#but I will DEFINITELY GET THIS DONE BEFORE TWO YEARS

[tobeholyistobeempty]

‘SO YOU CAN LISTEN….GOOD.’ | simon ghost riley

📊 result of my poll found here.

WARNINGS - 18+ smut mdni, (amt) engineer!reader, asshole!ghost but with motives, slightly stalkerish!ghost, ghost is a cocky bastard but reader is too, so much verbal sparring, enough tension to choke on, reader afab, ghost is a munch and has a unique way of saying sorry, oral f!receiving, religious undertones, fingering, enemies to something worse then enemies, dubcon bc consent verbally unstated, so much dirty talk it hurts, canon warped a bit.

A/N - this ended up being so much longer than i intended but dear god it needed that build up. ghost makes a real wild first impression. 12k.

Today was just another day. Just another day.

At least, that's what you kept telling yourself as you grabbed your data pad from the terminal and made your way toward the front of the hangar — pulse thrumming, blood pressure undoubtedly a tad higher than usual. Perhaps today was just another day, but to say that it didn't hold slightly more merit than yesterday would be a fucking lie.

Today marks the date of your six month performance evaluation. Today is the day you finally find out if you nab that promotion or not.

And maybe you’re overthinking, maybe you’re nervous for no reason. Did this promotion make or break your career? Would not getting promoted singlehandedly destroy everything you've achieved and accomplished over the last however many years? No.

But it would definitely feel like a real kick in the ass given everything that you've done for this place since you got here.

The day you first got that damned data-pad, you should have known this job would be a complete shitshow. Still, you pulled up yourself up by your bootstraps and did your duties just like every other day — and that day like all the previous ones since you graduated. You’d been all over the world at this point, as an AMT you go wherever you’re needed and usually remain however long you’re needed for. But this transfer — to an unnamed, unmarked base in the middle of goddamn no where — is different then anything you’d ever done before.

The hours are different, the people are different, the pay is different. It was unexpected, but when their last head AMT simply vanished without a fucking trace — it seemed as though they scrambled, and took the next best thing they could find (or so you like to tell yourself).

It’s all a little…strange, to say the least.

And of course, there’s been talk about what happened to their last head engineer, speculations, but it seems no one actually knows for certain. It’s one of those things that everyone low rank whispers about, but no one high up with actual informative intel dares to speak on — which only made the chatter worse.

Along with your nerves.

Regardless, you didn’t have a choice, and the first day of your transfer was a baptism by fire — stepping into the aftermath of utter chaos they'd left behind.

Your job isn’t to save lives in the heat of battle, or to clear rooms, or to conduct stealth operations. No, your job is to repair aircrafts torn to hell and back and continue to keep them functional. It’s rather thankless, and often you'd find yourself overworked and under-appreciated — which, granted, goes hand-in-hand with your overall life summary — but the hangar at TF141’s main base was a sight to behold, and not in any positive sense. Neglected and battered machinery lay strewn about, with debris haphazardly scattered in every fucking corner imaginable. By the time you'd reached the actual aircraft's you were almost afraid to look at them — and for good goddamn cause.

TF141 has two main helo’s: MH-6 Little Bird and an AH-6J Little Bird. Upon first inspection of them, you’d almost thought they'd been through a war of their own — hastily patched together with little regard for proper repair. The evidence of prior negligence was glaring, and you were fucking fuming.

You'd expected some clean up, but not that much.

And to top it all off, you were given clear instruction by General Shepherd himself to keep your mouth shut and your head down, do your job and mind your own. On your way out of his office he informed you, surely out of the sheer kindness of his heart, that although he couldn't tell you what exactly happened to their prior head engineer, you could easily suffer the same fate if you weren't careful.

Which was more than enough to shake the very foundation of your so very deeply engraved attitude problem.

No matter how pissed off and irritated you’d been during your start here, you kept your emotions bottled up until you were back inside the privacy of your barracks and could freely let it explode. It's been a little maddening almost, the solace. You'd been here half a year and the only person you've had an actual conversation with outside of the other engineers is 141’s Captain, and that was only when he was looking for a debriefing on your recent repair work.

However, amidst the avoidance and the uneasy silence that you experience on a daily with the others, there seems to always be one fucking exception;

Ghost.

You'd seen photos and heard a lot about him prior to this assignment — the mysterious Lieutenant with a reputation that preceded him as if the Grim Reaper himself were present on earth.

But meeting him, being around him, well that was something fucking else entirely.

He routinely shows up at random hours, never muttering more than a few words to you before pissing off — disappearing into the shadows or taking out one of the birds. It’s always odd. He is odd. And the cryptic comments coupled with his rather bizarre reputation continue to leave you tangled between the dangerous desire to learn everything you can about the man, and the primal instinct to avoid him at all fucking costs.

Though, even if you had the choice, it wouldn't matter.

If and when Ghost decides to present himself to you, it is impossible to prevent it. His approach is as translucent as his namesake. You'd never fucking know he was coming, and if you did, it’s with purpose.

Nevertheless, you couldn't worry about him, or any of the other nonsensical bullshit today. You had other matters on your mind such as ensuring the hangar was in perfect condition for inspection later that evening. Price let you know rather early in advance that a hangar and aircraft inspection are part of your performance review — which clearly means the state of them would determine whether or not you passed.

There would be absolutely no room for error, and no one to complain to when it didn't go your way either. If this inspection failed, it would be the result of your own incompetence — and you were well aware of how that would be perceived. You didn't want to give any reason, any chance to end up like the former Engineer, after all.

So today is about one thing, and one thing alone, proving yourself worthy of that promotion.

With your data pad in hand, you began a quick sweep of the hangar, ensuring the guys hadn't made too much of a mess overnight or early this morning before you arrived. A few things were out of place, but for the most part, everything looked good.

Well, except for one thing — which was currently barrelling toward you at a dangerous fucking speed.

"Bloody fucking hell..."

Your data pad nearly fell from your grasp, your jaw dropping in disbelief as your ears rang — no, damn-near wailed — a deafening roar shattering the silence you'd just found yourself in, accompanied by the shrill whine of metal grinding against metal. You couldn't believe your eyes, your feet absentmindedly carrying you closer to the destroyed helo landing on the far side of the hangar, smoke billowing from its battered frame, obscuring the air with a veil of grey.

And as you got closer, you realized it only got worse — a door was missing, torn from its hinges, and half of the exterior was brutally ripped away. You didn't even realize you were clenching your hands into fists until you felt the glass of your data pad crack beneath your fingers.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me.” You’re all but yelling as you take in the damage. "Today? Today. Of all goddamn days! Bloody ignorant bastards.”

As soon as those words were past your teeth, there’s movement from inside the cabin — heavy laden set steps — two iron slabs clanking against the metal floor, quaking the ground underneath your own feet, too. The air thinned slightly, but you didn't notice, too inebriated off your anger to think of anything other than cursing the hell out of whoever was inside.

You came to a halt in front of the now door-less opening, coming face to face with a pair of rich brown eyes peering down at you.

"Care t’repeat tha’?" A deep, low voice rumbled from under a faded, skull-faced balaclava. You swear the ground trembled as he jumped down. "...I'd like t’make sure I heard y’right."

You’d have to imagine he was grinning under that mask, and it only made your fucking blood boil.

"Ghost, why didn't you tell me-“

He cuts you off mid-sentence with a gesture of his hand.

"I need permission t’take out my own helo now? Huh.” A shake of his head. “Y’should know I was told to test your repairs. Bosses orders, sweet’eart. Take it up with him if you’ve gotta’ problem.”

"You-" your lips part, but words elude you. Due to his admission or the nickname he used, you aren’t entirely sure. "What?"

Ghost blinks, sight sweeping the empty hangar for a fraction of a second before fixing back on you.

"Y’heard me." He steps closer, smoke billowing behind him. "Or d'you need me t'repeat it again?" A pause, twitch of his lips. "I can speak slower, if you’d like.”

What a dick.

You pull your own lips thin, trying to trap the profanity desperately wanting to fly his way. “I think you’ve done enough.”

He just hums.

"Way I see it, y’got two options.” He starts, and you long to tell him to shove his options somewhere the sun don’t shine. “Get pissed off with me, which is futile, since I ain’t the one y’actually got a problem with. Or, y’can get back to work and fix er’ up before Price comes down in an hour. Your choice 'ere."

An hour. A fucking hour? Is he clinically insane? This is easily about three days of work. And that’s if the bloody stars align.

"You’re unbelievable.” Scowl laden, you frown at him, words dripping venom as you shake your pounding head. "How nice of you to give me the option of choosing. I'm overwhelmed with gratitude, truly."

A beat of silence, unreadable eyes flicking over you.

“S’that sarcasm, engineer?” And then, he takes another step closer.

It never gets easier — the way he fills the space, how much bigger he is when he’s this close, broad shoulders cutting the world around you down to just him. He could crush you if he wanted. You’ve never forgotten that.

Your lips part, but before you can get a word out he’s already speaking.

"Y'know," he peers down at you with a slight tilt of his head. "A simple ‘thank you' wouldn't be the end of tha’ world."

You deadpan, biting back the scoff threatening to escape. Thank him? He wants you to thank him — for blowing a helo out of the sky an hour before the biggest inspection of your life? No. He’s not insane. He’s out of his goddamn mind.

“Thank you for what, exactly?” You force the words out, fighting to keep the sarcasm at bay, to sound even remotely genuine.

It doesn’t help that he’s right there, close enough to reach out and touch. You’ve been through enough in your time with the military to handle pressure, but there’s something about him — the bulk of him, the way he commands the space around him, the fact you can never read his facial expressions — that makes it hard to breathe.

Not to mention the tac gear he’s always dressed in. Layered thick like it’s meant for a frozen wasteland instead of the stifling summer heat you’re currently experiencing.

“F’givin’ you a passin’ grade,” he says, like that means a damn thing to you.

This game is getting old.

“What the hell do you think you’re talking about now?” Heat flares beneath your skin, frustration mounting. “If that was a test, then it was a goddamn shitty one. You didn’t fly it. You destroyed it.”

He steps in again, exhaling like you’re the one wasting his time.

“M’giving you an opportunity. Take it or leave it.” You’re ready to bite back, to tell him exactly where he can put his opportunity, but then— “How’re you s’posed to prove y’worth somethin’, when no one thinks you’ve got it in ya?”

For the third time today, he shuts you up. You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. This is, without a doubt, the strangest, most infuriating first interaction you’ve ever had with anyone in your entire life.

“Wow.” That’s all you manage. You knew being one of the only female engineers here would put you at a disadvantage, but this? Blowing up the helo just to test if you can fix it? It’s beyond comprehension. “That’s great, Ghost. Thanks.”

He doesn’t blink—just steps closer again, crowding you until you have to tilt your chin up to keep his gaze.

“Lieutenant.” Flat. Unyielding. But there’s something about the way it drips off his tongue that makes the hairs on your arms stand on end. It’s not a request. It’s a correction. “Say it.”

Oh.

Heat licks up your neck, pooling at the base of your skull, and you’re not sure if it’s from anger or something else entirely. You swallow hard, forcing down the lump wedged in your throat because technically he is still your superior, regardless if he holds power over your job or not.

“Thank you,” you start again, your ego turning purple. “Lieutenant.”

You don’t look, but you feel his head tilt. You’d bet your life he’s smiling.

"So you can listen." Warm air skims your throat, and you’re not sure if it’s coming from him or from the heat of the burning aircraft - but it stings. "...good."

And then, when he realizes you’ve most likely bitten your tongue in half at this point, he takes a step back. You watch him now, eyes like a laser as he turns and heads for the door without another word. And almost immediately after he vanishes out into the hall you take the opportunity to suck in air like you’re starved of it, not realizing how fucking tense you were until he was out of sight.

Leaving you with a burning helo, an hour of time to fix it, and a whole lot of fuckin’ irritation.

“You bastard.” You mutter under your breath, staring at the wreckage before you.

If there was another option, you sure as hell didn’t know it. But no matter how impossible this seemed, failure wasn’t on the table — not after the years you’d put into this, the money, the sleepless nights, the sacrifices. You didn’t crawl your way up through this goddamn system just to crash and burn now.

You needed a miracle.

And for the next two hours in the hangar, chaos was the only thing you knew.

You’ve never worked this fast in your life. The moment you got down to business you started barking orders, pulling maintenance techs and engineers off other projects, shoving tools into hands and sending them where they’re needed. There’s no room for hesitation, no time to second-guess — the aircraft has to be back in the air, and it has to be now.

And within minutes smoke steeped the hangar, sparks bursting like firecrackers from stripped wires. Everyone’s locked in — shouts, curses, the groan of machinery being pushed and pulled back together reverberating. It’s frantic, relentless, like a pack of starving wolves tearing at a fresh carcass, and you’re right there in the thick of it, teeth bared, fighting to hold the whole damn thing together.

But the euphemism falls short, because this wasn’t just a carcass torn open, in need of some stitching. It was worse — much worse.

The helo wasn’t just damaged; it was obliterated. Every inch of it had been shredded to ribbons, from the engine to the exterior frame, internal wiring snapped and twisted beyond recognition. Whatever the fuck that maniac had done, he hadn’t just tested its limits — he’d taken a sledgehammer to it and kept swinging.

You’ve seen aircraft’s in bad shape before, but nothing like this. It was a wreck, a heap of smoldering metal and sparking circuits, and somehow, you’re supposed to pull it back from the dead. But there’s no time to dwell on the impossibility of it — not when you’re hauling replacement parts back and forth, hands slick with oil and sweat, not when you’re welding and soldering with the kind of precision that would make your professors weep, not when the only thing keeping you moving is sheer goddamn will.

And then, after what feels like hours, you hear it—footsteps.

Slow, deliberate, the kind that don’t belong to someone who helps—but someone who watches.

“My, my.” You recognize the voice instantly—Captain Price. “What in the bloody hell happened here?”

You practically fling yourself to your feet, dragging a sleeve across your forehead, smearing grime over skin already slick with sweat. You almost groan in exasperation, but you swallow it down, clenching your jaw, praying to whatever god might be listening for the strength to not say something about Ghost that’ll get you court-martialed.

“Sir,” you greet him with a respectful nod. “I was informed, rather late mind you, that there was a scheduled test flight.”

A beat.

“Test flight,” Price repeats, brow lifting with something you can’t quite name. “Right. Test flight.”

A sharp bark of laughter leaves him, short and humourless, shaking his head as his eyes rake over the half-patched wreckage sprawled before him.

“And this,” he turns back to you. “This is the damage from that test flight?”

You hesitate—just for a fraction of a second—before nodding, breath held tight in your chest. It’s useless, really. You both know there’s no universe where a few minutes in the air could inflict this level of destruction. Price might’ve ordered Ghost to take the bird up, to test your work a little more personally—but there’s no way in hell he told him to annihilate the goddamn thing.

You’d bet your entire career the bastard did not have permission to go this far.

“Fucken’ typical,” Price mutters, pulling off his cap as he begins pacing around the bird, taking in the carnage from every angle. “Damn near destroyed the thing.”

That’ll be your fault, you think grimly. You’re the one who gave him the fucking order, after all.

But you keep your mouth shut, trailing behind him as he circles the wreckage, eyes sweeping over the mess of half-patched repairs. When he stops short, turning on his heel so fast you almost stumble back, you know what’s coming before he even speaks.

“How long’s this gonna’ take to fix?”

You inhale sharply, trying to steady yourself. Swallow, but your throat stays dry. It’s not hesitation—it’s knowing the answer is one he won’t like. You don’t even like it. Because with the kind of damage Ghost inflicted, there’s no way in hell you’ll have it ready for any type of inspection today.

“For proper repairs and testing?” You exhale, shaking your head. “Days. At least two, sir.”

You brace yourself for impact—for the reprimand, the frustration, the inevitable do better speech. But it doesn’t come. He only sighs, nodding once before readjusting his cap.

“Two days, then.” He’s already walking away, halfway to the hangar doors when he glances back over his shoulder. “Performance review postponed.”

Those last three words make your stomach churn, and then Price is gone.

“Goddamn it. Asshole.”

The curse leaves you sharper than intended, loud enough to carry across the hangar. You don’t care. How could you? The moment you’ve bled for—postponed—because one insufferable bastard decided to make a spectacle of himself. You want to scream, to hurl every goddamn tool in reach straight at his smug, masked face.

Instead, you inhale deeply, exhaling through gritted teeth before turning to the crew.

“Call it a night, guys. I appreciate the help.”

A few nod, murmuring about leaving their assignments to meet early and help with the rest of the repairs, but their voices barely register. You’re exhausted, and you need a fucking shower — so you just mutter some type of agreement and head for the door. You walk the path back to housing, hardly even noticing that it’s nightfall now. Price must have come later than planned, though you really have no idea the hour because in all honesty you weren’t keep track of time. Either way, your boots hit the threshold of the barracks before you even realize you’d made it inside, your full focus on forcing your mind to keep busy.

You head straight for the showers, not bothering to grab fresh clothes. If you stop now, you might start thinking again — about the disaster of a day, about him, about the sheer fucking audacity — and that’s the last thing you need.

You tear off your disgusting uniform in seconds. The water is scalding, but you don’t flinch. If anything, you lean into it, letting the heat work its way into your bones, washing away the sweat, the grease, the tension coiled tight in your shoulders. You brace a hand against the tiled wall, exhaling sharply.

Fucking Ghost.

Your mind takes over now that you lack distraction, and the name alone is enough to set your teeth on edge. He didn’t just make your job harder—he deliberately threw you into the fire, watched you scramble, tested you like you were some new recruit fresh out of training. And the worst part? He got exactly what he wanted.

You hate that you rose to the challenge. That you had to. You just can’t figure out why. Why he did it — where his motives are.

Steam curls around you as you drop your head, water hammering against your spine, drowning out everything else. Your breaths come heavy, dragging in and out of your chest like you’ve just run a goddamn marathon, so busy in your thoughts that you don’t notice the shift in the air, the faint tremor in the ground beneath you.

