonga, @mess-in-side, @leclerc16s, @thelovehypothesis, @dakotali, @aldene-styles

notes: eeee and its finally done! cant believe it took so much time before i finished all three parts lol anyway thank you so much for those who waited for the part three (i see all the asks on my inbox and the comments ehehe) i really just didn't know how i wanted it to go so! i hope you guys love this and lmk what you think <3

[notroosterbradshaw]

slow dancing in a burning room - eight

word count: 5.6k

warnings: nsfw 18+, language, smut.

part of: The Boyfriend Experience universe

a/n: thanks to those who hung on to this fic. I truly appreciate your effort to show your support start to see a glimmer here (unless I decide angst is more reliable to decide to ruin it all again 🫣) and if you like it… please comment and reblog it! x

masterlist.

“Hi,” you smiled at Rooster perched over a power saw in the last dregs of the afternoon sunlight. Wood chips splashed as he pushed the cutter through the board and he was glistening. You realised he couldn’t hear you so you waited a moment until he finished and tried to greet him again, raising a clammy, nervous palm towards him from where you stood on the front pathway. He turned back and a shy smile crept across his handsome features, carefully waving a dusty hand back.

“Hey, you,” he said, pulling his hearing protection from his ears and tossing them on the grass. Ironic considering what he did for a living would probably guarantee tinnitus but hey, who were you to judge.

“I didn’t want to surprise you.”

He grinned widely, amused. “Yeah, that wouldn’t go down so well, I guess.”

“Probably not,” you agreed.

“Just tryin’ to finish up for the day,” he explained. 

Embarrassed, you nodded quickly. “Sure. No problem. Just bringing your shirt back,” you kept the part that you had slept in it to wrap yourself around him one last time before you’d reluctantly washed and pressed it before work to deliver back to him safely to yourself. “I don’t want to bother you.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” he reassured, squinting at a particular spot on the board before him and running a gloved palm over it to ensure it was cut to his liking. “Light is getting a bit hazy so probably best I stop for the day anyway, good timing,” he said, kicking a wood end away in his work boots and bending to tidy around him. His strong, muscular legs supported him, golden biceps rippling with sweat, maybe they were a little pink on his shoulders and suddenly he was before you. 

Oh God, oh God, oh God, your brain screamed. He was so close and so handsome and so making your head swim. How did you manage before? 

Oh, right, you recalled. He always made you feel like this. 

You blinked to centre and distract yourself from his brawny shoulder, taking in the home he had worked so dutifully on since you had been apart behind him - you never let yourself take it in on previous trips before but it looked so wonderful and you were so proud of him and you just wanted to tell him. But his lopsided grin nabbed your gaze again and he chuckled, low. “Not bad, huh?” He knew.

“House looks good,” you said as he grinned, the pride evident as he peered back over his shoulder, taking in his work, the exterior’s painting only recently finished. You couldn’t deny it made you feel glum that you weren’t sharing this monumental task together. He had put his enforced time off to very, very good use. 

“Thank you, puttin’ a lot a’ time and energy into it,” he admitted. “Learnin’ a lot. Thought I only knew how to fly jet planes quick, but it turns out I’m pretty good with a sledgehammer too.”

You giggled quietly. “I’d believe that, actually,” and you saw the apples of his cheek flush. He’d blame the afternoon heat… or something. 

“What are you building here?” Your curiosity got the best of you and you really didn’t have any right to ask, but the whole Notebook fantasy was ringing clear in your ears and it was almost painful to see him working so hard with his hands.

“Veggie patch,” and he waited patiently for your reaction. 

Of course he fucking was. It was the one thing you’d spent hours talking about together. What was seasonal, and what was useful. What you both enjoyed. And here he was slaving over it because he still wanted it in his future. Little did you know, he’d build you whatever you fucking well wanted, he wanted to say if it gave you the slightest thought of coming home to him.

“I’ll probably kill everything upon planting,” he joked. “I know I’ll have a black thumb.” 

“It’ll be gorgeous,” you promised him softly. 

“Can only give it a try,” he shrugged. “Just finish work?”

“Yeah,” you said. “Can’t wait to shower. Got the approved designs for the extension, so that’s pretty exciting. It’s so much bigger than I expected.”

“Amazing. Glad you're doing it,” he smiled. He was taking your breath away. You were so heady on him, it was making your knees buckle, and unlike all the times before, you didn’t have his sturdy, strong palms on your hips to keep you upright.

But you threw all this away. This was the actual lowest you could feel, the pit of your life, seeing him so relaxed, happy, calm. At peace. It made you feel just miserable. 

“Yeah, me too. I’ve got a business manager now, so - ”

“Business manager? Fancy.”

You wanted to hide your face, he was so teasing and so handsome and so - 

“You’re free of the paperwork you hate,” he beamed.

“Yes,” you admitted, bashfully. “It’s so strange someone else is doing it and they can oversee the building contracts and whatnot. I’m not that person anymore.” You weren’t good at relinquishing control and this was so far out of your comfort zone to do so. 

“Awesome.”

“Yeah, numbers will never be my thing.”

But Bradley was great with numbers. He needed to calculate and have a basic understanding of geometry, but it all came so naturally to him, he didn’t have to apply himself. He had worked so hard as a kid to make sure he understood that kind of thing - he had always known this would be his life. And even with Mav holding him back… he had never forgotten what he needed to get there, only making him more determined. 

“Here,” you handed him his shirt and he showed you his grubby hands. “Right,” you said bashfully, looping it over his head and around his neck, the mix of his cologne and sweat thick in the air. “There ya go.”

He would never admit it, but he knew your perfume anywhere. He could smell the slightest aroma lingering on his shirt and suddenly didn’t want to wash it ever again. “Come in for a beer,” he offered. 

