#but holding these guys was a really big deal to me
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hello! hope youâre okay after the ending, honestly I donât think any of us are.
I wanted to request a rafe x pogue reader where itâs that boat storm scene and instead of Sarah falling itâs reader and sheâs just drowning and Rafe jumps in after her. He doesnât know why he did it but he just has a soft spot for her and itâs just really angsty but also cute.
thanks! I love your account btw!
In The Sea
Summery: the anon
Words: 2.5k
Warnings: grammar mistakes
A\N: thank you to everyone who has been requesting it makes me very happy xxx
You stand at the edge of the deck, clutching the railing as the boat rocks, waves rolling against the hull. The salty breeze whips your hair around your face, and the peaceful ocean sounds made you think about the current situation.
You didn't expect Rafe to save you and your friends from being arrested, much less expect him to find a boat big and resistant enough to drive you all to Morocco Africa to find the blue crown. It was truly a surprise considering you and Rafe's history.
âSo what? Are we just on our way to Africa now?â Kiara asked the group as if she couldn't believe that Rafe Cameron was willingly helping them.
âQuick little weekend trip?â She added to her previous sentence.
âWhat about Rafe? We know what he did to the cross and now we want to go after the crown with him?â You and the rest of the pogue's lips go into a thin line at the memory.
âSarah, you're his family, how do deal with himâ John B said, finding no other options.
âI don't- I don't know, I think maybe y/n might have a chance of convincing him to behave but..â she shrugged and you felt the stares of your friends burn holes through you. Your past relationship with him was a secret to nobody.
âWe- we just have to talk to him, or at least tryâ You proposed earning a frown from JJ.
âTalk to Rafe? When has he ever just communicated with us?âÂ
âTalking to him is the only option we have, but you're definitely not talking with him,â John B said and as expected everyone nodded and hummed, agreeing. JJ was in no place to talk with Rafe.
âWhy not? What did I do?â He asked, getting almost frustrated.
âWe all know you and him are far from being civil, the last thing we need is you triggering him and causing troubleâ His girlfriend, Kiara, tried to explain the easiest way but he still got defensive. After a couple of bickering from JJ and John b You finally decide to go speak with him, who was driving the boat not too far away from the deck.
âHey,â You knock on the metal and rusted door before entering and walking up to him. His eyes catch yours and there's a tension between the two of you. But Rafe only tilts his head to acknowledge you.
You swallow, feeling the weight of his stare. "We just want to talk," you say, steadying your voice as the rest of your friends beside JJ follow behind you.
âAll right let's talkâ Rafe chuckles, and itâs low, almost a whisper.Â
Your mind goes almost blank as you take him in, you haven't been this close since you were forced in the same room by Sighs men last year. You had almost forgotten how much you missed him.
âYou guys be cool I'll be coolâ His voice snapped you out of your daydream, realizing you had missed a bit of the conversation.
âSo now you want peace?â Pope leaned back and scoffed, not believing a word that came out of his mouth.
âI just saved all your asses, how about a thank you?â He glanced at all of you one by one, but he only earned silence,
âListen I don't want any part of your little fairytale treasure hunt bullshit, I'm just looking for Groffâ Heâs breathing heavily, holding himself back from adding more snark,
âHey, Rafe!â Before anyone can react, JJâs fist flies through the air, cracking against Rafeâs jaw with a force that echoes.
Rafeâs head snaps back, his expression stunned for a split second before he crumples, hitting the hard metal floor. For a moment, everyone is frantic, staring at the lifeless form sprawled across the floor, his eyes closed, completely knocked out.
âholy shitâ
âJesus JJ what's your problemâ
âWhoo that felt goodâ Tired of JJ's crazy actions the girls walk away shaking their heads in disbelief until you are the only one staying behind.
JJ stands over him, breathing heavily, the adrenaline still pulsing through him as he looks down at Rafe. His fist is red, already bruising, but he doesnât seem to care.
âWhat is wrong with you?â You look at him, feeling a rush of shock mixed with panic. You fall to your knees next to Rafe and quickly look over his injuries, softly rubbing your thumb on his jaw. Â âIf he didn't do it I was going to do itâ Pope added only worsening the situation. You shook your head and furrowed your eyebrows at his sentence.
After the pogues agreed it was probably not a good idea to let Rafe free in case he woke up and decided to shoot you all with his âpeacemakerâ you tied him up in a small cabin. His head hung low, his wrists were bound to a stainless steel pole and his legs were uncomfortably folded beneath him. Your heart clenched at the sight of him but still decided to leave him there until he woke up.
You open the door to the cabin slowly with a tray of warmed-up canned spaghetti in hand, it wasn't the best but it was all the boat had.
âI brought you food..â You whispered before bending down to place the tray in front of him.
âgreatâ he sighed.
âI found aspirin in the medicine cabinet, I figured you'd have a headache, maybe even a concussionâÂ
âRight⌠are you gonna throw it in my mouth like a seal or somethingâ He scoffed again clearly angered,
âThey don't trust you Rafe⌠but if you do the right thing maybe they will open up a little bitâ
âI am doing the right thing! I helped youâ He tried pulling against the restraints but failed.Â
âI know okay? I know but unfortunately, I don't have a choice but to let you in here until we get there, I'm sorryâ you whispered and pushed the tray closer to him. âPlease eat,â You said and left closing the large door behind you.
For a moment you stayed behind the door listening closely. âY/N come back!â he grunts and kicks his feet on the ground. âFucking untie me please!!â he screamed and you jumped when you heard the tray you had just put down on the floor fly into the wall.
Pope leaning over the side, is the first to spot the flicker of movement beneath the water. "Guys! I see one!" exclaims, his voice a mixture of excitement and focus. He scrambles for the fishing rod, almost knocking over the tackle box in his rush.
John B is right beside him, laughing. âWe've got our dinner!" he laughs.
âGuys, this oneâs huge!â Kie giggles with the boys knowing we were all set for dinner time tonight.
You all spent the rest of the day cooking the fish you caught and preparing side dishes with some good music in the background.
Until it was time for Rafa's second meal.
You open the door carefully and his eyes catch yours, this time you don't speak, simply set the tray of seasoned salmon down in front of him.
Has you were about to close the door you hear him.
âWait, y/n. Can you please- can you give me the forkâ his tone is much softer than before so you can't deny him.Â
You get down and pick up the utensil his bound hands couldnât reach.
âThank youâ He murmured, and you barely heard him as you closed the door behind you once again.
The sky darkens ominously as thunder rumbles in the distance, low and threatening. Waves crash harder against the hull of the boat, tossing it with a force that leaves you gripping onto anything within reach. The storm monitor flashes red to show the storm coming ahead of you.
âThat's not good,â John B says.
âWe're gonna have to try to blast through it,â Pope says, not finding any better options.
âWhy can't we go south?â Kie asks genuinely.
âThe current is gonna be against us we don't have a choiceâ John B agreed even after trying to find safer options, the boat's roar has Pope push the lever controlling the engine to the max.Â
The waves make the boat shift side to side making it difficult to stay up and steady.
Another massive wave crashes over the side, drenching them all, and you lose your footing, sliding across the deck until Kie grabs your arm, pulling you back.
âHold on to somethingâ Kie yells at you pope and Sarah and you all grip onto the nearest thing.
âHey!â a distant voice echoes through the walls.
âCut me loose! Y/N! Somebody!â Rafe screamed and banged his fists on the wall.
âGet me out of here!â Everyone listens but doesn't move a finger.
âWe have to let him outâ You scramble to your feet but jerk back when Cleo grabs your wrist.
âNo!â she says trying to stop you but you pulled back.
âHe's gonna drownâ You pull open rapidly the drawers trying to find something sharp, able to cut the thick ropes wrapped around Rafe's hands.
The storm is relentless, its fury tossing you around like a rag doll as you try to reach him. Â
You cling to the railing, struggling to stay upright as the boat lurches violently, nearly sending you sprawling across the floor. Your legs buckle under you. You come crashing through the door and walk onto the water-soaked floor knife in hand.
âCut me looseâ he begs.
Crouching in front of him you began frantically cutting the rope. Your muscles burn with how much pressure you're using.
âShit,â You say when a sudden jerk of the boat makes your face come inches apart from his, lips almost touching. You don't have time to think as you regain your balance and continue cutting the bounds.
âThere! Come onâ you yelled and quickly grasped his hands to pull him up from the floor.
You both run to shelter but the boat jerks side to side even more violently,
âSomething is wrong I have to go see!âÂ
âNo!â Rafe tried holding on to you but you were already rushing away onto the deck where waves came crashing, a massive wave rose out of the dark, towering over the boat like a shadow.
You barely had time to think before it crashed down, an icy, unforgiving wall of water that slammed into you with the force of a sledgehammer. The impact was too strong and you were thrown backward, landing hard on the deck. Pain explodes through your shoulder, the wind knocks from your lungs. Dazed and gasping, you try to get up, but the boat tips again, and before you can stand, another wave strikes.
This one is worse, merciless, catching you just as you struggle to rise. Your fingers graze the edge of the railing, but the slick metal slips through your grasp. In an instant, the world spins as you are thrown away from the boat, the cold, raging ocean swallowing you whole.
The water is a shock, freezing and chaotic, disorienting you as you plunge beneath the surface. You thrash, fighting to reach the surface, lungs burning, but the waves toss you back and forth, each effort to rise met with another rush of icy water.
Back on the boat, Rafe catches a glimpse of you disappearing over the side, and his heart stops. âY/N!â he screams, panic cutting through the storm. Without a second thought, he scrambles to the railing, nearly slipping himself as he peers out into the dark, searching for any sign of you.
âWhere is she!â Sarah came rushing to her brother
âShe fell overboardâ he yells already reaching for a rope with the floating boyee. Heâs soaked, exhausted, and barely steady, but thereâs no hesitation as he jumps in after you.
âRafe no!â She screams after her brother.
A wave slams into Rafe. âY/N!!â he yells in the water as he sees you trying to stay above the water far away.
With the last of your strength, You swim faster and harder towards Rafe and reach out when you're near, fingers brushing his arm, grasping it tight. Rafe holds you with everything he has.
âI got youâ But you don't hear him in the storm.
You both hold on to each other your arms around his neck and his around your waist as the boat floats away and the night turns into a void.
âHey, open your eyes, look at meâ You feel gentle hands grasping on your face as you finally sit up coughing out the water that filled your lungs.
âThat's itâ The hands rub your back in a comforting way.
The sand is hot beneath you, warming up your skin, and with exhaustion, you fall onto Rafe's chest.
âHey you okay?â panicked, he grabs onto your shoulder and pushes you a little bit to take a good look at your face.
âYou jumped after me,â you whispered.
âOf course I didâ You look up at him, heart pounding, feeling a rush of gratitude, fear, and something deeperâsomething thatâs been smouldering beneath the surface, unspoken, for far too long. Your eyes shine with tears, not sad and not happy either but grateful.Â
His hand reaches up, brushing a strand of wet hair from your face, his fingers lingering against your skin. His touch is warm, and grounding, and you feel your heart racing even faster under his gaze, intense and unreadable, like heâs seeing you for the first time.
Without another thought, you lean in, closing the space between the two of you as you press your lips to his, a spark igniting into a wildfire the moment you connect. Rafeâs surprise melts away instantly, and he kisses back, fierce and unrestrained, his hands finding your waist.
The kiss is charged, fueled by adrenaline, and a longing that neither of you can deny any longer. Your hands find his shoulders, clinging to him, grounding you in his warmth, his strength, the feel of his heartbeat thundering beneath your touch.Â
Rafeâs fingers trail up your back, sending shivers along your spine, and his lips move against yours with an urgency that speaks of everything left unspoken.
When you finally pull apart, breathless, Rafeâs forehead rests against yours, his eyes searching yours as he lets out a shaky laugh, almost in disbelief.
âYou saved my lifeâ you smile, brushing a thumb over his cheek, still feeling the warmth of his kiss lingering on your lips. âI love you, I've always loved youâ you whisper, and before you know it, you're kissing again, the ocean waves crashing nearby, the world forgotten as you lose yourselves in each other.
âI never stopped loving you,â he whispered.
Send request xxx
#rafe fanfiction#rafe x reader#rafe imagine#rafe outer banks#outer banks#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron outer banks#rafe cameron angst#rafe cameron fluff#rafe cameron x pogue!reader#rafe cameron#rafe obx
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â STARS, SNORES & SAKE, feat. roronoa zoro â after a long day of celebrations, all zoro wants is to spend some quiet time with his lover.
contents. gender neutral reader. established relationship, fluff. use of y/n + pet names (zoro calls reader baby, you call him birthday boy). zoro birthday special! ⥠word count. 1.4k
notes. guess whoâs back from the dead⌠thatâs right itâs me! and just in time for zoroâs birthday too ⥠(watch me disappear after posting this) lowk zoro might be ooc but who cares i just want soft zoro maaaan. i havenât written in so long but i really hope you guys enjoy! follows & reblogs are appreciated!
ZORO WAS EXHAUSTED. it had been seven in the morning when heâd been ambushed by the straw hats with party poppers and balloons as he was on his way towards the crow's nest for his daily morning workout. all day, heâd been surrounded by noise, confetti, and luffy gum-gum-rocketing into him every five minutes. now it was nine in the evening, and the crew was still partying the night away.Â
he didn't understand why they made such a big deal out of celebrating it, really. his birthday was never that important in the past, so why should it be now? but he supposed that everything was different here than in shimotsuki village, out on the grand line.Â
well, at least they had booze.Â
he picked up a new bottle of sake from the counter and made his way back over to the table, avoiding luffy and usopp chasing each other around the kitchen with chopsticks stuck up their noses. heâs surprised how they still had so much energy after devouring the feast that sanji had made for dinner. (actually, he was more surprised that the shitty cook spent so much effort on the food, considering it was him they were celebrating.)Â
he couldn't help but glance over at you, who was chatting with robin across the table. as he sat down, your eyes met his for a brief moment, and a silent conversation was exchanged between the two of you.Â
i'm tired of this. come with me?Â
give me just a little longer, 'kay? wanna finish this piece of cake.Â
he sighed and made himself comfortable in his chair, his eyes never leaving you. taking a few sips from his bottle, once glancing at nami across the table, who was staring at him.Â
what? he mouthed.Â
nothing, she mouthed back.Â
as soon as zoro saw you eat the last bite of your cake, he stood up and and was beside you at the table before you could even put the fork down.
âcome to the deck with me.â he left the question mark out of his sentence; he knew you would come whether he asked you or not, anyway.
you giggled and pushed back out of your chair, taking his awaiting hand. âsure, birthday boy.âÂ
âdonât call me that.â zoro grumbled at the name, but there was just a tiny hint of a smile on his face.Â
âoi, zoro! where are you and y/n going?â luffy asked, mouth half-full of meat.Â
âout for some quiet time,â the swordsman replied. âyou guys are too noisy. you can have the rest of the cake if ya want, captain.âÂ
luffy laughed in approval as zoro turned away, ignoring the cookâs grumble of âungrateful marimoâ as he made his way out the kitchen holding his bottle of sake in one hand and your intertwined fingers in the other.Â
the smell of sea salt was fresh on the breeze. gentle waves rocked against the hull of the ship, and the stars peeked out in the clear night sky.
âperfect weather for stargazing tonight, isn't it?â you asked him, the sound of your shoes clacking against the wooden deck of the sunny.Â
zoro nodded, finding a comfortable place to sit at the bow of the ship by the sunny's masthead. he patted the empty space next to him, which you gladly settled down into.
"finally, some peace and quiet," he sighed, arm instinctively curling around your waist. âi love the crew, but theyâre noisy as hell.âÂ
you nodded your head against his shoulder, listening to the sound of the waves. then suddenly you jumped up to your boyfriend's surprise with an "oh! i almost forgot." you turned and smiled mischievously at him. "wait here for a minute."Â
before he could answer, you were scurrying off towards your shared cabin. zoro exhaled, taking a swig from his bottle of alcohol. you were always like this, spontaneous in everything you did. he'd stopped asking you what you were up to a long time ago. most of the time it was just you surprising him with things, anyway. he figured it was probably the same this time too.Â
before you long you came back up to him, holding a paper gift bag with a green ribbon tied around the handles. "here," you smiled down at him, and he swore he was seeing the sun. "it's your present. it isn't much, but i hope you like it!"Â
"for me?" he took the bag tentatively as you sat back down next to him, wondering what it could possibly be. he wasn't one for gifts, really; but if it was from you it was sure to be something thoughtful. he started pulling things from inside the bag; there was a fancy bottle of sake; he was sure it had to have been expensive. and there was something else. a full-color drawing of himself, held in a wooden picture frame.Â
"when did you draw this?" zoro asked. he already knew it was you who made it; the art style was the same as the doodles you liked to draw of him for fun.
"a few days ago, when you were training," you replied. "i sat n' watched, remember? i was drawing the whole time. i tried to be sneaky about it, but i still think you noticed."Â
now that he thought about it, he had seen you sketching something in your notebook when he was training. he thought you were simply passing the time with him, but it was really for a different purpose.
"well, it looks just like me." he was impressed at the likeness of the drawing to himself; you'd captured his intense stare, the miniscule droplets of sweat rolling down his face. you'd even drawn the metallic sheen on his swords reflecting in the sunlight.Â
"are you sure you like it? it looks okay, right?" you asked him nervously. you had spent extra time afterwards making sure it looked just like him, and even more time perfecting the colors and shading.Â
zoro chuckled and leaned over to kiss your forehead. "more than okay, baby. it's beautiful. thank you." he pointed to the unopened bottle of sake. "and thanks for this too. i'm sure it must've been expensive."Â
you shook your head. "not really. i just borrowed a bit from robin, that's all."Â
he laughed. "at least ya didn't borrow from nami. that witch would probably be all up in your face to pay her back already."Â
"yeah, i guess." you leaned against his shoulder, and it was quiet for a while; just you, him, and the gentle lullaby of the ocean waves.Â
"i'm glad you like it, though." you whispered after a while. "i was worriedâŚ"Â
"the hell you'd have to be worried about?" zoro straightened up to look at you then. "you know i don't give a damn about what you get me, as long as it's from you. though⌠next year, i wouldnât mind if you drew the two of us. so i can look at it when i miss you."
you blushed. "zoro, you see me almost every day." then suddenly, you laughed. "wait a minute, is the hard-as-steel swordsman of the strawhats being romantic?"Â
it was his turn to blush. "i don't know what the hell you're talking about, you idiot." he cleared his throat, then continued. "but really, y/n. don't worry so much 'bout these things, got it? you know i keep all your gifts, anyway."Â
âokay.â you kissed him under the pale moonlight, with just the moon and the stars to bear witness to it. his lips tasted like sea and sake and home. âhappy birthday, âzo. i love you.âÂ
âlove you too, baby.âÂ
you made yourself comfortable in the warmth of zoro's arms, gazing up at the bright stars above. before you knew it, the rocking of the ship and the soft lull of your boyfriend's chest was enough to send you drifting off to sleep.Â
zoro sighed contently, the sound of your soft snores peaceful in his ears. careful not to disturb you from your rest, he stood up. carrying you with one arm and holding your gifts to him in the other, he slowly walked back towards your room.Â
he was never one for birthdays, but you made them worth celebrating.
end notes. damn i havenât written something this long since last year. it took me like a month to type 500 words and then i finished the other 900 yesterday⌠lowk dunno how i feel about how this turned out but i hope you guys liked!
Š alatushours 2024. please do not copy, modify, or translate my work in any way, nor upload to any other platforms. in the meantime, if you enjoyed, please like, reblog, and consider leaving a follow! it helps a lot âĄ
#ŕťę°Ő ܸ. .ܸŐęąá mari writes !#zoro x reader#roronoa zoro x reader#zoro one piece#zoro fluff#happy birthday zoro
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When I held these fishes in my hands it brought tears to my eyes.
(Left: Nanobagrus immaculatus; Right, Nanobagrus nebulosus)
#i visited a museum recently to look at specimens of the poeciliid ive been working on#and was allowed to poke around in the bagrids too#this was such a huge deal to me#nanobagrus are kind of representative of the dream ive been chasing#i got to finally see them in real life and even hold them#i am very aware of how small they are in numbers but holding them and really seeing how tiny they are is different#you really grasp how itty bitty they are#that Nanobagrus immaculatus was exactly the maximum size the species is recorded at#it was a big one and it was so so small#i qlso had a lot of complicated feelings about my experience in my bad lab and how i should have had the opportunity to visit a museum#and do this before now#i will for sure in my new lab get to do this stuff#blue skies ahead#but holding these guys was a really big deal to me#also held a jar of Nanobagrus torquatus paratypes but i didn't want to handle them for fear of damaging them#no need to damage a type without reason
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#ok tag rant time yay#cus i need to process some shit#soooo the big thing is ajdhfnfhdk pretty girl!!! yay!!!!! and first time for that!!!!!!!! we matched on an app last friday#got coffee the next morning then met up again monday night (implied fun things) then in the wednesday morning shit show she came over just#to sit with me and so everything could be ok for a while and i felt the safest I ever have#which is a big deal because last time i had that feeling i was with the guy i like and one of my best friends sleeping on the floor because#little tiny college beds dont fit three people and then they left me on the floor to sleep in one bed together and i cried a lot#then they essentially kicked me out of the polycule and started dating soooo :) yeah#good to replace that with a (absolutely fucking gorgeous) pretty girl holding onto me while the world falls apart#and yeah she's sosososo prettyyyyy she has such nice dark long hair and really pretty eyes and she's literally#6 feet tall (which. ajdhdjfndbsmdjcjfj.) and she's the biggest nerd omg i had a like 2 hour conversation with her and her gf about star trek#its great#we're moving sapphic fast lol which is a lot but im obsessed with her a bit#did i mention shes so pretty? its fr like that one tiktok sound about a hot girl and her little gay boyfriend#oh and she came over again last night and i think im gonna dieeee lol i never realized how much of a physical touch person i am before#i mean i knew i liked it a lot but i just do not want to let go. at all. ever. i miss her#this is what i mean by bisexual so gay for men and women and it happens liek the stereotypes for both#sadly she's already mentioned maybe having to move because of everything and i really don't want that#but i guess we'll try it for as long as we can#overall though yay yay yay!!!!!!!!!!!!