You don’t hear the footsteps until they’re too close to ignore, breaking through your sorrows, coming to a halt just beyond the dividing wall. For a long, heavy moment, there’s nothing. Just the steady rush of water, the sound of your own breathing.

Then—

“Y’done sulkin’ yet?”

Fucking hell.

You snap to attention, the sound of that voice like a gut punch. Verbal inflection so intense that only after a few conversations (if you can even call them that) you know you’d recognize it in your sleep, and it takes all of your willpower not to react with more than just the involuntary stiffening in your muscles.

You blink the water out of your eyes, trying to center yourself.

“Do you make a hobby out of sneaking in on people while they shower?” You ask, forcing your voice to stay light, to not betray the rush of heat in your chest. You should’ve seen this coming. Should’ve known this wasn’t the end of the goddamn shitshow. “Or am I just that special?”

"Didn’t know I had t’make an appointment for a communal shower.”

God, that does something to you, and you hate that it does. He’s taking your attitude and he’s feeding it right back to you — and the taste of your own medicine has never been so bitter.

Then, you hear his boots against the floor again, his voice accompanying. “Seems there’s alot I don’ know about ya.”

And again. It’s that tone. The way it drags, measured, like he’s thinking out loud. Like he’s taking you apart in his mind piece by piece. Trying to figure you out.

And you—stupidly, impulsively—throw it back at him.

“I’d say we’re even, then.”

It slips out before you can stop it, and you know it’s a mistake the second the words settle. Because he stops moving. The air tightens. A beat stretches long between you. You take the opportunity to reach for your towel, turn off the water, anything to not feel so vulnerable — but it doesn’t help. Not when you’re suddenly so acutely aware of how close he is. How little space separates you.

How very little there is between you at all.

You swallow, forcing steel into your voice. “I don’t even know your name.”

Then, the softest sound — amusement, maybe.

“Not sure y’need to.”

You exhale sharply through your nose, pulling the towel tight around your torso. Of course.

“Not sure I want to.” You mutter, more to yourself than anything.

But he catches it anyway.

You hear the shift of his stance, another hum of amusement. “Coulda’ fooled me.”

And that does it.

You know you’re walking straight into the trap he’s setting, but you don’t care anymore. Your patience is gone, worn to the bone, and you won’t be able to sleep tonight if you don’t get to glare him right in the eyes and tell him to fuck off.

“Cut the shit, Ghost.” The stall door slams open as you shove it wide, padding forward until your bare feet nearly touch his boots. “Why the hell are you even here?”

You don’t expect to hit a brick wall, but that’s exactly what it feels like. He’s missing a layer of tac gear now, hands stuffed into the pockets of his cargos, shoulder propped against the support beam like he’s been here all night. His gaze flicks over your face, your neck, the way water drips from your skin.

You fight not to pull your towel tighter.

“Cap’s orders.” He states, voice easy, right as rain. “Told me t’make amends.”

He has to be kidding.

“Make amends.” You repeat the words flatly, tasting them, turning them over in your mind like they might somehow make more sense on the second pass. “He told you to make amends.”

They don’t.

And when he nods — you huff a laugh, humourless.

“Right. And you thought the best way to do that was to sneak into the showers and stand there like a fucking serial killer?”

“Didn’t sneak,” he says simply. “Walked in same as you.”

You blink. You have this sick feeling he’s enjoying this. Enjoying every reaction you’re giving.

“Yet your intent is not the same as mine.”

He looks at the door, then back to you. “Ain’t it?”

You inhale sharply through your nose, hands tightening around the towel at your chest. You know better than to engage with this — than to let him push and prod and get under your skin. But it’s too late. He’s already there, and you’re too goddamn tired to claw him back out.

“Look,” you sigh, shifting your weight, fighting not to admire the bulk of his chest at your eye level. “Whatever Price told you to do, consider it done. Apology accepted. Now get the fuck out so I can forget this conversation ever happened.”

A long beat. You don’t know what kind of response you expect, but the way he just stands there considering you is somehow worse than all the possible outcomes you’d imagined.

Then, finally—finally—he moves. But not to leave.

Instead, he pushes off the beam, straightening to full height and moves closer. Not much, just enough to make you feel it — the shift in the air — the heat radiating off him.

“Y’sure about that?” His voice is quieter now, head tilting down toward yours. “Seem a little too wound for someone who’s ready t’forget about it.”

A huff. “And you seem a little too invested for someone who’s just here on orders.”

It's stupid. It's really goddamn stupid how he's able to do this, to turn your words into a rope he can use to drag you around the way he wants. You know that. But still, you’re useless in stopping the way your stomach keens as he leans closer.

"Y’gonna deny you’re still pissed at me?” He whispers.

You shake your head. “Never said I wasn’t still pissed.”

"Mhm." He nods along with it. "But pissed don't fully describe it, does it?”

"It’s an improvement from murderous,” you retort, as pointedly as you can muster. “Count your blessings.”

Another hum, eyes dragging slow over your face, like he’s searching for something. Or maybe just savouring it — the way you bristle under his scrutiny — the way your fingers twitch where they clutch at your towel.

“M’grateful for y’kindness. Truly.” It takes you a second to register it—the cadence, the words, the mockery. He’s parroting you. Throwing your own attitude from earlier back in your face. “But y’know, yeah? I only did what I did ‘cause I knew y’could handle it.”

You go still, pulse hammering in your throat.

Bullshit. Bullshit.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Ghost.” Your voice wavers, choked by realization that everything he does has motive. “And definitely don’t flatter me. Not now.”

A slow exhale, warm against your chilled skin, hooded eyes flicking to your ear like he’s considering something.

“S’not flattery. Just truth.”

And then— closer. Close enough that the breath between you is thin, almost nonexistent.

“M’not a good man, sweet’eart. M’a filthy, vile thing. But you—” a pause. He breathes in, your hair shifting with the exhale. “Mm. Y’good. Clean. I knew y’could take it. Needed Price t’know it too.”

Well, fuck.

Your head is spinning now, but even through the vertigo you realize your second mistake. You know it’s a mistake the moment it happens — rather, the moment before it happens — but when your head shifts, just enough that your ear brushes against fabric of his mask; you realize it’s the type of mistake you can’t come back from.

And so, you breathe him in. It’s reckless. It’s ruinous. It’s completely unavoidable.

“My gut is telling me you’re patronizing me.” You whisper; something softer, something you shouldn’t allow. A pause. Your lashes flutter. “But god, I can’t figure you out.”

And again, you don’t know what reaction you expect from him. Maybe you don’t expect one at all. It’s been an exceptionally odd 24 hours, so you’re certain nothing can surprise you at this point. But what you definitely don’t count on is the continued brush of his mask against your cheek, or the way your toes long to curl against the damp floor—

"Y’not suppose to." His voice is so deep you feel it in your bones. “S’don’t try too hard.”

You don’t know what to say to that, but you do know you should step back. You need to step back.

But you don’t.

You stay right there, still as the air between you, every nerve suffocated by the viscosity stretching between his words and yours. The scent of him—gunmetal, something dark and earthen—settles in your lungs like smoke; curling, clinging, refusing to leave.

And so, you breathe him in for the second time. A dangerous temptation. “You came here to make amends, didn’t you?”

The words leave you quieter than you mean them to, tinged in something close to breathlessness — something you wish to god you didn’t hear. Something you hope to god he didn’t hear.

Because atleast now, you can say you know how he is — how he listens, how he picks the quirks out of you and files them away for later — how he knows what to do with the things he finds in people, how to use them like leverage.

And you should be immune to it.

You’ve spent your entire career training for moments like these. All the military training you went through, tactical and aerospace alike. You’ve been thrown into war zones, fixed and pulled aircraft’s out of burning fields, run repairs under enemy fire with nothing but your hands and your own goddamn heartbeat when the situation called for it.

You know what fear looks like. You know what death smells like. You know what it means to be hunted.

And yet—this? You never saw this coming.

Never saw him coming.

“Y’want an apology?” He mutters, and you can hear the smirk in it. “Y’want m’to say I’m sorry?”

“That’d be a good start.”

He doesn’t blink. Doesn’t move. Just watches you, the smirk in his voice lingering, curling at the edges of the silence between you.

Then, he hums. “How ’bout I do y’one better?”

You barely have time to process the shift before you feel it—his hand—rough, calloused palm grazing slow along the towel covering your hip.

“Let m’spell it out f’you. Nice n’ slow,” he murmurs, fingers tracing lower with just enough pressure to make your breath hitch. “Get y’feelin’ just how much I mean it.”

For a moment, you forget everything.

All the reasons, all the lines. The ones he's crossing — or maybe the ones you're erasing with every second you let his massive paw of a hand touch you. God — you aren't supposed to want this. You don’t know even know him. Don’t know his name, what his face looks like. You don’t know anything about him except that he’s dangerous, and that he’s made you fucking ache.

You exhale — when the moment passes and you remember where you are — a long, almost shaky breath, and it doesn't escape you the way he notices. Watches you through those thick lashes, like he's enjoying the reaction he's been working so hard for.

You wish you could hate him for it.

“Make me feel it then,” you whisper, all pathetic and trembling and borderline wanton as his fingers find the end of your towel, and brush against goosebumped flesh. “Lieutenant.”

And for a moment, you think you’ve made your third mistake of the evening. His title slips out like a curse — and something in your chest roars with how much you mean it.

He's so goddamn cocky. So sure of himself and you hate that you're the one he's so sure of. But when you call him by his rank — when you push that sarcastic mouth of yours just a little bit further, you can feel his reaction instantaneously by the way he stalls — eyes glinting in the low light.

"She wants t’bring rank into this now, yeah?” And when you don’t reply fast enough, he replies for you. “Get in the stall, engineer.”

There's a thousand reasons this is a bad idea. A million reasons you should be saying no right now. But when he looks at you like that, with those eyes like fire locked on yours and practically daring you to refuse him — he has to know he’s not going to get it.

His hand comes up, cupping your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek. “Now.”

And that, is your fourth mistake of the night.

You turn, padding back into the stall you’d showered in only moments before — tiles still beading with diamond droplets, gleaming up at you as you step inside. You turn as he follows you in, crowding you against the wall, broad shoulders taking up all the width in the already cramped space as he shuts the door behind him.

And then, he’s on you.

It's so abrupt and so visceral that it takes your breath away entirely. Your hands go up automatically to catch his chest, steadying yourself when he slots his knee between your legs, pinning you against the wall. Your towel is barely clinging around you, and it’s a shocker it still is — but you forget about it when he starts dipping his head down.

"Feels good, don’t it? Bein’ told what t'do?” He murmurs, fabric covered lips grazing the shell of your ear. "M'bettin’ y’don’t experience this much anymore. Tha’s why you’re melting for it.”

And god, the fact that he’s right. He shouldn’t be, but he is.

Somewhere between your rank and your title and your pride, you’ve forgotten the last time you had someone looking at you like this. There’s a part of you that wants to fight it, to bite and scratch and insist that you're nothing like he's saying — but then a hand slips up around your throat, and the other down between the space separating your bodies, thick fingers catching the end of your towel — and your eyes flutter.

“M’not hearing any apologies.” You manage to mutter, just before those same thick digits find your inner thigh, working up higher.

You're deflecting. The both of you know it. The same pride that drove you to where you are is the same pride that drove him where he is. You think he’s going to call you on it, but then you realize he won’t. Not when the hand at your throat tightens just barely, not when his voice drips into your ear.

"Y’gonna feel em’ soon.”

And then, you do.

You feel the grazing of calloused flesh against sensitive, damn-near celibate flesh. There’s another sound. A low, wanton, filthy moan, and you’re about 94% sure it came from you as beastly fingers slide along your slick slit, exposing the extent of your need to his ego in its entirety — once, twice, curling toward your sopping entrance before you feel the thunder of his hum.

Mocking. "Christ. S’like m’workin’ a faucet, yeah?"

His lips are on your neck now, mouthing slow and deliberate along your jaw even while covered by fabric — and the whimper that slips out is pathetic, even to your own ears.

"Wha’s that?” He all but growls. "C'mon, use y'words f’me. Or d’you only know how t’spit insults?“

You do know how to use your words, actually — and they're usually good ones. You've got a sharp tongue, a mouth just as foul as your temper. So you don't know what to do when every curse, every name, every string of insults you keep in stock gets caught in your throat. You can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t do anything but try not to gasp when his fingers slide up to your clit and swirl.

"Fucking hell." Your jaw goes slack under the hand that holds it. "You—really are vile—“

This whole goddamn thing is vile. The way he can ruin you like this — make you quiver like this — in moments without so much as a name or face to attach the memory of it to.

If he's vile, you know you're not much better.

"Yeah. Tha’s right. I know you’re feelin’ it." He murmurs, fingers circling your clit firmer, faster. "Look how y’squirmin’ for it.”

You have half a mind to spit in his face for that. You have half a mind to tell him to go to hell. You have a million other things you should be doing right now other than clawing at his chest just to stay upright as he brings you to the brink of ruin.

"T-there you go again—mmf—“ your words are so breathless it’s pathetic. “Flattering yourself.”

It’s a futile attempt at a rebuttal, a stupid one because you already know the response he’s going to have to it. Pathetic. You are squirming, and you want to hate him for it, so you do. Your nails bite into his chest, dragging, raking slow and hard as if you could tear through the fabric covering it. You know you wouldn’t. Couldn't. But it's still good enough for him to grunt, hand around your throat tightening just enough to make you gasp in response.

"S’not flattery. Just truth.” He parrots himself again from earlier, and you think you’re on the verge of losing your mind because you know him well enough now have to predicted it. “Y’fuckin need this, don’ you?”

It's not a question. He doesn't need you to answer, because you both know how it ends anyway. But god damn him and his words. Because his filthy mouth is the second most dangerous thing to ever happen to you — right behind his fingers. You need to reply. Need to answer. He's going to force a reaction from you one way or another.

But he doesn’t give you the luxury of even trying.

His fingers still with a suddenness that makes you cry out in frustration — silver platter feeding him exactly what he was fucking looking for.

"Mhm. S’what I thought." He murmurs, hand sliding from around your throat to the back of your head. “M’guessing it’s been years. Least’ a couple.”

And it’s then, that you get it.

You get why this man is feared. You get why he’s so fucking dangerous. He’s worse than the name you know him by — because you’re certain even ghosts aren’t this knowing. This brutal. This consuming.

And through the haze in your head, you try to think back to the day you first met him. There had to have been dark signs — omens in your skies — a warning.

Yet, you can’t think of one.

“F-fuck you.” You spit it at him, because it’s apparently all your mouth is good for. “Stroke your ego any harder and it might just fucking cum before I do.”

He laughs, and then you feel it. The grip tightening in your hair, the palm slapping at your inner thigh to work your legs wider.

“Judging by tha’ mouth, y’never been fucked right either.” He mutters, fingers slipping up the slick coating your thighs. “S’alright. M’here to apologize, yeah? I’ll pay m’penance.”

Bullshit.

He’s not going to apologize by any means — if the last however many minutes aren’t proof enough of that. This is punishment in its worst form, and even that’s not enough. If you want him to make it up to you, you’re going to have to take it.

"Get on your fucking knees, then.” You’re so unbelievably wired that you hardly even realize what you’d said. You hardly even realize when you continue. “And use that mouth for something other than self elation.”

If you thought this was dangerous before - you’re not sure what the fuck this is now.

If someone had asked you an hour ago if you'd ever considered you have a death wish of this caliber, you’d have laughed. If someone had asked you if you were capable of saying half the things you’re saying right now, you’d have laughed even harder. But the fact that they’re leaving your lips - your lips that are now trembling with the realization that you just ordered one of the most dangerous men in the world to kneel — is enough to make you dizzy.

But then, he does it.

He sinks to those knees, cargos sponging the cold showered tiles as he does.

And you don’t think— not really — not for a moment.

Because if you did, you might have wondered if your pride and your dignity are even worth the way he’s looking at you right now — like he wants to eat you alive. You might have wondered if you were dreaming, if this was even physically fucking possible — the nameless, faceless man who has scared people shitless with just his reputation, kneeling between your fucking feet.

“Fuck.” It slips out in an exhale, and you don’t even hear it.

He does, though.

And in response, he holds your eyes while pulling at the edge of his balaclava. Just enough to uncover his jaw and lips — thick, pillow-full lips cocked into the type of grin you’d have expected, but steals the remainder of your breath regardless.

“M’gonna’ spell it out f’you. Nice n’ slow.” He rasps, pulling one of your thighs over his shoulder. “M’sorry.”

Oh, how you wish he meant that.

Because he isn’t. He isn’t the least bit apologetic when he pushes your back against the tiled walls with a heavy palm against your pelvis — he isn’t the least bit remorseful when he’s dragging his teeth along your inner thigh, nipping and lapping — and he’s certainly not the least bit sorry as he brings that filthy fucking mouth of his to your slit, and starts to devour you like he’s starved.

And this, you know is sin.

You know this, because you’ve never felt a mouth on you until now that made you think of god. You’ve never felt fingers dig into flesh with enough force to bruise the way his do — never felt anything that could make you forget who you are and where you are and everything in between.

It has to be sin, because no one could do this without an explicit knowledge of what sin tastes like.

There’s no other explanation for the way he can make you keen, arch and moan like this. No other excuse for the way you quiver as he curls his tongue and strokes you until you’re seeing white, just to suck on your clit with a ferocity that makes your stomach tighten and your hands shoot up to cover your own mouth.

“Feel it.” He husks against you, and the sound and sensation make your hips buck forward in response. “Relax an’ feel it.”

It’s not a request — it’s a demand. And you don’t think to defy him when he pulls your hands away, pushes you back, and buries his whole face against your pussy again like he’ll die if he doesn’t. You’re so dizzy you can’t even keep your eyes open. You can only hear your breath coming out in stilted moans and little cries of his namesake — the namesake that you realize the irony of rather briefly, but forget when your brain flatlines all over again.