You made a face. “A beer,” you snickered. It was like he didn’t know you. But he knew you. He knew exactly how to bait you. 

“Not the way to your heart?” he snivelled back and your heart raced because it wasn’t the way to your heart, but his gentle tease helped a lot. When you didn’t reply, he quickly added, “Pretty sure I got a good reserve bourbon inside. Just in case unexpected guests pop over,” he lied magnificently. The smugness of him made you tingle in all the places it shouldn’t have and if you watched him for one more second -

“No, I shouldn’t,” you tried but, in your mind, you were already sitting on the bench, sipping your drink, imagining what it could be. Those evenings you’d sit together and unwind, you chatted absent-mindedly while he cooked and piped up as required. And when he just couldn’t take it anymore he would step between your thighs, massage your enticing skin and kiss you deeply. His velvet tongue would caress yours, and he’d remind you of all the ways he loved you while dinner was forgotten about - 

“Why not? Hot date?” Rooster hated himself for even joking about it.

You forced a laugh. “Uhh, no. Just tired. Long days.” And if I walk in, I won’t want to walk out. 

He nodded, seeing right through you. “Come in for a drink anyway. I’m sure you can have a quick one,” he headed towards the house and you had to admit, you were kind of keen to go inside and see what he’d done to the place. When you’d ended things, all that was in the house was his bed and boxes from his villa in Virginia Beach. 

You hummed as he started on the steps and nodded towards the door. He could ask you to take a walk off a short pier and you’d do it gladly as you pretended to be put out and eventually smiled, following him. “Just one,” you told him, meandering past him and he held open the door.

“Of course,” he said. “Just one,” he bit back his grin as you passed him, he’d be lying to say he wasn’t checking out your beautiful ass in those delightful leggings. He pushed his sunnies into his uncontrollable curls, which were a little shorter than normal after he had them trimmed earlier. You knew that well enough, but he still let the curls grow as long as he was allowed. He smirked as you poked your head into the bathroom, giggling quietly to yourself.

“Really are loving that mallet, huh?” you asked, plaster, tile and ceramics littering the floor.

“Done wonders for my recovery,” he murmured. “It’s been fantastic. Want a turn?”

“There aren’t enough tiles in the world,” you muttered to yourself. Bradley snorted and nodded.

“I’ll bet,” he said as you carefully followed him down the hallway to the living area. “Make yourself comfy,” he said as he wandered into the kitchen, the kitchen you wanted to demolish. He had yet to touch it, you noted. “Pick your poison?” he wriggled his eyebrows as he peeled off his aviators and tossed them on the bench with his phone. 

Resistance was futile as you pulled yourself up onto the bench too, while his eyes never left you. It was where you had always sat. He chuckled low, going to the makeshift liquor cabinet and pulling out two tumblers, before moving to the freezer for the ice, tossing a few blocks in, the tinkle so inviting as you popped up on the bench. He poured your drink and turned back to face you.

“Comfy?” And it wasn’t internally a hidden double-meaning, but it was and you swallowed. Bradley would be lying to say that taking those few steps, pushing your thighs wide and making himself comfy between them didn’t invade his senses. And you’d be lying to say… you didn’t want him to think just that because you were so desperate for him he could just let it happen - he couldn’t just entice you inside without trying just a little. Putting just a little work in at least. 

Sweaty, hard body on display, unruly curls, that beard that was just… doing the wildest things to your thoughts. He retrieved ice for you and approached, holding out the tumbler. “Cheers, lo – cheers,” he repeated again, stopping himself from that name he swore he’d never say again… but slipped into so easily. 

You raised your glass, pretending not to catch it. “Cheers, Rooster.”

God, he hated when you called him that. He was your Bradley.

You both took deserving gulps but neither could drop your gaze. You could see what you lost right here in front of you. Your man… this house, your life together. He was moving on without you and all he saw was where you should be every evening while you both discussed your days before the desire would ultimately take over and you hold each other, kiss, touch. That true intimacy you’d never felt with anyone else.

“So, what are you going to do here?” you dared ask as he gave a slight shrug.

“I dunno – kind of waiting for inspiration to take over, I suppose. Gut the cooker, and stovetop kind of sucks. Change the backsplash.”

“The backsplash is the only redeeming thing here,” you admitted, a hint of snark, or maybe tease, in your voice.

“Oh yeah?” his lip quirked, clearly picking up on it, as he eased back against the bench opposite you. He knew you were desperate to discuss your thoughts for the space, and he would give it to you because he really was interested in what you thought. He took a sip of his drink and didn’t dare look away from you.

“Subway tiles never go out of style, but the colour is bold for such a chilled place. Get someone to paint them white, it’ll be beautiful. It’ll also look bigger.”

“You know a bit about this stuff?”

“Not really. I just know what I like. Obviously, it’s your kitchen, so you gotta do what suits you,” you added quickly, taking a needy sip. Why was he making you nervous?! This man had seen you naked countless times and knew every part of you so incredibly intimately. He licked his lips, with a slow nod. 

“What else, love?” he said quietly, but didn’t apologise when your term of endearment slipped out this time.

“I have some interior design magazines at home if you want some inspiration,” you offered pathetically. You knew as well as him that he was not interested in interiors and how dumb you sounded. 

“I love that it's your porn,” he said with a gentle goad, and you resisted with every fibre of your being to correct him. That it was him that was your complete fantasy, and he was so close, and he looked so damn delicious. Wild, free. Sinister in how sexy he was. If it was a dream, you didn’t want to wake up. “How’s that drink?”

“It’s good,” you admitted. It wasn’t something you’d drink if it wasn’t with him – he’d taught you how to appreciate it after all. And if you weren’t clever, you’d know it was all a ruse to try and recall those things you did when you were together. He was no dummy either. 