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(ŕšâ˘ĚĎâ˘Ě)
#Aah I have so many thoughts concerning this episode#First of all: that I can think of Lucy really is the character that grew the most on me.#I remember I really didn't feel strongly for her the first time I watched and through the first year or soâ#even after finishing reading the mangaâ but now I really like her a lot and feel strong sympathy for her!!#Second. I remember the first time watching I found Fitzgerald's portrayal really distatsteful...#Like I get there's a whole deal of the usa's economic power having destroyed literal countries.#And Japanese people are rightfully enraged at them.#And I get there's a whole deal of cultural colonization made by the usa of half the world#That said. I don't like countries stereotypes in general no matter the country. I believe it's harmful to enable stereotypes full stop.#Moreso in bsd where a lot of it feels to me like âOur country is the best and all other countries are bad / evil / lesserâ#(Again like. There IS an issue with how every single foreign character is a villain if you ask me)#(And this is coming from someone who's not from the usa nor feels particular kinship with it.#Just to clarify that I shouldn't be holding preceding bias. Again I just dislike stereotypes in generalâ the country doesn't matter)#Third I LOVE Lucy's va they're sooooo good!!!! I adore them in p/p voicing Akaneâ#and it's extraordinary to see them voice a villain in this episode. I love them so so much they're so good at what they do#Fourth I remember the first time watching the episode it was immensely amusing how between Akutagawa and Lucyâ#it really felt like everyone was trying to make a competition with Atsushi on who had the most miserable orphan life. Like guysâ wtf đđ#Fifth another thing that bugged me MASSIVELY was Lucy's reaction to Mori like⌠What even is thatâŚâŚâŚ#Idk it's probably not a big deal and it's probably just an issue with me but.#It's just that in the context of bsd already being plenty sexist everywhere you look.#You have a female character who's evidently got the upper handâ in her own reignâ with a super powerful abilityâ#facing a defenseless male character. And yet the male character is implied to win due to the power of hisâŚâŚâŚ Frightening stare.#Like you DO get why it irks me right. One thing would have been if that was an ability he hadâ#but also the way it only seems to effect Lucy⌠To me it really adds to a rhetoric of women being more frail / easily scaredâ#because it's not like Mori was ever able to use his special move: scary look⢠on anyone else#So y'know :///#That's it. Atsushi and Kyouka were super cute <333#random rambles
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...
#thats me in the corner. thats me in thr spotlight. rocking from side to side and not contributing to the conversation#which is to say. i made it to thr lab get together with an old lab mate. i really truely did not think i would#i was like 20min late bc of the crying and hyperventilating over a 6min drive down the road#i sorta freaked out while driving too. and almost turned around. its just that i kno i havent been sleeping enough and got overwhelmed#but i made it there. and i dont think i looked like id been crying but i probably looked a bit blank faced and miserable#as i rocked from side to side for like 2hrs listening to ppl talk. i enjoyed it exactly as much as i expected. it was good to see the guy#again but i just dont connect in group gatherings idk. im glad its done. also fucking we were sitting there and a group comes in and whos#in that group?? someone i have avoided seeing for like a loooong time. the guy who tried to be in a relationship with me back when i 1st#started as a grad student. i say relationship. i was explaining to him why i couldnt do any sort of romantic e tanglement and he was very#firm abt not wanting a relationship. and im like bro im explaining u why no romanticly adjacent thing is gonna work. u literally asked me#to physically hold ur hand thru this. u r somehow more emotionally invested in this than me and also are telling me that u just wanna fuck#me. so like u r not slick. whatever. it was so fucking stressful at the time. which i feel bad abt bc it wasn't really his fault#i was just less self aware so i didnt kno i have bad awareness in the moment. like i dont kno a lines been crossed until a week later when#im laying on thr floor falling apart. so like i wish him the best. didnt kno he was still around. hopefully this doesnt trigger stress#dreams. all this to say i was very fucking tense. and when i got back in my car i was like shaky and panting lol#idk looking back its just such a weird situation with that dude. if i was anyone else it woudlnt have been a big deal but#my brain just doesn't process physical touch right. so now ive got these horrible touch memories that like on paper r literally nothing#but for me they were so unfathomablly awful when i 1st aquired them. i literally could not deal with any romantic stuff for like a month#bc it would like trigger me. now thst its been like 3 years its not bad tho. just like gives me thr ick but i dont get#stuck in the memories too much. its so dumb. whatever. point is im all sore now from sitting all tense haha#unrelated
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the dance dance trilogy makes sense to me. i get it.
#the Mage rambles#fababoi#love how they pull a 'it was all a dream' in the arms race vid#which they could've also pulled for the grudge mv. but no. pete really is snake plisken. that happened. deal with it.#also shout out to the hold me like a grudge mv bc it has patrick playing hulk hogan as a jobber. which hulk hogan should always be seen as.#idk if it will make sense if you haven't seen the other big preh fob mvs (specifically for arms race you kinda also have to know the#sugar we're goin down mv? not much but imagrey shows up that you'll only rly get if you know the visual)#but they're so much fun. you all should watch the dance dance trilogy.#dance dance -> this ain't a scene it's an arms race -> hold me like a grudge#and then you should watch ybc again. put those guys in a blender.
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first tiger & bunny movy was so cute i'm gonna die. i don't think the people who made it wanted me to use the word cute but it's cute
#movy that makes you say KOTETSU I LOVE YOUUUU out loud multiple times#oh nay#there were a few Bits of like. his wedding day. he was serving if you're wondering#dead wife guy widower & single dad of all time kotetsu t kaburagi#(under threat of firing) he tried to set up a lil. hanging out Moment for the whole squad to Integrate bunny..... sweet......#and bunny was a BICTH ABT IT. OH HE IS SUCH A BITCH i am now holding a grudge#this was set like between ep 2 and 3. the first half was a recap of the first two episodes w a couple of new scenes. SO CUTE#it doesn't fuck w the Flow of the series too much i liked it. it works out. i liked it so much#you're telling me tiger Has been in fact trusting bunny since day 1? and bunny Knew? is that why he made such a big deal abt kotetsu#sorta pulling back later. even tho i don't know if kotetsu Knows that bunny Knows#and then at the end they go out again?!??! and bunny PICKS UP THE PHONE WHEN KOTETSU CALLS HIM TO INVITE HIM???!#CUTE. IT'S CUTE I'M SORRY BUT IT'S REALLY SWEET.#ONTO MOVY NUMBER TWO
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maxwell and sammy are all mine and i love them like my children but its pretty hard to divorce them from fnaf enough to make them straight up ocs. sammy especially bc hes technically not my oc, even if i made up every aspect about him except his name and dead twin sister
#my point being i keep seeing oc post and going âomg me about sammyâ but sammy isnt an oc. technically#i literally wont even change his name if i do ever just make him all mine. i love him sammy is my bff forevers.#sammy smiles real wide and has sharp canines. he cant stand silence and talks to himself CONSTANTLY and its worse around other people#he interrupts people a lot by accident. and is really bad about holding friendships and doesnt reach out to people. after he took max in it#was impossible to shut him up bc someone was actually there now. he has serious trust issues and thinks ppl dont like him bc he thinks#everyone to have some big secret theyre all collectively keeping from him to keep him ââsafeââ which stems from. his mom doing this to him#about his sister and dad she just straight up refused to tell him until he found out on his own. so for 11 years he knew that. they for sure#you cant just split up your family in half in a divorce. something seems incredibly wrong about that but he didnt know what actually#happened there. also they were young when she died but he still felt like a part of him went missing and without the knowledge she died he#assumed. hed see her again and fill that hole. and of course that wasnt true. so anyway he struggles to make and keep friends#hes had like 8 different partners who lasted more than a month (most of them didnt want to deal with max) and he cant keep any of them bc a#a lot of people meet this cute charming guy with a lot to say and realize hes literally like this all the time and it stops being cute and#starts being annoying. he wanted to have kids bc he really likes kids but nobody wants him unfortunately and also he had. max for 8 years#and max is for sure his kid (from his perspective max is weird about it bc max thinks of his dad. as his Parent and sammy as more of#brother) but like max was not really what he was thinking when he thought he wanted kids right. and he feels bad about thinking that but#he does. think that. he wants a kid of his own. sammy is a therapist for kids with trauma specifically so that also impacts his ability to#have a kid. he worries that. bc of his personal experience of what Can happen that he may in turn be a helicopter parent or way#overprotective. yknow. he#ive got to go to bed omg. i got enough thoughts down!!!!#simons spouting#a lot of this is just awfully written but you cant read back or edit tags on mobile. not my fault
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So Much Love in Oklahoma
Tyler Owens x fem!reader 7k words
summary:Â Tyler saves you from a tornado one day. The next, he shows up at your doorstep.
a/n: absolutely no clue about tornados. or oklahoma. don't come at me for inaccuracies
also!!! i'm currently working on some tyler smut too, but you are so definitely allowed to come request things (or just talk to me)! my inbox is wideeeee open, especially when it comes to mister owens <33
masterlist | twisters masterlist
What happens that particular Tuesday afternoon should have been impossible. That's what goes through your head about a bazillion times in the following days. The chances of what happens even happening are about as close to zero, you think, as the possibility of you discovering a cure for cancer.
(They're not. Of course. But it feels like that.)
Because you're not even really in Oklahoma. You're just driving through Oklahoma. You're not from a place where they give you a 'How to Deal with Tornados' manual in school. You're entirely, completely, wholly unprepared for what's brewing as you drive down almost empty highways with the radio all the way up.
So when suddenly, you're in the middle of a storm, with the wind picking up until it drowns out your music and rain and hail slashing against your windows, you're absolutely terrified.
It forms within a few minutes, goes from barely grey skies to a horrible, horrible whirl of almost black clouds, and the insecurity you'd been feeling turns into the gut-churning realisation that you're unquestionably fucked.
Some part of your brain tugs out a deeply buried memory of cars being sucked into tornados on the news, so with your heart racing a few hundred miles per hour and your hands shaking so badly you can barely hold onto the steering wheel anymore, you maneuver your car onto the side of the road, just in time for you to be climbing out of the passenger seat as another car comes to a shrieking halt next to yours.
You're getting drenched within half a second, you're honestly not that sure whether your cheeks are wet from the rain or your tears, and on top of that, you almost trip as you set your trembling feet onto the ground below. The other car's driver bangs their door shut with a resounding thud that makes you flinch so hard you think your soul leaves your body. Your head shoots up as he shouts at you, already three steps away from his truck:
"What the hell are you doing out here?"
He's drenched, too - his hair sticks to his face and his shirt clings to his skin and his pants are stained at least a shade darker. But unlike you, he's not shaking, he's steady as a fucking rock, steady and quick, already reaching out for your arm before you can even begin to think. Your brain lags behind, foggy and cloudy and scared, so fucking scared. You're so terrified you can hardly open your mouth.
"I-", you stutter, then he's wrapping his big hand around your arm and tugging you away from your car, away from the road already.
"We need to get the fuck down!", he calls, pulling you with him onto one of those many, many fields that surround you. "There's a ditch over there, see that?"
You're wide-eyed, shaking, basically being dragged along by him - one foot in front of the other, that's what your brain's concentrating on right now, which is easier said than done. You trip over your own feet every other step. But the guy just wraps his arm around your waist and hurries further.
"Do you see that?", he asks again when you don't respond. Your mind races even faster than your heart does, but you force yourself to concentrate on his voice. The panic doesn't lessen, but his question shifts your focus. Ditch. Ditch. Not the storm raging around you, no, you're looking for a ditch. You're focusing on finding a ditch.
"Yeah", you breathe, your eyes finally catching on the ditch only a bit away.
"Yeah?", the guy shouts. "We need to get there. We need to get low."
With that, he picks up his pace once more and you stumble along, bumping into his side, watching the ditch come closer and closer and closer until your feet are drowned in dirty, muddy water.
"Alright, get down!", he shouts, unwrapping his arm from around your waist to help you into the cold, cold water. "Hold onto the ground!"
You aren't thinking. You can't think. Your brain has shut off completely. Panic numbs every part of you. All you can do, all you can possibly do, is concentrate on the voice of the man who's crouching down beside you. It's like his words have replaced your own thoughts, and like a marionette, you stretch out your arms and dig your fingers into the grass. Which is way easier said than done. You're pretty sure you feel one of your nails break as you try your hardest to find something, anything to hold onto. And then the wind hits.
If you'd thought you'd experienced heavy winds before, you were wrong. So wrong. No vacation in a surfer's town could possibly compare to this.
"Fuck!", you scream, instinctively dropping your head onto the moist grass below. The wind pulls and pulls and pulls at you and you imagine yourself being dragged by it - dragged away, away into certain death. But then an arm wraps around you, and the guy next to you is not next to you anymore but half on top of you, securing you in his arms, holding you close, pressing you to the ground.
"Stay down!", he shouts as you cling to the grass. "I got you."
I got you.
You replay that in your head like a mantra - he's got you, he's got you, he's got you. You're trembling, you're shaking, you're cramping, you're trying to hold onto the ground with all your might as the wind grows and grows and grows and pulls and pulls and pulls at you.
You want to scream. You think you're screaming. But it's so loud. It's deafening, the roar of the wind and the thunder. You can't hear yourself scream.
He can, though. He can. And he tightens his arms around you and repeats "I got you, I got you, I got you". And you believe him. You have to.
You're crying now, you're sure of that. Some part of you hurts. Maybe all of you hurts. You're scared. You're not just scared, you're terrified. It's loud, it's loud and it's everywhere, all around you.
And then suddenly - there's nothing.
It disappears within seconds.
There's no sounds. None. There's silence, deafening silence. Forget the calm before the storm - this is the silence after the tornado.
You take a few shuddering breaths. You're trembling, trembling from head to toes. You're soaked. You're cold.
"Alright, it's gone", the guy says - the guy that's still got his arms wrapped around you, who's still on top of you. "You did it."
He pulls his arm away from you and rolls onto his back next to you. Water sloshes around as he goes.
You don't move an inch.
You can't move.
You're stuck, you're frozen in place. Your fingers are cramped into the dirt and the grass and you're frozen.
The guy sits back up again and reaches out for you. He smooths his hand down your back, surprisingly warm against your ice-cold skin.
"Hey", he says softly. "You're okay. You can get up."
You pry your fingers from the ground one by one, flex your trembling hands and push yourself upright. It takes a few seconds for reality to sink in - you're in a ditch. In a ditch. You're soaked, soaked with muddy ditch water. Your shoes are drenched, your legs splattered with dirt, the hem of your dress soaked in brown. And you're cold. Ice-cold and trembling. And your legs hurt, your arms hurt, your fingers hurt. Three of your nails are cracked.
You're sitting in a ditch in the middle of Oklahoma and you'd just been through a tornado. A fucking ditch in Oklahoma and a tornado.
And a guy, a guy who's brushing his hand down your arm and eyeing you up.
"Alright, let's get you out of here, you're shaking", he says and for the first time, you turn your head and look at him. Actually look at him.
He's tall and he's blonde and he's drenched, too, drenched in that same dirty, muddy water as you. His hands are big, big and pleasantly warm as he grabs softly onto you and carefully maneuvers you towards him.
You don't really remember the next minutes. Not what you're doing, at least. It's a hazy, fuzzy passing of time - you barely remember that you're moving. You're cold and scared and still in shock and somehow, your eyes have locked onto him, onto this guy who you realise probably just saved your fucking life. Because when you come back to reality, he's wrapping a blanket around you - a dry, warm blanket - and the spot where you'd parked your car is empty.
Empty.
"My car", you whisper, staring wide-eyed at absolutely nothing. The guy wraps the blanket tighter around you before he looks over his shoulder and glances around.
"Your car's not that important", he reassures, even though his voice is heavy. Heavy and raspy, you realise. He's got a certain Southern twang to it that you hadn't noticed in all the chaos before. "Much more important is that you're alive."
You nod half-heartedly (he's right, some rational part of your brain shouts, while the practical part mourns the shit ton of money you'd just lost) and settle your eyes back on him.
You don't know what it is, exactly, but something about this, something about the warmth of the blanket and the way he's rubbing your arms, something about him, about his voice and his words, slowly peels away the layers and layers of terror that are clinging to your pounding heart.
You swallow hard, reach up to tug the blanket tighter around yourself and shift your focus. Not the car or the tornado or the fact that you're drenched in dirty ditch water - him. This guy in front of you, who's looking you up and down to check if you're hurt. It's easier that way. It's easier to calm down when you're not thinking about any of it. It's easier when you're staring at him, counting to ten, slowly regaining your sanity. And what's suddenly also easier is realising that this guy in front of you is very much easy to look at. Even though his hair sticks to his head, even though his jeans are stained brown. He's what you'd expect as a reference picture next to the word "handsome" in a dictionary.
All of a sudden, you're not as cold anymore. All of a sudden, you're rather flushed. Because if he's drenched and dirty, you must look about the same. And you don't think you want him to see you like that. You'd much rather meet him in a bar or something, when you're dressed up and clean and preferably not terrified.
"Thanks", you get out, a little too quickly as you tighten the blanket further around yourself. "For, uh, for saving my life."
The guy's lips quirk up and he grins, a lopsided, half-cocky grin that makes your heart leap.
"Anytime, sweetheart", he drawls, then reaches up as though he wants to tip his hat - just that he's not wearing one, so instead, he settles for brushing his hand through his hair, just a second too late to seem intentional from the start. "Why were you out here anyway? Half a mile back is a gas station with a basement."
"I didn't-", you start, hesitant to admit just how unprepared you'd been for what had happened. "I didn't know it was a tornado. I thought it was just a bad storm or something, I'm... I'm not from around here."
He nods at you, his lips already parting when you suddenly twitch away from him and sneeze - once, then twice. His grin has dropped by the time you look up at him again and excuse yourself. God, is this embarrassing.
"You need dry clothes before you catch a cold", he says, his eyes travelling down your soaked dress and your bare legs. "I've got a shirt in the trunk, give me a minute."
He walks towards the back of his car and opens up his trunk and you're hit with two thoughts at the same time. The first is more along the lines of goddamn, are his shoulders broad, but the second - arguably the one that should be more important - is why the fuck his car is still standing in the very same spot he'd parked it before the tornado had hit.
Especially when your car is absolutely nowhere to be seen. Your car and all your things inside it. Oh, god-
"Here you go", he says, holding out a dry copy of the shirt he's wearing, red checkered cotton. He's about to go on when you blurt out:
"Sorry, why's your car still... you know, there?"
His lips pull into that impossibly charming grin once more and he points at the underside of the truck.
"Tornado-proof", he explains, just the slightest bit cocky. You follow the invisible line he's drawing to two... what looks like giant screws? twisted into the ground below.
"Oh", you let out, not too intelligently - but really, what are you supposed to say?
He just chuckles and holds the shirt out for you again. You take it carefully, your fingers grazing his. He's so warm, so fucking warm. Meanwhile you're shaking even underneath the blanket he'd given you. Though that's also starting to get soaked.
"You can change in the car if you want", he offers, already pulling open the door to the passenger seat. You don't really have to think hard about it. You're drenched in the middle of nowhere, with no way to get home, and this guy has just saved your life. So you unwrap the blanket and give it back to him with a smile and a thanks.
It's tight and cramped inside the car, even as you roll the seat all the way back. You pry the drenched dress off of your body and only then remember to turn around and check if the guy is watching you (as handsome as he is, he's still a guy). But no, he's turned away, has his hands rested against his hips and is staring intently at the slowly clearing sky.
You turn back with a smile and get rid of your soaked bra, too, before you pull his shirt on over your head.
Damn, it smells good. He smells good. And it's very comfortable, you have to admit. Plus, it's dry, which is most definitely an improvement.
You take a few seconds to consider whether or not to pull off your shorts... but they're drenched, too, and the guy seems respectful enough to not risk a bladder infection for. So you take your shoes off, and your socks, and your shorts. And then you crack open the car door again and knock softly against the window.
"I'm done", you call out, loud enough that he can hear. He turns back and his eyes drag down your body - or what of it he can see through the open door - and even though he looks right back up at your face, you can't help but feel flustered. You ball your wet clothes up in your hands nervously.
"Alright then", he says, takes a step closer and reaches for the door handle. "You said you're not from around here, where were you driving?"
Ah, right, that part.
Honestly, with so much happening in so few minutes, you'd about blocked out everything else. Everything normal.
"My parents, uh-", you start, trailing off when you realise that's not much help for him. "About three, four hours from here."
"That's quite a drive", he chuckles. "I live maybe half an hour from here, how about I take you with me so you can eat and drink something? Maybe you can borrow a pair of Lilly's pants. And you could phone your parents."
Your tongue darts out to wet your lips and you narrow your eyes at him, taking a second too long to even understand all of what he's saying before taking another second too long to sort how you'll respond. Then you start with what you find most important.
"I've got my phone", you tell him, pulling it out from where you'd just deposited it in the centre console. "I had it in my pocket."
You'd taken it with you more reflexively than consciously when you'd stumbled out of your car - but truly, what self-respecting adult didn't take their phone with them when they left anywhere?
The guy just raises his eyebrows and glances at your phone.
"And it still works?", he asks, a little incredulously.
"Yep", you smile - for the first time, you realise, since the tornado. "It's waterproof."
More because you'd been scared you'd drop the love of your life into the pool or the ocean on vacation, but a tornado in the middle of Oklahoma worked as well. At least you now knew you'd spent your money wisely.
"Smart", he grins. You can't help but grin right back.
He's charming and he's respectful and he looks so goddamn good.
"Who's Lilly?", you ask then, because that had been the second thing you'd wanted to say. He hesitates for a half a moment.
"A friend", he says. You squint at him. He doesn't look like he's lying, but he does look like there's something you don't know about. God, if he turns out to be a cheater- "I'll introduce you if you'd like."
You raise your eyebrows. Alright, so not a cheater. And, if you're interpreting correctly, another invitation to come with him. Not that you'd been about to refuse the first one.
"Sure", you say, as casually as you can. "I didn't really feel like standing around half-naked on the street anyway."
...
A few minutes later, he's driving his weird car/truck with the screws on the bottom down the empty highway. Though 'empty' is the wrong description, really - here and there, trees, road signs and utility poles are scattered on the pavement.