Because he groans against your clit like you’re the best goddamn meal he’s ever had, and suddenly, you get how easy it is to fall. Fall into the rhythm — your hips moving in sync with the strokes of his tongue, your thighs closing around his skull. You want to scream. You almost want to cry. Your voice breaks with every sound you make, and you know your heart is only a few beats away from beating out of your chest by the way he grips your hips, pulling your cunt to his head before bringing a finger to your sopping entrance.

"Gonna’ stretch y’out a bit.” He rasps, and you aren’t sure if he’s saying it to warn you or to remind himself. “Breathe.”

You try, but then, it doesn’t matter. Because it’s happening — that thick finger pushes inside you, curling against your walls until you’re gasping and covering your mouth all over again.

And god, you aren’t going to be able to look at his skull mask the same way again. Not when you watch it’s shape shifting just slightly as he works his jaw, suckling against your clit with a hunger you can only describe as feral, eyes half-lidded as they lock with your own. You’re certain nothing in the world could have prepared you for this. It's a goddamn match to a bomb as he starts to work another finger into you, curling them in time with his tongue in a way you don’t think you’d have been able to come up with if you’d had a lifetime to consider it. You can feel that tension building — a tight coil of heat and pressure building low in your core.

Then, you feel his fingers inside you doing something odd. Something—

Oh, fuck.

You feel it before you can comprehend it — before you know he’s tracing the first letter, the shape of it hitting in just the right place that it makes your hips buck in response.

S.

Oh. Oh god.

You can feel him hum against you, like he’s savouring it — the way you’re clenching around his fingers as you realize what he’s doing. It takes everything in you not to scream, eyes squeezed shut and hand over your mouth — head back against the wall as you imagine the look in his eyes, how goddamn wicked it must be while he spells out the rest of his apology inside you.

O. Then, R. Then another. Then, Y.

“G-ghost—“ you know he must be able to tell you're almost gone, because when he hits the last R and your breath catches, his name a whoreish moan you try to smother against the back of your hand — he growls in satisfaction. It’s too much. You can't breathe because your climax is right fucking there, and you can’t stop it for a second longer. “G-ghost—m’gonna—ohgod—“

With a suddenness that makes stars burst across the backs of your eyes, he brings his free hand up, stuffing two fingers into your mouth to smother the sound and feel of his name as you cry it. He strokes you through it, pumping you with his fingers as your vision blurs into some indiscernible haze — a kaleidoscope of light and pleasure and everything you know you should never allow yourself to have.

And then, when you finally catch the breath it took to even say his name, he pulls away. Fingers slipping from your mouth and your pussy like a goddamn magician.

A ghost.

Then, he stands up, and you watch him wipe his mouth with the back of his hand like you’re all the goddamn nourishment he needs before he’s helping you get stable on your feet.

“M’sure y’feel it now.” He murmurs, lips so close to yours you can taste yourself on his breath. "M’a man of m’word, sweet’eart. Always make good on m’promises.”

You’re sure he can see it, the realization in your eyes when you come back down to earth long enough to remember what just happened. Remember that you weren't supposed to let it happen in the first place. That you were supposed to have better control over yourself — and you can guess he knows, by the way he’s looking at you like he knows exactly what you're thinking.

"Guess I made m’point, yeah?"

He tugs his balaclava back in place, and you exhale.

“Yeah, you made your point.” He hums at that, and you tug your towel tighter. “But this—this can’t happen again.”

It takes him a beat to respond, and when he does, it’s simple.

"Of course.”

You don’t know why, but that response makes your chest tighten in a way it has no business doing. It would have been so much easier if he’d given you a smart ass smirk, or a biting response. It would be so much easier if he told you that you didn’t have a choice in the matter, but he doesn’t.

And so, you step closer to him, tilting your head back to keep his eyes.

“I mean it, Ghost.” You whisper. “I’ll take a pound of your flesh before I allow you to fuck with my paystub ever again.”

You thought, at this point, you’d have figured out some type of gauge on his reactions. But still, he proves you haven’t. You don't expect the hand coming up, cupping your jaw to hold you in place as his eyes drop to your lips. You don't expect him to lean in, and bring his own to your ear — and you definitely don’t expect the words that fill it.

“There’s a few things I wanna’ fuck. Y’paystub ain’t one.” He pauses, and you’re certain it’s because he’s enjoying the drumbeat that is now your heart rate. You’d just found your breath and he singlehandedly stole it again. “I’ll be watchin’ f’your enemies. T’let em’ know they contend with me.”

You think you get it then. The reason everyone looks at him the way they do. The reason they're so terrified of him in one second, and willing to take a bullet for him during the next. It's not even because he's trained to be a killing machine. Not because he can see what you're thinking before you even realize you are. Not because he'd walk through fire just to be close to hell.

It's because he's a man of his word, and even you understand the gravity of that kind of loyalty.

You exhale with a nod, and then he’s gone.

[penkura]

Hello this is my first request for your page so if it's alright can you do "everyone knows" from the Sanji fic but make it Ace instead? Thank you!

Hi omg, I'm so sorry this has taken so long, I had to take my time because I kept getting ideas on how to do this one, and it's finally done for you!! I really hope you'll enjoy how it turned out, I love Ace and want to write even more for him, he deserves it. ��

This is an AU; Sabo, Luffy, and Ace are in constant contact, and no Marineford issues (despite it being my favorite arc). 😌 Please enjoy everyone! (its also 7.1k words i'm so sorry)

“I told you to be careful, you know.”

“I know that, Marco. You’re not helping!”

The whine you give while Marco pats your head makes him laugh at the same time, repeating what he’s just told you as you sink further into the chair in his office. You can’t believe you let this happen, that he was right to tell you and Ace be careful when you started dating. Neither of you really understood what he meant back then, but you sure do now.

“You’re definitely pregnant. Looks like…about seven weeks, almost eight,” Marco smiles to himself when you whine again, face hidden in your hands, “I don’t see anything to be worried about, you both look completely healthy so far.”

You’re screwed, you just know it. It’s only been a few months, you and Ace haven’t even had a chance to discuss marriage or babies or anything like that. You’ve just been dating and having fun with each other.

A little too much fun it seems, considering the—what should be--good news Marco’s given you today. It really should be good news, the whole crew has waited so long for you and Ace to get together, hearing you’re pregnant would just excite every one of them.

You should be happy too, but there’s too many worries and fears taking over your mind at the moment to be excited and happy about having a baby with Ace. You two danced around your feelings for each other for so long, that no one would be surprised if you made this announcement. You’ll never know about the betting pools going on, everyone trying to figure out when you’ll either get married or have a child, and now it looks like the latter is going to net someone a decent amount of cash. (Its Marco who wins, don’t worry about it if he gets your baby something really nice.)

You bury your face in your hands, Marco just watches you at first, before sighing to himself. He’s watched you and Ace avoid the obvious feelings you had for each for years now, so when you confided to him that you were going to finally tell Ace, soon after the fire user said the same thing to him, Marco was happy for you both and your biggest supporter, he knew you guys would he happy together and he’s been right so far.

He's not at all surprised by your sudden pregnancy, you and Ace aren’t sneaky at all and he’s been expecting this for a while now. Your reaction though, tells him that you guys probably haven’t even discussed having kids or anything like that at all. It makes sense that you wouldn’t yet, it’s still early in your relationship, that helps explain your reaction. The way you have your face buried in your hands like you’re trying to hide from the world or wake up from what seems like a good but bad dream.

You probably do wish it was the flu now.

“Hey,” you peek between your fingers to see Marco crouched in front of you, one hand on your knee and a smile on his face, “You and Ace will be great parents. I know you guys didn’t plan this, but everything will be fine. I’ll make sure of that as your and this baby’s doctor.”

It almost makes you cry, though you stop yourself. You remove your hands from your face, still hanging your head when you speak up.

“…I’m scared Ace will be mad…”

“At you? Never in a million years,” Marco chuckles lightly while patting your knee, “He’d throw himself in the ocean before he got angry at you, especially since he had a part in this. Takes two to make a baby and you’re only one half of the equation.”

You know Marco is right, Ace would never get mad at you over something he had a hand in. While he may not be as excited when you tell him, you aren’t sure just what his reaction will be yet, but you know there’s no way he’ll be yelling at you like it’s your fault. Maybe Ace will be happy and excited, maybe he’s just never said he wants kids or hasn’t thought about it since you’re both still only twenty. It’s likely not in the front of his mind or something he’s thought about, you’ll have to try talking about it later with him, once you’ve settled down and worked out how to bring this up.

“…what if he doesn’t want this?”

“Do you want this?”

You stay quiet for a moment before nodding.

“I’ve…I’ve wanted to have my own family…ever since my parents and brothers died.”

“That’s all that matters then.”

You’ve been with the Whitebeard Pirates for so long, ever since you were twelve, but you still hadn’t told many of them about how you’d lost your family. The hurricane that swept through your home island and ruined countless lives while taking just as many, you were one of the lucky few to survive but at the cost of your parents and older brothers. You were beyond lucky when the Whitebeard Pirates showed up, you clung onto Pops like he was your savior and he just had to let you come along, you weren’t going to let go otherwise. Marco and Izo became your favorite people immediately, Thatch following soon after when he gave you a sweet to try. Everyone quickly accepted you as their new little sister, you hadn’t felt such felt love since you’d lost your family and don’t think you could ever leave them now.

Then when Ace joined you were instantly head over heels for him, it took him a bit before he felt the same for you but neither of you could ever view the other as a sibling like you did the rest of the crew, it didn’t feel right even when you first met. Good thing too otherwise this would be very awkward right now.

“All right,” Marco nods and goes back to a cabinet, digging through it, “We’ll keep this between you and me, we won’t tell Pops until you’ve told Ace. We’ll get with Thatch though so he can keep alcohol from you and start you on a meal plan to make sure you and the baby have everything you need. And I want you to start taking these pre-natal vitamins, okay?”

You nod when Marco hands you a bottle of vitamins, you’re still nervous and worried about how Ace will react, but you have some time to think. He’s off seeing Luffy right now with a stop by to visit Sabo planned, he’d told you yesterday over a call that it’d be another week or so before he gets back, you have time to get used to this and plan how to tell him.

Marco pats your head, giving you a smile when he sees you tighten your grip on the bottle.

“Everything will be okay, no matter what happens.”

“I know…thanks, Marco.”

“Anything for you. Now,” you return his smile and start to feel a little better about the whole situation, especially when Marco speaks again, “Let’s go do an ultrasound, hm?”

+!+

Marco keeps your first sonogram images in his office, away from others who might see and spoil the surprise before you even get to tell Ace your news. Thatch is the only other person who knows right now, he’s excited for you and has a meal plan ready by the end of the day you tell him, no one really questions it when you don’t have alcohol at dinner. You really only drank when Ace was around because he’d always get you back to his room safely, so no one questions it when you aren’t given any drinks apart from water at any meal.

Nothing really changes for now, apart from Marco wanting to check on you every few days to make sure everything still looks good and so far it does. None of your crewmates question this either, knowing you haven’t been feeling well and believing that Marco is just taking extra precautions and ensuring you haven’t caught anything severe. You promise anyone who asks that everything is okay and you’re fine, just getting over whatever illness made you sick.

You’re able to keep it all a little secret between you, Marco, and Thatch for the time being, and it continues to be that way even when Ace finally returns to you and the Moby Dick. You’re busy with Marco when he gets there, not for an appointment but to figure out what needs restocked on the ship, but Ace seeks you out once he’s finished talking to Whitebeard and others about Luffy and Sabo, running to you and shouting your name once he sees you.

It makes you anxious for a moment but so beyond happy to see him again. Once he gets to you, Ace scoops you up in his arms and hugs you so tight, you do the same and laugh while he tells you just how much he missed you. You think you probably missed him more, this was the first time he’d gone off to see his brothers since you started dating, it was rough even before you learned you were pregnant, you’re sure the hormones are what made the last week and a half even worse.

Ace drags you off to his room once he’s greeted everyone, you two need some time together and he’s desperate for it, you’re the one he thought about every day that he was gone and when he hears you were sick most of the time he was gone, his shoulders drop and he frowns. He hates that he wasn’t there to help you recover, but he’s glad you all have Marco around when any of you get sick or injured. The smile you have makes Ace feel better about it though, even when he noticed something there that he can’t quite place but it looks like anxiety or nervousness.

“You’re okay now though, yeah?”

“Mm-hm!” You nod, making Ace smile again as he wraps his arms around you, causing you to fall back on his bed with a laugh as he buries his face in your shirt, “Marco made sure of it, so you don’t have to worry about getting sick. I’m all yours today~”

“Good,” Ace barely notices you flinch a little when he presses his face into your stomach, but he thinks it’s probably that you’re not as fully recovered as you’re claiming, “As long as I can just lay here with you now~ I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too, Ace.”

You’re really glad he’s back, honestly. You were fine the first day Ace was gone but the next day you were more emotional and felt oddly lonely without him around, even with the others around. Ace has always been the brightest part of your days, even before you started dating he was the one who would find you first every morning just to greet you with a grin, making your stomach do flips for a while before you got used to it.

“Hey,” Ace looks up at you just enough to see your face while you run your fingers through his hair, giving you a sleepy smile, “What…do you think about having kids…?”

He's surprised by your question, but stays quiet for a minute, having to really think about it. Ace hasn’t ever thought it was a good idea for him to be a father, he’s never really thought that he’d be good at it or that he should even think about it, but he also knows about how much you want to have a child one day, to have your own family. The few times you two would talk about your pasts and your futures, while he’d told you who his real father was and you’d explained how you joined up with the Whitebeard Pirates, though Ace didn’t really have a plan for his future you always said how much you wanted to have kids of your own. He knows it mostly stems from having lost your biological family when you were younger, before you two ever met, and he respects your wants and desires.

But he’s just now sure about how he fits into that, if he wants that himself.

“I…don’t know…what about it?”

“I mean,” you shrug a bit as Ace starts to sit up, looking like he’s thinking but also concerned, hopefully he hasn’t figured you out from that one question, “It…could be fun right? To be parents one day…”

Ace doesn’t say anything, it makes you more nervous that you were about bringing it up, but you keep a smile on your face as you keep talking.

“Maybe one day, a little girl with your personality or a boy who looks just like you. I think I’d like that. We can raise them here with everyone, and your brothers—”

“I don’t think I want kids,” he doesn’t look at you when saying that, like he’s expecting you to end your relationship there since he knows your hopes for the future, but he’s hoping that’s not the case, “I just…I don’t want them to suffer because of me, or my past.”

“Ace, they wouldn’t—”

“Can we not talk about this now? I’m tired and I just want to spend time with you…”

Even though all you do is nod, it makes you feel sick that you can’t talk about this right now. You knows he’s tired, he needs to rest after having been gone and just getting back that day, but it still makes you more anxious than you already were. Ace lays next to you again, quiet himself, but he pulls you into a hug and kissed your forehead, hoping that he hasn’t upset you or anything. He really hasn’t, you

Even though all you do is nod, it makes you feel sick that you can’t talk about this right now. You knows he’s tired, he needs to rest after having been gone and just getting back that day, but it still makes you more anxious than you already were. Ace lays next to you again, quiet himself, but he pulls you into a hug and kissed your forehead, hoping that he hasn’t upset you or anything. He really hasn’t, you kind of expected him to shut down any talk about having kids right now, it shouldn’t be in your minds yet but the fact you’re already pregnant has you thinking about it constantly. You were hoping to get this discussed and settled right away, but maybe you should’ve waited until he was back for a day or two, instead of the day he got back. Maybe of you gave him some time to relax before you brought it up, you wouldn’t be feeling like you’re about throw up right now.

Actually, you’re sure it’s morning sickness combined with the anxiety and worry now, your stomach isn’t calming down and you have to push Ace away to get out of his bed.

“I don’t feel good,” Ace tilts his head as you move to leave, confused and now worried you’re still sick, “I…feel like I’m gonna be sick.”

“Hey,” Ace grabs your wrist when you try to run off, concern on his face when you don’t look at him, “Are you okay? You’re still sick?”

“Mm,” you nod before giving him a small smile, but it makes Ace even more concerned though he does let you go, “Just…gonna run to Marco, I’ll be back!”

“Okay then…”

Ace doesn’t follow you out of his room, just watching you go as you close the door. He doesn’t know what exactly is going on, but believes you when you say it’s because you still aren’t well. He knows Marco will take care of you and get you back to 100% in no time, though he wonders if what he said about maybe not wanting kids is the cause. He knows he might change his mind later on, maybe, but right now, he’s not confident that it’s something he wants. He doesn’t want anything like what happened with his own parents to happen to you and your child, it wouldn’t be fair to you or them if anything were to happen to him.

He knows it might become a make or break deal later on, but he hopes and prays he has time to really think about it and make a decision before you just end your relationship. But he also hopes you wouldn’t do that for this one thing, even if it means you have to make a compromise somewhere. Whatever that might be Ace isn’t sure, hopefully it’ll be years down the road before you have to make any kind of decision together about it.

For now, he’s going to unpack his bag while you’re gone, his whole focus being on you and getting some much needed alone time together had distracted him. He had to get somethings put away and a few gifts for you hidden for your birthday later on.

Especially the engagement ring Luffy and Sabo helped him pick out for you. He can’t let you see that quite yet.

~~

You don’t go to Marco actually, you run for the nearest bathroom and try to keep quiet, you don’t want Ace to hear you and get more worried. He probably thinks you’re just getting Marco to help your stomach calm down and you’ll go back to him, but the whole situation has you upset even when you kept that from him.

He's not sure he wants kids, why should he be? You’ve heard his story, you know who his biological father was, you understand why he wouldn’t be sure about it. Ace knows your plans to have kids, to be a mother one day, and he’s always respected that, he’s told you he thinks you’ll be great at it. He’s never believed it should be with him, even though he’s not told you that, you wonder if he thinks he’s not good enough for that kind of life.