He adjusted his posture to lean over the bench, right near you. Long and lean, he cast such a frame as his muscles flexed and released so close to you.

“What have I missed the last few months?” he asked softly.

"What do you mean?" you asked, dumb to the question.

"What else has been happening?"

"Aside from work."

He hummed. "You know that's not what I mean."

Heart thrumming in your chest, you knew exactly what he meant. "Nothing," and it wasn't a lie. The only thing that changed was him in your life.

“I’ve missed talking to you," he confided.

Swallowing thickly, you found yourself getting flustered.

“Get me now?” he breathed, standing again to his full height (you missed how big he was and how teeny he could make you feel), fidgeting but closer again, almost before you, his eyes at his feet meekly.

“Yes,” you answered meekly.

He exhaled, he was tense too and as he gazed up and caught your eyes, he murmured, “I missed you every minute of every day,” he confided. “I never thought we would be in the same room again… well, without other people.”

“Me neither,” you agreed and somehow, you still felt like it was a very bad idea as his body leaned in and the thick base of the tumbler hit the benchtop. You were drunk on him, and you wanted to touch and taste him so much it almost hurt. You knew you were shaking as you adjusted your posture to sit up and he pushed that step closer, his thick thighs were grazing against yours now. If he took one more step, it would be improper.

…but how you wanted the improper! 

“You’re very close,” you told him, a warning to both of you.

“Do you want me to step back?” his nose almost touched yours as you weakly shook your head.

“No.”

“No…” 

“The opposite.” 

As instructed, he took that step closer, pressing his waist between your wide thighs, tummies almost pressed together. It was like there was only one more thing to do. “Just kiss me,” he begged. “Don’t think about anything else, just let yourself feel good.”

It was hard to argue with him, he was always incredibly good at making his points when your head was swirling. He laughed gently as your head started to spin. He finally made that move and he grasped the meat of your quads, dragging you to him, core pressed against his abs now and relief almost swept over you because you needed him. He was the only one that could make you feel this way. No one else could compare. He could make you feel and do things you’d only fantasised about - not even your toys could bring you the pleasure he was able. 

He had you right where he wanted you and you were at a loss to figure out how to fight it. 

“This isn’t a good idea. We worked so hard to get back to this place,” you said, your hands pressed deeply on his waist of their own volition. Your heart was making the decisions now and your head had absolutely no say.

Your fingers itched, threatening to glide forward and find the drawstring to release his boardies. He was so hard there was no denying it, but you were so wet and frenetic for his cock. You knew how well you fit together. And you would be lying to say that you hadn’t thought on more than one occasion what if we could just have one more night?

“I know, just when I thought we could become friends again...” Rooster agreed. Still, his fingers were already pulling at the hem of your shirt, dragging it from the band of your leggings and his eyes begging, pleading for you to say a quick yes instead of a …slow …painful no.

To raise your arms willingly and let him undress you and recreate all the positions he'd been so busy fantasising about before this all went apeshit. “Say no and I’ll respect it. I won’t like it, but I’ll walk away.” 

“But I want this,” you told him. “I need you.” 

“Yeah?” He needed reassurance. And you needed it too.

“Yes, Bradley.” 

“That’s all I need to hear,” he told you, his knuckles grazing your hips as he bunched your shirt into his hands. He was clinging so tightly to the linen that it threatened to rip under the pressure of his grip. 

“Rooster?” 

“Stop calling me that,” he begged, a light frustration etched in his deep rasp. “My friends call me that.”

“I’m not your friend?” It wasn’t the time to tease, but how could you not?

“No, you know you’re not my friend. Not anymore, you’re not,” he was stern, and commanding and it hurt a little to hear that he didn’t feel you were friends anymore. Mere acquaintances maybe. 

“Who am I then?”

His stare was so intense, it was hard to resist giving in at first. His perfect, full lips were desperate to be kissed. “You’re my Love," he said so softly.

“Bradley…” you almost crooned. The way he almost always knew what to say…

He hummed a reply, licking his lips and taking the initiative to raise your shirt a little more. That small peak of skin on your tummy was his undoing, and he could only imagine his tongue swirling around your belly button as you writhed under him. “Tell me to stop, and I swear, I will,” he said again as your hands drifted up his body, your warm palms cupping his fuzzy chin and capturing your gaze. 

He needed the words. 

You pulled his lips to yours, kissing him long and deep, your fingers tickling the nape of his neck, the soft tendrils different under your touch. Your slick tongue snuck into his mouth, dancing sinfully with his. He pulled you against him roughly, he wasn’t going to let you go. “Fuck me, Bradley,” you said, breathless and he hiked you up into his strong arms. 

“I’m gonna make you cum all night, sweet girl,” he said, and you melted, missing your little nickname from him. “Let me fuck you until you beg me to stop,” he started to guide you to the master suite, the room that you and he were meant to share before you both went and blew it all up. 

Was this his chance to get back everything he wanted? If it was, he was going to make you drunk on him, prove to you how fucking good you were together, how good you made the other feel, and how fucking good you were at this. 

Tonight, Bradley Bradshaw was going to claim you like he always should have.

He carried you to the master bedroom. The last time you saw it, it was bare aside from the moving boxes that had already been delivered. Now it was properly lived in. He wasn’t surprised when you pulled away to stand and take in the room – still magnificent as the sun set over the Pacific Ocean before you. You’d had such dreams for this room. 

He watched you kick off your sneakers and slowly push down your leggings from your soft hips, and he licked his lips because he wanted to taste every millimetre of skin on your beautiful body. “You’re staring,” you told him. 

His cheeks flushed. “I know, I want to be sorry, but your body…”

You got to the ankle and used your other foot to remove the offending garment, leaving them in a pool at your feet. You unbuttoned the first few notches on your linen shirt before pulling it over your head and adding that to the growing pile. 