You're driving in silence. Well, silence as in neither of you talks, not as in actual silence. Alongside the motor, the radio had turned on, playing one country song after the other.
"You never told me your name", the guy says suddenly. The very much stranger, who's very much right - you'd never told him your name.
"You never told me yours", you counter, because that's also the truth. He'd never told you his name. You knew his friend's name, but not his.
"Didn't think I'd have to", he mutters under his breath, so quietly you barely catch it. "It's Tyler. Tyler Owens?"
He says it like it's a question. You don't know why. So instead you just answer with your own name and Tyler, as you'd come to know, repeats it with a smile on his lips.
God, you don't think it's ever sounded that good.
"Pretty name", he says, all casual like that doesn't get your heart racing again. Pretty. He'd called you pretty. Almost unconsciously, you brush your hands through your hair.
"Thank you", you mutter. As if to distract yourself, you add: "So, Tyler, what do you do?"
...
Exactly half an hour later, Tyler takes your hand in his and helps you out of his car. His house - the one he's sharing with Lilly, you'd found out, with Lilly and the rest of his Tornado Wranglers - is big and inviting. It's a little way off from any other houses, which you personally think is quite nice. Not that you say that, though.
Tyler walks you inside without having to unlock the door. He takes two steps, then he calls out "Guys, we've got a guest", which immediately results in a surprised shout of "whoops" and the sound of a set of feet scurrying up the stairs. Tyler has barely pulled off his shoes (after politely asking you to wait just a second) when a head pops through the doorframe at the end of the hallway.
"Boone was naked", the woman grins before settling her eyes on you and throwing you a wave. "Hey there, I'm Lilly."
She glances down at your bare legs.
"A little cold there?", she asks and even though her words are sarcastic, her voice is anything but.
"A little", you answer truthfully, smiling at her as she steps out into the hallway.
"You want a pair of pants?", she asks, seemingly without giving a single thought to who you are or why you're standing half-naked in her hallway.
You glance at Tyler, but he's grinning and only shrugs at you, so you turn back to Lilly and nod at her. She seems sweet, really sweet, and very kind. She takes you with her to her room (up two sets of stairs, the fucking house has three floors and a basement) and shows you her closet, the very definition of unbothered even as you nervously rummage through her clothes.
"Hey, you can take a shirt too, if you want", she says, flopping down onto her bed and rolling onto her side to look at you.
"Oh", you let out and glance down at the shirt you're wearing - Tyler's shirt, that very country, checkered shirt that's way too big for you. "I'm fine, thanks."
Honestly, if it were up to you, you would never wear anything else ever again. Tyler's shirt is soft and comfortable and - most importantly - it smells like him. You really just want to tug the hem up to your nose and breathe in his scent (but that would be weird, so you don't).
"Alright", Lilly drawls. "Your choice."
...
Lilly shows you the bathroom, gives you the wifi password and tells you to come down whenever you feel like it. You realise half a second too late that you haven't told her your name yet and crack open the bathroom door to call out for her.
Honestly, you like her. You really like her. And you really like Tyler, too. He's handsome and he smells good and he's respectful and he's nice and he saved your fucking life today. You don't even want to think about what would have happened to you if he hadn't driven by.
In the bathroom is the first time you can really breathe. You throw some water at your face and blowdry your hair. Ten minutes later, you're walking down the stairs into the hallway again - this time, when you stroll through there, you're wearing comfortable pants, fuzzy socks and take your time to look around.
You'd already called your parents back in the car with Tyler. They'd been about as shocked as you'd expected, had needed a few minutes to even understand just what you were telling them, but then they'd offered to come pick you up immediately. Tyler had provided them his address and now here you are - knocking at the open door to the kitchen, where all of the Tornado Wranglers sit around the table. All of them, except for Tyler, who's leaning against the countertop and looks up at you with a grin when you step in.
"Hey there", he drawls, his eyes raking down your body once more today - you've tucked his shirt into Lilly's pants and you could swear his eyes linger on your waist. "Warm and dry?"
"Very", you grin back, then nod at Lilly. "Thanks again."
She shakes her head and waves you off.
"Hey, no big deal. Do you want some pasta?"
...
It's comfortable there, in the kitchen of these strangers who are feeding you pasta and lending you clothes. You've settled onto the countertop next to Tyler and now and then, when you're dangling your feet or he's taking a bite, your legs graze his arm. He's changed into dry clothes too, you realise as you brush against him for the first time, and he's even warmer now than before.
"Tyler's told us all about you", Boone says after a few minutes of easy conversation. You raise your eyebrows and turn your head, staring at Tyler from the side.
"Has he?", you ask, because you hadn't even told him enough about yourself to warrant any use of the word 'all'. Sure, you'd talked on the ride here - but mostly about him, because - as it had turned out - what Tyler Owens did wasn't a normal job like doctor or lawyer, but instead professional Tornado Wrangler. Which, of course, had then dominated the conversation for the rest of the drive.
"Yeah, like how you were driving to you parents and didn't know what to do in a tornado so you just kept on driving", Boone grins, scraping the rest of his pasta off his plate. "And how he made you go in that ditch and-"
"Alright, shut up, Boone", Tyler interrupts, even though there's no real malice behind his words. "She knows the story. She's in it."
"I'm just saying", Boone goes on, entirely undeterred as he puts his now empty plate down on the kitchen table. "If you'd filmed that, it would go viral for sure."
You have to snort at that.
"Yeah, because of all the indecent exposure."
...
When your mother rings the doorbell three hours later, you're in the middle of the second round of a boardgame Dexter had pulled from a drawer. You'd been paired with Tyler for the first round and - somehow not surprisingly - that had worked quite well. You'd won just so against Dexter and Dani (Lilly and Boone hadn't been too much competition) and Dani's "We never get to play this right 'cuz we're always five people" after Tyler had high-fived you with a victorious cheer had warmed your heart. At least they'd enjoyed themselves - at least you hadn't been a burden.
"I call dibs on her", Lilly had declared when the second round had begun, so Tyler had teamed up with Boone instead.
"Oh, oh, botany!", you call out, just as the doorbell finally rings. Lilly jumps up and high-fives you.
"How in the hell did you guess that?", Dani asks, sounding all but exasperated at this point as Tyler pushes out of his seat and walks towards the front door. You shrug.
"Pure talent", you joke, then you climb off the couch as well. "Alright, it was so nice meeting you all, but I think my taxi's out front."
They all hug you goodbye and tell you to come around again anytime - Boone even hands you one of those t-shirts Tyler had told you about in the car. You can hardly hold back a snort. Though Tyler had told you about the shirts existing, yes, he must have accidentally forgotten to mention that his goddamn face is printed on them, paired with the very... comedic phrase "Not My First Tornadeo".
You thread through the hallway with the shirt and your phone in your hands, only to be hit with the sight of Tyler hugging your mother on the doorstep. Or your mother hugging Tyler, more like. Either way, you're suddenly frozen in place.
But then your mother opens her eyes and sees you standing there and she lets go of Tyler with a sharp cry to come running at you instead. She throws her arms around you with so much vigor you're almost knocked off your feet. You meet Tyler's eyes over her shoulder - crinkled with lines of laughter as he smiles at you. Your eyes dart away again just as quickly.
"It's fine, mom, I'm okay", you reassure.
"Yeah, thanks to Tyler", she mutters into your hair. "I already told him we'll pay him whatever he wants for saving our daughter."
"And I already said I don't want any money", Tyler clarifies.
...
The next morning, you wake up comfortably late in a warm bed. You walk down the stairs in fuzzy socks and start the day with a simple cup of tea.
A simple cup of tea and Tyler Owens' YouTube channel.
You'd looked him and his Tornado Wranglers up the very second you'd sat down in your mother's car. Then you'd subscribed to every channel you could find. And then... you'd kind of got obsessed. You'd watched so many of their videos that by one am, you'd simply fallen asleep to one of them.
"Aunt May's gonna be here in half an hour", your mother informs you casually, a stack of plates in her hands as she rummages around in the kitchen. You're still sitting at the table in your pajamas, a spoonful of cereal in your mouth, your phone propped up against a water bottle in front of you, playing a Tornado Wranglers video from a year ago.
"Seriously?", you get out, chewing on your cereal before you can swallow it down. "Mom, I still have to shower and get ready and all."
She throws you one of those eyebrows-raised glances that immediately let you know she's judging you for something.
"We only let you sleep this long because you almost died yesterday", she says matter-of-factly, then she eyes your phone. "And if you weren't watching Tyler's videos so obsessively, you would be done by now."
"Really, mom?"
You let out a resigned sigh. She only shrugs and grins at you. She's a little bit right, anyway.
"He's good-looking, I get it", she says, then she strolls out of the kitchen, chuckling to herself while you curse at her. He is good-looking, fuck this. You need to get it together before the rest of your extended family arrives.
...
The doorbell rings for the umpteenth time that day, just as you step out of the bathroom and smooth down the front of the red-checkered shirt you're wearing. You call some version of "I got it", down the hallway, not too sure if anyone even hears - they're all in the backyard anyway. Then you open the door with a smile on your face, a smile that instantly pulls into a wide grin when you see just who's standing there.
Because it's not another aunt or uncle or cousin. It's no one in your family, not even close.
It's Tyler.
Tyler Owens.
"Hi", he says. Just that. Hi.
You lean against the open door and cross your arms. Your grin only grows.
"Hi", you echo.
His eyes rake down your body and it seems like whatever he'd wanted to say gets stuck in his throat as he realises that the shirt you're wearing isn't your shirt, really. You can't help but bite down on your lip.
Look, you hadn't expected this. You hadn't expected him. None of this was a scheme or a plan or anything even close. You'd just seen it lying there this morning, right next to Lilly's pants on your desk, and you hadn't been able to help yourself. It smelled so fucking good.
"Nice shirt", he grins, eyes snapping back up to yours.
"Thanks", you grin back. "I got it from this guy after he saved me from dying in a tornado yesterday."
Tyler chuckles.
"Seems like a great guy."
"So great", you agree. "Even though he prints his face on t-shirts."
Tyler is just about to retort something - all toothy grins and laughter lines - when your mother calls out his name, very obviously pleasantly surprised as she comes down the hallway. She smiles at him, big and wide.
"What are you doing here?", she asks, stopping next to you to ask the very question that had been on the tip of your tongue too when you'd opened up the door.
"Oh, I'm just bringing these back", he says and holds up his hand to show a stack of neatly folded clothes with your bra right on top. You have to bite down on your cheeks to stop from outright grinning.
Okay, so even if wearing his shirt hadn't been a scheme, and even if you hadn't expected to see him... You might just have done something to ensure you would see him again. But hey, he's about the most handsome man you've ever laid your eyes on, you'd be damned if you'd have to watch him on the screen of your phone for the rest of your life. So yeah, you may have accidentally 'forgotten' your wet clothes in his bathroom after you'd hung them over the heater to dry. You just hadn't thought he'd find them so quickly.
"And you drove four hours for that?", your mother asks, more baffled than you are. Tyler only shrugs. Your mother reaches out for your clothes, grabs them from him and puts them on the cupboard in the hallway. Then she looks at him.
"You're coming in, yes? We're having barbecue now and cake in a bit. I'm not letting you drive four hours here just to deliver her clothes."
...
Twenty minutes later is when you get Tyler alone for the first time. Your mother has schlepped him with you through the whole garden and introduced him to every single person there - "He's the guy who saved her yesterday!" (because, obviously, your story had been about the only topic anyone had talked about so far) - your father first and foremost, who hugs Tyler so tightly that for a moment you're afraid he'll break him.
You catch up with Tyler just as he finishes loading his plate with food, finally on his own after your mother has excused herself to go cut up more bread.
"How'd you find me?", you ask, sipping at your ice-cold coke and eyeing him up. It's the one question that had been burning in your mind for the past twenty minutes. How in the hell had he managed to find you? It's not like you'd left a note with your address next to your clothes (though in hindsight, you don't remember how you'd meant for him to bring them back to you).
He looks almost bashful for a second.
"Boone noticed you'd followed our account", he explains then. "He figured out your last name from your handle and searched the phone book of the city on your mom's license plate. And then he read out all the names until I recognised your mom's because she'd introduced herself to me yesterday."
Your eyebrows raise, further and further the more he speaks. You swallow. Silence falls for a second, then two.
"You know, some people would call that creepy", you say, but your lips tug up into an involuntary grin that gives away more quickly than you'd wanted that you aren't one of those people. Tyler grins right back at you.
"Personally I think it would've been more creepy if I'd kept your bra."
...
It's 9:20 when your mother comes over. You've long since switched from barbecue to cake, then to snacks. Your feet are tucked underneath Tyler's legs, propped up against the side of his garden chair and he's running his fingers up and down your calves.
You'd spent the afternoon chatting away and laughing, barely talking to anyone but him. Your 'family get-together' had turned into more of a date. You certainly aren't about to complain, though.
"Tyler, you're staying the night, right?", your mother asks, a fresh plate of chips in her hands that she puts next to the almost empty one on the table in front of you.
"I don't want to overstay my welcome", he says, all gentlemanly even as your mother rests her hands against her hips and stares him down.
"Young man, you're welcome in this house any time, for however long. I'm not letting you drive home four hours. You're staying the night." Then she points at you. "She's still got a couch in her room that you can sleep on. I'd offer you a guest room, but half the family's staying here and we're already out of air mattresses."
So an hour later, you're rummaging about your room, picking up clothes off the couch and stuffing them in your closet to make room for Tyler. He's leaning against your doorway, looking around, taking in the mess that is your childhood bedroom.
"Nice posters", he says, and you throw him a look over your shoulder that could be deadly. He's grinning all sarcastic, only chuckling as his eyes meet yours. "You could put up one of my shirts here."
You have to snort at that and before you can even really think about it, you've pulled the shirt Boone had given you yesterday from where you'd put it down on your desk. You throw it at him carelessly and he catches it with no effort at all, which - paired with that fucking grin - shouldn't be as attractive as it turns out to be.
"Knock yourself out", you say, then you turn back around to your closet and tug out bedsheets for him. "My old poster glue should be in one of the desk drawers."
You don't think he'll seriously do it, but you seem to have misjudged him. Badly. Because he gets to work immediately.
You watch him for a few stunned seconds before you decide to just leave him to it. So while you turn the couch into a makeshift bed for him, he glues that goddamn "Not My First Tornadeo" shirt to your wall.
"Fits perfectly if you ask me", he declares eventually, barely concealing the amusement dripping from his words. You smooth down his sheets before you look up at your wall. He's put the shirt up in one of the few empty spots, right between your Maroon 5 and Destiny's Child posters.
"Yeah", you snort. "Perfectly."
You give him a toothbrush and let him use your bathroom. While he's gone, you change into your pajamas, fold his shirt carefully and put it on a pile with Lilly's pants and her socks. Honestly, a little part of you already mourns the loss of it - but another part of you already has hope for another shirt. Maybe in a different context.
"What're you doing?", Tyler asks, shutting the bathroom door behind him. You don't look up as you fold the other clothes you'd thrown onto your desk yesterday.
"I put Lilly's things and your shirt there, you can take it back tomorrow", you explain, starting a second pile of your own clothes next to his.
"Keep my shirt", he says. That finally makes you look up at him.
Which isn't a good idea. Not at all. Because he's standing there in nothing but his briefs and good fucking lord-
You'd known he's handsome. You'd known he's broad. But you hadn't known he's fucking ripped. You shouldn't stare. You're very aware. You definitely shouldn't stare. It's incredibly rude to stare. It's very inappropriate to stare. But goddamn, this man is built so perfectly god himself must be jealous.
You have to forcibly blink yourself back to reality. You're definitely red in the face when you finally manage to meet his eyes again. And he's raised his eyebrows in a way that tells you he's reading your every emotion right off your face.
"Sorry, come again?", you croak out, brushing your hand through your hair and realising just a second too late that your eyes have travelled down too far again.
"I said you should keep my shirt", he repeats, a very, very obvious grin on his lips. "It looks better on you."
"Okay", you agree, a little too quickly. The heat in your cheeks comes from more than just the half-naked view of him now. He thinks his shirt looks better on you. You don't even care if that's a line. "I'll... I'll go brush my teeth real quick."
When you come out of the bathroom a few minutes later, Tyler has made himself comfortable on your couch. It's a little too small for him, you realise, but he doesn't seem bothered. He's pulled the covers up to his hips - you can still stare at his chest, to your delight. And he's put one hand under his head, flexing his bicep in a way that has you hurrying over to your own bed so you won't jump him right then and there.
"Alright, goodnight, Tyler", you breathe, adjusting your pillow and wrapping your blanket around your body as if grabbing at it will somehow ground you.
"Goodnight", he echoes, and then you turn off the light.
It's quiet. The only noise is the laughter of your family a floor below, all settling into bed themselves. It's quiet and it's dark.
And you're staring wide-eyed at absolutely nothing.
Oh, god. He's so fucking hot. He's so fucking hot you want to throw yourself out of the window. He's so fucking hot and he's on your fucking couch, barely ten feet from you. He's so fucking hot and he'd driven four hours here just to bring your clothes.
"Tyler", you say, barely two minutes after you'd turned the light off. He hums in response - still awake. You don't know what you'd expected. "Thanks again. For, you know, for everything."
"Anytime", he replies, and even though you can't see his grin, you imagine you can hear it. You nod into your pillow. Then silence falls again.
It lasts maybe another two minutes.
"Your family's nice", he says then. You can't help but smile.
"Thanks", you mutter.
"I like your mother", he says. Your smile only grows. You turn onto your back and stare at the dark ceiling.
"She likes you too."
It's the truth.
Tyler stays quiet. You don't even try to close your eyes this time - you can hear him breathe, deep and relaxed. It's calming. You're sure it could lull you to sleep. If you were anywhere near tired, that is. This way, you just blink at black nothingness.
"Were you really a Destiny's Child fan?", Tyler asks eventually, his sheets rustling.
"Yep", you say.
That's it for that conversation.
You don't know what it is, the darkness or the silence, but something pushes on your chest and weighs you down, warming your skin as it settles on your body. It's a tension, thick and heavy, one that had grown with every scrap of conversation.
"You know-", he starts again, but this time, you've got enough.
"Tyler", you interrupt, turning onto your side and pulling your covers with you. "Get up here."
You can't see him as he throws his bedsheets off himself, can't watch as he heaves himself up, can't look at him as he strides over to your bed - but you hear the rustling of his covers, you hear the couch creaking, you hear his steps on the floorboards. And you feel the mattress dipping when he finally sets his knees on your bed.
You don't wait until he's actually in there. You don't think you could possibly wait until he is. You just push yourself up, grab onto the first part of him you can get your hands on (his shoulders), cup his face in your palms and pull him into you.
Right into your kiss.
Tyler Owens kisses you for the first time in the darkness of your childhood bedroom. For the second time in the morning light in your bed. For the third time in your parent's kitchen, right as your mother walks in. For the fourth time in his truck, after your parents all but throw you out of their house and force you to go home with him. For the fifth time in front of his own house, where his crew watches through the window.
And after that, Tyler Owens loses count of just how often he kisses you. Because he kisses you every day for the rest of his life.
#x reader#tyler owens x reader#tyler owens#twisters#tyler owens twisters#twisters 2024#twisters x reader
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you're not her
The 'Worst' Logan x fem!mutant!reader
a/n: really wanted to write for the worst logan so I found a streaming site so I could finally watch the new Deadpool movie (yay pirating) (this is totally hypothetical and a joke to the feds lurking) I was going to just read the wiki plot but I donât think that was going to cut it Again, using the same superhero name/powers. Itâs not an OC I swear, it just makes sense in comic book movies to have some alternate name and Iâm not creative enough to come up with multiple different supe names. Summary: You hate him, you really fucking hate him at first. Heâs cruel and constantly reminds you that youâll never be the hero he knew. Youâre not her and heâs made that abundantly clear. But what are you supposed to do when heâs suddenly your new roommate and you have no choice but to wake up to his face every day? I feel sad because I donât think I did the angst justice with this one. But if I keep staring at it trying to fix it, then Iâm never going to post it. (This is a long one guys) Angst with a happy ending (because Iâm a little bitch) Makeout scenes and smut towards the very end 18+ MDNI
You donât know how you got here, but you know youâre mad at whoever dragged you into this shit. You donât think it would be wild to assume it was Wadeâs fault. Usually, when something goes wrong in your life itâs on him.Â
What you do know; you look like shit. Wade and Wolverine are both standing over you in their awesome ass uniforms and youâre still in your fucking pajamas. How are you supposed to be badass and save the world in pants that have Spidermanâs face plastered all over them?