It makes you feel worse to think about that, to think he doesn’t believe he deserves to have a family one day.

Of course he’s not sure about having kids, why would he be? We’re only twenty and we’ve only been together a few months, damn it.

It makes sense to you, it does, but you really had thought that maybe you two starting a relationship would let Ace see you want that with him, no one else. Before you found out you were pregnant you thought maybe the two of you could adopt if something came up where Ace didn’t want biological children or you couldn’t have kids yourself.

But things have changed and you just have to hope that Ace will think about it more than he has.

You quickly wash your face and rinse your mouth several times before you leave and decide to check with Marco anyway, but end up running right into Izo before you get too far. The concerned look he gives you makes you nervous as you laugh and apologize for running into him.

“Hey, Izo, what’s u—”

“Are you pregnant?”

Your eyes widen just a bit, before you laugh nervously and wave your hands, trying to brush it off while he looks at you. He knows and you’re scared he’ll tell Ace, so you try to lie your way out.

“W-what?!” You score and glance away, it only makes him narrow his eyes at you, “No…who told you that?? That’s so ridiculous! I’m not—”

“Why are you still sick then? Marco said you should be well by now.”

“W-Well—”

“This all started while Ace was gone, yes?” You start to shrink away, leaning against the wall as Izo watches you start to let your walls about it down, sliding yourself to the floor, “You’ve been sick for weeks now if that’s the case.”

“It…it’s the flu, I’m not—"

“Its not the flu, its morning sickness, isn’t it?” Izo sighs to himself as you keep looking away, he can’t believe he didn’t notice it sooner, “Did you forget I was around when Lady Toki was pregnant and gave birth? I know it was a long time ago but I do remember such things!”

That had slipped your mind, Izo probably would have kept this secret for you too if you’d told him. You slightly nod, Izo isn’t shocked, he was one of the people betting you’d have a baby before getting married anyway, but he’s wondering more about how long you’ve known about this and starts to question you about your surprise pregnancy and if Ace knows yet. When you shake your head at that answer, he raises an eyebrow before a thought hits him and he nods.

“You found out while he was away then.”

“Yeah…I didn’t…I honestly thought I just had the flu or something.”

“I see. When—”

“Please, Izo, don’t tell anyone. I…I’m going to tell Ace in a few days, I swear, I just don’t want  anyone else to know before he does…”

The pleading look you give him makes Izo sigh but with a light smile as he nods. He’d never take that away from you, allowing you to make your own decision on when and how to tell Ace about your pregnancy. It’s soon, probably sooner than you ever thought it would be, but he can already imagine you and Ace being amazing parents, how everyone is going to dote on your baby and help raise them. It’s been so long since there’s been a baby on board, he wonders if anyone remembers how to even care for a baby let alone hold one properly, but Izo also knows that once it’s out to everyone, Marco will start helping prepare everyone for this change.

“Everyone will be happy for you two.”

“…I’m just hoping Ace will be happy…”

“He will be,” before you can say anything else Izo takes your hand and helps you stand back up right, giving you a hug, “It may take him a bit, but I know Ace will be happy to have a child with you, even if he’s not sure about it yet. Everything will be fine.”

Part of you wishes people would stop saying that, but you’re also glad for all the reassurances from those who know. They’re more positive than you ever could have expected or asked for, they give you hope that Ace really will be excited when you tell him, despite what he said earlier about how unsure he is regarding having children.

Everything will be okay, even if it might be as while before everyone is settled and accepting. What’s more important is that you tell Ace soon and get his reaction, after that you can worry about what to do next.

Izo questions you a bit more after that, before letting you go back to Ace, he just wants to be completely up to date on everything and know how he can help. All you ask is again that he doesn’t tell anyone, that’s all you need right now.

You’ll tell Ace soon, then everyone else. You won’t keep it private too much longer.

+!+

A few days later at dinner, everyone is getting rowdy and drinking, celebrating your birthday and everyone making you laugh more than normal. It helps you forget about your worries regarding you’re pregnancy, you’ll ignore it for now and focus more on the smiles and pecks on the cheek Ace gives you every now and then, your attempted conversation forgotten about for the time being. Ace told you he’d think more about it, and you said you wouldn’t push him or anything like that. The compromise is enough for now for both of you, even with your secret, you aren’t going to worry too much right now, not until you’re ready to tell him.

Tonight you aren’t going to think about it, you’re focused on your family celebrating you, everyone so happy to still have you around and giving you the gifts they carefully picked for you. Ace said he’ll give his gift to you later, some people end up taking it the wrong way and give whistles and shouts, making you roll your eyes as your face heats up. It makes Ace laugh before he plants a kiss on your cheek again, promising it’s something better than what everyone else thinks.

When Thatch comes by with drinks, he makes sure once again to keep alcohol away from you, passing you a water that you accept gratefully and it makes Ace furrow his brow.

“You’re not drinking again?”

You shake your head, giving a smile.

“Not today, I want to remember everything.”

“One drink wont knock you down, you can handle it!”

“I--no, I’m okay, Ace, really!”

No one says anything about it, instead staying deep in their own conversations. Ace doesn’t understand why you’ve been abstaining so much lately, every time he tries to get you to drink you reject it, it makes him wonder if something happened while he was gone that made you stop entirely. You haven’t told him anything, neither has Marco or anyone else, maybe you’ve just decided to cut back heavily for some other reason.

Ace lets it go for a bit, before he gets another drink and tries once more to get you to take just a sip from his cup. He questions you again when you shake your head, but before you can say anything, you hear Teech laugh and make a suggestion that makes you freeze up.

“Ha, maybe she’s pregnant!”

It makes Ace rolls his eyes, not noticing that you’re anxiously looking at him, like you expect him to know just from that.

“No she’s not, shut up.”

“I’m just saying it’s possible,” Teech takes a drink, while you pray he doesn’t say anything more or Ace just doesn’t take anything he says to heart, “We’ve all seen her sneaking out of your room most nights anyway!”

It's starting to get to you, you never cared if anyone else saw you slipping out of Ace’s room or the two of you leaving together in the mornings. No one ever said anything or made any comments, most of them did it out of respect for your privacy, though some did make suggestive faces towards you both early on, it’s all stopped over time. It’s quickly been replaced by everyone treating you both normally, the bets you don’t know about taking over private conversations for the time being.

Well, its stopped by everyone but Teech now. You’d usually be embarrassed by talk of your sex life but the comment about your still unrevealed pregnancy makes you upset, to the point you’re starting to get mad more than anything and glaring at Teech to try and make him stop talking before anything comes out too early.

“Shut up, Teech.”

“What? Everyone knows you and Ace have been going at it like—”

“I said, shut up!”

Everyone quiets as you yell, those who had been listening understand what exactly is going on but don’t say anything yet. Ace jumps when you slam your hands on the table and stand up, he’s never seen you set such an awful glare on someone like you are Teech right now, but it makes the wheels in his head start to turn and he starts piecing everything together. You never get this upset about some teasing, even if it’s a joking suggestion that you might be pregnant. Another crewmate made a joke about it early on, before you and Ace ever even slept together the first time, and it made you laugh, commenting back about how your parents were right, kissing boys made you pregnant.

But this time you’re visibly angry about it, it’s an obvious joke from Teech, he’s always been the one to make crude comments about sex and relationships, you and Ace have never been spared from this, especially when everyone figured out you started having sex. While some gave you two looks, Marco telling you to be careful (that worked out well), and Teech making comments you don’t dare repeat and have tried to wipe from your memory. Ace did everything he could to make it stop, you both thought it was over with when you hadn’t heard anything in the last couple months, but for some reason, your reaction to the suggestion of pregnancy has you mad, so Ace has to stop and think.

Teech tries to defend himself as Ace keeps thinking, everything starting to make more sense and fall into place in his mind. You being sick for so long, asking about having kids, not drinking with him, you pushed him off you the other night when he started handsy and said you weren’t in the mood, which he respected but now he’s realizing what it is that made you stop him.

“…are you pregnant?”

Ace is quiet when he asks, but it’s what gets you out of your anger, making you look back at him and he sees the tears starting to form in your eyes. Marco tries to step in, telling you to settle down because this isn’t good for you, getting worked up and stressed. You look so upset, while Ace is in shock and just staring at you, everyone around you two has completely quieted and looks between you two.

You can’t even bring yourself to speak, this isn’t how this was supposed to go, you weren’t ready to tell him yet! It was going to be a surprise when you did tell him, you had a plan, this isn’t fair!

“I…”

“Babe—”

“I’m sorry!”

You take off before Ace can say anything else, Marco calls for you but everyone else stays put. No one wants to be the first to say anything, they’re not sure if they should congratulate Ace or just keep their mouths shut, but eventually Marco sighs and sets a hand on Ace’s shoulder.

“Come with me.”

It takes Ace a moment before he can move, he knows he should’ve followed you out, he needs to know if you really are pregnant or if it’s just a suspicion you have, though the way Marco is acting tells him you have to be sure already. That’s probably why he wants to talk to him, Marco knows and is going to give Ace all the information he can, so he finally gives in and follows him out. Ace hates seeing you upset and crying, it’s not fair to you that this got out the way it did. He knows you, he’s sure you were planning something cute to do for your announcement, but now it’s all been ruined.

Ace feels sick, he’s upset for you, but he really needs to know how real this is, it could still be a misunderstanding. He’s pretty sure it’s not after the scene that just unfolded, but there’s still a part of him that thinks it might be as he follows Marco.

 Once Ace and Marco leave, everyone lets out the breath they were holding before looking at Teech with glares. While some had their suspicions from how you’ve been acting, others had accidentally overheard you talking to Marco or Thatch about it, not one of them wanted to say anything. It wasn’t their place and they all knew you’d eventually say something when you were ready, or Ace would blurt it out at some point, they weren’t sure about how it would go.

All they knew was that it was now out there due to Teech and no one was happy about it.

“…I didn’t think she was actually pregnant.”

There’s several sighs and groans, while Izo and Thatch give the glares they could to Teech, causing him to shrink away just a bit for ruining your plans with his big mouth.

“Shut up, Teech.”

+!+

“She’ll be ten weeks along in a few days.”

“I can’t believe this…”

The sonogram image in his hands just makes Ace anxious yet excited, what he can’t believe is that it’s your baby he’s looking at, his baby on top of that. His heart is racing over this despite the sick feeling he has, this explains why you had asked him about having kids, why you’ve still had, what seemed to be, random bouts of sickness still, even though Marco had said you should be totally fine now.

But now it all makes sense. You haven’t been sick with the flu, you’re pregnant and it’s morning sickness that’s been getting to you so often. That’s why you rejected every time Ace tried to get you to drink, it’s why you didn’t want to do anything the other night, why you ran off the other day after you tried to ask about having kids.

He feels terrible that your secret got out, that you didn’t get the chance to tell him yourself, but looking at the sonogram he feels so excited.

“Do we know what—”

“Too early to tell the sex, in a few weeks we can do a blood test to see and then another sonogram later to confirm,” Marco smiles seeing Ace nod, it seems like he’s still coming to terms with this but he doesn’t look too upset, “She’s been worried about telling you, thought you were gonna get mad at her.”

“I’d never do that!”

“That’s what I said, but with this situation she wasn’t thinking straight.”

Hearing that makes Ace feel bad, you shouldn’t be that scared about telling him, he’s never yelled at you about anything. It’s not his personality and he hates the idea of hurting you that way, you two have always talked through any issues you’ve had and come to compromises or agreements, like you did recently with the whole having kids thing.

Oh.

Oh that explains why you ran off after asking and he said he didn’t want kids. You were scared and it made you sick, Ace realizes that makes so much more sense now. He should’ve tried to explain it better, that he wasn’t sure about having kids, not just that he flat out doesn’t want them. If you’d been able to talk about that sooner, maybe you would’ve been a little more careful not having to worry about this now.

“Ace, you know she’s wanted this forever now.”

Ace nods, still staring at the sonogram image. There’s so much you two have to discuss now, he needs to make sure you’re okay and that you know he’s not going anywhere. Even if he hadn’t planned to ask you to marry him, he’d still stick around hearing that you’re pregnant. He may not be sure of how good he’ll do as a dad, but if this is what you want, what you’ve always wanted, he’s going to stay with you and help you through everything. Nothing would change that, he really hopes you understand that already.

“I’m not gonna tell you what to do, but—”

“I gotta go talk to her,” Ace stands up quickly and hands the sonogram back to Marco, “I gotta make sure [Y/N]’s okay and tell her I can’t wait for this.”

“Really? You’re okay with it?”

“Yeah, I…” sighing, Ace smiles a bit while Marco watches him, “I’m scared as hell I’m gonna screw up, but I think…I think we’ll be okay.”

“You’re not gonna screw up,” Marco laughs and pats his shoulder, “You guys have all of us here, we’ll make sure your kid doesn’t end up like you.”

“Hey—”

“You better go and talk to her, she’s been anxious about everything for almost two weeks now.”

“Yeah,” there’s a grin on his face as Ace nods once more, turning to leave, “I’ll take care of it, thanks Marco.”

+!+

Ace knows you ran off to his room to hide, even though its not the best place since again, it’s his room, but he’s not mad about it. You’ve always gone there when you were upset about something, this isn’t a surprise to him. You’ve mostly calmed down by the time he gets there, though you don’t look towards the door when you hear it open.

“When were you gonna tell me?”

Ace feels like his heart breaks when you sniffle, rubbing at your eyes and shrugging. He hates seeing you cry, always has, but he feels worse about it now than he ever has. You’re embarrassed and upset, you didn’t want someone else to blurt it out, he shouldn’t have tried getting you to drink as much as he did, maybe you could’ve told him later that night if he hadn’t. He feels like it’s all his fault this happened, though, he knows that it definitely is partly because of him that everything is going to change.

You’re pregnant, Ace really thought you guys were being careful and safe, but apparently not. Ace wonders if you didn’t tell him because you were scared or didn’t want to have a baby with him, maybe you thought he’d get mad at you and break up with you. He’d never do that but maybe you weren’t thinking straight after finding out, you got worried and let negative thoughts overtake your mind.

You should be happy and excited, not scared and worried, Ace realizes that. He starts to look around his room while you keep your eyes on the floor, expecting him to end your relationship or something like that.

“Ace—”

“We’re gonna have to find a place for a crib, huh?”

“…what?”

“Or, hm, what’s that other thing called?” Ace starts thinking, while you’re sitting there stunned and staring at him like he has two heads, “Oh…the bed for babies that sometimes looks all frilly and stuff…”

“A…a bassinet?”

“Yeah, that! We’re gonna have to move things around,” you give Ace a confused look as he starts trying to get an idea of how to rearrange the room, “Maybe…we can move the dresser to this other corner, our bed can go against this wall, and—”

“Wait stop, you…you’re okay with this?”

Ace gives you a grin, tilting his head.

“Should I not be?” he’s still grinning when he finally walks over, crouching in front of you and reaching a hand to your cheek, “A baby with the girl of my dreams…what could be better?”

“I…you said you didn’t—”

“I know, I know,” Ace nods with a small smile, he shouldn’t said something earlier but it was your birthday and he didn’t want to interrupt your day, “When you asked, I had already started thinking about it, but you just surprised me and I kind of…”

“Freaked out?”

“Ha, yeah, I guess so. It was like you could read my mind and I was worried you’d think it was too soon if I said yes.”

“Ace,” you roll your eyes a bit with a smile, “We had feelings for each other for how long before we got together?”

Ace laughs, nodding and knowing what you meant. It seems only natural that you two would skip a few steps and go right to having kids, you’ve known and loved each other long enough. What does it matter if you’re not married yet, who really cares?

He's still going to ask you to marry him, but right now, it’s not a major concern for either of you.

“Good point, but I was still worried. So…I kind of lied because I didn’t want to scare you off.”

“You’d never scare me off, Ace.”

He nods again, smiling as you start to relax more, your own smile showing and it makes Ace happy to see you’ve calmed down some. He knows you’re still worried and anxious, but he hopes he can help you realize that it’s okay, he’s not mad or going to leave you. He’s staying with you, he's going to help you raise your baby no matter what happens, he’s going to protect the two of you and keep you safe.

“If it’s a girl, I hope she’s just like her mom.”

The comment doesn’t fully register at first, but it makes you roll your eyes again.

“If it’s a boy he’s going to be just like you, which means I’m in trouble.”

“Trouble?? You sure about that??”

You don’t get to respond back before Ace, carefully, hugs you tight and knocks you back onto his bed, making you laugh as he kisses your face and holds you close. Once you’ve both settled down, his comment about you having a girl finally hits you, you look up at Ace with a smile.

“You’re happy?”

“Of course I am,” the grin he gives almost makes you cry, but Ace stops that with another kiss before laying his head against your stomach, “Can’t believe our baby’s in there…you’ll be a great mom.”

It gets you more choked up, you can’t help it but don’t want to cry too loud. You don’t want Ace to think he’s upset you, so you stroke his hair a bit, taking a few breaths to calm yourself down before you speak again.

“You’re gonna be a great dad, Ace.”

Ace doesn’t say anything for a moment, before he hugs you a little tighter and quietly says he’ll do his best for the both of you, pressing a kiss to your belly.

“I won’t let you down, I promise.”

Although everyone on board knows now, you’re sure those who heard have spread it to everyone that wasn’t around or listening by now, you’ve still got to let Whitebeard know later. You know he’s definitely going to be happy for you and Ace, just like everyone else has been so far.

Ace eventually sits up and gives you a grin that makes you tilt your head at him.

“I’ve got to call Luffy and Sabo! They’re going to be so surprised!”

While Ace hurries off the bed to get his transponder snail and call his brothers, you shake your head with a laugh before you follow after him. The excitement you hear from the two over the receiver makes you both happy and more excited than you already were. You may not have been planning this to happen for a while longer, but you’ve accepted that it’s going to happen and you can’t wait to see how Ace is as a father.

You know he’s going to do his best and he’ll do everything to keep you both safe and happy.