“Did you plan this?” Rooster asked, taking in the sweet, but oh-so-sexy lingerie set, not complicated but cute enough to have him salivating. You shook your head. And of course, you hadn’t. An hour ago, you were begging he wouldn’t be home, and you could have dropped that goddamn shirt off without incident. 

“No,” you admitted, motioning for him to approach you. And you hadn’t but it was a sinful happenstance. “I only came to drop back your shirt… I was kind of hoping you weren’t here.”

“Why?”

“Because we would have avoided this."

He chewed back his smirk and replied, “Oh. I see.”

You couldn’t stop him if he tried, already so hard in his basketball shorts and tank top. He carefully palmed himself to relieve some pressure as you raised his top over his head and dragged your fingers from his clavicle to his Adonis belt. He felt like he was quaking. You moved his hand and massaged his cock through the fabric as he gave a shaky gasp. 

“That’s good,” he muttered, his hips stuttering. “You know exactly what I like, love,” he murmured, his lips kissing from your shoulder to your jaw, latching onto your pulse point, which was beating rapidly under his tongue. He felt you loosen the waist of his shorts and slip them over his hips, not at all surprised he wasn’t wearing anything underneath. Already hard, heavy and aching, you pulled him towards you, your soft hand lightly pumping him, his impressive cock twitching in your hands. “Feels good…” He sucked in a breath as your thumb ran over his silky head, already leaking in his excitement and slippery to the touch.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, real fuckin’ good.” His eyes fluttered closed and his forehead rested on your hair as he allowed himself to just feel your sweet touch. 

“What do you want, Bradley?” you asked, releasing him to remove your bralette over your head and he licked his bottom lip, dragging it into his glistening teeth. Every curve of your body was just perfection in his honey-coloured gaze. 

“More,” he admitted. “...everything.” 

“Okay.” 

“To kiss you again,” he said, climbing onto the bed, reaching his palm for yours. You gladly accepted and he pulled you tenderly to him, his large hand cupping your jaw and drawing your mouth to his. His kiss was better than you remembered, especially with the softness of his beard against your skin. You were so used to the tickle of his top lip. You reached your fingers into his longer locks and gently tugged on the unruly curls. “I love your hair longer,” you confided. You pressed your chest against his. 

He laughed quietly. “Can't get shorter now.” …before I leave tomorrow, he added silently.

“Don’t get me wrong, I love your curls, but your hair is so sexy like this. And your beard…” you giggled quietly. “It’s like I’m with another person,” you whispered. 

Bradley resisted his wide grin. “I won’t tell anyone if you don’t.” 

You eagerly kissed him again as he pushed his body weight over and eased you onto your back, instinctually opening your thighs to him as he eagerly kissed up your body, stopping at your hips to loop his long fingers into your undies and slowly bring them down your legs. “So wet, just drippin’ for me, love…” his dark eyes stayed on you keenly and his tongue slid around your nipple sucking it into his warm mouth as he continued his ministrations. 

“Oh, Bradley,” you breathed, lacing your fingers into his wild curls, hoping to keep him there. “You know my body so well.”

He grinned into your skin. “Know it better than my own,” he admitted with a huff of laughter. He brought his lips to yours, adjusting his weight on you and you forgot how much you missed his bulk. He felt so good, so strong and your body was weeping for his. His large palm traced down your tummy, playing with the small amount of hair on your pussy and his touch was like electricity. You guided his hands to where you wanted them most, his divine lips still kissing your tits, but his beautiful fingers sliding between your vulva, spreading the slick that seeped from you. He delicately opened your thighs and started to play with you. One finger, then a second as his thumb gently circled your eager clit. And as good as he felt, you wanted more. You wanted to be filled by him, cum on that beautiful cock and milk him until he was dry. 

But he knew you and as he adjusted his posture to rest his dick at your entrance, he lightly pushed the head in, not making another move, only to look up and kiss you. 

You groaned into his mouth as he slid in, delightfully slow until he hit the hilt. For the first time in months, you finally felt complete. Like this was exactly what you were missing. 

Connection, desire, a willingness to simply be everything he needed you to be. Just like he always was with you. Even at your worst, he was so devout to you, and it still wasn’t enough for you. Well, this time, you were going to be everything he needed and more. And it started tonight. 

Waking up in Rooster’s arms later that night made you feel more alive than you had in months. He was slowly kissing up your bicep to your shoulder. The feel of his beard was different and wonderful all at the same time. “Hi,” you mumbled, still in a sleepy bliss from his caress.

“Hi,” he grumbled back. “I’m not sorry I’ve woken you.”

You grinned to yourself. He never was. “It’s okay,” you admitted. “Are you okay? What time is it?”

He sighed. “Dunno. Maybe one?” His lips brushed past your collarbone to your pulse point, which was already racing as your fingers got lost in his long, unruly bedhead. “I missed this. You don’t know how much.”

You couldn’t lie to him and tell him you didn’t feel the same. “Me too.”

“I should probably go, Bradley,” you told him, softly and maybe a little sadly. “You have to leave in a few hours.”

“Can you stay?” His palms ran across your breasts, caressing and tenderly groping them, while his pointer finger circled your pained nipple, peaked and desperate for attention in his strong palm. He was playing so fucking dirty. “Just a little longer. I swear I’ll make it worth your while,” he pleaded before going in for the kill and his gleaming teeth bit into the tender, sensitive flesh, flashing a jolt through your entire system. “Don’t make me beg.”

But you knew you had to go. 