âIâm gonna fucking kill you, Wade,â you growl at him.Â
He places his hand daintily on his chest and waves you off, âSave that for the bedroom, pookie.â
You grit your teeth and glare up at him, Wolverine gives him a similarly disgusted look. âFuckinâ ridiculous,â you grumble under your breath. You get to your feet and brush yourself off, finally looking around and taking in wherever the fuck heâs dragged you. âWhere are we?â
âThe void,â Wade responds, voice ridiculously dramatic. You look around and throw your hands up in defeat.Â
âWhat the fuck, Wade? Why did you drag me with you into this?â You look over at the Wolverine beside him. He hasnât stopped glaring at you both and his claws are out, clearly ready to just eviscerate you. âWho the fuck is this?â
âOkay, wow, language, Flux. Iâm disappointed in you.â
âEat me-â
Youâre cut off by the knock-off Wolverine standing a few feet behind you both. âFlux?â He demands, voice so low you almost canât hear him. Both you and Wadeâs heads whip around to face him. Thus far heâs been relatively silent, you nearly started to wonder if he was mute.Â
âItâs her X-Man name,â Wade tells him, gushing like itâs some big deal. âImpressive, huh?â You donât bother correcting him that it was your X-Men name. Canât exactly call yourself that if they booted you off the team for being a crappy superhero.Â
Logan snorts and shakes his head. He stalks towards you and you nearly fall over in your attempt to scramble back from him. âYou,â he demands, claws pointed at you threateningly. âYouâre Flux?â
Wade hisses, watching as Logan swipes out at you. âAlright, peanut, letâs put the claws away and take a deep grounding breath.â
âShut the fuck up,â Logan snaps at Wade. He turns to glare at him and you take the opportunity to scramble behind your friend for protection. At least if he gets stabbed, heâll heal. âYou,â he scoffs and it trails off into a laugh. Thereâs no humor behind it, he's just a dick. âYou are a fucking joke compared to my Flux.â
The ground underneath you rattles, pebbles bouncing off the cracked desert and ricocheting off their boots. Wade quickly moves away from you, shoving you forward so heâs not in the line of fire. âYeah, well youâre just an alcoholic fuck who could never hold a candle to my Logan.âÂ
You can feel energy brewing at the tips of your fingers, waves, and waves of hate building up within you. The man across from you feels the shift, the static suddenly permeating the air around you both. You let your power build and buildâŚ
The pebbles drop back to the ground and you stumble back from Logan, nose bleeding from overextending yourself. âShit,â you mutter, wiping at your face with the back of your hand and shaking your head.Â
Logan laughs again, it echoes through the stormy sky and you wish you had any control over your powers so you could just send him flying. Or, better yet, turn his bones into liquid and flip him inside out. âOh,â he lets out a long exhale, glaring at both of you. âThis is fuckinâ ridiculous.â The faux smile drops from his face and he raises his voice just loud enough to make you jump, âJust one big fuckinâ joke!â
You have about five seconds to dive to the side before Logan is lunging at Wade. âWait, wait, wait we can talk about this!â Wade shouts, but itâs too late, heâs already on the ground getting his head caved in.Â
You let out a rough sigh, stumbling off to the side. Youâre drained from that shitshow of powers. You barely made a few rocks levitate and you feel like youâre going to pass out. You walk away from the two men and throw yourself on the ground, trying to reorient yourself while they fight like wild animals.Â
You can hear them in the background, stabbing and shooting like theyâre aiming to kill. Too bad neither of them can die. Itâd save you a hell of a headache. They run past you, Loganâs got his claws buried in Wadeâs gut while Wadeâs desperately firing off his gun into Loganâs chest.Â
Your head rolls weakly to the side and you mutter out a pathetic, âNo, stop. Donât kill each other.â As expected, neither of them listens to you. They keep fighting, showing no signs of stopping.Â
Thereâs a moment of silence after about ten minutes of nothing but grunts and insults. You peak your head up in interest. Logan got his claws posed over Wadeâs throat. You wonder if decapitation would actually kill him or if heâd somehow manage to survive that.Â
Wade doesnât seem interested in testing out the theory, âThey can fix it!â Wade shouts, âThey can fix your timeline. I just need your help saving mine.â
Your eyes widen and you meet Wadeâs masked gaze over Loganâs shoulders. The white slits widen and he minutely shakes his head, telling you not to say anything. Like, maybe, that neither of you has any fucking clue if the TVA is capable of even fixing timelines like that.Â
You know Wade is desperate when he makes that promise. Itâs the only reason he would say something so stupid. Itâs a blatant lie, one pulled so far out of Wadeâs ass youâre genuinely surprised that Logan canât smell the bullshit. Whatever happened in his universe must have been horrible for him to ever believe anything that comes out of any Deadpoolâs mouth.Â
Itâs a long moment before Logan finally pulls his claws out of Wade. Your friend slumps forward in relief as Logan stalks away from him. You glare at Wade from where you are on the ground, âThat was fucking stupid,â you snipe at him. He gets to his feet, walks over to you, and forcefully yanks you to your feet.Â
âNot a goddamn word,â he warns, but you arenât exactly threatened by him when he's got three holes in his head from Loganâs claws. Still, you hold your hands up and acquiesce, following after him as he chases down Logan.Â
Your mind is still fuzzy when you are captured by Cassandra. You're recovering from overextending yourself, eyes blurring and limbs going limp like jello when her army of henchmen circle you all.Â
You finally feel yourself starting to come back to your body when you wake up tied to Johnny. âAnd,â Wade draws the word out, waiting until you lift your head to finish, âthere she is! Happy you could join us, princess. Mind turning these ropes into dust for me?â
You groan and let your head slump onto Johnnyâs shoulder. He smirks and glances down at you. âOh fuck off, both of you. I canât do shit right now and you know it, Wade, Iâm drained.âÂ
Logan is glaring at you, but thereâs less hate in his glare and more confusion now. âCan you do anything?â
You narrow your eyes at him, lips screwed up while you try to decide if heâs being an asshole or genuine. âHard of hearing or something old man? Iâm drained,â you reiterate, your tone a little too bitchy.Â
Logan narrows his eyes, grunting something foul under his breath. Wade interferes before you can piss each other off anymore. âShe had an accident, her brainâs a little broken now. But itâs fine! Whose isnât?â
You huff and throw yourself back against the cage youâre all being transported in. You feel eyes on the side of your head and slowly look over to see Johnny grinning at you. âHey, you know Iâve met one of your variants-â
âDonât give a fuck,â you interrupt. You hear Wade snicker under his mask, giving you an encouraging thumbs up even with his hands bound. You were both a little disappointed it wasnât Captain America lurking under that cloak. But at least this guy isnât such a prude he wonât cuss.Â
For the next five minutes, youâre on the receiving end of a very enthusiastically vulgar rant about just what a cunt Cassandra Nova is. Heâs still not even finished by the time you reach the gates to her lair.
Your eyes widen when you see all the people lurking around the walls. Most of them you recognize as people youâve put away or killed in your world. But thereâs something just minutely different about them than the version you faced in your timeline. Their eye color or outfit is always just slightly off.Â
The familiar faces are almost a relief. But there is nothing comforting about knowing you're outnumbered two hundred to four. The cage is tipped over and you go rolling out, you grunt as Johnnyâs elbow digs into your ribs.Â
Before you can even attempt to shove him off, the ropes are whipped off of you and youâre dragged by an invisible force across the ground. Rocks and sand scrape across your tender skin and bury themselves deep in your pores. You hiss in pain when you finally come to a stop and your body is your own again.Â
A groan slips through your parted lips unbidden as you struggle onto your knees. Your pajamas are ripped practically everywhere and you feel like you might as well be naked at this point. You really wished that you at least had a chance to change before you were kidnapped to another universe.Â
The woman you presume to be Cassandra Nova is currently fucking Wadeâs skull with her freakish telepathy fingers. Johnnyâs a pile of guts and bones on the floor and you have no fucking clue where she flung Logan to.Â
You get to your feet, shaking your head and reorienting yourself. In a second sheâs in front of you, head tilted to the side while she regards you curiously. âWoah,â you jump back, glaring at her outstretched hand.Â
âCareful,â Wade warns her breathlessly, still clutching his head. âFlux here has a pathological fear of bald people.â
You nod, âItâs true, you can imagine how strained my relationship with your brother was.â Cassandra circles you, a devious tilt to her lips. Your eyes track her, unwilling to take your gaze off her for even a second. You feel like a rabbit, facing down a fox thatâs made its way into your burrow.Â
âCurious,â she mutters. âIâve seen quite a few of you down here before. But,â she chuckles and before you can move her hand is shoving its way into your brain. You scream, thereâs an agonizing burn as her fingers probe under your eyes and dig through the deepest part of your subconscious. It feels like someoneâs taking a shovel and ripping up your worst traumas. âNone of them have been so weak.â
Wonderful, even she wants to insult you. You can feel the way sheâs plucking through your thoughts, tossing aside the ones she doesnât like. Images of your childhood are flashing across your vision. You can no longer see the world around you, itâs like every one of your worst memories is being played on a projector.Â
âAh,â she clicks her tongue and jerks your neck around until youâre looking at something youâve tried to forget for years. âHere it is. How easy it would be for me to simply unblock those powers of yours.â She smiles, her face appearing before you and blocking out the bloodshed. âIt would make this far more entertaining for me, what do you say?â
Your teeth are clenched so tightly youâre surprised they havenât cracked yet. Itâs hard to get the words out when her fingers are still dancing through your skull. âFuck you,â you finally spit out. She releases you suddenly, and you surge forward with a gasp, clutching at your skull desperately.Â
You half expect your brains to begin leaking from your nose and eyes. But nothing happens, despite feeling incredibly violated, everything is still in its proper place. Cassandra walks past you like everything is fine and dandy in the world. âWell, as much as I would love to see those powers of yours in action again, Flux, Iâm afraid Alioth must eat.â
Before you can ask what she's talking about thereâs a loud rumble. Like thunder cracking through the sky and land, the ground underneath you shakes. Cracks form under your feet and the henchmen around you all start desperately racing for cover.Â
You turn around, staring wide-eyed at the purple cloud of death and destruction steadily moving across the sky. A face breaks through the clouds, grinning down at you. Purple lightning hits the ground and the villain next to you explodes into nothing but dust.Â
âShit!â You shout, turning around and running to try and avoid getting zapped up next. Thereâs no coming back from this one. Once this monster gets you, not even god could save you.Â
Suddenly, an arm wraps around your waist, lifting you off your feet. âNo time for consent, weâve got to get the fuck outta here!â Wade shouts in your ear. Logan is standing next to some robot leg, ripping out cords until a jet on the back fires up. Wade leaps onto the boot, wrapping an arm around Loganâs legs as youâre all shot into the sky.Â
Youâd scream if you werenât trying not to throw up. You hurtle through the sky at speeds that have your skin nearly ripping off your skull. The rocket on the back of the leg starts to sputter out. The flames flickering out and then back to life. It steadily begins to drop until youâre plummeting headfirst towards the ground.Â
Wade wraps himself around you, tossing himself off the boot so he can brace your fall. You hear and feel nearly all of his bones break under your weight. For a moment it feels like youâre laying on warm jello as you try and catch your breath.Â
âNailed it,â he mutters weakly. Youâre pretty sure he canât breathe, a rib having pierced his lung in the fall. A shadow looms over you and you glance up to find Logan glaring down at you. You stare at him apprehensively, half expecting him to unsheathe his claws and just end you right here.Â
Instead, to your surprise, he holds a hand out. You look at it with suspicion, glaring back up at him. âFucks sake,â he mutters. He reaches down, roughly grabbing your hand and jerking you to your feet. You feel the warmth of Wadeâs blood on your back and grimace.Â
âThanks,â you mutter, still not entirely trusting of him.Â
He purses his lips into a thin line, backing awkwardly away from you. He just nods and starts surveying the land around you. It feels less like trying to figure out where you all landed and more like awkwardly avoiding eye contact.Â
The whole interaction leaves you feeling odd. âWell, that was as awkward as two virgins on prom night,â Wade loudly announces as he jumps to his feet. You whip around and send him a dirty look but his attention has already been snagged by something else. Lately, youâve been considering grounding up Adderall and slipping it into his breakfast, you think it might do him some good.Â
Whatâs got to be the fugliest dog youâve ever seen in your life bounds towards Wade. He drops to his knees, ripping off his mask and opening his arms wide to the mutt. You grimace, taking a step back when she starts licking his face. âOh, thatâs just wrong.â
Thankfully dogless, you steal Nicepoolâs Honda Odyssey - much to Wadeâs chagrin. Loganâs in the front seat, Wade beside him. Youâre sitting in the back, rubbing your temples and trying to get rid of the raging migraine youâve had since Cassandra finger blasted your brain.Â
Youâve been zoning in and out of the conversation happening in the front seat of the car. But Logan suddenly slams on the brakes and you go hurtling forward. Without even looking at you, both their arms shoot out, blocking you from flying through the windshield.Â
Your face scrunches up as you look at both their arms, it feels like being saved by an overbearing soccer mom. âBuckle up, princess,â Wade tells you. He shoves you back into your seat and you look between the two men suspiciously.Â
âDid you just say if?â Logan growls, glaring at Wade. Your face drops, finally realizing what youâd missed.Â
Wade lets out a weak chuckle, âSlip of the tongue?â Logan growls and the claws come out. Wade raises his hands, âOkay, letâs put a brake on the crazy train. I wasnât lying it was just an educated,â for the first time in your friendship Wade is actually speechless. Youâre shocked by the silence. Until, of course, he runs his mouth again and comes up with the lamest cop-out youâve ever heard. âIt was an educated wish that they could fix your timeline, alright?â
Logan doesnât give much of a warning except a low growl before he shoves his claws deep into Wadeâs thigh. âYou motherfucker!â
âHey!â You shout, jumping forward and ripping Loganâs claws out of Wadeâs leg. âLook, weâre trying to save our whole fucking universe. Can you blame him for lying?â You regret opening your mouth pretty much immediately.Â
You should have just stayed out of this, it wasnât any of your business. And if they wanted to be two dumbasses and fucking tear each other apart then so be it. But you never should have drawn attention to yourself.Â
âShut the fuck up,â Logan shouts at you. Itâs so startling, coming from him. Youâre still associating him with the man youâd looked up to growing up. Your Wolverine was a hero. He was the reason you wanted to be an X-Man. And they look exactly the same, itâs nearly impossible for you to separate this one from the one you knew.Â
But it's easier now. Because the man youâd known would never be so cruel and jaded to the world. Not like this. âWhy the fuck are you even here? Youâre just some watered-down knockoff of a real hero. You are nothing, youâre worth nothing. Itâs a fucking joke that youâre alive and the woman I knew is buried six feet deep. If there was anything right in the world you would be in a grave somewhere crawling with maggots.â
Your eyes water without your permission. You donât know this man. Yet, he has the face of your greatest hero and the man who youâd grown up hearing stories about. Itâs like facing everything youâve ever wanted to be and having it shout your deepest fears and insecurities back at you. Heâs just confirming something youâve known for years. You never deserved the title of being an X-Man. You never deserved the uniform or anything that came with it.Â
Your breaths are coming short and fast, it feels like your lungs are constricting. You worry you wonât be able to get air in but he doesnât care. No, he keeps going. âYou follow this fucking clown around and you contribute nothing to the world. Youâre never gonna save your fucking timeline. You canât even make a few rocks float.â Itâs not the words that hurt you next. Itâs the way he says it. âYouâre pathetic.â
He spits them at you. Thereâs venom lacing his tone like heâs seen into you and knows thereâs nothing in you to offer. For the first time in a long time, you feel seen and you hate it. Because heâs looking past the sarcasm and the faux confidence you carry yourself with.Â
He sees the empty husk of a woman you truly are and heâs forcing you to face it with him. It causes you physical pain, to know that everything youâve ever feared about yourself is true. You donât have anything to say to him, you canât.Â
Your lips tremble and you feel so fucking small. You can hear your parent's voices in your head, screaming at you and wishing you were never born. Theyâd rather have a stillborn than a fucked up mutant for a daughter. You see the way even other kids at the school would hide from you. You were made wrong, even as a mutant you were never truly accepted.Â
Loganâs face drops ever so slightly at the prolonged silence in the car. Even Wade isnât speaking, heâs just staring at you both. âI,â he starts, but Wade cuts him off.Â
âIâm gonna hurt you now.â Wadeâs never been one to let people run over you, even when you might just let yourself fall into the background. You shouldnât be surprised when he draws a knife and stabs it into Loganâs throat.Â
But the arterial spray that follows catches you off guard and suddenly your tears are dried. Instead, youâre throwing open the car door and diving out before one of them crushes you. You make it out of the car just in time, Logan having thrown Wade right where you had been sitting.Â
Music starts up in the car as a result of their fighting. Divorced dad rock and the sounds of their, borderline, sexual grunting are your soundtrack for the rest of the night. You curl up at the base of a tree, waiting for them to be done with each other.Â
Loganâs words continue to echo through your head. And the longer you linger on what he said the angrier you get. Not necessarily at him, but at yourself. Youâve let yourself linger in self-pity and wallow in regret for so long.Â
You look in the mirror and you no longer recognize yourself. Heâs right, as much as you hate to admit it, youâre a fucking joke. You toss your head back, slamming it against the trunk of the tree hard enough for it to hurt.Â
Thereâs this manic, cloying feeling tugging at your chest. Itâs like someoneâs sitting on your ribs, crushing you until you canât breathe anymore. You keep throwing your head back, letting the pain distract you until you feel warm blood leaking down the back of your scalp.Â
âShit,â you hiss, hand coming up to cradle the back of your skull. You wince when you feel the split in your skin. The blood leaks over the tips of your fingers, running through the cracks of your palm.Â
You force yourself to relax, to move your head away from the tree. As you go to stand up, possibly to get Wade and Logan to quit their fighting, you notice something odd. The air around you is still, you can no longer hear them grunting or groaning as they rock the Honda.Â
Leaves are suspended in the air. Theyâre not trembling from the breeze, theyâre completely frozen. You take a step forward and gasp when you hit something solid. The air in front of you has solidified somehow.Â
The realization dawns on you slowly but surely. This is you, youâve done this. Manipulated everything around you on an atomic level. Youâve turned something you shouldnât be able to feel into something you can touch. Frozen the world around you. Whatever Cassandra had done inside your head, it had knocked something loose.Â
You havenât had this wide a range of control for years. Any attempt to do something like this has been met with nosebleeds and long periods of blacking out. Elation fills you, the hurt from earlier is nearly gone.Â
You glance through the wall of air and try to see if you can still see the Odyssey. To your horror, itâs gone. You wave your hands and the air returns to normal. The leaves drift back to the forest floor and you run back to where youâd left the two men.Â
There are tire tracks dug deep into the mud. You know Wade wouldnât willingly leave you behind, not here. You donât know if Loganâs just kidnapped him or if someone else has. Whoever was driving was clearly in a rush to get out of here.Â
You must have missed it all while you were having your meltdown. âFuck,â you shout, your voice echoing into the branches above. You take in a deep breath and start walking. Hopefully, you can catch up to them before whoever has them does serious damage.Â
You make it to a weird cave/hideout area. The Odyssey is parked outside and when you peek through the broken windows you find the interior completely destroyed. Thereâs blood soaking through every surface, anything and everything has been smashed and bent the wrong way.Â
You donât even know if this is from Wade and Logan or whoever had snatched them. Shaking your head you back up and slink towards the entrance of the den. You can hear shouting inside, it sounds like Wade, but you canât make out what heâs saying.Â
You havenât seen action for a long time. At least not any that you could actually contribute to. It feels a bit like riding a bike. Youâd practiced on your way here, making things around you float or eradicating a few trees into nothing but dust in the wind. But this is different.Â
Your friend (and Logan) are inside, possibly being tortured. Maybe even dead. Though, you seriously doubt the universe is going to be that nice to you. You let the energy build in your arms, itâs like a warm tingling feeling. It shoots down to the palms of your hands until you feel static in the air.Â
You take a step inside and spot three people. Each of them is decked out in weapons. One of them turns and spots you. âWho is-âÂ
You donât let him finish, throwing your hands out and slamming them all into the wall so hard the whole interior shakes. Dirt rains down from the ceilings while their faces contort in pain. You run inside, spotting Logan and Wade.Â
You shoot Wade a big grin but he throws his hands up and shouts, âRead the fucking room!â Your brows furrow and he points emphatically at the people youâre holding, âGood guys!â
âOh shit,â you release them immediately, a guilty look on your face. âI am so sorry.â Logan cackles in the back, doubled over laughing while the three people in front of you brush themselves off.Â
You donât want to be out here with him, but itâs better than being in that cave with the others. Laura walks past you, sending you an uneasy smile. Youâd noticed her sitting beside Logan and decided they probably needed a few moments to themselves.Â
They were finished now, though, and he had the only bottle of liquor left in the cave with him. You trudge over to him, leaves crunching under your boots. Elektra, after that horrific introduction, had given you a uniform a different Flux had left behind.Â
She was long gone, killed by Cassandra years ago, but sheâd conveniently been your exact size. The uniform is nearly identical to the one you have buried under your bed. Black leather with a dark purple X going across your chest and matching purple seams. Youâd never wanted something ridiculously flashy. Just something that people would see and associate with the X-Men.Â
Because thatâs all youâd ever wanted to be; a hero. It feels like a pipe dream now. If your pajamas werenât so destroyed you would have just stayed in them. You donât feel like you deserve this uniform, not when the woman whoâd worn it before you had actually been a hero in her timeline.Â
âDonât want company,â Logan snarks, without even looking back to see whoâs coming up to him.