[drawing-write]

Another SVSSS Fanfic idea! Once again an idea I came up with on discord two years ago. (I genuinely don't know if this has been done before, so please link me if it has!)

Main Premise: Shang Qinghua transmigrates into Binghe: "Oh shit."

Shen Yuan transmigrates into Mobei: "Aw fuck."

---

In this AU, between both transmigrators- Cucumber would be the first to clue in who is, mostly because the minute he transmigrates into Mobei Jun, he's going to take in the following things, 'ice demon' 'northern desert' 'mobei' and then reach his conclusion on who he is. Because Shen Yuan loved the world-building sections of PIDW, not as much as he loved the beasts, but it was definitely up there.

Also, SY is User 001, because he was put in before MBJ plot began around the time his uncle wanted to kill him when MBJ was just a little kid, so the system would just put SY in that time, probably during one of the murder attempts, SY just wakes up and is greeted with, [Welcome User 001! First mission: Survive!] and SY is just thrown into this.

Meanwhile, for Airplane, his journey began right at birth because that is how PIDW started, he's Luo Binghe, living out childhood into lordship. But Airplane would be slower in realizing, because while he created this world, he's mostly stuck in the novelty that he reincarnated, like in those stories he read. His death is still lingering in his mind, (unlike SY, because Airplane's death was probably much more traumatic, getting electrocuted to death and all)

Anyways, Airplane is just living his life with his mom, and realizes he's Luo Binghe when his mom calls out his name. But it doesn't really hit him until he watches his mom die and the system appears saying [Congratulations on the first plot point finished User 002! Are you ready to proceed?] and Airplane just disassociates as it sinks in I am Luo Binghe. And my mom is dead.

---

Part Two

[writingwithciara]

across the hall; part 9 -quinn hughes-

summary: y/n moves in across the hall from quinn and in an emergency, she leaves her five-year old daughter in his care

word count: 2.2k

pairing: quinn hughes x reader, toxic ex-boyfriend x reader

notes:

abby and y/n had been living with quinn for 2 months. y/n and quinn were both incredibly busy so they barely had time to see each other.

however, when y/n would work a longer than a normal shift, she would come home to a nice hot meal that seemed to have been prepared just in time for her arrival. but when she would check on quinn, he would already be asleep.

and on the nights she worked a regular shift, she would come home to find quinn and abby curled up together on the couch. abby was asleep every time but quinn stayed awake some of the time. he wanted to make sure y/n made it home safe. but on the nights he had failed to stay awake, y/n would cover the two with a blanket and head to her room.

for quinn, it was getting harder and harder to ignore the feelings he was developing for y/n. he knew he loved her and he was very fond of abigail. but he knew he couldn't say a thing to y/n. or anyone for that matter. it would scare her away and it was the last thing he wanted to do.

▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱

on a day during the week before christmas, y/n had the day off so she was spending it with natalie and bella while quinn had taken abby to spend the day with his brothers and brock.

the girls were helping y/n with the rest of her christmas shopping. it was almost done but she was having trouble deciding what to get quinn.

"this shouldn't be as hard as it is." y/n groaned and turned to her friends. "you guys have known him longer. what do you think he'd like?"

"just because we've known him longer than you, doesn't mean we know him better." bella smiled. "you can do this, y/n. reach into your heart and figure out what he likes."

"yeah. you got this, girl." natalie looked around the store. she still had a few things to buy but nothing was catching her eye so she turned her attention back to the girls.

"i'm trying to think of something he needs but he already has everything i can think of." y/n sighed.

"you could honestly get him anything and he'd be happy." bella smiled. "i don't think anything could ever top you agreeing to move in with him though."

"yeah. he was over the moon the day after it happened. i remember him telling j.t. how excited he was and how full he felt having you around." natalie nudged y/n with a knowing smirk.

"that's good, i suppose." y/n checked her phone as it dinged. quinn sent her a photo of abby on brock's shoulders. the girl was staring down at him with a smile on her face.

think she's over her crush on jack now 😂 the text read.

y/n flipped the phone around to show bella. "i think you may have some competition."

"i can't compete with her. she's too damn adorable."

"indeed she is." y/n put her phone back in her pocket and looked at the stuff she had in the cart. "i think it's time to head home. i'll figure out quinn's gift later. plus, we have a game to get ready for."

"that's right. and the guys are gonna kick some ass tonight."

"but if they don't, i hope you can cheer up quinn. he's especially grumpy after a tough game."

"i'm aware. and don't worry. i know how to cheer him up. wouldn't be the first time." she piled all the stuff onto the conveyor belt. when she looked back at the girls, her eyes widened at their expressions. "no. wait. i didn't mean it like that. i swear."

"relax. we know you didn't mean it that way."

"but i'm sure quinn wouldn't mind being cheered up that way." bella smirked. "i mean, he definitely loves going home, knowing that you'll be there waiting for him."

"we've become quite comfortable as roommates. and abby adores him to no end." y/n smiled and put everything in the cart after she paid. "it's a good thing we got going on. so i don't want to ruin it by reading too much into that comment."

"was that a somewhat tiny confession?" bella eyed her friend suspiciously.

"i do believe it was." natalie smiled and after she paid for her things, she followed the girls back out to the car. y/n rolled her eyes as she got in the driver's seat.

once she dropped the two girls off at their own homes, she was alone with her thoughts. things between her and quinn were really good and she knew she couldn't ask for a better friend.

as she parked in her spot and climbed out of her car, she felt excited to be going home. she couldn't stop replaying bellas' comment from earlier.

he definitely loves going home, knowing that you'll be there waiting for him.

she knew it was true because she had witnessed it firsthand how happy he got when he saw her on the couch after coming home from a particularly upsetting game.

as she approached their door, she could hear abby giggling on the other side. and just knowing that quinn was responsible for it, made her heart soar.

she opened the door and watched as quinn ran around with abby on his back. they were both laughing and when abby spotted y/n, her smile grew.

"momma, you're back!"

quinn turned around and just like abby, his smile grew wider when he locked eyes with y/n. he gently set abby down and let her run to her mother.

"hey. how was the shopping trip?"

"it was great. got a present for almost everyone on my list." she set the bags in her room and returned to where quinn was. "i couldn't find you anything that felt good enough."

"that's alright. you don't have to get me anything." quinn chuckled. "i already have the one thing i wanted."

"and what's that?"

"you and abby living here with me."

"bella said something similar earlier. but i didn't believe her." y/n smiled and looked at quinn. "i'm still going to get you something. and it's going to be perfect."

"i suppose we'll see." quinn raised an eyebrow and headed for the door. "you guys are coming to the game, right?"

"yeah. we just have to get ready then we'll drive over to the arena."

"great. see you there." quinn picked up his bag and walked out.

y/n went over to abby and smiled. "alright. let's get you ready for the game."

3 hours later, y/n was watching the boys closely. they seemed to be doing better this game than they had all season. and in their 3rd period, it seemed as though florida wasn't holding anything back. they were checking vancouver players into the boards every other minute.

and at one point, one of the florida players checked quinn into the boards roughly, causing his face to hit the glass. quinn slid down to the ice as the whistle was blown.

"florida number 19. 2 minutes for cross-checking." the ref spoke through his mic and made all the necessary gestures as the linesmen escorted matthew tkachuk to the penalty box.

quinn got up and skated slowly over to the bench. he sat down and y/n kept a close eye on him as he got checked over by the team medic.

after a few minutes, he was given the all-clear to head back onto the ice to finish the game. and he came back with a vengeance, scoring 2 times in less than 30 seconds.

the canucks ended up winning in a 7-0 shutout and everyone cheered. y/n walked with bella and natalie down to the players' hallway to wait. abby held onto her hand tightly and the second she saw brock exit the locker room, she released y/n's hand and ran towards him.

"brock, that was amazing!" she hugged his leg tightly.

bella rolled her eyes playfully and walked up to brock. "she's right. you played a great game, babe."

y/n watched as j.t. came out and went to natalie, pulling her into a hug and kissing her head. she so badly wanted a loving relationship like that, but she didn't have much luck in that department.

quinn was the last one out of the locker room. abby ran to him immediately.

"you were awesome out there, quinn." she smiled as he picked her up.

"thank you, abby. i'm glad you had fun."

"how's your head feeling?" y/n looked at him as he stood next to her.

"a little better now than when i got hit." he offered her a kind smile. "i'm glad you came tonight."

"me too." they stared at each other for longer than two friends should before abby broke their moment.

"i'm hungry. can we get food?"

"the only place open this late is mcdonald's." quinn looked at the girl he was holding.

"and i'm okay with that." abby smiled and glanced between them.

"alright then." quinn chuckled. "did you drive here?"

"no. took a cab. figured everyone would want to go out after the game and i figured it would be the smartest option to carpool."

"well, it's a good thing you had faith in the the team then."

"i always have faith in you, quinn." y/n grinned.

as quinn admired her, something inside him shifted and he was suddenly free falling. his feelings were going wild and he had to fight to keep the words inside.

thankfully, they were still in the company of brock and bella.

"mind if we join you guys at mcdonald's?"

"absolutely. the more the merrier." quinn handed abby to y/n and they walked to the garage. he helped get abby in the seat before he held the door for y/n. she climbed in silently and as quinn drove, he could feel her eyes drift in his direction every few seconds. "i need to talk to you when we get home later."

"okay." y/n smiled at him before turning her gaze out the window until they reached mcdonald's. before y/n could get out herself, quinn was already out and opening her door. he walked over to abby's door and got her out, carrying her into the restaurant.

y/n was about to order when quinn spoke up and ordered for her. he knew exactly what she wanted and she loved it.

bella was already sitting by the time the order was placed and brock was waiting for the food. y/n decided to take abby from quinn and join bella at the table. as she sat down, bella couldn't stop the question.

"how obvious can you guys be?"

"i beg your pardon?"

"you and quinn." bella pointed like it was most obvious thing in the world. "you guys are not very good at hiding your feelings."

"what feelings?"

"do you really need me to spell it out? you're not an idiot, y/n. i know you can feel the way quinn looks at you."

"i feel the way everyone looks at me. so what?"

"that man is obsessed with you. like, he's really in love or something."

"and how do you know that?"

"because he looks at you the way brock looks at me. and unless my boyfriend doesn't love me, it's clear that quinn loves you. or at the very least, has feelings for you."

"i love you, bella. but you are insane." y/n glanced over at the boys to find them already looking at the table.

"it's true, mom." abby giggled. "and i think maybe you like him too."

"you know what? just for that comment, i'm going to eat all your fries."

"go ahead. i only wanted the nuggets anyway." abby smiled and stuck her tongue out at her mom.

on the other side of the restaurant, quinn kept glancing at y/n. brock slapped his arm.

"why don't you just tell her already?"

"what? no idea what you're talking about."

"oh come on. you're not stupid, quinn. and you're far from subtle. you keep looking at y/n every 3 seconds."

"i do not." but just as he finished his sentence, he found himself glancing back at her. "okay. fine. i like her. like, really really like her."

"was that so hard?"

"yes, actually. the last time i liked someone this much, it blew up in my face. remember olivia?"

"of course i do. but the past isn't doomed to keep repeating. you owe it to yourself to at least tell her."

"she lives with me. what if i tell her i like her and she doesn't feel the same? then it'll be awkward and i can't have that happen to her."

"do you want me to ask bella to do some recon or something? because you're only going to be hurting yourself by keeping this a secret."

"whatever, man. do what you gotta do." quinn grabbed his tray and walked over to the table.

an hour later, brock and bella were saying goodbye and driving away. quinn helped buckle a sleeping abby into her seat before he opened the door for y/n. the drive home was quiet. neither of them wanted to speak. their separate conversations with their friends were repeating.

by the time they made it home and y/n put abby to bed, they were both exhausted.

"hey, i know you wanted to talk when we got home. but i'm tired. is there any chance we could wait until tomorrow? i have the day off again."

"yeah. sure." quinn smiled and watched y/n retreat into her room.

the conversation would have to wait.

----------

tags: @alwaysclassyeagle @justagingerliving @marroonwitch @hwalllllllelujah @lovelyhishier

[violets-emotionalbreakdown]

Something important for us all to remember is that we've had 3 years to make these characters our own, to internalize them. Fanon is not canon. My Vi is not your Vi is not my mutual's Vi. My Caitlyn is not your Caitlyn. My Jinx is not your Jinx.

We've had 3 years for them to grow and change, to identify with them and project on them, to mold them into what we need them to be.

We've had 3 years with an amazing starting point where we could veer off in so many different directions, not constrained by knowing what comes next.

We're about to know what comes next. All those possibilities, those dreams for what we wanted, are going to be unequivocally canon divergent (except for every fic writer who called Vi being a street/pit fighter, they get to be smug as hell).

There is only one canon.

I've fallen prey to this before, where after a long gap and making a character mine, she didn't react in the new canon to things like my version of her would have. That's ok. It doesn't make it bad storytelling on the actual writer's part. That doesn't make it out of character.

You get me? It doesn't make it bad or ooc if the characters in the new season aren't the way you predicted or want them to be. You will have time afterward to incorporate the new information, possibly re-evaluate your view of them, and make them your own again. (For good this time, bc it's the last season.)

So just watch and let things play out and let them settle before you get upset, ok?

[boxeom]

Adding more incoherent thoughts directly from my notes because I've been thinking about Caleb's name for WEEKS and wondering why it sounded so damn familiar in the context of the Bible and I finally fucking figured it out.

- Chinese name means "sunshine in summer"/daylight + summer

- Mahiru means broad daylight

- Caleb means wholehearted, brave. In the Bible he was one of the three sons of Hezron of the tribe of Judah. He is also called Chelubai in the Hebrew Bible. Chelubai in a literal sense means trapper/basket weaver but in the Hebrew Bible it translates to "my basket"/"my cage" (I literally fucking gasped)

- My memory is a bit hazy on the details so I looked into rereading some synopses to jog my memory; Caleb was one of the many freed Israelites from Egypt that followed Moses. One of his biggest traits aside from how strong and skilled in battle he was is that he had undying faith in God. He was one of the twelve men from the Twelve tribes chosen by Moses to scout Canaan after he received a prophecy from God that it would be a place of safety for all of them (Caleb was from the tribe of Judah). When they proceeded to scout Canaan for forty days, they found that it was occupied by descendants of Anak (the giants in the Bible).

When they came back to Moses and told everyone what they saw, everyone was like "oh shit we're all gonna die, there's no way we can beat them". They were so scared that ten of the twelve spies warned Moses that they shouldn't proceed to Canaan. And Caleb (and Joshua, the other spy), the badass he was, calmed everyone down and was like "we should go, we can definitely do it" because he believed the promise that God gave to the Israelites so much that he had no doubt they would be successful. Everyone IMMEDIATELY turned on Caleb and Joshua and were going to stone them to death (y'know, murder) and God was ready to smite every single slave that doubted them until Moses intervened like "okay okay wait wait let's not start killing people yet, My Lord" (in biblical terms, this is known as interceding, the act of someone (usually a prophet) taking on the burdens and sins of someone else before God in exchange for their forgiveness).

God chilled out slightly (mercy given by God after sinning against Him directly in terms of biblical context usually translates to being allowed to live and nothing else- God will let you rot otherwise), so He told the Israelites that they will wander the world until the entire generation of the doubters were dead except for Caleb and Joshua and declared that all land the two saw during their recon would he theirs. Thus, the 40 years of wandering commenced (plus the five or six extra years of the War of Canaan). By the time Canaan was won, Caleb was 85 but this mf was still an absolute until and had been one of the strongest fighters in the war.

Caleb is seen as a beacon of having faith and patience for God's plan in the Bible. Pretty badass guy all around, fitting for the indomitable aspect of Caleb's character. In the context of lads, I don't think there's any literal parallels going on, just neat references. And there is an interaction you can have with him where Caleb posts about having done one of those "old age" filters with mc and if you reply with something like "you looked handsome" he'll say "I hope you'll say that again in a couple of decades :3", which could either just be a cute thing or a little nod to Caleb (Bible) being good looking even as an 85 year old. I guess you could probably make the point that in the eyes of lads, mc could be Caleb's version of God, but I won't speculate until we get his fallen angel myth (I say, sweating profusely and praying to Infold that that's the direction they're taking him).

Insane Character Analysis/Rant About Caleb/Mahiru/Xia Yizhou

Okay so MAJOR SPOILERS for Caleb's storyline/Myth/Cards, cw. incest/pseudocest, cw. religious themes.

As much as I love Caleb's eng va, I do have to say that the moments where he's being y'know- insane- don't hit as well as they do in the JP/CN versions. Since the english localization is bending over backwards to remove the pseudocest that is straight up a key part to mc/Caleb's entire relationship, there are a lot of moments that don't really make much sense in terms of tension when you go with the whole "childhood friend" context. I've listened to both the JP and ENG versions of cards I've found the most significant for mc and Caleb and the differences are insane to say the least.

The amount of times "nii-chan/san/gege/big brother" is removed from the english captions is honestly hilarious to me. As long as you don't understand some basic Japanese or Chinese, it might go right over your head. But even as someone who isn't fluent in Japanese, I have a good enough grasp on the language to know that there is a VERY different story being told- so much so that it's gotten to a point where I consider Caleb, Xia Yizhou, and Mahiru three entirely different characters from each other because of how vastly different their writing is by each localization.

Caleb and mc's obvious symbolism is the biblical story of Adam and Eve and the Forbidden Fruit- a story of man's first sin being temptation and receiving enlightenment at the cost of falling from God's Grace. The apple is well known in literature to represent the Forbidden Fruit. It's a theme that commonly alludes to sexual liberation, forbidden knowledge, lustful temptation (not just in a sexual sense), and a physical representation of sin. I have some thoughts that the chip also plays a part in being a more literal version of the Forbidden Fruit, since it lowers previous hesitations and exacerbates more obsessive, possessive, and impulsive qualities of mc AND Caleb as well as their sexual wants for each other.