It was so strange waking up with him… Was there a phrase for comfort fucking with your ex except for falling back into bad habits? You didn’t have clothes, toiletries, hell, you would be doing the walk of shame back at this point. “I dunno,” you admitted. “I should go…”

“Oh,” he said, a little surprised that you were so eagerly rejecting him. “Yeah, gotcha,” his hands slowly released you and he rolled to his back, chewing his tongue. He certainly wasn’t annoyed, but like you, certainly confused by the last eight hours. But he was encouraged as he saw you process from your pillow and if he played his cards right, he knew you were in two minds, and it mostly would lead to staying if he just pressed a little harder. “Then let me hold you a while longer at least?” 

You said nothing but moved to sit on his quads, a perplexed eyebrow raised on his handsome features, surprise etched on his face. “Ask me to stay one more time,” you begged softly, leaning down to kiss him, his strong arms fastening you in place and not willing to release you. You left his lips and contemplated him as you continued trailing kisses across his jaw, your tongue tracing his pulse point and your teeth tenderly pressing into this soft flesh.  

“Fuckin’ hell, stay forever,” he whined. “Baby, what are you doing to me? You make me fuckin’ weak.”

And to be frank, you didn’t know, but the need to have him close and make you cum was all your brain could comprehend. Your hands gripped his side, nails raking into the flesh of his hips, and he hissed, his eyes glued to yours as your warm tongue slid down the thick, well-nurtured muscles of his stomach and abdominals. 

“That is good, love,” he said, lacing his fingers into your hair, giving it a gentle tug as you moaned, eyes fluttering closed. You enjoyed having your hair pulled, the way he tugged his fingertips into your scalp, encouraging, massaging. He kept his gaze on you, idly praying for a cheeky, messy blowjob, but your lips on his body were really all he needed. Your soft palm gently grasped between his legs, handling his tight balls tenderly, massaging. Oh, the obscene sounds he made as his hips writhed. “Please pretty baby, suck me off. I need your mouth,” he pleaded. “You give the best head…” 

You gave him a small shy smile. You loved to perform for him, but after all this time, and in every position the karma sutra could throw at you, blowing him still made you nervous. 

“Don’t be shy, sweetheart. Just put that tongue to use, that beautiful warm mouth.” Needing the friction, he started to jerk himself. You loved watching him touch himself. Big hands wrapped around his obscenely long, throbbing cock. He was already leaking at the prospect of cumming down the back of your throat in hot, thick white ribbons. “That’s my sweet girl,” he whined as you bared your tongue and tenderly traced it against the vein underneath. Devouring a slippery stripe, you took his salty head in your mouth and watched his eyes darken, his face contorting as his head fell back among the pillows. “Fuck …” he muttered, his tone breathy and overcome. “God, I missed this.” He laced his long fingers into your hair and massaged your scalp as you gazed up at him, swirling your tongue just the way he liked. He was desperate to watch you, but his head fell back to the pillows and his torso rolled, thoroughly ruined under your touch.

You massaged his strong sides as he let go of your hair and found your hands, linking your fingers. Encouraged, you took him a little further back as he gripped your hands, not letting you go.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” he said softly as you swallowed around him, and he groaned roughly. “If it was an Olympic sport…” he muttered as he put a little more force into the roll of his hips. “I could die a happy man, baby. But I need to cum, I’m sorry I can’t hold on, love,” he gasped. “You just feel so sweet. Gonna paint the back of that pretty mouth…” he strained as you pushed yourself onto your knees and only went harder and faster, dragging his orgasm out and he was coming roughly, hips thrusting into your face, taking you as deep as you could and your nose grazed the smattering of hair of his happy trail, and you tasted him salty in your tongue and as promised, spurting into the back of your throat, a filthy moan escaping his lips as he came… and came. “Fuck. Oh, baby…” he was panting now, trying greatly to catch his breath, tidying up your workspace. He reached for you, pulling you towards him and you crept up his body, sinking into his desperate arms. He wrapped you up tightly and kissed your lips tenderly.

Those words on his lips, he was so desperate to say them. But not as desperate as you… 

“I have to go,” Bradley said softly a few hours later. “There is coffee in the pot. Please stay, please go back to sleep.” He gently smoothed your hair from your forehead and watched you wake slowly. 

“That’s okay.” You tried to push yourself up.

“Love, it’s okay. Stay. You don’t need to rush anywhere. Just lock the front door when you leave, okay?” He lowered his lips to your eyebrow and said he’d see you in a few months. “I’m so glad you came over yesterday, I just wish I wasn’t leaving you now,” he confessed. 

“Stay safe, Bradley,” was all you could bring yourself to say because you felt if you said anymore, the word vomit would continue and you’d ruin everything.

“Always, love,” he promised, pushing himself to his feet and he was so beautiful in his working uniform. 

“The blueberry is so unfair,” you teased, stretching and snuggling back into his pillow, feeling the kinks and gentle sting of a body well worked over. He rolled his eyes in the dim room and gave a gentle wave. You heard his heavy boots head down the hallways, a light pause and the front door closing quietly. He was gone.

And once again, you were a goner. If that was your last night with Bradley Bradshaw, you received the closure you deserved. 

Big thanks as always to @gretagerwigsmuse for helping me get this fic over this line when this chapter really needed it! You have seen this chapter for months in various forms and I'm so glad you could help me get it over the line x

A/N: the tag list no longer exists. To keep up to date, give @notroosterbradshaw-library a follow x

Taglist (got some fails here, sorry team) x

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[lowkeyrobin]

hiii I was wondering if I could request a sorry boys x reader? (Totally understand if not tho! Just Tommy, ranboo, Charlie, and Philza (: )

but the reader is like a streamer who just does art streams? I like to think of it as crumb-like streams? Anyway, the reader also has an idea for a possible indie show or comic or whatever they wanna make one day and they sometimes draw or animated stuff for that?