You take a seat on the lawn chair closest to him and snatch the bottle of whiskey from his hands. âGood,â you tilt your head back, downing as much as possible. It burns the whole way and you revel in the slight tickle in the back of your throat.Â
âAlright,â Logan mutters. He gently takes the bottle back from you, giving you an aggrieved look when he sees just how much youâve stolen. He looks back into the fire and sighs, âLook, Iâm not interested in hearing about your sob story or why youâre suddenly drinking all my liquor-â
âGambitâs liquor,â you interrupt, not bothering to look at him. âAnd Iâm not looking to dump my sob story on your lap. I just want to sit in silence and thatâs impossible because Wade hasnât stopped running his mouth since we got here.â
He looks a little surprised by the brusque way you dismiss him, âAlright,â he mutters. He takes another swig from the bottle and you both stare silently into the fire. Itâs like that for a while, you donât bother keeping track of time.Â
All you hear is the crackling of the flames. All you can feel is the way your eyes burn from staring into the fire and watching sparks pop off the logs for too long. The breeze rustles the trees, makes the leaves shake free and dance around the logs of the fire.Â
He breaks the silence first, to your chagrin. âAbout what I said,â he clears his throat uncomfortably, still refusing to look at you, âback in the car.â
âDonât,â you snap, voice low. âJust,â you let out a long breath and shake your head. You finally look over and meet his eyes. He does actually look sorry, but you donât want to hear it. âJust donât, I deserved it all right.â
âNo, no you didnât.â You open your mouth to argue but he gives you a firm look that has your jaw snapping shut. âI was wrong, I donât know you. And if my Flux had ever heard me talking to you like that she would have melted my fucking spine.â He laughs a little and you feel your lips twitch up slightly. Itâs the first time youâve seen him look anything but angry.Â
Curiosity loosens your tongue and knocks you out of the dazed stupor youâve been in. âWhat was she like?â You ask, tone earnest. âYour Flux, I mean, you make her sound so amazing. I just canât,â you trail off, but the look on his face tells you he understands your unspoken words. I just canât see myself as a real hero.Â
He groans and leans back on the log heâs resting on. He stretches his legs out in front of him, the liquor bottle placed on the forest floor. Youâre surprised, you figured the thing was glued to his hand.Â
âWell,â he reaches up and scratches at the scruff of his chin, a wry grin on his face. âShe was always giving me shit, never let me get away with anything.â You unconsciously lean forward, drawn into the endearing way he begins to describe this other version of you.Â
Itâs not ridiculous to assume this variant meant something to him. Heâs got a shine to his eye that you havenât seen in the whole time youâve been together. His gaze has been empty, closed off to anything and everything. But now, his eyes are crinkling at the corners, thereâs an easy smile on his face that you canât miss.Â
âAh, she was fucking feisty. And strong, she was so strong. She was always a better hero than I was. She lived for that shit,â he trails off and shakes his head. You can see youâre losing him and you donât want this to end. Youâre in your own little bubble right now, getting to pretend thereâs a version of you out there somewhere that actually lived up to her potential.Â
âHer powers,â you blurt out, desperate for something to stop him from retreating back into his mind. âDid she have, um, good control over them?â
Logan nods, eyes darting down to the bottle of whiskey before flickering back up to meet your gaze again. âYeah, Charles trained her, she was right up there with Jean. She could have,â he stops and suddenly you feel guilty for making him talk about this. You can see the tears in the corner of his eyes, the way the whites of them go red. âShe could have been great.â
âIâm sorry,â you whisper, âI didnât mean to pry.â But you did. You were being selfish and forcing him to talk about it even though you knew it would hurt him.Â
âLook, kid, she would have liked you. Iâll tell you that much,â he says reluctantly. Like the words hurt to force out. You suppose he isnât used to being genuine with anyone.Â
You shake your head and look down at your hands. âI appreciate the thought, but I doubt it.â
Logan grabs the bottle again, gulping it down like it's water. His words have a slight slur to them as he speaks again. âI think I would know, bub. âSides, you made it into the X-Men, tells me what I need to know.â
You scoff and fix him with a sardonic look, he raises his brows in question and you roll your eyes. âTheyâll take fucking anybody. And I still wasnât good enough for them.â
Logan shakes his head and frowns. âIf what I saw in there,â he points back to the den and you feel your cheeks warm as you remember what youâd done, âis any indication, then Iâm sure you were plenty good.â
You lean towards him, elbows braced on your knees. He follows suit, leaning so close you almost want to back up. The proximity flusters you slightly but you shake the feeling off. âYou donât even know me and the first real thing you said to me was that Iâd be more useful as fertilizer.â
He sighs, face screwing up at your harsh words. He runs a hand over his cheeks and groans, âI didnât mean it like that.â
You lean back in your chair and idly twirl your hand through the air. The leaves around you lift up and flutter through the air above your head. Logan watches and you turn back to him, waiting until his eyes meet yours to speak again. âYes, you did. And you were right. Iâm fucking useless, powers or not.â The leaves drop, a few fluttering into the fire. âWeâre irrelevant, Wolverine, two washed-up X-Men who never looked good in the uniform.â
Thereâs a twinge of hurt on his face but you canât make yourself feel bad about it. Since heâs such a fan of brutal truth, youâre sure he can handle it.Â
You watch as the leaves curl up at the corners, the fire burning them straight through the middle. You get to your feet and move past him. Youâre nearly back to the den when he calls, âThe suit looks right on you,â over his shoulder.
You pause at the threshold of the door. Heâs already drinking again, staring into the fire and watching it burn. You take a few steps towards him, staring at his broad back. âWhat happened to her, your me?â
Logan looks down at his hands, his ring finger specifically. You wonder at the significance of the movement, what exactly youâd meant to him. âShe married me,â he mutters, voice cold and closed off again.Â
âGoodnight, Logan,â you whisper, finally walking inside the den.Â
You miss the small goodnight he sends back to you, finally turning around only to watch you leave.Â
There had been a very clear plan set in place. Get Juggernautâs helmet, put it on Cassandra, and then kill that psychotic bitch. Which is why youâre so confused when youâre standing knee-deep in guts and watching Logan and Wade leap through a portal above you.Â
You donât have time to feel angry or even hurt that they left without you. Laura is grabbing your arm and youâre both running for your life, trying to escape Alioth again. You run into Cassandraâs lair ducking into one of the rooms and dragging Laura with you.Â
Youâre both holding your breaths and praying that heâs sated by the others still outside. After a few minutes, the cracks of thunder stop and you risk peeking your head outside. The clouds have retreated back to their usual spot in the middle of the void.Â
You take in the carnage of Cassandraâs evil lair. Most everybody is dead. You only have to skirt around a few people to get back to the Odyssey.Â
You throw yourself in the driverâs seat and sink back against the bloodstained cushions. You let out a relieved breath and look at Laura, âWhat do you do to entertain yourself around here?â
You acclimated to the idea of being stuck in the void pretty quickly. There wasnât exactly a lot waiting for you back home. Besides, Laura was nice enough. You had food, beer, and company. You didnât really need much else.Â
Youâre pretty sure if you linger too long on the thought that Wade left you behind youâll fall into a depression that youâre never going to be able to claw your way out of. So, you forced a smile on your face and played cards. Nothing else to do but wait to die of old age or for Alioth to kill you.Â
Of course, your plans had to be ruined. There was an odd rush of air against your back and then a slight whoosh. Laura glanced over your shoulders and her brows furrowed, you turned around to find three armored men waiting behind you.Â
âFlux,â the man glanced from you to Laura, âX-23?â
âLaura,â you both correct at the same time.Â
The man gives an aggrieved sigh and holds his arm out, âCome with me, please.â
You stand up, energy tingling in the palms of your hands while you regard them suspiciously. Laura comes up behind you, claws out and glaring at them. âWhy should we?â You demand.Â
Barely a second later you hear the most insufferable voice in the world. âHiya, peanut!âÂ
âWade,â you hiss. You follow the armored men through an oddly shaped portal and find Wade standing beside a shirtless Logan, smiling proudly at you. âYou fucking left me,â you hold up your hands and his eyes widen.Â
His hands quickly come up, trying to assuage you, âHold on now-â
You throw him back, his body hurtling into a nearby building and caving in the wall. Logan watches it happen with a small smile, âBeen wanting to do that for a while.âÂ
Once Wade had recovered he filled you in on everything that happened. TVA did a general clean up and then you were standing in front of your apartment door, keys in hand like nothing had happened.Â
It was so bizarre, going from a mission to save your timeline and then youâre expected to just go about your life. You stay standing in that hallway for you donât know how long before you hear someone behind you.Â
You jump and drop your keys when Logan clears his throat. âShit,â you hiss, whirling around and glaring at him while your heart races. He chuckles and bends over to grab your keys for you.Â
âSorry,â he mutters. This is the most relaxed youâve ever seen him, covered in blood and in a borrowed shirt. âUh, Wade doesnât have enough room at his place. Told me I should come over here.â
You look over his shoulder and see Wade peeking his head out of his doorway. He catches your eye, sending you a thumbs up. You almost smile but then he makes a phallic gesture with his hands, pointing at Logan and humping the air. You glare at him and he quickly backs into his apartment, but not before sending you one last encouraging shit-eating grin.Â
You look back at Logan and heâs waiting expectantly for your answer. âYeah,â you take your keys from him and unlock the door. âIâve got a spare room but thereâs no bed in it right now.â Your eyes widen when you see the mess that is your apartment.Â
You quickly rush through, picking up empty take-out boxes and dirty laundry and shoving them into your room. Heâs smiling at you when you come back and it's slightly off-putting. âUm,â you gesture towards the couch awkwardly. âYou can take the sofa tonight and weâll look at setting you up with something more permanent tomorrow.â
âThanks,â he hovers by the armrest and you engage in the longest stare-off of your life. Neither of you says anything for a few suffocating moments before he gestures at himself. âShower?â
âOh,â you snap out of your stupor and nod your head. âYeah, right, of course.â You show him down the hall, âHere. Iâll go get you a towel.â
You rush towards your linen closet, leaving him behind in your bathroom. You grab a few clean towels and then figure he might want some clothes as well. You grab some pajamas that Wadeâs left over when heâs crashed before. Theyâll probably be a bit tighter on Logan, but you wouldnât mind seeing that.Â
You walk back to the bathroom and the thought of knocking doesnât even run through your head. It should, honestly, but youâre already so thrown off by him even being here. You walk in and immediately gasp and drop the towels.Â
âOh, I'm sorry. Iâm so sorry.â Heâs standing naked before you. Clothes discarded on the floor behind him. Everything on perfect display. Your eyes land on his abs, noticing a few prominent veins leading down-
You cover your face and turn around. âSorry,â you mutter again. God, youâre such an idiot. You still havenât even left. Youâd just been shamelessly ogling the man naked and you donât even have the decency to walk out.Â
You really canât help it though. Itâs been such a clusterfuck, the last 72 hours. Your brain is fried and Wadeâs little show hasnât helped you at all. Â
You hear Logan laugh behind you. âItâs alright,â he mutters. Something warm ghosts across your arm and you jump slightly. His hand firmly grasps your bicep, gently tugging your palms away from your face.Â
You risk a glance over your shoulder and nearly gasp at how close heâs gotten. He's towering over you, something in his face you canât place. âItâs alright,â he whispers again and you find yourself nodding without really thinking.Â
Heâs got both hands on your arms now, trailing up and down. The touch is so featherlight you can barely feel it at all. You donât even realize how heâs gently coaxing you closer until you trip on the towels at your feet.Â
You startle, looking down at them and moving to kick them aside. But he stops you, his finger nudging your chip up so youâll look at him again. There is such blatant want painted across his face that it makes your heart skip a beat. Your breath catches in your throat when he wraps an arm around your waist and drags you closer.Â
You can feel all of him. You can feel just how much he wants you. It catches you off guard, this sudden display of attraction. You donât know where itâs coming from, whatâs brought it on. But you canât find it in yourself to care. Youâve been so lonely for so long. You just want to bask in the fact that he looks absolutely starved for you.Â
No man has ever looked at you with such heartbreakingly yearning eyes - like heâs been looking for you his whole life. He dips down, lips ghosting gently over yours. Your breaths mingle together, you can nearly taste him.Â
Itâs unclear which one of you moves first, who pushes closer to the other. But it doesnât matter because the second you put real pressure behind the kiss heâs all over you. One of his hands drifts down to your ass, squeezing the flesh there and dragging you closer, grinding his hips into yours.Â
You moan at the feeling, your arms wrap around his neck and you press yourself even closer. He groans against your lips at the first swipe of your tongue. You part with a gasp when he picks you up, practically tossing you onto your sink. Your legs spread instinctually, making room for him as he slots himself between them.Â
Itâs odd, feeling so vulnerable even when heâs the one who's completely naked. It still feels like heâs holding all the power.Â
His lips are moving frantically over yours like heâs terrified youâre going to disappear the second he lets go. You can taste something desperate on his tongue. Something deeply rooted inside him that you canât identify.Â
One of your hands drifts from his neck, trailing over the muscles of his chest. Your fingers carve a path down his abs, relishing in how muscular he feels under your palm. Your hand reaches his pelvis, nearly wrapped around him when he jumps back.Â
He grabs your wrist in a grip so tight you know thereâs going to be a bruise. A pained gasp slips out and he releases you immediately. âIâm sorry,â he mutters. âSorry, I canât.â He wonât look at you now, backing up towards the shower and shaking his head. âThis was a bad idea, I canât do this.â
You shake your head, slipping off the sink and hiding your bruised wrist behind your back. âNo, sorry, I shouldnât have moved so fast.â
You feel too ashamed to meet his eye. He kissed you but you feel like youâve forced yourself on him somehow. Itâs a nauseating feeling and you want nothing more than to run back to your room and hide.Â
He takes a step towards you, something pained on his face. âKid-â
You just shake your head, step out of the bathroom, and grab the handle of the door. âSorry,â you whisper again, closing the door behind you. You lean against the cool wood, trying to catch your breath.Â
Your hand drifts up to your lips, still tingling from how desperately heâd kissed you. It doesnât make any sense. He came on to you, he threw you up on the sink, and made out with you more passionately than any man ever has before. So why are you the one who feels dirty?
You rush down the hall and into your room, slamming the door behind you. You dive under your covers, closing your eyes even though you know you wonât sleep. No, your shoulders are tensed up to your ears and your bones are vibrating with an energy you need to release.Â
Youâre completely tuned into the other person lurking in your apartment. You can hear as he starts the shower, how he talks quietly to himself sometimes. Then when he gets out you can perfectly picture what he looks like while heâs getting dressed and it only makes you feel worse.Â
You listen as he leaves the bathroom and pauses in the hall. You can see it in your mindâs eye, how he stares at your door. He walks towards it and lingers for a minute before cussing quietly and heading back into the living room.Â
You suddenly remember that you didnât lay sheets out on the couch for him. You feel guilty, but thereâs not one part of you that will be dragged from this bed and face him. Not now, at least.Â
Heâs up for a little while longer, getting water. Turning the TV on and off. Rooting through your cabinets looking for booze you know you donât have. Finally, he settles on the couch. Youâre awake for another hour, unable to relax until youâre completely sure heâs asleep. Even as you drift off and your body finally relaxes your mind doesnât. You keep seeing that stricken look on his face and it makes you sick to your stomach.Â
Itâs the smell of pancakes that wakes you up. Youâre not sure when you finally managed to pass out last night but you know it was late. Which is why youâre so pissed off that youâre being forced to get up at seven in the morning.Â
Youâre used to being able to sleep in a lot later than that. Youâre already in a pissy mood from last night and it only gets worse as you trudge around your room getting ready. Youâve never been more thankful to have snagged one of the rare two-bathroom apartments in the building.
You donât want to have to share a bathroom with Logan. You donât even want to use the other one after what happened last night. Itâs too embarrassing and painful to think about. The emotional whiplash of feeling so desired and then absolutely hideous is making your head spin.Â
Youâre sure it was all just a problem on his end, but it really doesnât make you feel any better. When you canât stall any longer, and you know that Logan has heard you get up, you slip quietly out of your room.Â
The curtains in your living room are open and heâs in the kitchen fucking around with your stove. The news is playing quietly on the TV and youâre astounded about how little heâs done and how much more homely your apartment feels.Â
Itâs never really been home to you. Not after you were booted from the X-Men. But heâs somehow made it ten times cozier than it ever has been. You almost resent him a little for it.Â
âMorning,â he grumbles from the kitchen. âCoffee,â he motions behind him and you see a steaming cup already waiting for you. You silently slip behind him, grabbing the creamer from the fridge and pouring it until youâre sure itâs sweet enough to not actually taste the coffee.Â
âThanks,â you mutter, moving to sit at the table. You keep your eyes trained on the TV, pretending to pay attention to the news so you donât have to look at him. He bores his eyes into the side of your head until you feel like youâre going to have holes in your temple.Â
When you canât take it anymore you finally look over at him. He doesnât smile, his face barely even twitches, he just looks back to his pan and continues scrambling some eggs. âDidnât know you cooked,â you offer up weakly, already growing anxious from the silence.Â
It feels wrong, to be walking on eggshells in your own apartment. He grunts and shrugs, âNot really cooking. You had the mix in your pantry,â he tells you brusquely. His tone borders on rude and you scoff.Â
The audacity of this man to have an attitude with you in your apartment. He was the one who threw a hissy fit last night. You roll your eyes and go back to the news, all it tells you is that the world is just as depressing as the inside of your apartment is right now.Â
You notice out of the corner of your eye the way his shoulders slump forward. He leans against the oven, seeming not to care if he burns himself. You suppose it doesnât matter, heâd just heal. âSorry,â he mutters. It sounds like it pains him to say the words.Â
âWhatever,â you mumble under your breath. You take a long sip of your coffee, slurping a little so you have something to fill the atmosphere.Â
He puts some food on a plate and brings it over to the table for you. You usually donât eat breakfast, preferring to just skip the meal and eat a bigger lunch. But it feels too bitchy to say that to him, so you just accept the food with a strained smile. âThanks.â
He sits across from you, glaring down at your table like it insulted him. You drag your fork against the plate, letting the scrape of metal against porcelain drown out your worries. Finally, he looks at you. âLook, about last night.â
You tense up. You want to interrupt him, to stop him from explaining. You know itâs just going to hurt your feelings, whatever he says. Whether he tells you it was a mistake or he just realized heâs not attracted to you, either way, youâre fucked. But, itâs also kept you up all night so you just shut your mouth and let him speak.Â
You keep your gaze trained on your plate, unable to fully face him. He lets out a long sigh and clenches his fork so tight you hear the metal bend. He drops it to the table and clenches and unclenches his fists a few times.Â
âI just couldnât kiss you, not when I wasnât doing it for the right reasons.â
Your brows furrow in confusion and you finally look up at him. âWhat?â You demand, disbelief coloring your voice.Â
His eyes are boring into yours, an intensity behind the stare that leaves you feeling a little shaken. âYou look like her,â he whispers, and the grief is so thick in his voice it makes your throat tighten. He pauses briefly before continuing. âThere are,â he clears his throat like heâs trying not to cry. It makes you lean back in your chair, arms crossed over your stomach uncomfortably.Â
âThere are a few differences, obviously. Youâre not a carbon copy. But your mannerisms, your attitudes, youâre so similar. And I,â he shakes his head and gives you one of the most genuinely apologetic looks youâve ever received. You can tell he really does feel guilty for projecting on you but it doesnât make you feel any less uncomfortable. âAnd I just wasnât doing that for the right reasons. I was pretending you were her and thatâs just not fair to you.â
You lean your elbows on the table, head falling into your hands. You let out a rough sigh and groan in irritation. You knew the reason would hurt but you didnât think it would be this bad. You feel gross, icky under your skin knowing that he was pretending you were another version of yourself. The version of yourself youâve always wanted to be; the hero.Â
But you also feel such a deep sadness and sympathy for him. Heâd briefly mentioned that he was married to this other you. You canât even begin to imagine what it would feel like, to see your dead wifeâs face staring at you and she doesnât even know you.Â
âI,â you donât even know where to begin. You struggle to say anything for a minute and you both just stew in the tense silence. You take in a deep breath and look up at him. You do what you always do, forcing a smile and shrugging it off. âI appreciate the honesty, really.â You stand up, bringing your still-full plate into the kitchen and busying yourself with cleaning up.Â
âClearly,â you snap, your voice crueler than it should be, âIt was a mistake. Weâll just have to make sure it doesnât happen again, right?â
Logan sits silently at the table. He looks like thereâs more he wants to say but you donât give him the chance. You canât take it. You finally thought someone had wanted you for you, flaws and all. Youâre a fucking idiot, he barely even knows you. Whatever connection you thought was there was just brought about by your own loneliness.Â
âI gotta get ready for work,â you tell his back because he isnât looking at you now.Â
He nods, scraping his fork across the plate as he aggressively cuts into his food. âRight.â You wait for him to say anything else but he doesnât.Â
You walk past him and head back to your room. You donât even have a job, you donât have to work. But you still grab your purse and head out of the apartment. Pretending you do just so you donât have to look at him anymore.Â
You really should have let him finish, though. You should have let him keep talking to you. Let him explain how as much as he sees her in you, thatâs not why he wants you. He wants you for you. Because as similar as you can be, youâre still a completely different person from who his late wife was. Youâre someone strong and incredible and he genuinely wants you. But he can never really let himself be happy.Â
It takes a few days for you both to ease up around the other. The incident in the bathroom is never brought up again. You take him shopping for clothes after a few days. It feels wrong to keep giving him Wadeâs hand-me-downs. You would have had your friend take him, but you donât trust Wadeâs sense of fashion at all.Â
After that and getting lunch together while you were out shopping things got a little easier. You bought him a bed for the spare room because you felt guilty seeing him all cramped up on your tiny couch.Â
You donât initiate any physical contact with each other. The closest youâd gotten was your hands brushing when you both reached for some popcorn at the same time on movie night. But you hadnât really minded that bad.Â
Eventually, he starts to feel like a real roommate and a friend. He lets little pieces of himself slip out. Slowly opens up about his past. You havenât made any existential discoveries of course. But he tells you stories of what his X-Men were like.Â
You try not to dance around the topic of his wife, you donât want him to think youâre avoiding asking about her. But you also donât want him to think youâre obsessed with discussing her.Â
Heâs right, you two werenât carbon copies of each other at all. You might share a few things in common but the more both you and Logan learn about each other, the more clear it is how different you both are from your variants.Â
Sometimes you think he looks at you like heâs really seeing you, not her. But you can never be sure and you donât want to put much strength behind the thought in case youâre wrong. You hate the idea that when youâre thinking of nothing but him, heâs just seeing her reflection on your face.Â
Thereâs nothing you can do about it but it doesnât stop the hurt.Â
Tonight, at Wadeâs suggestion, youâre both up on the roof waiting for a meteor shower that youâre ninety percent sure is never going to happen. Youâre also one hundred percent sure that Wade just tricked you out of your apartment so he could have sex in it. He and Vanessa donât really get a lot of time alone with Blind Al around. Youâre already mentally preparing for the absolute fuck storm youâre going to have to clean up after. Â
Thereâs a light nudge on your shoulder and you glance over at Logan. Heâs got the whiskey bottle outstretched towards you and you take it from him with a smile. One thing about being his roommate, your alcohol tolerance has skyrocketed. His liver might regenerate, but youâre pretty sure if you keep going down this route yours will give out in a few months.Â
âThink this is actually going to happen?â You ask, pointing up toward the clear night sky.Â
Logan chuckles and shakes his head. He stretches out in your flimsy lawn chair and you try not to let your gaze be drawn to the sliver of skin peeking out from his shirt. âProbably not, but I donât mind being out here.â
Thereâs an unspoken, with you, that makes you smile. You meet his gaze, his eyes soft as he watches you. âMe either.â You lean back in your chair, pulling your legs up onto the seat and huddling under your blanket. âItâs peaceful.â
You drink together in silence for a little while longer. Then you have to tap out, you donât want your brain getting too foggy. Tonight is nice, you want to remember it tomorrow. To your surprise, he caps the bottle and places it to the side. You donât mention it but you do feel like youâve noticed heâs been drinking a little less. The dark circles under his eyes seem to be easing away ever so slightly.Â
He looks over at you with an odd light in his eyes. You shift uncomfortably under his stare when it lasts a little longer than it usually does. You chuckle awkwardly, âDo I have something on my face?â
Thereâs a soft uptick to his lips as he shakes his head. âNo,â he mutters, looking back out at the night. âYou mind if I ask you something?â
Ominous, but whatever. âSure.â
He still doesnât look at you and you worry slightly about whatever it is heâs going to ask. He doesnât ease you into it all, âWade said your brain was broken?â A laugh springs out of your throat from how brusque that was. He rolls his eyes. âFuckinâ idiot mentioned it in the void, been wonderinâ about it.â
âItâs fine,â you tell him. Youâre relaxed enough that you donât mind answering. You donât want to pop the soft bubble youâve managed to create around each other. âHere,â you hold your hand out for the whiskey bottle. He gives you an apprehensive look before handing it over.Â
You unscrew the cap, âThis,â you say and point your hand at the glass. The liquid inside lifts into the air and you freeze it before dropping it back into the bottle with a splash, a simple little party trick. âThis used to be enough to put me in a coma for two days. Thatâs what he meant. Something happened to me and I just couldnât do it anymore.â
Loganâs eyes widen and he shakes his head in disbelief. You laugh a little, âI assume your wife never had problems like that?â
Thereâs always a fond smile when you mention his wife. Whether the memory is bittersweet or not. âShe wasnât perfect, much as I thought so. When she used her powers too much she,â he trails off and looks down at the floor. You frown, ducking your head down so you can catch his gaze.Â
âYou donât have to talk if you donât want to,â you promise quietly.