Now, to me, having the imagery of the Forbidden Fruit in the trope of childhood friends makes little to no sense. There is no taboo to shy away from, no reason for mc and Caleb to feel as clearly conflicted as they do when they start toeing at certain lines- if anything, I feel as though it would be something to be encouraged. But when you take the time to look at and listen to the JP/CN versions, well...it becomes MUCH more obvious why the apple is there in the first place.

Acknowledging the fact that mc and Caleb do and have always seen one another as siblings and developed a codependent bond founded in trauma ties every missing thing that the english localization just can't piece back together while trying to do a "boy next door" theme for Caleb (I mean they literally grew up in the same house, had bedrooms across the hall from each other, saw the other grow up in the closest way anyone possibly could- there's nothing "boy next door" about that).

Below are just a few examples that I've collected that I think both show how the childhood friend angle just doesn't work with Caleb and how much his and mc's relationship is reliant on something forbidden, something that they both know is wrong between them but keep managing to indulge in no matter how hard they try not to;

Now there are DOZENS of more moments like this littered throughout Caleb's entire story and what we have between him and MC so far. And in particular the second row does NOT have mc say "childhood friend" in the JP version (can you guess what she refers to him as instead?). These "dangerous thoughts", the "cushion that stays between", the fear of rejection that Caleb possesses is so much more than just something between two people who grew up together in the context of childhood friends.

The first and last screenshots in particular are some of my favorites (taken from Intertwined Gold and Exclusive Aftertaste). For Exclusive Aftertaste, it's not only a cute moment of mc silently confirming Caleb's suspicions that she was waiting for him but, on a deeper level, acknowledging that she will always love him no matter what happens between them. And at an even DEEPER level, it's mc knowingly partaking in Caleb's favorite forbidden fruit- his favorite sin. They BOTH took a bite from it. And though we never get to SEE what happens, we HEAR the bite they take in unison. It's safe to assume what happens. And then they proceed to never talk about it again.

Meanwhile, in Intertwined Gold, mc is literally expressing that she wishes they'd met differently so that they could be together without having to lie to themselves about what's happening. Like COME ONNNN. Why would a childhood friend EVER need to say this?

In my opinion, getting rid of this intended layer of Caleb and mc's relationship doesn't do his character justice at all. Caleb/Mahiru/Xia Yizhou is an incredibly well written and complex character- he's deeply flawed, traumatized, and in desperate need of connection in any form he can get from the one person in the world he's ever loved with all his soul. It mellows out the moments of desperation, manipulation, and intensity he has during his darker moments that just don't convey the tragedy and bittersweetness of mc/Caleb.

There are a billion more things to say here but it is seven in the morning rn and I've been up writing this in one sitting since six. I will definitely add more when I'm not running on fumes and the crack that is Caleb's character. 🙏🏽

[abluescarfonwaston]

It's one of those days we're you just gotta

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

[incomplete-ruler]

Ok I just woke up a bit ago, but today is the day that I finally get around to the survive drama (and also finish the i7 game) before the beast of a hyperfixation takes hold of me again...wish me luck.

[polkadotpatterson]

okeydoke as I have not had much energy for working on stuff lately (but lots of motivation) I'm not gonna do proper NaNo with a wordcount or anything, BUT I am gonna make it a goal to get some amount of work done on a writing project every day (at least until I go away on the 24th). Main priority blaseball projects are, in no particular order:

Fic about the ending

Abner fic

Simon's Quest

secret fic(s) :)

get the Talkers exchange set up

Aside from that, I've been poking at more non-blaseball stuff, which is a good excuse for me to plug my writing blog @cyndakip! All my fics get posted there, so if you're interested in my writing beyond just blaseball (especially if you like pokemon), I recommend following me there, since I don't post non-blaseball fics here.

[autisticblueteam]

I think... I've actually finished part 1 of the gL re-write?

Rounded out at about 99.2k, I was expecting it to cross the 100k line but as it shook out a scene that was going to go in chapter 14 is actually getting bumped along so that trimmed it down a bit.

Which means 14 more chapters to go for part 2. I'm torn between starting to upload it before finishing the whole thing and waiting until I'm completely done. Because these first 14 chapters have already taken me like two years, but also publishing after it's all done is better for continuity edits and... wavey hands.

I'll probably see how the next few chapters go and decide after based on that. But! Progress!

[famewolf]

got back from the lake last night

it was a ton of fun and we spent most of it zooted out of our minds. but it also really hit me how much has changed in the last 8+ years. seeing a bunch of people that I hadnt seen since my teens or early 20s. it strangely put a lot of things into perspective for me, especially considering I feel like I lost time due to the pandemic.

all in all, a lot of relaxing and chatting and eating good food!

[sheliesshattered]

The sequin fabric for my I-am-determined-to-make-this-happen cosplay arrived the other day, and since I am still up to my eyeballs in handsewing for my Rhaenyra dress, all I did was open the plastic bag the fabric shipped in so I could check the red color against a few other pieces of the costume. Didn’t even take it out of the bag, just unfolded it a tiny bit so I could see the front of the fabric.

And yet somehow there are already sequins all over my house.

[arolesbianism]

Remembers Tali exists and starts wailing and crying

[musashi]

i want more nuance to be entered into the discussion of the green girl sorority and how differently cynthia plays elphaba in comparison to those who came before her because while a lot of people are rightfully like "why was elphaba not black from the beginning" and celebrating that she is now being played by a black woman, i think we need to be careful in just writing off all the elphabas of the past as Random White Girls when the role was championed (and often followed/succeeded) by a jewish woman

the pop culture archetype of the Wicked Witch has deep roots in antisemitism stretching faaaar far back. there is a level of reclamation happening in casting idina menzel, a jewish woman, to play the Misunderstood and Maligned young girl who is branded as exactly that. and stage!Elphaba is also written and acted with jewish stereotypes in mind--she is loud, aggressive, no-nonsense, blunt. she is quick to advocate for herself and shut down the discrimination she faces. all of this is very intentional! her personality is abrasive from years of abuse, and that makes propagandizing her easy. this is literally the thesis statement of the musical--it's not about aptitude, it's the way you're viewed.

cynthia's performance of elphaba is fucking INSPIRED despite going in a completely different direction. she's much more reserved, analytical, one of her key character traits is how well she can read people (see her calling out Galinda as insecure/putting on airs in their first scene together, clocking that Fiyero is using his party guy persona as a shield for his own depression) elphaba's attempts to blend in and make herself smaller all fail simply because of her existence, if not that then because she feels empathy so strongly she often struggles to hold back from acting, protecting.

personality wise, though, cynthia's elphaba is very quiet and closed-off, not at all the bullet-to-the-face that she is in the stage show, and... she still gets propagandized and maligned. though this seems to contradict the other interpretation, it tells of the other end of the spectrum of propaganda, one that black women watching (and many, MANY other marginalized folks) are sure to identify with--it does not matter how "nice," how reserved, how small a black woman makes herself. a racist society will still scrutinize her every action for a way to parse ill intent from it, brand her as an angry black woman who is dangerous and wicked, and write off any humanity she has in the process.

these two very different interpretations tell of the lie of assimilation. the fact of the matter is, when you are marginalized, there is no way to sand down your edges enough to make the people oppressing you "accept" you. that is why wicked is a tragedy at its core. whether loud and aggressive or quiet and unimposing, there is nothing elphaba could have done to make the people of Oz see her as anything other than a scapegoat to blame all their problems on.

so while i definitely appreciate that people are excited for black girl era elphaba, i would encourage us all to still show appreciation for what came before--that was not white girl era elphaba. that was jewish girl era elphaba. two houses, both alike in dignity, two stories both worth being told.

[lokissweater]

hey i really really love your fics and the way you write youre so talented! ive been searching for a virgin!yuji x virgin!reader for so long and my life would literally be urs if you wrote this. if not no worries, i totally get it.

sending love! - anon

OH THIS IDEA IS HOOOOTTTTT AND U BEST BELIEVE IM ALL OVER IT!! thank you for your sweet words and for sending in a request!! i hope you like it!! :] <333

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oh my god, pretty!

{yuji itadori x f!reader}

summary: your relationship with yuji was semi new and cute, you both absolutely adoring the fuck out of one another since the moment you met. one thing you have in common though? you’re both loser virgins with absolutely no experience whatsoever, and on one night where you’re both innocently cuddling on the couch watching a movie— yuji goes NUTS.

warnings: MDNI. college!au, afab!reader, SMUT, p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it ya’ll), accidental creampie LOL, yuji is a little perv, smut with barely any plot she goes straight to the good stuff, cursing, pet names, fluff, FILTHYYYY this is filthy, all characters are aged up.

word count: 3.9k

authors note: PHEEWWWW THIS ONE HAD ME MEOWING LIKE A KITTY CAT AND I HOPE YALL MEOW WITH ME!!! thank you for your support always, that is an absolute given, i love you and i love you forever. MWAAAHHHH <3333

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“are you okay baby?”

no you were not.

because yuji was in a black tight compression tee and pj’s while you both were watching a movie together and cuddling on your living room couch, the sleeves of his shirt accentuating his biceps and the rest of it squeezing over his pecs and torso, the brightness of your tv illuminating all of his sharp handsome features that had you gnawing at your nails in a nervous fit— him looking at you with pinched eyebrows.

yuji and you had just started dating a couple of months ago— his lively overly friendly personality winning you over without really much effort at all, and your genuine sweet one catching his heart the minute he saw you come into one of his lectures last year, looking soul killingly beautiful and radiant, the both of you befriending each other quickly as your interests aligned.

and you started hanging out on and off campus a lot more frequently after that— gradually falling more and more in love until yuji finally gathered up his jumpy nerves and asked you to be his girlfriend.

there was a problem though.

neither of you had had sex before, or had done anything in between the lines with other people before you got together.

it was the first thing that yuji worried about when he first started dating you— embarrassed and afraid that you would think he was a big fat loser with no game and that he would potentially run the risk of losing you, you maybe preferring a man of experience to match your own needs.

but when he admitted that to you, and when you shook your worried little head and told him you were in the same exact boat as him, he was fucking elated— his apprehensions crumbling down like a landslide and replaced instead with the giddiness of getting to do stuff with you for the first time ever, and him being the man (the only man ever he hoped) to get to do it to you.

but then there was another problem.

neither of you seemed to want to start anything, the both of you hesitant and scared because of your lack of experience— petrified of humiliating yourselves if one of you tried and pathetically failed at it or did something incorrectly.

“mhm! fine.” you smiled sweetly, your calm voice a completely different contrast to what was currently happening inside your reeling fuzzy brain.

you had both definitely talked about it, the subject of intimacy. but it was always something that the two of you reassured each other would happen eventually when you were both ready, that there was no rush— choosing to brush the subject off like it was nothing.

except it wasn’t nothing. it was never nothing. and you were both way past fucking ready, especially yuji, him practically ripping apart at the seams with horn dog need anytime he saw you wear those little skirts that you like so much, or whenever you’d straddle his lap during one of your daily makeout sessions— his hands literally trembling over your ass in attempts at being respectful of pretty ol’ you, settling for placing them on your upper back instead.

and you would internally pout, disappointed, because you always without fail noticed all of this yet you were too shy to mention anything or do something about it on your own.

“you sure?” he asked softly. “you look like you’re thinking about something.”

he raised a hand and gently poked your cheek repeatedly with his index finger, a silly smile on his face. “tell me baby tell me baby tell me baby—”

you giggled, “i’m okay! just zoned out.” you pushed his finger away, leaning up and pressing a quick shy kiss to his cheek that made him instantly flush pink in return, a wobbly smile spreading across his face.

in the midst of you retreating back to your previous position, yuji caught your chin with his fingers and turned you to look at him, your cheeks blushing as he stared at you with lovesick dreamy eyes.

“can we— um.” his gaze flickered to your lips. “can we make out.”

your eyes widened slightly and your hands grew clammy fast, cheeks buzzing as you stared back at him.

since making out was the only thing you both properly conquered, it happened almost every single time you saw each other, the act practically filling in and making up for the more lewd exchanges you both were missing out on, your kisses always sloppy and messy but heated— though each time it came around to it you were often just as nervous as the first time.

“s—sure!” you stammered. “you don’t have to ask me yuji… you can just— y’know… do it..”

he bit his tongue, your timidness for some fucking reason sending a shock of arousal through his veins and straight down to his dick as he tried his best to swallow it and not make it obvious for you.

“okay!”

he brought your face closer then and kissed you, a solid one at first, until you slowly parted your lips and ushered him in, deeper, your body moving closer to his on its own as he immediately responded with placing a hand on your leg to throw it over his lap, your mouths wet and slippery as he properly settled you to sit on him.

you wrapped your arms around his neck, the movie drowned out completely in the background as a sequence of lip smackings echoed throughout the room, yuji’s hands on your upper back like always as you continued to make out… until you felt a little stinging cramp in your knee— moving your hips a little bit to readjust, utterly unaware of how you accidentally applied pressure over yuji’s crotch as he sucked in a breath through his nose and pulled away.

“fuck don’t do that baby don’t do that.”

you froze, hands quickly retracting back to your chest. “what? what do what?”

“oh—” he froze, eyes wide and cheeks pink as his mouth opened and closed like a fishy out of water.

he couldn’t possibly tell you why, not wanting to scare you away by admitting that you grinding down on his crotch like that made his dick jerk and mind haze in the most filthy and perverted way imaginable, feeling like he wanted to dig himself a big fat grave of horny shame to throw himself into as he watched your pretty eyes look at him the way that they were, wanting that same look but underneath him instead—

your bent knee cramped up once more and you hissed, moving your hips again except this time harder, yuji’s eyes flying open as the grip around your upper torso tightened, a strangled whiny hum escaping his throat.

your eyes snapped to his at the sound, now feeling something hard poking your clothed pussy as your brain finally put fucking two and two together, your hand slapping over your mouth in embarrassment at what you did and over your stupid delayed realization.

“oh! yuji i’m so sorry i— i didn’t realize—”

he shook his head rapidly, his cheeks and ears red as he shakily smoothed his hands over your hips comfortingly.

“no baby! don’t be sorry it’s okay!” he quickly kissed your forehead. “i—it’s me… it’s not you at all…”

but there was something else behind his eyes, something you couldn’t quite pinpoint as he just stared at the place where your body met his crotch, hands slowly gripping your hips tighter in a certain way and… and actually moving you now in a certain way that made you promptly realize he was grinding you against him, pleasure quickly twitching at your clit in response as flat hands flew to his chest to stabilize yourself.

“what— what are you doing?” you stammered, your chest heaving a little.

“s—sorry!…” he mumbled, eyes still trained to the same area. “it just— felt kind of good… so..”

yuji peered up at you, a cautious look on his face as he eyed you curiously with his pinky cheeks bright— hesitantly indulging in his overwhelming sick need for you, as simply making out was just not cutting it anymore ever since he got a taste of how something like this could feel a couple of seconds ago.

and your thoughts were identical to his.

timidly, you slid your hands up slowly to rest back on his manly shoulders, the rough material of his compression tee under your fingers making you literally squeeze your hole around nothing, eyes nervously darting around his face.

“o—okay…”

his hand came up to brush some of your soft hair over your shoulder, his thumb moving in to caress gently over your hot cheek.

“can i… can i do it again?”

you shakily nodded, and he gripped your hips again before moving you just like he did before, your crotch coming down to meet his slowly and cautiously as your mouth partially hung open at how good it actually felt, yuji staring at your expression with blown out pupils and nearly drooling over it.

but he wanted more, his hands moving you then to grind on him a little faster, his hips coming up to meet yours at the same time as you shyly met him halfway— quick and stuttery until all of a sudden you were full blown humping into each other like rabid dogs, your tiny whiny moans setting him the fuck off as he captured your lips again to make out with you, fearing if he let you quietly moan like that for his ears to selfishly drink up that he was going to end up busting in his pants.

“y—yuji…” you whimpered in between kisses.

“yeah baby?” his husky voice sent another electrical shock of ecstasy through your body, your fingers gripping his shirt in tiny fists as you didn’t even know what exactly you were pleading him for.

but he knew.

he wrapped his arms entirely around you and moved so that you were laying flat on your back now, yuji in between your legs as he kissed you sloppily while grinding himself back on you again, him literally mimicking how it would be to fuck you as you squeezed his biceps for support, your thin pajama shorts feeling his hard cock bulging from his pj pants and rutting against your cunt desperately with every hump.

yuji, literally trapped in a dimension of arousal and nasty fucking thoughts of you with every moan that slipped past your puffy soft lips, had him reaching and tugging down on the waist band of your shorts like an animal, your baby blue panties with a little ribbon bow in the middle making him nearly choke on his spit.

your hand quickly came to clasp around his wrist, stopping him.

“y—yuji my parents! i don’t know if we should—”

“oh fuck—” he whispered, looking up to the top of your staircase and down where your parents were sound asleep, gnawing so much on his bottom lip in cock blocked agony that he accidentally drew blood.

and you didn’t know why, but the urge was unforgiving as you reached up and cupped his hot sweaty cheeks, pulling his face down as you stuck your tongue out and licked over his bleeding lip.

yuji stared, eyes wide, before he let out a low guttural grown and shoved his face into the crook of your neck.

“fuck fuck fuck fuck—”

you were fucking killing him.

he rolled his leaky cock slowly into you again, his shoulders trembling at the cold feeling of his wet boxers that were literally covered in pre cum the moment your pretty plush thighs sat over his lap, you speaking up.

“m—maybe—”

he pulled back fast.

“yeah?”

“maybe if you just— look. that… that should be fine, right?”

“yeah yeah!” yuji’s invisible tail was practically wagging over your words. “look uh huh! just look baby.”

you bit your lip, slowly reaching down and tugging as both of yuji’s hands went flying down to help you, pulling them over your thighs and down to your ankles before setting them behind him on the couch with a soft thud.

you kept your thighs closed, shy and timid as you realized yuji hadn’t seen you like this yet… your cheeks flaring in embarrassment as he pulled your knees apart and gawked at the vision before him, yuji looking at you like you had built the entirety of rome by yourself with your bare hands.

you hadn’t noticed yet, but your panties were drenched— a patch of wet spread over your lips that literally outlined the anatomy of your pussy to a t, leaving little to the imagination as his eyes stayed locked on your clit in a complete trance.