(also do you mind if I be the ⚠️ anon?)

oooo yeah of course! ; and welcome to the hotel ⚠️! love the reference haha ; anyways thank you for requesting, hope you enjoy! ; again, apologizing for how short this is

SORRY BOYS ; auti-artistic

summary ; youre an art streamer chilling with the sorry boys

warnings ; language

word count ; 504

masterlist

You were currently live with Tommy and Phil at your sides, watching you draw. You usually streamed when you were working out the blocks for your upcoming comic, wanting to get some outside opinions from friends and chat as you worked.

Charlie and Ranboo's voices hung in your head over the Discord call, where you'd repeat their words to Tommy and Phil as they talked. Those two were streaming some weird simulation game, so you were listening to them babble with your volume on 10 as you worked, more so listening to Phil and Tommy. The blondes were giving you suggestions, compliments, and were talking about some movie they'd recently watched together.

You place your pen back down on the iPad screen, coloring in the blocks as you worked. You had numerous amounts of pallettes to make sure all the colors were correct, plus it made life easier in the long run.

"No, no, no!" Tommy waves his finger dangerously close in front of Phil's face, "That movie sucked. The dad can kiss my ass!"

"The dad was trying to save his kids, Tom!"

"By shooting their mum?!"

You slowly look up at your webcam, your jaw slightly agape, eyebrows furrowed. You listen as they both blabber on and on, talking about whatever plot there was to this random apocolypse movie that they'd seen.

"What are you talking about...?" You finally ask, looking slightly back and up at Tommy.

"Explaining to Phil about how he's wrong!"

"Okay, pal"

You turn back down to your iPad, continuing to color in the boxes as you had been. You flinch and push yourself back in your desk, hearing Charlie and Ranboo both scream into your ears.

"Jesus fuck, why are you screaming?!" You exclaim, bringing your mic closer to you to become louder.

"Charlie!-"

"No, that was your fault!"

You look over at chat, seeing some users explaining why you just got jumpscared with screams. Tommy and Phil had quieted down, looking at chat as well.

"No way you got that scared over a game." You deadpan at your webcam, knowing one of them had your stream up.

"Don't give me that look!" Charlie exclaims, "These ghosts are fucking scary, Y/n!"

"That's not my problem." You joke before deafening. The Discord ping rings in your ears before you're greeted by silence.

Tommy blinks before looking down at you. "So, like, what happened?"

"Some ghost scared them." You shrug, twirling your digital pencil in your fingers.

You glance at chat, seeing Charlie's green username and VIP star tag pop up. "tell ranboo to stop sumging them HLP ME"

You slowly nod, seeing that he was clearly typing in a rush. "Have fun with that, my guy"

Tommy chuckles, "Is he that desperate?"

"Guess so" Phil shrugs, "What are they even playing? I thought they were playing some stupid simulator game"

"No idea" You shrug, "But that gives me an idea for this comic-"

"Here we go again"

"Tommy, be supportive"

"I am supportive, I'm a fifth gay!"

[crazymuffin1]

more or less the full tiktok situation

okay so im not tinfoil hatting because its pretty obvious when you think about it

2020 trump wants tiktok banned im pretty sure the people who overlooked the whole spiel thought that there wasnt anything wrong with it and it and continued on as normal

then for some curious reason the stupidest most tech incompetent people of the congress are part of the hearing with classics such as asking the ceo 10 different ways of "are you chinese" making the viewer think that the next question is going to be whether or not the CEO has ever eaten chinese food. there are of course the other classics (and these are all real questions) "does tiktok read your brainwaves when you put on headphones" "does it record your eyes dilating to figure out what videos to boost via the algorithm" "does tiktok access your home wi-fi network" "are you chinese" "if you turn on airplane mode while in a plane, can tiktok talk to the plane"

im not making this up. these are real actual questions. its not word for word but im not changing the meaning of the questions it really was that bad

then of course beause they took the dumbest people in the congress they made a rule that basically boils down to "apps from countries we dont like have to be owned by america" (so we can censor it) (this is while also being racist towards china and yknow being all 'china censorship bad!')

now there hasnt been an official announcement of tiktok having been bought, BUT!

while it was down for americans, these messages appeared

message 1 ID: Sorry, Tiktok isn't available right now A law banning TikTok has been enacted in the U.S. Unfortunately, that means you can't use TikTok for now. We are fortunate that President Trump has indicated that he will work with us on a solution to reinstate TikTok once he takes office. Please stay tuned! End ID oh yeah the same trump that got it banned in the first place, right? about 15 hours later the app is up again

Message 2 ID: Welcome Back! Thanks for your patience and support. As a result of President Trump's efforts, TikTok is back in the U.S.! You can continue to create, share, and discover all the things you love on TikTok End ID.

heres the part where you gotta put the clues together! the tiktok page of the tiktok CEO no longer has "CEO of tiktok" on his profile

facebook/instagram is all of a sudden having popups of "link to tiktok" and an official tiktok page too. if youre on tiktok you get an add facebook friends promo (this hasnt happened to everyone yet, rolling out feature)

convicted felon donald trump is holding his inauguration indoors, probably because last time he got all pissy that the crowd size was small, but you cant take aerials indoors and indoors have limited seats anyway(maybe as a last fuck you, tiktok will once again reserve a bunch of seats that are left empty? oh please do that!). also its easier to check for weapons and not have snipers when indoors, which is important when first lady elon musk is going to be there, and his fellow oligarch mark zuckerberg is also going to be there. theyre reaaal scared of the snipers since their egos are so big they become an easy target!

but we all know the drill by now. "saving" tiktok is just a failed way to make the younger generation like him. even if he set it up and everyone on tiktok knows. its also a way to make people overlook whatever this weeks war crime is going to be. probably the mass deportation. forgot to add this thing but facebook recently removed fact checkers so tiktok is probably going to have even more (worse) misinformation