But he shakes his head and gives you a weak, tight-lipped smile. âNo, I want to. And I donât want you to think youâre the only Flux who struggled. When she used her powers too much she would deteriorate. Parts of her would just disappear, I donât even know how to describe it. They were destroying her from the inside out.â
You let out a low whistle, eyes widening slightly. âWell, maybe I didn't get the short end of the stick after all.â Itâs quiet and for a moment you worry your humor was ill-timed.Â
But he lets out a rough laugh, âNo, I guess not.â He takes in a deep breath before looking back up at you. Thereâs no distant sadness in his eyes like there usually is when you bring her up. It seems to only be a familiar ache now, rather than something fresh and bleeding. âBut what happened to you? Why couldnât you use your powers?â
âOh,â you look down at your lap, picking at the strings of your pants. It would be unfair to have him talk about his wife and then wimp out when it was your turn.Â
âUm, There was this mission. A bunch of kids, mutants, were being held in this warehouse. It was actually pretty normal, just go in, retrieve them, and bring them back to safety. I must have done a dozen of these before, but, I donât know. Something was this different this time around.â
You can still hear them screaming. In your mind, you hear the way they cried for help. And you see the look on your faces when they realize you canât save them every time you go to sleep.Â
You suck in a sharp breath and almost jump when his hand lands on yours. Itâs gentle, heâs barely even touching you and heâs not even acknowledging what heâs doing. But you take his hand in yours and squeeze, itâs nice, grounding.Â
âLong story short, they were heavily guarded and I was pretty drained from fighting off the guards. My powers were practically gone by the time we could even get to the kids. And, I donât know, something must have gotten knocked over or hit the wrong way because smoke was filling the place and everything was on fire. I couldnât see anything, couldnât breathe, and the kids were blocked off. There was nothing we could do to get to them. Everyone kept screaming at me, telling me to just use my abilities and get them out of there. I couldnât,â your voice gets thick and you look anywhere but at him. âI,â your mouth hangs open and you donât know what you could possibly say.Â
Thereâs no excuse for what happened. âI just couldnât,â you whisper. You sniffle and your eyes flutter rapidly, trying to stop any tears from coming. âHadnât been able to use my powers since then. Trauma block or something, I guess,â you dismiss yourself flippantly and shrug.Â
Logan just squeezes your hand again. He doesnât seem to know what to say to comfort you and youâre honestly grateful for the silence. You get so sick of people telling you there was nothing you could have done. Or that the others should have helped you. Because thatâs not a fucking excuse. Thereâs no fixing what happened, no giving those parents their children back. You fucked up and you donât appreciate people giving you cop-outs.Â
You keep your gaze trained steadily on the ground, eyes going blurry while you try to slip into the back of your mind. You donât get the chance, though. Logan is kneeling in front of you, hands slipping up your arms to cup your face.Â
He forces you to look at him, to stay present in the moment with him. âYou fucked up,â he tells you. It's so shocking that you canât help but let out a loud wet laugh. You sniffle and he grins, wiping the tears out from under your eyes. His grip on your cheeks tightens and he makes sure youâre listening as he speaks, âYou fucked up, kid. But that doesnât mean you didnât try your fucking hardest. And it doesnât erase all the people you did help.â
Your eyes search him, trying to find any kernel of untruth. Trying to prove to yourself that this isnât real. That he isnât real. You donât deserve this moment of such unwavering trust and faith. This is meant for someone else, for someone who deserves good things in life.Â
Youâve never truly believed you deserved happiness or peace like this. But right now you donât care because he is saying everything youâve ever wanted to hear. And he actually means it.Â
Your hand drifts up, covering his and tilting your head to press a gentle kiss to his palm. Itâs tentative, a test, a way to give him an out if doesnât want this. His grip on you tightens for half a second before he shoots forward and claims your lips with his own.Â
It escalates quickly. You practically melt off your chair, straddling his lap while he leans back on the ground. Your hands tug at his hair while he moves desperately over your body. He canât seem to decide what he wants to do, where he wants to touch you.Â
You love how fully his hands engulf you, the tight way they cradle you to his chest. Youâve never felt more secure in someoneâs arms than you do right now. Heâs got you, and he wants you. For you this time, you can tell. You can tell from the way he holds you that this isnât a desperation born from grief. Itâs something else, something youâre not ready to identify yet.Â
His tongue laves across the seam of your lips, silently asking permission. You smile against the kiss, parting your lips and deepening it. He licks into you, tasting you with a low grunt in the back of his throat. You feel your hips start to move of their own volition. Gently grinding down against his lap. You moan when you feel just how bad he wants you.Â
You lean back, parting from the kiss and pressing a finger to his chest to keep from following. You chuckle at his eagerness, grinding your hips down again and watching the way he thrusts up to meet your movement. âDidnât know I was such a good kisser,â you tease.Â
But he doesnât return the joke or play along. His face falls slightly and he pulls further away from you, the look on his face distant. âWhat?â You whisper. âDo I have bad breath?â You joke, trying to keep the mood light.Â
He shakes his head and runs a tired hand over his face. âNo,â he mutters. He repeats the word more firmly and finally meets your gaze. âI think I need to take this slow, just because ofâŚâ
He trails off but you know what he means. His wife. You donât know if heâs still projecting her onto you, you felt so sure he wasnât earlier. But if every time you kiss heâs gonna pull back youâre not sure that you can do this. âOf course,â you mutter with a bite to your voice. Itâs hard not to feel a little rejected every time he acts like this.Â
You move to get off his lap but his hands clamp down on your hips and he shakes his head again. âYou donât have to get up.â
You hesitate, thighs still hovering over his. You should get up and put as much space between you as possible. But heâs so warm and you want to be held for a little while more. You nod and he looks relieved. You lean back down, pressing your chest against his and letting your head rest in the crook of his neck.Â
He wraps a heavy arm around your back, keeping you close while the other reaches up to stroke your hair. It makes you feel small, in a good way. Like you can just relax and heâll take care of you.Â
âGoddamn,â he laughs a little and you sit up. He nods to the sky above and you turn around, gasping.Â
âFuck,â you whisper, âhe wasnât lying.â For once, Wade was telling the truth. Above you, it looks like the sky is falling. Glittering stars dart across the sky, streaks of blue following behind them. You grin, âItâs so beautiful.â
Logan keeps his eyes on you and nods, âYeah, it is.â
âAh, look, my favorite fuck buddies.â
âWade,â you greet tightly. You shove the bottle of wine you brought into his chest and he stumbles back. âJust let us in, you freak.â
He frowns, placing a hand over his heart. âYou know, it really hurts when you talk like that. I think we all need to hold hands and have a good old-fashioned jerk circle.â
You roll your eyes and flick his thick forehead. âItâs share circle, dumbass.â
âNot the way I do it,â he moves to the side and lets you both in. âWell, mi casa es su casa, especially since Vanessa and I had rockinâ sex in your bed last week.â
He walks off before you can hit him or even begin to respond to that. âI fucking knew it,â you hiss, glaring at his stupid Hawaiian shirt while he mingles with the rest of the people at the party.Â
Logan chuckles behind you, âHow did you two ever become friends?â
You roll your eyes and turn to face him. âI moved in next door,â you respond dryly. âThis was a nonconsensual friendship because god hates me, clearly.â You shrug your jacket off and he takes it from you, hanging it up on the hook by the door. He comes back, slinging an arm around your shoulder, and leading you towards the kitchen.Â
You hear Wade laughing loudly in the background and he grunts, âIâm gonna need a drink for this,â he mutters. You nod your head in agreement. You donât get very far, though, because without any warning Wade is in front of you. Heâs got his ridiculous dog in his arms and shoves her in your face. You grimace and jump back. Logan abandons you and you narrow your eyes at his retreating back. Traitor
Wade says your name with disappointment. âYou know, Mary Puppins is a part of my life now. As my best friend, you need to bond with her. I canât have you two fighting like this.â He shoves the dog into your arms without any warning and you flinch away from her wandering tongue.Â
âIf this thing licks me, Iâm putting her down,â you warn him gravely.Â
He gasps and snatches her back. âYou are no longer welcome in my home,â he tells you with a snotty huff. You roll your eyes and watch him go. When heâs out of sight your lips curl up in a grin and you glance at Logan.Â
Heâs by the sink, making himself a drink and taking a deep swig straight out of the bottle. You creep up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist. He smiles, hand coming down to gently hold your arm. âWhatâre you doing?â
âCome with me,â you whisper. You take his hand and lead him through the apartment. You both skirt around the partygoers, giving them vague greetings and waving them off when they give you odd looks.Â
Logan leans down, lips brushing across your ear as he whispers, âWhere are we going?â Your knees nearly give out when you hear that low tone of voice of his. You just shake your head and lead him down the hall. You can sniff out Wadeâs room from the permeating stench of his axe body spray.Â
You throw the door open and drag Logan inside behind you. His nose wrinkles up at the stiff socks littering the floor and the smell. Other than that, itâs relatively clean. You actually thought this would look so much worse.Â
âNow,â Logan demands, âare you gonna tell me what weâre doing?â
âWell,â you lock the door and turn around with a devious grin. âSeeing as Wade has ruined my favorite sheets, I feel like we need to get him back somehow.â You glance around the room, trying to figure out something of his you want to destroy.Â
You donât hear Logan moving towards you. Youâre too busy rooting through Wadeâs desk and trying to find something good to shred up. All youâre seeing is increasingly more disturbing porno mags. He has got a serious problem with pegging. You briefly wonder if you should set up an intervention or something for him.Â
You nearly yelp when Loganâs hands grip your shoulders, whipping you around to face him. âIâve got an idea of what we can do.â Thatâs your only warning before his lips cover your own. You melt into him immediately, hands fisting his shirt and dragging him closer. He grins against your lips, lifting you and placing you on the edge of Wadeâs desk.Â
âMm,â you moan but shove his chest back and shake your head. âWait,â you hop off the desk and take a seat on Wadeâs bed instead. âThereâs no point in this if weâre not on the bed.â
Logan shakes his head with an amused huff. He walks towards you but instead of taking a seat on the bed next to you like you'd expected, he kneels before you. Your brows furrow together and you frown. âWait, whatâre you doing?â
He gives you a gentle smile, hands coming up to rub gently over your thighs. The warmth of his palms soothes you almost immediately. âYou trust me?â He asks, voice a low rumble against your chest.Â
âYeah,â you whisper. He nods encouragingly and leans forward, kissing you gently. Thereâs nothing expectant in this kiss. Heâs doing it just to be close to you. Then you feel his hands drifting higher, fingers running over the buttons of your jeans. Your lips part, ready to ask him a question. But he just takes the chance to dip his tongue into your mouth, eagerly tasting you. You moan into it, not protesting when he presses you back into the bed.Â
His fingers dip under the waistband of your jeans. You lift your hips to help him tug them the rest of the way down until theyâre dropping to the floor quietly. You have a million questions dancing on the tip of your tongue but you canât find it in yourself to actually voice any of them. You donât want to break the moment. This is the first time heâs seemed comfortable going further than kissing and some heavy petting.Â
âFuck,â he whispers. Your hips jolt as he runs a thumb over the wet spot on your panties. âAll this just from kissing?â He asks, a teasing lilt to his tone. You feel your face flush, cheeks warming when you realize heâs never actually seen just how much he affects you. âRelax,â he tells you, squeezing your thighs once before slipping a few lithe fingers under the band of your panties.Â
He tugs them down, but the second he sets eyes on you he gets too impatient to take them off the rest of the way. They dangle off one ankle while he lifts your thighs, setting them on his shoulder and dipping down to press a gentle kiss against you. You gasp at the contact, head tilting back while you instinctually grind your hips up against him.Â
Itâs been a long time since youâve actually been with anyone and you already know youâre going to cum embarrassingly quick because he fucking devours you. Youâve had boyfriends who liked to eat you out before, but this is something completely different.Â
He drags his tongue over you, sucking on your clit like itâs his only true joy in life. You canât even make noises, your jaw hanging slack while you cant your hips higher. He groans when you grind against his face, shaking his head and flicking his nose across your bud. You nearly come from the sight of him smiling against your cunt alone. You feel it building slowly, and itâs like your powers are swelling up along with your release.Â
Wadeâs knicknacks are floating off the shelves, some of them rotating in the air, others fluctuating between liquid and solid forms. You canât control yourself, youâre barely aware of the chaos happening in the room around you. You just feel a warmth at the tips of your toes, swelling over your body, making your skin feel too tight. Thereâs little to no warning when you cum. He dips his tongue inside you and you let out a long moan, drenching his face.Â
The sheets are soaking wet underneath you and you know youâve ruined his shirt. Youâve never come that hard before and you would reflect on that more if he wasnât still fucking eating you out. You think your brain is going to melt out of your ears, you're so overwhelmed by all the different sensations.
He dips his tongue into you, dragging out your orgasm and drinking as much of you down as he can. Your hips keep twitching, youâd be thrashing out of his hands if it wasnât for the near brushing grip he has on your hips. âFuck fuck fuck,â you reach down, grabbing his hair at the roots and tugging. He groans at the feeling, barely leaning an inch back. âNo more,â you whisper, chest heaving.Â
He smiles, palms smoothing across the skin of your thighs, âYou okay?âÂ
âMhm,â you hum weakly. Your head falls back against the bed with a dull thunk and you struggle to catch your breath. âHoly shit, where did you learn to do that?â He doesnât answer, just laughs. You jump slightly when he presses a tender kiss on your thigh, every part of you oversensitive.Â
He moves slowly up your body, hands dragging your shirt up until heâs pulling it over your head. He cups your cheeks, letting you recover while he kisses your cheeks and face. You laugh slightly at the feeling of his beard tickling you.Â
You pull back, meeting his gaze for a long drawn-out moment before you lean forward to finally kiss him back. You can feel yourself slowly coming back into your body. Your limbs tingle back to life while you lazily make out with him.Â
His hands drift down your chest, squeezing your breasts. You laugh against his lips, arching into his touch. You reach back, unclipping your bra and throwing it off somewhere in the room. In the far reaches of your mind, you make a mental note to take that when you go. You donât want to think about what Wade would do with it if he found it.Â
Logan pulls back from you and your lips tip down at the serious look he wears. Your fingers trace the lines of his face and you tilt your head in question. âWhatâs wrong?â You whisper. Youâre completely naked before him and heâs still clothed, you donât want him to leave now.Â
He canât keep doing this to you. He canât keep forcing you into these vulnerable positions and then leaving. Thereâs only so much rejection you can take before you start to resent him for it.Â
He tilts his head down, gaze dragging across your body appreciatively. Heâs looking at you like youâre art and it makes you feel like you should be in a museum somewhere. Finally, his hand drags down from your chest, wrapping around your waist and dragging you onto his lap.Â
You brace your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself. He leans towards you, lips trailing lightly across your jaw. âYouâre not her,â he whispers against your skin. Your mouth parts, a pained breath slipping through. You try to move back from him. You hadnât expected something like that, not now, not when you thought youâd made so much progress together.Â
To have you naked, vulnerable like this, and then say something like that to you. It was fucking despicable. You shove his shoulders back but he barely moves. You shift, trying to cover yourself and fighting off the urge to cry. Why wonât he let you go? Why does he keep doing this to you?Â
He reaches out, snatching up your wrist before you can get far. âI donât want you to be. I never wanted you to be her, I need you to know that.â
He tries to kiss you but you snatch his jaw in your hand before he can. You let your nails dig in until thereâs red blooming under your fingertips. He hisses, but heâs not mad, you can feel how much he enjoys the little pinpricks of pain.Â
âNo more pulling away,â you warn. âIâm not playing this damn game with you anymore, Logan. You want me, then commit.â You release him with a shove and his pupils dilate with want. You appreciate the gentle way heâs been treating you, but you know youâre both holding back.Â
Heâs the first partner youâve been with that can actually take what you give and vice versa. Thereâs something only mutants understand sometimes. You normally have to hold back, have to make sure you donât scare a guy off by making the walls shake when you come.Â
You push him down onto the bed. Hands sliding under the hem of his shirt and running over the grooves of his muscles. You havenât had a chance to appreciate just how gorgeous his body is before, but nothing is holding you back now.Â
You snap your fingers and the buttons rip open, he surges forward catching your lips with his while you both frantically push his shirt off. He throws it off to the side and his fingers fumble with his belt buckle while you trail kisses down his neck. You glance up at him for a second before biting down on a particularly sensitive spot.Â
He groans, head rolling back while you grin against his skin. You make your way back to his lips. âDonât hold back,â you tell him, trailing your hands down to his fists and running over the spots where the claws come out.Â
âSweetheart,â he starts tone apprehensive. You shake your head, shutting him up with a kiss.Â
âDonât. Hold. Back.â
Itâs like a switch flipping. Even the way he looks at you changes. Youâre not something to be cherished and adored. You feel like a deer pinned by a wolf. Heâs got you in his clutches now and thereâs a real possibility you might not survive this.Â
He stands up, dropping you on the bed and dragging your hips off the edge. He doesnât kick his jeans off, just lowers them enough for his cock to hang out. Youâll address the fact that he wasnât wearing boxers later, youâre too worried about whatâs hanging between his legs right now.Â
Youâre no virgin, but goddamn, thereâs no way thatâs going to fit.Â
He laughs, the noise cruel and it makes shivers crawl down your spine. âWeâll make it work, kid.â He spreads your legs and you tilt your hips up, making it easier for him to just sip inside.Â
Thereâs a slight stretch, but youâre already soaked for him. Youâve been waiting for this to happen since you walked in on him naked in your bathroom. âOh, shit,â you toss your head back, taking in a deep breath while he pushes in. It feels like heâs rearranging your insides, molding you to fit him perfectly.Â
You can already feel yourself clenching down, just being so close to him is enough to make that tingle in the tips of your toes start. He leans down, placing your legs over his elbows and rutting into you like a wild animal. Thereâs nothing gentle or slow about this.Â
Youâre both so pent-up, tired from the weeks of dancing around each other. Your nails drag up his back, blood following your movement. Your powers are actively surging against him, pain only driving you further into each otherâs arms.Â
You can hear his breathy grunts and groans in your ears and itâs music to you. Neither of you cares about the party going on just outside the door. Youâre loud, skin slapping against skin while you loudly call out his name.Â
God, you hope they hear you. Hope they realize just how thoroughly youâre wrecked for each other. You can feel yourself getting closer, hips stuttering against his while you struggle to match his pace. âCome on,â he mutters in your ear. He releases one of your legs to reach down and rub your clit.Â
âFuck,â you groan, reaching up and tugging at his hair while your back bows. It only takes a few more tight circles of his thumb before youâre spasming around him. Heâs quick to follow behind you.Â
He pins your hips to the bed, dropping your legs while he thrusts faster. He loses his rhythm, the muscles of his abdomen flexing as he cums inside you. Itâs like a mini death, you feel like youâve lost time when you finally manage to come back to yourself.Â
And when you roll your head to the side you realize just how much damage youâve done to Wadeâs bed. âShit,â You glance up at the sound of his voice and notice little droplets of blood on your hips. Loganâs claws are out, stuck in the fluff of the bed.Â
You force the words out, tongue heavy in your mouth. âDo that often?â
âNot really,â he mutters. The claws retreat and he rubs his fingers over the blood. Itâs not bad, youâve honestly done worse to yourself. Itâs like a big paper cut. When the rough pad of his fingers presses against the cut you hiss at the sting, nearly enjoying it.Â
âMust be special,â you tell him with a cheeky grin. He shakes his head with a laugh and takes his time pulling out. You hate the loss of him inside you but it's a slight relief. He's larger than any partner youâve ever had and itâs almost overwhelming to be so full.Â
âCome on, let's get you dressed.â He pats your thighs, glancing around for your clothes.Â
âUh, Logan,â he looks up and you glance at his still very hard cock. âI thought you came?â
The smile he gives you is slightly terrifying. Because thereâs a promise in it. Heâs not getting you dressed for no reason. Heâs taking you back to your apartment so you can have more fun where there are less people and fewer reminders of Wade. âStamina's part of the deal, sweetheart.â
âOh,â you whisper, voice breathless in shock. You wipe the cum off your legs with Wadeâs sheets. You feel like youâve thoroughly gotten revenge on him for destroying your favorite bed set. Maybe, youâve gone a little farther than revenge, though.Â
You feel guilty, looking around the room and seeing everything you destroyed. Once youâre dressed, you wave your hand, putting most things back where they belong. But thereâs nothing you can do about the bed. The sheets are soaked with a mixture of yours and Loganâs releases and there are six holes dug deep in the bed from his claws.Â
When you step out of the room with Logan, struggling to press down your hair and get it back into place, Blind Al is waiting by the door. Sheâs doing a line off the back of her hand when you pass by. You think youâve almost made it scott-free when she yells, âMan, I wish I couldnât fucking hear,â at you.Â
You tense up, shoulders to your ears while you run to the door. Logan laughs, grabbing your coat for you and pressing a hand to your back while he leads you to the apartment. âWerenât feeling so embarrassed earlier,â he teases.Â
âShut up,â you grumble, dragging him into the apartment to finish what you couldnât on Wadeâs bed.Â
Youâve managed to keep any holes out of your bed, you just have to use your powers to keep his at bay. Itâs nice, not having to explain why everything around you is levitating to the person youâre having sex with. There were a lot of awkward conversations that came from that.Â
Youâre lying on Loganâs chest, fingers idly running over the veins in his biceps. âI want to be serious about this,â you tell him.Â
His hand pauses from where itâd been stroking your back. You sit up on your elbow so you can get a better look at him. âI mean it, I,â thereâs no way to say this without sounding like a complete bitch. You just have to rip the bandaid off.Â
You take in a deep breath, âI know that you still miss her,â you say, unwilling to say her name. Logan sits up, looking more serious now. âBut I donât want to be with you if you think that Iâm going to turn into her. Or if you think that Iâm the last connection you have to her. Iâm not her, Logan, and I'm never going to be her.â
You expect anger on his face or regret, maybe. But you donât expect him to laugh at you. You roll your eyes, lips pursed while you wait for him to finish. He notices the pissy expression on your face and quiets down, but you still see a smile fighting on his lips.Â
âI know youâre not her. You could not be more differentâ he tells you with a slight smirk, like thereâs an inside joke youâre missing out on. âI was married to her for a long time and I loved her. But we had our time together. Now, I just want my time with you. Youâre not her,â he leans forward, pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead. âThatâs why I want you.â
You feel your heart flutter in your chest and have to fight to keep a stupid grin off your face. âOkay,â you whisper. âGood, well as long as weâre on the same page,â you tell him, faux serious. He just rolls his eyes and pulls you back into his arms.Â
Youâre going to cuddle up beside him when you hear your phone going off like crazy on your nightstand. Your face pinches in confusion and you reach over to grab it.Â
Wade
Did you fuckers have sex???