“oh my god, pretty!…” he murmured, his index finger coming down to softly touch and rub your puffed up clit over your panties, you squeaking in response and slamming your thighs closed again.

“sorry! sorry!” he sputtered, frantic as he came down to peck little kisses on your cheek apologetically, your eyes shut, bashful. “did that hurt? i didn’t mean to i’m sorry—”

“n—no!” you shook your head and slowly peeked your eyes open. “it didn’t… just felt s—sensitive.”

his shoulders relaxed in relief, nodding, his eyes widening in delight when you spread your legs back open for him again, your panties literally stuck slick to your pussy at this point.

yuji’s fingers pressed against your folds, him wanting to just feel the way your little wet lips mushed up against his digits, his curious hand directing him slowly up over your clit and back down by your virgin hole as he breathed hard through his nose, trying to get himself to calm the fuck down over your cunt and not freak you out.

but what he was doing felt good, him having no idea as you pulled your bottom lip in between your teeth with your eyebrows screwed together in euphoria, his ears perking up at the sounds of your sweet little moans and whines the more pressure he applied to it.

and then he got an idea.

as you were distracted getting riled up by his fingers, yuji shoved his other hand under his wet pajama pants and boxers, pulling out his throbbing cock and pumping it a little as his angry tip leaked with every jerk— a drop oozing down and landing right on your nub before rolling over your panties as he breathed out a string of hushed curses.

yuji replaced the hand on your pussy with his cock, his length and tip pushing up in between your sopping cunt and back down, completely soiling your panties with a mix of your arousal and his pre cum as he rolled his hips into you again, you not noticing at all until both of his rough hands came to grip and squeeze over your inner thighs, your eyes fluttering open as you wondered why it felt way better than before, them bulging once you saw his thick long dick slipping and sliding hurriedly against your pussy.

“b—baby!” you moaned breathlessly, but yuji literally could not hear you as his dazed droopy eyes stayed focused on your swollen puss while he continued to rut.

“uh huh..?..” he panted. “what’s wrong sweetheart…”

your words lodged themselves in the back of your throat as a particular rough thrust made you choke and clamp your mouth shut, squeezing your eyes shut in response with your sensitive nub pulsing as you felt yuji’s leaky sticky cum all over you.

“does it— does it feel good?” his eyes finally trailed up to look at you, his already fucked out expression and flushed face forming a yummy pit in your stomach that you recognized as your release whenever you fingered yourself, except that feeling no where near as good as what you felt right fucking now.

“mhm..” you moaned and licked your lips.

yuji’s fingers slid up from your inner thighs and to the straps of your panties, fiddling and playing with them as he rolled his hips like a little perv, his tip at times falling and literally sinking into your gaping virgin hole a bit— your panties a thin stretchy wall that frustratingly stopped his cock from going, slipping back upward instead.

“baby…” he moaned lowly, whispering. “maybe we should just have sex right now…”

you gasped. “right now?! i don’t know yuji my— my parents— and we’ve never—”

he leaned down and sloppily kissed you, speaking in between each smack.

“they’re asleep it’s—” mmphf— “it’s okay—”

yuji already had his middle finger hooked under your wet panties as he started pulling down, you squeaking at the cold breeze hitting your bare clit.

“i want to but— hic!”

he rubbed his tip over your entrance a bit, pooling your juice up.

“what if— what if we get too loud? and they come downstairs—”

he shook his head. “i’ll keep on a lookout pretty don’t worry about it...” he murmured. “you just relax while i pump my cock in, yeah?”

you whimpered, nodding quickly and pathetically as you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down flush against your chest, suctioning tiny sucks on his jaw to keep you from moaning the loudest you’ve moaned all night as he started pushing in, yuji’s mind in a literal fucking state of delirium as his dick was finally gonna be buried in your cute pussy after wanting it for so long.

you hiccuped against his jaw, your arms gripping him tighter as he stretched you out so good, feeling a little pinch in your walls that made you spread your legs wider in attempts at alleviating it.

“ohhhh fuckkkk baby—” he moaned loud and you quickly clamped a hand over his mouth.

“shhh honey shhh—”

“m’sorry m’sorry m’sorry—”

his voice was muffled against your hand as he pumped deeper, your squeal catching itself in your throat and his body fucking shivering at the way your tight slobbering walls sucked him in without him having to even push, your hole clenching around him and pumping more strings of stray pre cum out inside you.

“my god do that again please do that again—” he panted, reeling his hips back slowly and pushing in at a steady rhythm.

“d—do what?” you panted, your eyes closing in pleasure.

“squeeze— shit!— squeeze me please please—” he begged, pressing wet open mouthed kisses on your cheeks as he licked up your little overstimulated tears.

“like— like this?”

you clenched your hole again and his body jerked, his choked moans huffing in your ear as he rolled and snapped his hips faster.

“mm! yuji my god—” you squealed and he placed a hand over your mouth, the both of you now covering over each others as he proceeded to drill his hips in, the couch squeaking with every messy hit.

your hand tightened over his lips the louder he moaned, your eyes silently pleading with him to be a little quieter, but him too lost in the milking of his cock and the way your fucked out face looked as he couldn’t connect the dots with what you were asking of him, suddenly your blurry brain coming into reasonable consciousness for a second as you became aware of the fact that you weren’t even using protection.

“b—baby—” you muffled against his hand. “we’re not using a— mmm! c—condom we need—”

smack smack smack—

“shit i don’t— i don’t have one sweetheart.” he stifled, and yuji only went faster then, harder and jerky as his awkward virgin hips jolted you up and down on him, your eyes rolling back. “s’okay i’ll just pull out m’kay? i’ll pull out—”

his snappy pace brought your brain back into your previous dumb erotic state, nodding dazedly as he scooched his hand down and shoved his middle and ring finger inside your wet mouth, your tongue slobbering over his digits before your lips lewdly closed around them and sucked.

yuji was not keeping a lookout for your parents.

“oh fuck baby you look so fucking pretty doing that…” he choked. “you look so so pretty under me and taking my dick—”

“mhm..” you moaned around his fingers, drool seeping out of your mouth and down your chin as you felt like you were on the brink of cumming and squelching all over him.

“i’m gonna pull out soon okay? i feel—” pant— “i feel like i’m cumming—”

you pulled back from his fingers with a pop and licked your lips, nodding vigorously as you squeezed your eyes painfully shut, your release washing over you like a prickly wave with your mouth hung wide open and your vision blowing bright white.

but in the midst of you creaming, you accidentally clamped your thighs shut around yuji as he tried to slip his dick out.

“fuck! i can’t—” pant— “baby open your legs please im gonna— fuck fuck fuck!—”

yuji’s cum pummeled inside you and filled you the absolute brim as he gasped and whined in your ear, his balls draining so much of it into you that it took no time at all for it to slip past your hole and onto your couch below, the both of you heaving heavily with your clothes stuck against your sweaty sticky bodies.

“are you—” he swallowed. “are you okay baby? i’m sorry i came inside—”

“it’s okay it wasn’t you—” you tried to regulate your breathing. “it— it was my fault… i trapped you in…”

you sheepishly looked at him and gnawed at the inside of your cheek in shame, your face only making him lazily grin and press a hard loving kiss to your cheek.

“it’s okay. we can figure it out later!”

he peeled away from you and sat up, his softening cock still buried inside as he slowly pulled out and watched the rest of his cum spurt out, taking one of his shaky fingers and collecting some before pushing it back in your hole.

“don’t put it back in yujiiii!” you whined.

“sorry! sorry sorry—” he grabbed your wrist gently and kissed the back of your hand, his pinky cheeks vibrant as he looked at you with a wobbly shy smile. “i— i couldn’t help myself…”

you giggled. “s’okay honey.”

he laid his body back over yours, being mindful not to squish you as he leaned some of his weight on his arms, cutely pecking your puffy lips over and over until he was satisfied with the amount, nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck after.

“m’glad my first time was with you yuji…” you murmured into his ear, your words causing his heart to literally bang against his chest as he felt like he was on cloud nine with you underneath him like that.

“i’m glad it was with you pretty.” he pushed, looking into your fucked out eyes with sincerity. “and i hope it stays that way. just my dick.”

you laughed loudly, your hand quickly coming up to cover your mouth as he giggled.

you pecked his nose sweetly and readjusted your hips, your cum covered pussy brushing against his cock again, the blood immediately rushing back to it faster than a speeding fucking bullet.

he traced a loving finger across your bottom lip delicately, a little grin on his face.

you quirked a brow. “what?”

“can we um—“ he quickly kissed you. “can we try doggy style right now?”

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[coweye]

The Worst Logan

Logan Howlett x Reader!Loganverse| smut | 5.8k words

Summary: You are the deceased-anchor-being-Logan's lover, having found yourself with Laura in the void, you navigate meeting the variant of the love of your life. Sweet dick kicking angst with gratuitous smut, cause we all know Logan eats pussy like a CHAMP. 😤

This is self indulgence at its finest, but it had be to done. 7-years ago, the movie Logan broke something within me that has finally been fixed! 🤠💕

Warning: Explicit - smut. canon death, depression, angst, spoilers for Logan / Wolverine and deadpool, cunnilingus, unprotected p in v, creampie, all the good stuff. 18+

The first time you see him again, the new him, the other him you mean. It’s in the cave accompanied by a man who talks far too much.

You recognise his voice in an instant when the mouth finally allows him to get a word in edgeways. His voice. 

You’ve heard it nearly every night for the past seven years. It's a few octaves deeper than you remember and filled to the brim with vitriol but it's definitely his. The realisation that your memory has been warped by time is a blow to the gut but you continue towards the sound all the same.

When finally you round the corner Logan stands before you in all his glory. For a moment you are rendered utterly unable to form a single sentence as he leans against the wall, a bottle of bourbon in his palm and adorned in yellow and blue.

Your mind can't reconcile this figure as the man you buried. He has the same sneer, the same broad shoulders, he even has the same stance - but Logan, your Logan, would rather die than wear that garish yellow suit and admit to being the hero he always was. 

His nose flares in what you believe to be recognition as he smells your presence, you allow your powers to retreat and reveal yourself. As your invisibility ebbs away Logan snarls in surprise as the talkative man in red gasps theatrically and begins jumping on the spot. 

Your fears are proven well founded when your eyes connect with his across the room, instead of the love and recognition, you find only open hostility and rage.

Your heart had bulldozed all logic, you were in the fucking void, of course it was a variant.

This Logan looks younger; his hair not so grey, his face unscarred and his eyes not so tired. 

This not-quite-Logan stares right back at you seemingly ill at ease with the stranger who is currently taking an inventory of his face. 

“Logan, that's them. It’s X-23 and Y/N, the one’s I told you about.” You graze your palm along your daughter's back in support as you come to stand beside her. 

“Her name is Laura.” It’s a knee jerk reaction; your correction. Your girl wasn’t the sum total of an experiment, she was her own person with her own thoughts and feelings, not a weapon to be utilised. 

The Wolverine’s gaze darts between the two of you, it’d be comical if you didn’t feel like you were about to regurgitate your lunch. They land on Laura, and linger there for a few moments, before they return to you, it's as if he’s trying to find you in her features. 

You barely hear the man you will later come to know fondly as Wade Wilson, question how you all ended up in the void.

“There was a knock at the door TVA sent me here, saying my world was dying … and I never even got the chance to fight for it.” Blade explains remorsefully. 

“They sent us here because they knew we’d put up a fight.” You utter distractedly, finally breaking your staring contest with Logan as he takes a swig from the bottle he’s currently white knuckling. 

“People like us don’t go quietly, TVA knows that so they took us out.” Elektra attests.

“The answer is yes, I’m in.” Wade declares.

“In what?” Blade questions bemused by the man in red. 

“A team up, you me, me you, all of us together, lets get the fuck outta’ here.”

“Don’t listen to him, he’s a fucking liar!” Logan growls, furious at the other man. 

“It was an educated wish!”

“HA!” The loathing behind it makes you pause, he was so angry. 

The heat in his voice, the resentment, it burns you. You supposed even your Logan had his fair share of rage.  

When he arrived at the mansion all those years ago, fresh faced and wild, you had adored him even then, though Logan was far too preoccupied with Jean to notice the torch you carried for him back then.

It was ironic that It had taken the utter annihilation of the X-Men to bring you together. Charles’ accident had left the two of you as sole survivors. Over the years in hiding your ability to mould force fields managed to keep the worst of the effects of Charles’ seizures at bay, but Charles Xavier was one of the most powerful telepaths to grace the earth and your powers had limits. 

Those years were some of the darkest and yet the best of your life, you found yourself growing to love the man the world called The Wolverine.

You realise you’ve entirely tuned out Wade’s rousing speech and have spent the time analysing the man wearing your love’s face currently gargling bourbon though your name pulls you out of your reverie. 

“Laura, Y/N? What’s it gonna’ be girlies?” 

“Lets fucking go.” Laura agrees heartily, you simply nod still dazed. 

“YES! LET’S FUCKING GO!” Wade shouts back fist pumping. 

“You’re all fucking dead.”

Much later in the evening when the sun has finally set you seek him out. When you come across the father and daughter duo before the campfire you hold back, your skin slowly begins reflecting light, fading from vision as you call upon your powers to hide in the treeline. 

They both needed this and it wasn’t something you were about to get in the way of. They talk for a little while, before they part ways, both a little teary. Laura nods your way despite being unable to see you as she heads back to the cave, her nose just as keen as her fathers. 

So it shouldn’t surprise you a few moments later when you hear Logan's voice call across the clearing.

“You gonna’ stand there all night, Bub?” The man sounds utterly exhausted. 

You say nothing in response, only dismissing your powers and revealing yourself as you advance. You take Laura’s seat at the fire, not quite having the courage to look at him just yet. 

“You hear all that? Should mind your own damn business.” You remembered this Logan well, the one aching for a fight, desperate to shed his vulnerability and bloody his fists. 

“I didn’t hear a thing, Logan.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, you haven’t had to gentle parent The Wolverine in a while but it’s like riding a bike. “I wanted to let the two of you talk, she needed it and I think maybe you did too.”

“What do you fuckin’ know.” He growls dismissively, swigging from his bottle of what now appears to be scotch. “You can skip the speech and go back up, I’m not looking for company.” 

“I’m not here to tell you what to do, Logan.” Finally, you look away from the fire and find his eyes fixed on you, you swallow the lump in your throat before you speak. “I just wanted to see you.”

“See me?” He questions incredulously. “Well, keep the change, bub. Good night.”

Despite your smile at his words, you can’t help the tears that begin to cloud your eyes. Your mind and your heart have been locked in a constant battle since setting eyes on him. This man by all rights is Logan. The man you have mourned relentlessly and yet in every way that matters he isn’t.

“It’s like seeing a ghost.” Is the only explanation you can give him, his response is a stoic cheers with his bottle before he takes a deep gulp. 

Finally either his curiosity or the alcohol gets the better of him as he questions. “You her Mother?” 

“Yes and no.” His stare doesn’t leave your face as he waits for you to elaborate. “Her biological mother was a woman from Mexico City that the fuckers in the lab exploited, all we know is that she disappeared after giving birth. After … you … after everything that happened in North Dakota…” You trail off.

Your voice is suddenly thick and your words get stuck in your throat as you try to make them form. It's utterly embarrassing as you feel the traitor tears begin to form. 

A bottle of Johnny Walker enters your field of vision from where you sit staring at your clasped hands in your lap. Startled, you glance up to find the Wolverine standing before you, casting an impossibly large shadow as he holds out the bottle.

You accept the offering from his gloved hand, your fingers grazing his in the transaction as you take a swig or two (or three) before passing it back. He looks thoughtful when he places his lips on the place where your own had just lingered, as he retakes his seat. With amber courage coursing your veins, you continue. 

“She was all I had - if not for her, I-.” You wipe your nose, staring back into the fire. If it was a struggle to meet his eyes before, it was impossible for you now.  “I just couldn’t see the point in being alive anymore if everything just slowly gets stripped away; the X-Men, then Charles and then Lo-” 

You don’t know it, but you’re preaching to the fucking choir with your words. It was rare to find a soul, going through the exact same torture as yourself. Logan found himself softening to you, it was as involuntary as it was unwelcome, but he couldn’t help it as you described a battle so close to the one he fought daily. 

“-she reminded me what I had to live for. Laura she is fierce and so fucking kind; she is everything I loved about him.” You cut your trauma dumping to a swift end as you remember yourself. “So no, to answer your question. I’m not her biological mother, but she’s my daughter in every way that counts.”

Silence reigns for a moment as neither one of you knows what to say to the other. 

“You loved him?” Logan’s voice is deeper than before when he speaks the sentence. You raise your eyes from the fire to find his for the first time since you began monologuing. They’re filled with something you can’t quite name.

“I did.”

Logan seems to contemplate this, mulling it over as he continues drinking. Finally, he seems to reach some sort of conclusion.  “You should get some sleep, big day for you tomorrow.”

“Can I stay here … with you for tonight?” The words slip out before you really even mean them to. Tomorrow you might be going to your death and the ghost of the love of your life is here alive and real, what do you really have to lose?

Logan does a double take, not quite expecting those to be the words that leave your lips. “I’m not him, Darlin’.”

“No, I suppose you’re not.” You sigh, “but could you please just hold me whilst I sleep, James?”

A huge part of you expects him to tell you to fuck off back to the cave and leave him to his booze fueled pity party. However, against all odds, he doesn’t do that. 

Logan simply lifts the half full bottle of scotch to his lips and downs every last drop. He’s a little unsteady on his feet when finally he stands up to his full height and turns towards the blankets he’s laid out on the ground. 