TL;DR facebook is going to announce they bought tiktok any day now and give the glory to trump even though he is the reason it was banned in the first place

also as a bonus on the last day, a lot of influencers and stuff like that were having the "since we're all getting banned anyway" moment so a lot of them said stuff like "i never used the products i promoted" "i hated collabing with this creator" "i was never xyz" people who did masked thirst traps (male presenting) were women all along. and then 15 hours later theyre unbanned and have to be like... yep...so that just happened.

anyway tiktok was one of the last few places people got news that werent completely filtered through the right wing lens of whoever owned the newspaper. even if there was a lot of misinfo. think of the ceo shooter and think of how the media portrayed it vs the people. "rich man is murdered in cold blood by some vile monster. he was very beloved" vs "this guy is a vile human being who is responsible for millions of deaths, and he was finally killed"

[sophie-hatter-jenkins]

Like Water

A one-shot written for Day 4 of Jily Week 2024, run by the very lovely @sunshinemarauder and @kay-elle-cee, and inspired by the theme Flip the Script - take a characteristic from one, and give it to the other. I chose to be very literal with this one!

1.9k words

Rated T

James won't shut up, and Sirius finally loses his patience, with unfortunate consequences for more than one person.

Ho hum - I don't love this one, but I want me some of those participation badges!

Anyway - read below, or on AO3!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

James Potter lay upside down on his bed in the fifth year dormitory, hands behind his head, feet on his pillow. “I don’t think you understand, Pads. I don’t think you’d actually notice unless you really looked at it properly - but when you do, it’s just… extraordinary.” 

Sirius, lounging on his own bed, didn’t look up from the Muggle motorcycle magazine he’d ‘liberated’ from Flich’s office during their last detention. “You don’t say.”

“I think he did, Padfoot,” observed Remus, wryly. “I think he said it not five minutes ago. And this morning. And yesterday. And… actually now I come to think about it, is there a day he hasn’t said it recently?”

Sirius sighed. “There has not, Moony. And it’s getting really old.”

James grinned. “Well perhaps if you’d all actually listen to me, I wouldn’t need to keep telling you.”

“I’ll listen to you, Prongs,” volunteered Peter, perched, cross-legged, on his bunk.

“Thank you, Wormy. At least one of you has a shred of loyalty!”

“I’ve got plenty of loyalty, I’ll have you know” complained Sirius. “What I don’t have is much more patience.”

James flipped himself over so that he was lying on his stomach, supporting himself on his elbows. “You don’t even know what I was going to say.” 

“You were going to bang on about Evans’s hair again, weren’t you?” predicted Sirius

“No,” insisted James, doing his best to sell the lie. “I was going to talk about something completely different.”

Sirius gave him a pitying look. “Prongs. Mate.”

“Yeah, okay, I was,” he admitted. “But it’s just so amazing! No one else in the whole school has hair quite the same colour.”

“There’s loads of gingers, Prongs,” Sirius told him, lazily turning the page of his magazine

“But Evans isn’t ginger - her hair is auburn,” James explained, reverentially, caressing the word in his mouth.

Sirius shrugged. “Still ginger, mate.”

But James was uninterested. “It isn’t just the colour though. It’s so thick and silky. Like water.”

“Water isn’t thick. Or silky,” observed Remus

James waved his hand dismissively. “It’s a metaphor.”

“Yeah. A really shit one,” snorted Sirius.

“I was referring to the way it flows down her back,” James told him, feeling a bit defensive.  “You know, all swishy. I wonder what it feels like?”

Sirius summoned a quill and circled an advert in the For Sale section. “No one else cares, Prongs.” 

James ignored his scathing tone. “I bet it feels amazing. Really silky.”

“Like water?” sniggered Peter.

James ignored that too. “I’d love to run my fingers through it.” 

Sirius flicked him an irritated glance. “Kinda got that impression already, mate.”

“It probably smells really good too,” pondered James, with a faraway look in his eye.

Remus looked mildly disturbed. “Alright, now you’re getting creepy.”

“I am not!” James was indignant. “I just can’t help noticing hair. It’s in my blood, isn’t it? I am my father’s son, after all.”

Sirius laughed. “I mean yes? That is generally how it works?” 

James stuck two fingers up at Sirius. “Twat.”

“Dullard,” his best friend countered.

James thought for a moment, then gave him a broad grin. “You know what isn’t dull? Lily’s hair isn’t dull. In fact, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, it’s actually incredibly shiny.”

And that was what proved to be the last straw for Sirius’s patience. “You know what, Prongs. If you love Evan’s hair so much, I think you should have it.”

He flicked his wand in James’s direction, muttering an incantation under his breath. James’s head suddenly felt very warm. His scalp tingled uncomfortably for a few seconds, and then hair fell forward over his face - his long, thick, shiny, auburn hair. 

Sirius, Remus and Peter all dissolved into fits of hysterical laughter as James pushed it frantically out of his eyes. “What the hell have you done, Pads!” 

He dashed across the room to where a mirror hung on the wall. “Ooh! Well don’t you look a picture, sweetheart,” it trilled.

“Still in love with Evan’s hair, Prongs?” Sirius asked, through the laughter.

“Oh, you utter tosser!” raged James.

“Red really suits you, Prongs,” contributed Remus. “Brings out your eyes.”

James wheeled round and glared at Sirius. “I cannot believe that you did that!”

“Chill out, Prongs,” advised Sirius. “It’ll wear off eventually, so just enjoy it while it lasts. You know, run your fingers through it. Smell it. Whatever other weird shit you want to do with it.”

As Sirius talked, James became aware of a commotion in the distance. It seemed to be coming from the common room - shouting and more laughter. Then there were footsteps, echoing on the stone steps leading to the fifth year boys dormitory. The door was hurled open, so violently that it bounced against the stone wall with a loud bang, making them all jump.