In my bed!!!!
And you didnât invite me?!
âŚ.
Wade
Tell Logan I want his claws in me next
âFuckinâ dumbass,â you mutter, throwing your phone somewhere on the bed. Logan laughs again, drawing you closer.Â
a/n: i have a really weird tendency for masochism, idk what thatâs about. I just feel like if you were having sex with this man, heâs taking you like a wild animal. also feel like I might be a one-hit wonder. the smut just wasnât doing it for me this time guys nor was the angst, iâm disappointed in myself
I just don't think I did justice to his character in the movie, I might have made it too OOC/ if I did PLEASE let me know
end. â I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved Š not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.
General Taglist: @evasmlp
Logan Taglist: @nonamevenus âĄ
#logan howlett x you#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett#the worst logan x reader#wolverine x reader#wolverine x you#wolverine#deadpool and wolverine#deadpool#hugh jackman#praying this doesn't flop
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1-800-HOT-TO-GO | E.M
Anonymous asked: Can i request a fic where either the reader reveals during a pizza and beers hangout she was a phone sex operator for a brief time and everyone is shocked and one of them jokingly asks if she was any good and she whispers something dirty in their ear and it changes their friendship
Cw: fem!reader, allusions to male masturbation, dirty talk 1.7k words
âCome again?â
âI used to work a sex hotline,â you shrug like it was no big deal.
âNo way,â Eddie shakes his head. âI donât believe you.â
You hear Steve and the others giggle around you, also in disbelief.
âWanna bet?â
âTry me.â He wants to call your bluff because no way in hell did he not know this about you. You always were reserved when it came to talking about sex; you never had you seemed promiscuous.
You hold up your hand to your ear, pretending it is a phone, and Eddie follows your lead.
âRing ring,â he giggles.
âHello.â You changed the pitch of your voice to be more sultry.
âHi,â he smirks.
âCan I get a name, handsome?â
â Eddieâ
âMmmm, hi, Eddie. Iâm Candy.â
âCandy?â
He breaks character, but you donât.
âthe boys say itâs because Iâm so sweet.â You fake giggle.
âThis is my first time calling. Iâm not sure what to do here.â
âThatâs okay, Iâll walk you through it⌠you want to get comfortable for me?â
Eddie looks around the room at the others, who are trying to stifle their giggles. This night was supposed to be chill, with pizza and beers. He wasnât really sure how you all ended up here.
âIâm comfortable.â He says without actually moving.â
âI wish I could see; you sound so sexy.â You sigh.
Another giggle leaves Eddieâs lips because who is this person whoâs taken over your body?
âYeah? you wish you could see be, Dollface?â Playing into it more.
You lean in to whisper so only he can hear it this time. âoh yeah, big boy; I bet your cock is already nice and hard for me. Such a good boy, I want you to fill me.â You sit back, take a loose tendril, twirl his hair around your finger, and watch Eddieâs eyes widen at what you just said.
âOh-okay, thatâs enough.â He chuckles, trying not to give away how turned on he just got. âI believe you!â
You sit back with a giggle and grab another slice of pizza like nothing just happened.
Everyone looked at you with shock.
Eddie quickly gets up and excuses himself to go to the bathroom.
âWhat did you say?!â Robin begs.
You shrug in response like it was another day at work⌠which it has been.
âDamn, is it hot in here?â Steve pops the collar of his shirt.
âYou guys need to loosen up, my god.â
While you were still enjoying your pizza, Eddie was having a crisis. Never had he thought of you in that way until moments ago, listening to those filthy words slip from your lips.
âI bet your cock is already nice and hard for me. Such a good boy, I want you to fill me,â your words replayed in his mind while he tried to fight the blood rushing to his stiffening cock.
He canât go back out there like this. Eddie splashed cold water on his face to try to snap him out of it, but it didnât help.
A quick rap on the door startles Eddie out of his inner monologue.
âYou okay, big boy? Youâve been in there fifteen minutes.â He hears you laugh from the other side.
Had it really been that long?
Eddieâs issue had not been resolved; in fact, it had worsened as he tried to push down the thought of you naked and spread out for him⌠talking to him like that.
âYeah-I-uh- just a minute.â Eddie wanted to pull his hair out at how frustrated you had made him.
You were just pals, bubbies, amigos.
You werenât attractive⌠were you?
Eddie never thought to look at you in that way; youâre just a friend, always had been, always will be⌠unless?
The more Eddie thought about it, the more he realized he did think your hair looked really pretty tonight. The way you always did your makeup really brought out your beautiful featuresâŚand when he got a whiff of your delicious perfume when you twirled his hair, he thought his.
âYou sure?â You try to jiggle the door handle, but itâs locked.
âShit,â Eddie curses under with breath.
âCome on, Ed, talk to me, please?â
You hear the lock unlatch and watch the doorknob slowly turn as Eddie pokes his head out.
âHi,â heâs short and sounds a bit out of breath.
âI hope what I said didnât make you uncomfortable.â
Ed saw the worried look in your eyes.
âNo! Well, I mean, yes, butâŚno.â
âYes, but no?â
Eddie let out a deep sigh. He didnât see a way out of this. He stepped aside to let you in and shut the door behind you.
âEddie?â You look up at him.
âHm?â
His eyes snap to your concerned face.
âIâm sorry, I didnât think it was a big deal! It did it all the time for work; I just⌠I donât know. Iâm sorry.â
âItâs okay.â
âNo, itâs not. clearly, I overstepped a boundary-â
âYouâre not the only one.â
âWhat do you mean?â
Eddie moves his strategically placed hands to reveal the tent formed in his jeans and watches as your face falls into amused shock.
You cup your mouth to stifle an unexpected giggle.
âThatâs not the reaction a guy wants when he shows a girl how turned on he is.â
âIâm sorry, I just!-didnât think?â
âItâs okay. Iâm just trying to get rid of it, but itâs not going away.â
âYou mean?â
âIâm waiting it out.â
âOh, ok.â You nod awkwardly.
An awkward silence washes over the both of you as you try so hard not to stare at his crotch.
âDonât worry, Iâm not going to ask for your help if thatâs what youâre thinking.â
âI wasnât!â
âOkâŚâ
Another very uncomfortable silence settled between the two of you as you fiddled with the hem of your shirt, trying to do everything in your power so as not to look down.
âI um⌠I guess Iâll just.â You point to the door that heâs blocking.
âUh. Ok,â he nods and steps to the side.
You close the door behind you but donât leave. You lean against the door and take a deep breath, trying to make sense of the evening.
Why did the thought of turning Eddie on excite you? Heâs a friend. Just a friend. I always had and always will be.
With a deep breath, you go to push yourself up off the door, but before youâre able to, you hear your name being moaned from the other side of the door.
You froze. You knew you should move, but your feet were locked in place. More heavy breaths and the sound of muffled moans seeped from under the door gap, and you pressed your ear to the door.
Eddie was jerking off because of you⌠and you liked it?
Eddie bit back screaming your name as he finally released himself into the bathroom tissue. Finally, he could return to rejoin everyone without being physically uncomfortable.
He discarded his release, tucked himself back in, washed his hands, and unlocked the door, but he was ambushed when you fell onto him when he went to open the door.
You let out a squeak as you lost your balance, falling into Eddie as the door was opened from under you.
âWoah,â Eddie catches you before youâre able to fall. His rage hands wrap around your biceps, gripping tightly to brace your fall.
âWere you spying on me?â
âOh god, sorryâ youâre so embarrassed. The whole evening has been one shit show. You scramble to find your fitting to create space between you and Eddie.
âYou were spying on me!â
âShhhhh! Keep your voice down.â
âYou totally were spying on me!â He accused.
âYouâre the one who moaned my name!â You defend.
Eddieâs cheeks reddened.
âYouâre the one who said all those⌠things!â his hands flailed.
âYouâre the one who egged it on!â
âSo!â
âSo?â
âYeah, so!â
âWoah, guys, whatâs going on here?â Steve pops his head around the corner.
âNothing,â you both glare.
âOhhhhhkayyyyyyyy,â Steve turns a heel and walks back to the kitchen to grab a drink.
âEddie,â you sigh, âI donât want to argue. This is dumb, and we can pretend it never happened.â
âWe could, but I gotta know.â
âWhatâs that?â
âDid you like it?â He took a step closer, filling the gap between you.
âWhat?â You look up at him.
âI asked if you like listening to me?â he brushed your hair behind your shoulder.
You gulp, not expecting Eddieâs demeanour to switch on a dime.
âI⌠I donât know?â
âI think you did, and youâre too scared to admit it.â You can smell him. He is so close to you.
âEddie, what are you doing?â You watch as he leans in closer.
âJust trust me.â His hands find the back of your neck, pulling you close.
âEddie?â
âLet me try something.â
âKay,â you whisper.
Eddieâs lips graze yours ever so lightly before he presses them fully.
A million and one thoughts run through your mind as Eddie kisses you.
You blame the cheap beer for letting this happen. You blame the beer for liking it. You blame the beer for kissing him back. You blame the beer for the tongue slip and the beer for how you wanted to moan when he pulled away.
âWoahâ
âYea woah,â you repeated dumbly.
âum⌠did you like it?â
âYeah⌠did you?â
âYeah.â
âcool⌠now what?â
âgo out with me,â Eddie states confidently.
âLike a date?â
âwhat else would it be?â He chuckles.
âI donât know?â You shrug, embarrassed that Eddie is getting you all flustered.
âYouâre cute when you donât know what to say.â He smirks.
âIâm cute?â You never thought hearing Eddie say those words would send butterflies fluttering through your tummy.
Eddie doesnât answer verbally; he leans in to kiss you again to confirm his statement.
âWe should get back to the others.â You sigh as you pull away.
âYou didnât answer me.â
âYou didnât ask me anything.â
âYes, I did. I asked you out.â
âNo, you said go out with me. Thatâs a statement, not a question.â
âAre you kidding me?â
âNo,â Yes, you were totally messing with him.
âWill you go out on a date with me?â
âJust say yes! Youâve been gone for half an hour!â You hear Robin yell from the living room.
âRobin!â You hear Steve scold.
âWhat?â
You canât help but laugh and canât believe the next worldâs coming out of your mouth.
âOkay, Iâll go out with you, Eddie.â
#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson smut#eddie munson imagine#Eddie Munson request#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson x best friend reader#eddie munson friends to lovers#eddie munson
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MONEY HONEY! â â GOJO SATORU.
⤠popstar!gojo masterlist
headline. fucking your client wasnât on your bucket list. the famous popstar 'toru' says he canât perform because of issues heâs having with his voice. but he finds another way to warm up his vocal cordsâit involves being between your legs.
word count. 4.2k
warnings. fem! reader, popstar!gojo, pwp, unprotected sex, modern au, he's a whiney brat, overstim, degradation, praise, semi public, impact play, cunnilingus, fingering.
an. lol this was fun 2 write !! ty @osaemu as always for beta'ing
ââŚnono, you donât understand. i canât go out there, i justâŚcanâtâ!â gojo mutters, and heâs pacing back and forth. talk about a drama queen. to think you had to deal with this every day, being the infamous satoru gojoâs personal assistant was never an easy task. his attire wasâŚquite enthralling to say the least. gojo was draped up in a sheeny black one-piece with rhinestones attached in a few places, he always had his outfits designed a certain way. not too tight, not too big.
you sat on the sofa, taking a sip of a latte he bought you as a thanks for saving him to deal with the hoards of paparazzi that practically lived outside the stadium back-way entrance.
âsatoru, you do this before every show,â you sigh, glancing at him. you couldnât lie to yourself, he was strikingly handsome. gojoâs hair was a tad bit messy and ruffled. it was a slight v-cut towards his chest to show a bit of skin. his fangirls always went wild over the most minimal things such as that. âyou do realize youâre supposed to be performing in front of 10,000 people? canceling right before a show isnât a good lââ
âi knowâŚi know,â he pouts, and heâs so unserious, you sort of found it hard to believe this was a millionaire pop star whoâs such a household name. gojo lets off a loud sigh before walking towards you with a sheepish grin. âthese cough drops youâve been givinĘź me havenât done shit.â
âreally...â you deadpan, casually giving him nothing but a sly eye roll.
gojo sulks and heâs just a few feet apart from you now. âmhmâŚreally,â he says, and the slight rasp in his voice catches your attention. his earpiece was still on, as well with his mic that hung just barely underneath his chin. âi did research though. about other methods that help with heh, um vocal fry..â
you stare up at the popstar, and heâs returning the gazeâŚas if he was trying to hide the smile that was already forming against his pink lips. you donât give him an answer and this time, heâs the one to roll his eyes.
ââŚwell since you asked so nicely,â he grumbles, the same pout going against his face before he pulls out his phone. gojo scrolls a thumb down against his bright screen before clearing his throat. âhm, according to this totally accurate article, it says⌠to fully recover from vocal fry, a guy must uh, receive a special treat within a womanâsââ
you blankly stare at him, already second-guessing his fake response. âjust say you want to eat me out, satoru.â
âwhaâ whereâd you get that impression?â he plays dumb, furrowing his eyebrows and cowardly looks around the room. a few seconds go by before he shrugs, speaking quickly, defeated. ââŚ.fine i wanna eat you out. hmph.â
you turn your head for a brief moment, hearing the defending roars of the crowd just a few areas down from the dressing room the two of you currently stayed in. âmaybe after your show, they're chanting for yââ
âthey can wait,â he frowns, and he turns you around, two hands softly holding onto your shoulders. gojo remained with a pout, bottom lip just slightly tucking underneath the top one. âi canât.â
the both of you grow quiet for a long moment, and gojo seems seriousâdramatic, but serious. you and him both exchanged sensual eye contact, and you were so close to gojo that you could practically smell the strong cinnamon scent of his intoxicating cologne. the popstar smooths his lips together before briefly shifting his eyes down at the floor and then back up at you.Â
âfive minutesâŚfive minutes, that isn't too long is it?â he stammers, and the gaze the two of you made starts to get more and more intense. âi wonât get into too much trouble if it's just five minutes right?â
âyouâre insufferable.â you mumble, letting off a soft sigh. âokay, five minutes. if you say this helps with yourâvocal whatever.â
not much to your surprise, five minutes turned into half an hour.Â
you held back a moan the sudden second you felt gojoâs warm tongue swiftly lap against your drenched folds. he made you wriggle against him, and you maintained a rough grip against the laid-back sofa.
âs-satoru,â youâd whimper out, gasping at how sloppy he was. you were prompt up in such a position to where you were bent over the arm part of the couch, skirt lifted, fishnets just barely pulled down, and the most vulgar expression. âoh my g-goddd, you're gonna make the others outside h-hear.â
âyouâll just have to be a little more quiet, assistant,â he whispers, cool breath fanning against your pussy. perhaps this was unprofessional, no it was very unprofessional. a plethora of following consequences started to race through your mind. âwhat time is it?â
you moaned, reaching near the wooden half table for his watch and read the time, âum.. quarter past eight.â
âaw man,â he sulks, softly licking the your tender pulsating numb with the very tip of his tongue. with a quick second, he maneuvers circles all over your clit to feel you squirm and jitter against him. âthat much time passed? canât stand rushingâŚâ
as you cling onto the fluffed couch, your black pencil skirt that was just sluggishly raised up and yet, you continued to gnaw the inside of your lip from the feelings of his tongue, entirely sloppy.
the slurps that exited from his mouth had your bottom lip quivering in such desire. you craved more, the way he swirled and curved the length of his tongue throughout your pussy earned umpteen gasps and whines from you.Â
âsâsatoru,â youâd croak out, and heâs casually taking the time to make out with your folds. languidly, your slick race down his chin, and between breaks to breathe, he'd lap up his tongue before diving back in. âfuck, âm gonna cum again, think âm gonna cum..â
âwait a little longer, yeah?â he murmurs, grabbing the fat of your ass with two rough hands. you felt bundles of butterflies stir inside your stomach, feeling gojoâs nose swipe against your folds for a few jiffs. âlet me eat, haven't had a good meal all fuckinâ day.â
you swallowed, not even facing him but you could practically see the grin stretching across his lips. âandâŚand whoâs fault was that?â
he chuckles, warm breath fanning against your cunt. âokay, you have a point,â and your thighs feel feverishâyouâre so hot, and not because of the sudden humidity wafting around the small dressing room.
the popstar lolls out his tongue, humming before you moan, feeling him lick your pussy in a straight direction. âmhm, this is better than anything else though.â
you were about to speak, but all that did was make you let out a shaky whine. the smooth pads of his thumbs graze against both parts of your ass as he continued to eat you out like a starved man. it was as if time stood still, your mouth grew exceedingly dry and your legs felt like they could barely stand up on their own.Â
âsa..satoru,â you once more repeated, not knowing how long you could last. simply, his tongue was dangerousâgod, it was just the way he moved it in every direction.
he knew where to lick, where to suck, and even nibble. gojo found himself tickling his tongue against your little nub before sucking on it. all to hear you cry out in desperation. cacophonies of whimpers depart from your glossed lips such as, âsatoru,â âplease-please,â and âm gonna c-cum.â
there was no denying, gojo had you an entire stammering mess. you found yourself even questioning how this became, the two of you were never intimate. although, there's always been steamy moments between the two of you.Â
for instance, there was a moment where gojo took you with him to the hot springs while he was on tourâŚwhich non-surprisingly led to a hot make-out sesh. that was a few months ago, and the two of you decided to not think much of it. of course though, there are always assumptions being made about the two of youâalways from the nosy journalists and interviewers.Â
each interview, itâd always be questions theyâd ask about the precious little assistant thatâs essentially attached by the hip to the famous gojo satoru.
âare you and that girl exclusive yet?â
âhow long have you two seen each other?â
âplease. describe to us. whatâs she like in bââ
theyâd get more perverted each time. alas, gojo always loathed it whenever the press referred to you as âthatâ girl.
his jaw would always clench in sheer annoyance. perhaps he didn't have the right to feel that way, but he was somewhat protective over you. it wasn't like you were his bodyguard or anything clearly, but still. he always liked how you treated him just like youâd treat anyone else.
âsatoru..â you'd cut him off from his deep thoughts. âyour phone keeps beeping.â
âhuuuuh?â he grouches, ears perking at the annoying screech of his device. gojoâs thumbs remain against both edges of your ass before he breaks off his lips, a long string of his own saliva running down your slit. âoh, can you hand it to me?â
he's so nonchalant, and with your back still arched, you lightly fling his phone towards him.
he grumbles.
picking up the phone, typing in his twenty one digit passcode of âsexymansexyspraycan69â before with a click, it unlocks. gojo darts his eyes towards his phone and hums at the five messages left from his manager, kento nanami.Â
âGreetings. Where are you? Message me Ass.â
âASAP. Autocorrect.â
âYour fans think your dead.â
âDonât tell me you're busy with that assistant of yours again.â
âWhen your sales start going low, don't blame me.â
and many more unread, âblah blah yeah yeah,â gojo murmurs, skimming through the loads of unread gray bubbled messages. ânothing important. geez, can't have a single moment to myself.â
you were so close to orgasming and that's when gojo flips you over to face himâyou're panting and he flashes you a soft smile, leaning in to kiss your forehead. âaw, waiting for me?â he whispers, bringing a gentle kiss towards the inner corner of your neck. his touch was immensely warm, something you just couldn't describe. âyou wanna cum don't you, baby?
âm-mhmm.â was all you could manage out, wrapping your arms around him as he got right between you. gojo continues to trail kisses down your neck before chuckling.Â
âuse those words, câmon. don't be shy. i wanna hear ya tell me what you want.â
the way he was such a tease, you couldn't stand him, then again you could. so annoying, gojoâs warmth of his performing outfit brushed against your skin. the perfectly knitted fabric of it dancing against your skin as he inched closer towards you. âtell me how much of a messy girl you wanna be.â
âiââ you started, and he took a moment to stare into your eyes. gojo looked so pretty, smug yes, but pretty. long lashes each time he blinked, fluttering against him. whenever he showcased that well-known cheeky smile of his, his dimples would poke right against his lips. âi-i wanna cum. please, lemme cum, âtoru..â
âpretty girllll wants to cummmm,â he sings in a playful melodic tune. again, you couldn't stand him. singing right in the middle of something so intimate. gojo runs a hand down your buttoned-up shirt before chuckling. âhm, i suppose. go ahead, let go fĘźr me.â
once you do, immediately your vision turns dizzy. all you saw was a few blotches of white, and it feels so good that the feelings have you biting down on your lip. gojo leans into your neck, whispering sweet nothings against you while giving your ass a soft caress.