“Fuck it.” He growls and drops himself like a sack of potatoes onto the pile with little regard for his own body. You’ve certainly had nicer invitations into his bed but when he waves you over with a lazy gesture, you can’t help but hurry before he changes his mind. 

Before you know it you’re tucked into Logan’s side. His gloved hand doesn’t quite seem to know where to go, more accustomed to brutality than tenderness these days as it hesitates for a moment suspended in the air. After some careful consideration he delicately places it on the dip in your waist securing you to him. 

Logan’s breath is uneven, though he’s doing his best to seem unaffected by your closeness. It has been years since someone has touched him with such easy affection and the way your body curls around his own as if it was created to do just that is driving him crazy. 

You are completely at ease with him, you trust him so entirely it almost breaks his fucking heart. Logan's stomach is heavy with something he can’t name, you fucking terrify him. Yet, he doesn’t move because you feel so fucking good as he holds you. 

It's scary, you realise, how easy it would be to pretend this was your Logan as you melt into his embrace. He smells exactly the same as you bury your face in his neck, the roughness of his beard feels the same pressed against your forehead. 

This Wolverine’s arms are a little fuller and his chest a little firmer, but he still holds you the same. You make a decision to not focus on such difficult philosophical concepts as variants and the morality of switching out your Wolverine. You decide to live in the moment, to just enjoy the furnace of his body keeping you warm and his arm encircling your waist protecting you from the world, it’s so easy to pretend that this was your Logan, so you do. 

And you fall asleep quicker than you have in years.

It is still night when you awaken, it's not quite dawn but the fire has burned out to a low smoulder. You’re not sure what has awoken you from the best sleep you’ve had in a long while, that is until you feel the arms wrapped around you and the sleeping Wolverine holding you in a death grip against his chest, his half hard appendage digging into your hip. 

Everything is still hazy; you’re floating in that sweet spot between waking and dreaming, you forget about North Dakota and, god forgive me, Laura. 

You’re back in your bed at home and Logan is holding you.

There's no my logan, new logan, old logan. 

He’s just Logan. 

You bury yourself deeper in his neck. 

It’s only for a moment though before it all comes flooding back and the agony overwhelms you like a blade to the gut. 

Instantly tears flood your cheeks as you shake from your silent sobs. 

“...Y/N?” Logan's voice is thick with confusion and sleep, his grip has loosened somewhat to allow you to breathe but he doesn’t release his hold on you. “What’s wrong darlin’?” 

That affectionate name is the last nail in the coffin it fucking ends you. 

All teary, and regrettably maybe a teensy bit snotty, you lean forward and kiss him. Kiss isn’t the right word but it’s your intention. Your lips touch one anothers before he’s pulling away and holding you back. 

“Y/n… Darlin’ you don’t want this… I’m not-”

“But you are Logan. You’re him just as much as he’s you.” Your hands rise to his jaw, running your finger along its familiar sharp edge. “You’re Logan.”

“Y/N… I’d be taking advantage…” His voice is firm yet gruff as he tries to inject reason into the conversation. As usual being the good guy he’s constantly telling everyone he’s not. 

“I am so goddamn sick and tired of being sad, please Logan.” This time when you capture his lips, he doesn’t rear back. You’re not sure what’s going through his mind, but his self control seems to snap within him as he begins returning the kiss in earnest.

Logan’s tongue swipes along your bottom lip begging entry, entry you swiftly allow. You’re breathing heavily through your nose as he plunders the depths of your mouth, exploring your mouth with his quick tongue. 

Deciding to make the next move you push yourself up, throwing a leg over him to straddle his lower stomach. He’s lifted the top half of his body to ensure he doesn’t lose your mouth, your teeth clash slightly with the movement and you can’t help a bubble of nervous laughter.  He pays it little mind though as he swallows the noise, his hands coming to rest on your hips. 

Instantly, you grind your hips downward on the growing bulge that lurks below. Logan lets out a deep groan at the friction and his hands on your hips raise to the bottom of your tee in response, his thick hands tugging at it requesting your permission.

Nodding, you pull back causing him to groan at the loss of your hot mouth on his. Though it's only for a moment as the second the tee is over your head, he’s back on you, only it's your bare neck he’s lashing with affection now.

Logan breathes in deep your scent mixing with the heady aroma of your arousal. He’s nipping and licking along the smooth skin, soothing his bites as quickly he makes them. It's the animal instinct within him, telling him to devour you entirely; make you his. 

“Logan…” You gasp, your eyes are clenched shut in pleasure as he bucks his hips upwards into your jean covered centre.  

Logan pulls back to take you in, writhing above him in the moonlight, you’re fucking beautiful, though the flash of familiar metal between your breasts catches his eye, unable to stop himself, he catches it in his fist. 

Dog tags; his old dog tags.

‘LOGAN’ is etched into the aged metal and they’re warm to the touch from living beneath your shirt over your heart. 

The realisation hits him like a freight train, not only was he loved by you, but for his other self to have given you these, he fucking loved you. 

He’s not sure why it didn’t occur to him before, that the other him was as devoted to you as you were to him. He’s not entirely sure how to feel about it, but he twists his hands, careful not to snap the metal string, but using it to pull you close. 

For the other dead Logan, the hero he’s heard so goddamn much about, he decides he’ll give you the treatment you deserve. 

As if you weigh nothing at all he flips you onto your back, his hands dropping the dog tags and falling to the waistband of your jeans. His dexterous hands undo the button so quickly, that your trousers are peeled from your legs before you know it, leaving you in an unimpressive unmatching set of underwear beneath his roaming eyes. Though Logan couldn’t give a fuck as he groans at the sight of your body exposed to him. 

Logan begins by kissing down your stomach before his hands linger on your black panties, he can't help but grin at the tiny barely there bow in the middle of them; you’re like a gift all wrapped up for him. 

His eyes lift to meet your own as he begins sucking at the fabric that's keeping your pussy from him, it's already damp with your arousal and by the time he finishes, absolutely sodden with his saliva.

“Logan, please…” you whisper desperately as your hands find his ‘tufts’ for a lack of a better word. They were new, but you liked them, plus they now seemed pretty functional. 

He takes only a moment to remove his gloves, before they return eagerly to your body. Those thick hands traverse the planes of your thighs, they’re quick in their passing as they make their way up to the waistband of your panties, he hooks them over his thumb and reveals your soaking core to his hungry eyes and he’s right back to wanting to fucking devour you, and boy, fucking does he. 

Enthusiastic, would be the word, earth-shattering would be another - the word to describe how Logan eats pussy.

Logan without much preamble dives into your centre, his tongue slips into your hot wet heat, lingering for a moment on your clit, circling it reverently before he dips that talented tongue inside of you. His nose knocks against your clit several times, each more delicious than the last as he utterly devours your pussy. He moans, grinding his hips into the dirt and readjusts pulling you closer, his thick muscled arms locking under your thighs as you buck against his mouth. 

You're a complete goner the second he slips a single long thick finger inside of you. 

“Fuck, Lo, I’m gonna-” 

“Come, baby... I got’ya.” He mumbles into your pussy. And fuck me, he does. He carries on lapping at you all the way through your orgasm, drawing it out of you like the pied fucking piper of pussy. It feels like you’ve been falling for hours by the time you finally come down, only Logan doesn’t allow you any reprieve before he’s back to lashing your clit with his quick tongue. Your hands find those faux ear tufts once more and he groans as you pull on them a little more sharply than you intend in your shock, in answer Two fingers bury themselves deep inside of you.

“One more.” He’s negotiating orgasms, but you have no qualms as he rubs his nose side to side with affection against your sensitive bud. His tongue and nose moving in pace with his fingers, currently fucking in and out of you. 

It's when he scissors those thick long fingers inside of you, hitting that spongy spot within you that makes your back arch. 

Your top half has left the ground, he grunts in annoyance, suspending your hips back to his mouth at the angle he likes. Those deep hazel eyes meet yours from between your thighs, crazed and animalistic, driven wild with arousal as he eats your pussy with gusto.

It's that image that thrusts you over the edge once more, your back hitting the ground as your body seizes, thrusting your hips against his mouth. 

Without any preamble a third finger joins stretching you deliciously. The hand not currently fucking you, leaves your hip to caress your stomach stroking the flesh there, not quite able to reach your breast. 

“Lo… fuck… yes… right… right fucking there.” You cry as he draws your second orgasm of the night out, only when you tug at his tuft due to overstimulation does he acquiesce and pull back, only of course, after cleaning up your gaping desperate hole. 

He sucks his fingers clean as he sits back on his knees, his cock thick and tenting against the yellow bottoms of his suit. Your arousal has soaked through his beard making his chin slick, he wipes it with a single swipe with the back of hand though, it does very little for his sodden chin. 

Tired of not touching him, you sit forward grabbing at his belt. It's a difficult contraption that confounds you, though Logan is far too wound up to find any humour from it. 

 He replaces your hands unbuckling the thing before finding the hem of his shirt and pulling it over his head. 

There, finally in all his glory, he is exposed to you and you’ve never been a religious woman, but Mary mother of fucking christ, he is gorgeous. Logan’s chest is fucking… transcendant to behold, it's like he’s been sculpted by god herself, the light isn’t the best out of here, but you hope to god you don’t die tomorrow simply for wanting to take your time and lick each and every single one of those muscles on his stomach. 

Its your turn to leap forward onto your knees and join his mouth with yours, he tastes distinctly of you and his chin is still sodden, but you couldn’t give less of a fuck, you love the fact your desire is still marking his skin. 

Your hands trace the firm abs at your disposal, before dipping into his now open trousers and underwear to find him rock hard. 

If his physique impressed you, you had a big storm coming, because his cock was a fucking resplendant beauty and it was plain to see from the swelling Logan really liked eating pussy. 

Your fingers barely touched as you pumped him, once twice, spreading the copious amounts of precum along his shaft.

“Fuck.” He grunts into your mouth. You lean down, positioning yourself to take him in your mouth, though he stops you in your tracks grabbing your shoulder. “No sweetheart, I want your pussy.” You clench around nothing at his filthy words, this man will be the fucking death of you. 

You reach behind you and free your tits from their confines, another moan leaves his throat as he pushes you backwards. On his hands and knees he’s deliberate with every move as kicks the bottoms of his suit off as he prowls towards you.

Finally, he’s in between your legs naked as the day he was born. His hands are on your breasts, exploring the new plains exposed to him, playing with your nipples alternating between sucking and twirling them between his fingers. 

So lost in his skilled hands, you barely notice when one disappears to line himself up, it's a shock, the sudden intrusion, but not an unwelcome one as he thrusts himself forward and as deep as he can go. 

You moan his name into his ear, doing your best to keep your volume down.

He has prepared you well, you’re so worked up that he slides home through your tight slit. The sheer size of him means it's a stretch that borders on uncomfortable, but the second his hand finds your clit you’re clenching around him and grinding forward, desperate for more. Unable to control himself, his claws extend, he grunts pulling you close and thrusting them down into the ground. 

“Fuck, you’re tight.” He grunts into your neck, where he's busy lavishing the flesh once again with bites. Your neck is going to be black and blue tomorrow, but you can’t find it in you to give a single fuck.

The two of you are so fucking close his bare skin so deliciously hot against your own, but you want more, you need more.

Logan pulls his hips backwards, pulling out of you until only the tip remains before slamming home and spearing you wide open his cock. Your moans blend together as you lose yourself in each other's bodies.

Logan is worked up from eating your cunt, so it doesn’t take long for the sensation to hit him.

“Fuck, where do you want it?” He grunts into your neck, as his hand descends to rub quick circles on your clit. He pulls your ass up, making sure to hit the spot inside of you that makes your toes curl.

You know he’s teetering on the edge, desperate to make you cum before he does. 

“Inside - come inside me, baby.” You whimper into his neck as he pounds into you reaching your deepest recesses with his thick cock, his hammering, it’s unforgiving with his enhanced strength but it pushes him deeper into spots you couldn’t have imagined. He groans at your words, sounding every bit the wounded animal he is. Your shared groans and the sound of his balls slapping against your ass as he takes you again, and again is all that can be heard in the clearing. 

Finally as he joins your lips in a kiss, you come hard on his cock. Clenching around him as your body writhes uncontrollably. 

Logan adjusts his hold on your thighs, now he uses your body, drawing out your pleasure but ultimately chasing his own. The pace is fast as he grunts and groans erotically into your neck, he fucking growls as his hips stutter against your own, and you know you should be more careful, but the thought of him cumming inside you has you gripping his cock like a vice once more. You give him a tight sheath to come in, and he pumps you fucking full of his cum and its a big fucking load. Logan thrusts a few more times, pushing his seed deep inside of you as he claims your mouth once more.

You run your hands through his hair as he lets his body fall against yours, he’s supporting his own weight, thank god, you don’t think you could handle his muscle, let alone the adamantium skeleton. He’s still sheathed inside you as the two of you revel in the closeness.

The silence stretches on for an amount of time you can’t quite quantify. The two of you take in your surroundings, listening to the quiet of the forest, until your breathing has finally calmed down. 

Logan lifts himself up on one arm, and pushes your hair back from your face. You stare at him in the moonlight for a long moment, unable to help yourself as you trace his familiar features. His strong nose and the curve of his brow, your finger dances along his flesh. 

Logan’s eyes close, so touch starved he basks in your affection. 

“I-” Logan goes to speak, before you drop your finger on his lips.

“It’s okay. Whatever happens tomorrow, happens. I’m okay with it.” You smile at him, there's a chill to the air but you’ve got your Wolverine warming you up. “I just wanted one night to be about something other than death.”

He takes your hand from his lips and kisses along the back of it and up your wrist, though It's a slippery slope as he hardens inside of you again. 

Logan manages to pull two more orgasms out of you before dawn.

When your time has run out, the two of you finally dress, not wanting to be found in a compromising position. Logan curls his body around yours and buries his face in your hair as he spoons you from behind. 

Just when you’re just on the cusp of sleep, he finally speaks into the night. Logan opens up about his world tearfully, instantly you reach your hand down, finding his own thicker one resting on your belly and you intertwine your fingers with his. He tells you of the mutant hunting as you draw comforting circles on the back of his hand, it's not much, but it's more than he’s ever had whilst reliving his worst day. When he has finally bared his soul, the two of you fall back into silence. 

After what has been an emotionally, not to mention physically taxing night the two of you finally fall asleep if only for a few more hours, two incredibly damaged souls offering one another comfort.

It’s later in the morning when you finally awake. The sun has risen that much is clear but you're slow to awaken from your comfortable position in Logan's arms, his warm strong body coiled against your back fighting off the worst of the early morning chill, his face still buried in your hair as he snores peacefully.

There’s a sensation niggling at you, you think it's what woke you up in the first place; you can’t shake the sensation of being watched. 

Lazily you open your eyes, only for your heart to drop to your asshole when you find Wade Wilson about 10-inches from your face lying on his side, his head supported by his hand.

“Mornin’ sleepy head, have a good night?” You can hear the smile in his voice. 

“AGH!”  Unable to stop both your cry of fear and your fight or flight response in progress, you throw yourself backwards, your powers activating of their own accord, and slamming your body into Logan’s chest. He startles awake, with the telltale ‘snikt’ of his claws extending as he orientates himself, his arm coming out to block you from the threat, despite not being able to see you. 

After your brain catches up, you call your power back, but Logan doesn’t do the same, keeping his claws out seemingly ready to slice up his not-so-best friend. 

“Get the fuck outta’ here, Wade.” Logan growls harshly at the other man, his voice is filled to the brim with hatred.

“Hmph - this is what I get for acting altruistically. I thought a good stress relieving bone in the woods with your cherie amour would really sort out that bee in your bonnet, but you sir are just a very unpleasant man and I’m worried that-”

“WADE.” This time Logan’s voice is a threat as he shouts at the man. You place a hand on his muscled arm to steady him. Though he may have stopped your heart with his antics, Wade isn’t doing anything particularly outrageous.  Logan shakes your hand from his arm and allows his claws to retract as he stands. 

“Thanks for jumping to my defence there, Y/N. Great to meetcha bt-dubs, huge fan.” You’re disoriented from the wakeup call but you shake the hand he offers you.  Honestly, you’re still trying to process the head-fuckery of the past day, so you don’t have a quick response for him, though the mouth doesn’t seem to mind as he continues. “That mean lil’ lady is asking for ya’. Thought I’d come and check you and big yellow weren’t still bumpin’ uglies. Didn’t want her to see you and Papa going to town on each other's fun parts.”

“Uh - Thanks… Wade?” 

“That’s me.” He theatrically begins bestowing multiple kisses on the back of your hand he still had in his grasp, which you retract gently. “Oh, and we’re done.”

Pushing yourself up, you go to stand though Logan offers you his newly gloved palm. You lock your fingers around his and the two of you stand together, inches apart and your fingers still intertwined, neither quite sure what to say to the other. Wade’s ‘awh’ over your shoulder shatters the moment and he drops your hand instantaneously. 

After a beat or two Logan leans forward, placing a single solitary kiss on your forehead. “See ya’ around, bub.”

“Where’s my smooch, Logie-bear?”

“Go fuck yourself, Wade.” He calls as he walks around, Logan doesn’t look back as he heads off into the forest. 

You still had faith he’d turn up for the fight, Logan always turned up when it counted and you knew this time would be no different. 

“Hate to see him leave, but love to watch him go.” Wade sighs linking his arm with yours. 

“Mmh, You can say that again.” You agree with the clown watching Logan’s ass as he walks away, you swear you see his step falter thanks to his impeccable hearing, but he doesn’t turn back. 

The two of you turn and you begin walking back to the cave arm in arm with the strange man to prepare for the assault on Cassandra’s lair when Wade finally asks the question you know he’s been dying to ask since meeting you “So, Y/N just between us girls… how big is it?”

LOGAN TENDER HAIR TUCK SUPREMACY RISE. I'll use it in every fic, don't think I won't.

Thanks for reading xxx

Graphics by my pal - @saradika-graphics 💕