In the doorway stood Lily Evans. At least, James thought it was Lily Evans. She had the same perfect willowy figure, the same hypnotic green eyes, and the same utterly furious expression that she usually wore around him. However, instead of her long, thick, shiny and (James could now confirm) great smelling auburn hair, she had a horribly familiar mop of messy jet black curls.

“James Potter!” she yelled. “What the hell have you done!”

Lily stared at James. James stared at Lily. Peter’s eyes darted frantically between the two of them. Remus took one look and then pointedly opened his Arithmancy text book. Sirius went extremely pale.

“It wasn’t me!” yelped James.

“Then explain to me why I have your hair, and why you have mine,” she practically growled at him. “Now!”

James glanced at his best friend. The person he thought of as a brother. The one that he would do anything for, protect from any harm, to whom he felt more loyalty than any other. “It was Sirius,” he blurted, without a single hesitation. “He did it!”

Lily shot a look of such venom onto Sirius that he physically recoiled. “And why, in the name of Merlin, would you do that?”

Now it was James’s turn to throw a menacing look at his best mate, silently forbidding him from throwing James under the graphorn and recounting the conversation that had so irked him. 

Fortunately for James, Sirius’s sense of loyalty held firm. “I… Uh… I thought it would be a laugh,” he stammered, shaken out of his usual insouciance by the scale of her fury.

“Do I look like I’m laughing?” demanded Lily. “Fix it! Now!”

“I don’t know how! I didn’t mean for you to get James’s hair, Evans! I only meant for him to get yours. So I…” he trailed off, spots of bright pink colouring his pale cheeks

“You what?” she asked, icily.

“I didn’t bother working out the counter spell,” he confessed.

“Oh dear god,” muttered Lily. “You're an utter imbecile, Black!” Shaking her head, she turned her ire back on James instead. “Well come on then, Potter. You’re the transfiguration genius. Un-transfigure us!”

And he tried. He really did - because no matter how gorgeous Lily’s hair was, he much preferred admiring it on her head rather than his own. Unfortunately, despite his best efforts. nothing he did made even the slightest bit of difference. 

“In fairness,” commented Remus, acknowledging them all for the first time since Lily’s arrival, “human transfiguration is N.E.W.T. level stuff. I’m quite surprised that Padfoot managed it in the first place.”

“Piss off!” declared Sirius.

“Not helpful, either of you,” commented James, through gritted teeth.

“So what do we do now?” Lily asked him. “I want my hair back!”

“Only one thing we can do,” James sighed. “We go and see McGonagall.”

“Good luck,” offered Sirius - but Lily was having none of it.

“Oh, no - you’re not wriggling out of it that easily, Black!’ she announced, grabbing Sirius by the elbow and hauling him to his feet. “You’re going to come with us and explain to Professor McGonagall exactly what you did and exactly how you did it. She’s going to need to know if she’s going to fix it.”

Lily practically dragged Sirius down the stairs and out through the common room, to a chorus of laughter and catcalls. James, after carefully checking that Lily wasn’t looking, couldn’t resist playing to the audience, dramatically swishing Lily’s hair back and forth over his shoulders. It also gave him an excuse to sneakily run his fingers through it a few times, and verify that it was every bit as wonderfully silky as he’d imagined.

They located Professor McGonagall in her office. To her enormous credit, the deputy headmistress managed (well, mostly) to keep a straight face as she delivered a lecture on inappropriate magic use, the dangers of human transfiguration, and the utmost importance of being prepared with counter spells. She then docked five points from Gryffindor for Sirius’s misdemeanour, before setting about restoring James and Lily’s hair to the appropriate heads. 

By the time the three of them left McGonagall’s classroom, Lily was much calmer. She was still extremely frosty with Sirius, but appeared to bear James no particular ill-will (for once). Emboldened, he caught her arm as Sirius ambled off down the corridor heading back towards the common room. 

“Uh - Evans?”

“Yes?”

“I… uh… I just wanted to say sorry about all that.”

“Why? It wasn’t your fault, was it?”

“No.” No, it isn’t my fault that my best mate is a massive twat, even though he didn’t tell you that the reason he did it was because I wouldn’t stop banging on about how amazing your hair is, thus saving me from total humilation, James thought to himself. “But still.”

“Well, no harm done.” And then she smiled at him - an honest-to-Merlin, actual, genuine smile, and James thought he might have died and gone to heaven. “Don’t tell Sirius this, but I suppose it was quite funny. If you weren’t the one lumbered with your hair, of course.”

“Just imagine being lumbered with it permanently,” he  replied, ruefully, pushing his hand roughly through the thatch on his head. 

She raised her eyebrows. “You’d have preferred to keep mine?”

“Oh! No,” he clarified. “Having long hair was an interesting experience, but it looks better on you, I think. A lot better.”

“Thank you.” Now, James could have been imagining it, but did she blush at the compliment? Maybe just the tiniest bit? “Short hair felt really weird, to be honest. My neck was cold! And I was surprised at how soft it was.” 

She stopped talking with the tiniest intake of breath, her eyes widening, and now James was sure she definitely was blushing; Clearly, she hadn’t meant to confess to that last part. Thrilled with the knowledge, James couldn’t resist fishing for more. “You touched it?”

“Force of habit, I suppose,” she replied, briskly. “Well. I have an essay that I need to be getting on with. Goodnight, Potter.”

She didn’t wait for a reply, just hurried away down the corridor. Smiling softly, James let himself slouch back against the wall and watched her go, her auburn hair swinging to and fro as she walked. He didn’t move again until she’d turned the corner and her footsteps faded into the distance.

“Night, Evans,” he whispered.