âgood girl, just let goâŚyeah,â he purrs, giving your collarbone a gentle suck. you taste so sweet to him. you're addicting, simple as that. like candy he can't get enough of.
gojo satoru had a sweet tooth for you, there was no doubt about it. âfuck, i can just suck on you all day,â he utters in a low voice, and his warm hands part your thighs so he can get a bit more between you. âi need moreâŚfuck the fans, i need you.â
âidiot, donât say that..â you moan, and he's kissing all down the crevices of your neck again. gojoâs lips against your tender skin gave you chills. even still, you were so hot, from the neck down. it felt amazing, the feeling of him sucking and kissing against your skin to such a point that you're just throbbing. ât-theyâre waiting for you.â
âthey can keep waiting,â he smiles, leaning down to kiss near your chest, moving the exclusive backstage lanyard pass away with a slight grip. âdamn, you don't know how hard iâve been during rehearsal. iâi think about you, you know?â
you gawk up at him as his body towers over you, his costume glimmers in the light before he starts to peel it off carefully. you were taken by surprise so you mutter, âyouâŚyou do?â
âwell yeah girl,â he rolls his eyes, such sass in his tone, following with the low rasp that hid underneath his voice. âyou drive me crazy in the worst way.â
âthe feelingâs mutual, popstar.â you utter, a glint in your eye.
âhmpf. now that i was nice enough to let you cum, you decide to be a brat, huh?â he raises a brow, using two fingers to brush his mic piece aside.Â
a coyish grin goes against your lips. âsorry. are you gonna do anything about it?â
ââŚshut up..â he grumbles, and he does.Â
pretty much, you then found yourself on your hands and knees on the couch, feeling gojo caress your ass briefly before meeting the mounds of your skin with a mean spank.
you suck in shortened breath. âooh,â he says as you moan in unison of the light thwack. âyou get off on spanks, huh?â he utters in a grouse, the feeling of his palm kissing against your skin making you continuously pulse.Â
ân-no.â you spat.Â
âliar,â he matches your snarky tone, and you let off a gasp once you feel him finally rub the tip of his dick against your folds. gojo grows abnormally quiet the minute your slick coats his length freely. âfuckkk,â he sighs, eyes closing for a short second. you teasingly wriggled your ass against him and he spanks you again. âyouâre so impatient, wait.â
âdo you even know how to fuck?â you slip out, and you held back a giggle. perhaps you shouldn't have said that, your thoughts did speak way more than they should anyway.Â
gojoâs eyebrows curl into a furrow, and his voice genuinely sounds offended. âwhaâ?! of course i do.â
âjust asking.â you tease.Â
âjust asking,â he mocks your tone, completely butchering it purposely and gojo slowly starts to make his way inside of your tight pussy. he's gradually moving himself in, and you let off a moan before he continues, âyeah. shut the f-fuck up.â
a small grin stretches against your lips, because you hear how gojo stutters whilst sinking inches into you. even while trying to be mean and degrading, he was so close to moaning himself. it was simply adorable. you maintained a mere pristine arch while biting the inside of your cheek once more.Â
âyou're s-so wet ân sloppy,â he huffs out a groan, and the squelches your pussy made against him was simply enticing. for a second, you grew mute once you gave your own body a listen. just the faint sounds of gojoâs jagged breathing, âf-fuck, âs good. keep facing that way, just like that. good.â
gojoâs touch against your spine was purely gossamer.Â
he was soft, gentle, delicate.
yet the minute he started to create a pace with his rollicked hips, he couldn't contain himself. the way his dick probed throughout your walls, you kissed your teeth in longingâjust for him to just hurry.
gojo was always such a tease, the fat plump head of his cock dabbing against your pussy.Â
âs-stop playing and just put it in.â you moaned, growing impatient by the mile.Â
âheh, you know what they say,â he mumbles, you pulse even more once you feel him slide in about a single inch or twoâŚonly to then go right back out. âpatience is a virgin.â
ââŚitâs virtue.â
âthatâs what i saiââ
âjust fuck me.â you whined.Â
gojo giggles, and finally, he starts up his slovenly pace again. he grips onto your hips before sighing. he takes note of the way you progressively suck him in.
you linger over the couch, the fabric of your own pencil skirt just hovering over your waist before gojo starts to sway his hips.Â
you had to stop yourself from being so noisy, executives were probably in the other room.
some kind of meeting perhaps occurring, yet here you were, happily entangled with your client. such thick inches he was dumping into you had nearly drooling. gojoâs base was rotund and fat, thwacking and thwacking against you to where you're so dizzy.Â
âf-fuck, âtoru.. âs good.â you whined, every few seconds heâd smack your ass to watch your ass jiggle with such recoil. it was one of his favorite moments to witness. as your lips stuck together, your thighs already felt weak and tremulous.Â
âdamn girlâŚdidn't expect you to s-start throwinâ yourself back again me,â he sibilates, and for a concise moment his head goes back. a groan flies past his glossed pink lips as your ass continued to thrash against him. âyou're such a needy girl. trynaâŚf-fuck me back..â
the way his voice unintentionally got low whenever he was in such a trance had you throbbing, such convulses making you nearly weak in the knees.
to you, the feeling was indescribable. such pools of heat ran between your legs the more his thrusts picked up.
his dick reached every spot, so much so being preciseâyou felt the curve of his length analyze all throughout your inner walls. it didn't miss a spot, he reached deep and you let off the cutest whimper. âgod, r-right there. please, âtoru. y-your curve, âs reaching me deep.â
âyou f-flatter me,â he pants, trying to ignore his flusteredness. gojoâs right hand, the hand that had a half-cut open glitter glove that coordinated alongside his outfit ghosts against your ass. his lip quivers from his pace, and the way your pussy just sucks him dry, a few splotches of pre-cum cutely coated against the outer part of your ass. âfuck, dunno how much i can take with you movinâ your ass against me like thatâŚshit, shit.â
ââŚs-satoru,â you breathed, biting down on your arm to suppress your moans a bit. not before long, he deepens the angle and you feel his sharped hips piston in utter contentment. âfuck, f-fuck. âs deep.â
gojo groans, swallowing the nonexistent lump in his throat before he feels himself coming close.
âthink youâre gonna m-milk me dry,â he gasps, jerk after jerk his hips go against you at full throttle. the base of his dick, you hear the pap pap pap noises commence, and itâs so obscene. âshit, think âm in love,â and then you grow hot. itâs a long inelegant pause before he adds to his words, ââŚi-in love with your pussy.â
you were gonna comment something, but you were too fucked dumb to comprehend anything. youâre basically being fucked stupid into the cushioned sofa. the cottony bristles of the fabric went against your skin as your body lurched forward each time.Â
splaying at an almost animalistic pace, gojoâs ears, the very tips of them at least grow incredibly hot, youâre making his body heat up, scorching. the way your pussy tightly hugged around him like a vice, he was obsessed.
he just couldnât get enough. to think this was the first time heâs been this intimate with youâoh, how he could only imagine what itâd be like for a second time, or a third time, or aâŚ
âs-satoru, your phoneâs ringing..â
he grunts, glancing down to see the bright-lit screen display, and this time itâs geto. with an eye roll, he ignores it, still gripping your hips, heâs attaining his peak before he lets off a husky groan. âf-fuck, âm gonna cum.. can iâ?â
ây-yes, jusâ do it, âtoru,â you spoke, not even letting him finish his sentenceâyou knew what he was gonna ask though if he could shoot inside. you were so drunk from his dick, thoughts on your mind were straight mush.Â
âokay, okay,â he breathes, and even his moans were pretty. figures, gojo was a soprano, so he was bound to sound angelic, even while moaning his head off. it had the perfect pitch to it, such rasp in it, almost breathy.Â
you feel gojoâs pelvic bone thrust a bit more at a quickened pace, accelerating just a bit more and his nerves were just going wild. âfuck, f-fuck..â he grunts, and he starts to grow a bit whiney, his sloppy hits against your rear made out to be a tad bit voluntary, rhythm a bit more expedite, and he clenched his jaw.Â
once gojo came, it's so much.
thick ropes that seeped right into you. you moan, and he pauses his hips just to watch, feeling himself pouring all inside. velvety ropes of the popstarâs cum fills you up to the brim. you're panting, he's panting, and gojo was in love.
was it love? he didn't know, but his pupils were dilated for sure.Â
his breath hitches once he slowly pulls out, watching his own cum slowly spill out between your folds and he lets off a moan. âmade me fuck such a mess into you,â he spouts, running a thumb down your slit to watch you cutely jounce against his touch.Â
âyou ruined my panties.â you whined, turning over to face himâgojo leans in for a kiss, and you return the favor, tasting yourself once more on his lips. the sweetened taste of your own slick that still remained all over his tongue.Â
âbaby, it's not like you need them,â he rasps, grabbing ahold of you, and he positions you to get on his lap. âbesides, i was gonna ask to keep them.â
âwhy?â you mumble, wrapping your arms around his neck, slipping off a moan at his already sensitive tip hovering against your entrance as you realigned yourself.Â
timidly, he runs a hand down his neck. âyâknow. for uhâŚgood luck? was gonna keep them in my pocket or something.â
âyou're soââ
âshhh.â he hums, interrupting your words for another tender kiss. your tongue slides against his, and he tastes minty.
as his breath collides against yours, you playfully bite down on his lip. gojo grunts, and heâs making your way inside again. gingerly, you sink down against his thick base and he gives your ass a mean squeeze before spanking it once you start to move.Â
âoh f-fuckâŚfuck, forgot how sensitive-â he hiccups, watching with half-lidded eyes at your hips rotating against him in an orderly fashion. you moan from his pleasure, taking a second to swallow before whimperingâsoftly, you kiss against his neck and he grunts. âyou-you make me feel so good, baby.â
gojoâs almost at a lost for words, heâs had his fair share of women, but none could make him feel like this.
besides, he's never had the time. touring day in and day out was a hassle, and intimacy was a straight no due to his overly busy schedule.Â
although, whilst the two of you were screwing around, making out and you're riding him cowgirl, thatâs right when the wooden creaky door bursts open.
not to anyoneâs surprise, it's no one other than gojoâs best friend and bassist, suguru geto.
âyou've got to be joking,â he utters with crossed arms, immediately darting his eyes away. âeveryoneâs been calling you, there's a search party, andââ
geto pauses, tilting his head. ââŚis that my clothes you're wearing, satoru?â
âsuguruâŚhey man,â gojo gasps, nervous laughter following his toneâyou jump in surprise, and he wraps an arm around your waist. âiâm⌠kinda of busy here.â
âi don't give a fuck,â he grumbles. âby the way. your mic was on the entire time. you moan like a girl more than her.â
gojoâs eyes widen, reaching for the tiny button near the edge of his mic.
indeed, the switch was turned on and he awkwardly laughed, bringing the speaking part up to his lips.
âehehâŚhey mic check?â and he could hear himself echo through the ear piece. embarrassing.
despite you still being inside, you just sat thereâgeto staring away, not even trying to comprehend what was happening before gojo coos out a subtle cheeky, âuhâŚi didn't know my mic was on. my bad.â
âyou're so stupid...â you run a hand against your forehead in disbelief. an entire stadium practically heard the both of you.Â
the heels of geto turned before gojo brings a finger against your lips to shush, and he pouts. âsugu wait,â
âwhat.â he mutters, turning back around.Â
âwanna joinâŚ? don't think a few more minutes wouldn't hurtâŚr-right?â
ââŚâŚ.â
#â
vegasbaby.#popstar!gojo#gojo x reader#gojo x you#gojo satoru smut#gojo smut#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru x you#satoru gojo x reader#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujustsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x you#female reader#anime smut#anime x reader#gojo x y/n#tw sex#gojou satoru x reader
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The Ink Shop
Description: Desperate for a job, you answer an advertisement not knowing it's a tattoo shop. It's not particularly difficult work, except for one thing: having to deal with Eddie Munson.Â
Warnings: NSFW, minors DNI or I'll tell your parents, fem reader, thick sexual tension, angst and smut. Fingering.Â
A/N: I finally wrote it! The teach me fic I've been day dreaming about forever. This will be part one of three, and honestly this is one of the hottest things I've written. If you enjoy it, please comment and reblog, it means the world to me.Â
8k words
Masterlist Part 2
Screwing your nose up in confusion, you look at the meticulously cut snippet of newspaper neatly attached to your resume with a paperclip. Sure enough, receptionist and administrator wanted for a place called âThe Ink Shopâ.Â
The outside of the building looks a little bleak, all decked out in black with frosted windows, but the fading lettering above does indeed spell out âThe Ink Shopâ.Â
Weird. This does not look like a printers.Â
You smooth down a minor wrinkle in your white shirt and open the door with unsure hands, the bell above ringing out loudly.Â
Oh.Â
This is not a printers. This is a tattoo shop.Â
The thought hadn't even crossed your mind. The noise is a cacophony of buzzing, rock music and loud conversation. Art hangs on every available wall, the wallpaper underneath a royal purple, faded over time. There's frames upon frames of predesigned pieces for people to choose from, and an enormous wooden counter, black and gouged with use, directly in front of the doors.Â
Taking a confidence boosting breath you march forward, pencil skirt stretching and heels clicking on the black and white linoleum, and stand by the counter. No one seems to have noticed your arrival, and a polite cough is not going to cut it.Â
âHello?â Calling out to the shop, a devilishly handsome tattooed man in a ripped band shirt, black jeans and scuffed army boots turns his head. Loose dark curls escape a low bun and swivel with him, framing his animated face. He saunters over to the counter and towers over you, giving you an appraising look.Â
âYou old enough to be in here sweetheart?â He asks, amused, as he points to the sign on the wall that states âStrictly Over 21s, no exceptionsâ.Â
âYes?â You're trying to be confident but it comes out as a question, entirely taken aback by the strength of his stare.Â
âOh, well then I'm Eddie,â he holds out a hand and you're forced to reach up to shake it, but to your surprise he doesn't let go. The skin is rougher than you thought it would be, and absolutely covered in small tattoos. âWhat is it today? Let me guess, cover up an ex boyfriend's name? I can help you forget all about him.âÂ
The grin he shoots back is nothing short of predatory. All you can think of is that old childhood song, never smile at a crocodileâŚ
âNo, no, I'm here about the job?âÂ
He looks genuinely surprised, taking in your outfit in another flagrant stare.Â
âReally? You?âÂ
âYes, me.â You respond, cheeks flushing in annoyance.Â
âHey, Mac!â He calls over his shoulder and a big guy with a shaved head lowers his tattoo gun, glancing over at you both. âThis girl's after a job?âÂ
Mac stands up slowly and begins to walk over.Â
âYou can let go now princess.âÂ
Staring at Eddie dumbfoundedly, you realise his grip on your hand has softened completely. Whipping your hand away, you flash him a defiant eye. It's ineffective; he merely grins wider and winks at you, poking his tongue out playfully. You see a hint of silver, a tongue piercing.Â
âHey there, I'm Mac, the owner.â another handshake, but gentler and brief. You introduce yourself and go to hand him your resume.Â
A phone rings on the counter and Mac shouts âno!â just as Eddie picks it up.Â
âMacâs Roadkill CafĂŠ, from your grill to ours.â Eddie delivers the line as smooth as silk, never taking his eyes off you. âYeah, it's Eddie, of course. Oh, I'll tell him. Thanks.âÂ
As Eddie turns to Mac he's given a small but effective slap to the back of the head by Mac.Â
âWhat did I tell you, stop answering like that!âÂ
Eddie just grins wider and looks at you again, a fake pout on his full lips.Â
âYou see that? Harassment in the workplace. Wanna kiss it better?âÂ
Mac shuts his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, then turns to face you again.Â
âAre you immediate start?âÂ
âEr, yeah. I've got my resume, and references here-âÂ
âListen Miss, if you can read and write, answer a phone, and put up with that-â he says, gesturing a thumb at Eddie, âthen you've got the job.âÂ
Thank God, two of those references were your best friend with different names. Stunned, you just nod fast.
âGreat. Tomorrow morning. We open at 10am.âÂ
Saying goodbye, you turn to exit, and risk one final glance over your shoulder. Eddie's still at the counter. A disarming wink, and then the door shuts behind you.Â
********************
So, not exactly what you expected, but a job's a job. After getting a degree, you'd assumed doors would open, but a string of coffee houses later and here you are. You'll take it.Â
It's 9:30 am, and you stand outside, wondering whether or not to try the door. Keen, but not too keen. It's a line you're trying to toe without much experience, especially with an establishment like this.Â
A pretty woman with an undercut and a butterfly neck tattoo stirs you out of your calculations.Â
âHey, I'm Chloe. You're the new girl, right? Eddie bet you'd be early.âÂ
Blushing at the entirely accurate first impression, you try to stop your nose scrunching in distaste. As if reading your mind, Chloe chuckles.
âAh, don't worry about him, he's an idiot. Come on, I'll show you the ropes.âÂ
Chloe is the piercer that basically rents a place in the shop, where she's been for around three years, she explains. There's also Julio, who does more realistic tattoo work, and Miranda who works part time.Â
Chloe turns out to be warm and welcoming, showing you how they book clients in, how to take payments, and the phone note system. It's straightforward work, stuff you'll master in no time. In fact, you feel comfortable enough by 10 am to sit at the counter on your own.
Mac arrives on time, giving you a quick check in and taking down all your information on a yellow legal pad.Â
âDo you not have a computer in here?â you ask, genuinely puzzled.Â
âOh no, not yet. I don't know how to work those things, Miss.â Mac chuckles, and gets to his station to prepare for his first client.
At 10:45 am Eddie walks through the door as if he owns the place.Â
Your eyes widen at his brazen lateness, but no one seems to bat an eyelid. It boils your blood; to be that disrespectful and clearly not care. How could someone act like that?Â
âHey princess, didn't think you'd come back,â he smiles, reaching for your hand.Â
Oh I'm not falling for that again.Â
You pull your hand into your lap, expecting trickery from him. A smug grin smears across his face at the gesture, as if he knew you'd do that. It makes you even more annoyed.Â
âEddie, the book says you start,â you say, flicking through the tome in front of you, âah, at 10 am today.âÂ
âIt's walk-in Wednesday sweetheart. There's no one here.âÂ
He's got a point. Chloe had explained the tattoo artists work a shift of Wednesdays, someone is always available for walk-ins for small and pre designed pieces. Today is Eddie's turn, and he's right, no one is here.Â
âWell, there could have been,â you snark back, folding your arms.Â
He crosses into the shop, pushing the little gate open and stands next to you, arms crossed. The height you had is now lost, forcing you to look up at him.Â
âAs far as I know, you ain't the boss of me. I suggest taking the stick out of your ass before you come here.âÂ
Mouth falling open in outrage, you move to reply but he's already turned away.Â
âOh, and princess, there ain't a dress code.âÂ
He's gone, disappearing upstairs. Blushing crimson, you cross your arms as if you can hide the conservative outfit you're wearing.Â
You're beginning to see why Mac asked if you could put up with Eddie.Â
********************
Halfway through the day, you realise just why Mac puts up with Eddie.Â
âHey! Seeing if I can book with Eddie?âÂ
âAny appointments with Eddie?âÂ
âJust checking to see if Eddie had any cancellations?âÂ
It seems most calls are about him. As you check his schedule, it's not only fully booked for the next 6 months, they've even started a waiting list at the back.Â
âAny walk-ins?â
The words next to your ear make you jump bodily, almost losing your place on your chair in alarm.Â
âYou scared me! No, I would have said,â turning to him, you're sucked into those deep brown eyes once again. âWhy do you do walk-in Wednesdays if you're so⌠so popular?âÂ
Eddie flashes a smile at you, full of self importance. âI don't know sweetheart, Van Gogh wasn't made to doodle!â Shouting the last part at the back of Mac's head, he turns to you. âWe just divided the shifts, so it was fair, that's all. Why, want a tattoo?âÂ
You roll your eyes. âNo, I was just wondering.â
âDo you have any, princess?âÂ
âNot that it's any of your business, but no, I don't.âÂ
The laugh that rips from Eddie's chest is hearty and full of amusement.Â
âYou work in a tattoo shop and you don't have any? That's practically blasphemy!âÂ
The little bell above the door rings, and a nervous guy looks around before walking in. Before you see what he wants, you shout to Eddie's retreating back.Â
âVan Gogh was only famous after he died, you know!âÂ
It's a little later on in the day; you've done a stock take, ordered more ink, and neatened up the consent sheets three times. The phone hasn't rung in a while, and you're bored out of your mind.Â
Chloe walks over, coat in her hand.Â
âHey, how you getting on?âÂ
âI'm good, just bored.âÂ
She laughs, âit's not always this quiet, mid week and all. Mac's done for the day, and I'm heading off. You gonna be OK?âÂ
You glance over to Eddie, who to your surprise is tattooing his own fingers.Â
âWhat, with the untrained monkey? I'll live.âÂ
She laughs harder at that, âhe's not so bad, once you get to know him.â Lowering her voice, she whispers, âhe's good at some things, you know.â The conspiratorial wink fills in what she isn't saying. Cheeks flushed, you gawp at Eddie and back at Chloe.Â
âHuh? W-what, are you like, an item?â You ask, entirely thrown.Â
âOh no, he's not exactly boyfriend material. It was just one night, but bloody hell. Anyway, it's not like that anymore, we're just friends now. Maybe you two should just, you know.âÂ
A blush floods your face, almost reaching the roots of your hair. âI don't- I don't, do that.âÂ
âI'm just saying, it's an option. It'd stop the bickering at least. I can sense the tension from all the way over there.âÂ
Without a further word, she leaves you sitting on your stool, trying to remember how to breathe.Â
Right, let's just play nice.Â
Walking over to his station, you try to glimpse what he's tattooing.Â
âI thought Van Gogh wasn't made to doodleâ you quip, trying to keep it light.Â
âThis is differentâ he responds, not looking up at you.
âYou know, that's a waste of a needle.âÂ
Eddie turns the machine off and rolls his eyes at you.Â
âWho made you Princess of the Needles, hmmm?âÂ
âMac did actually, when he asked me to check the stock,â you reply hotly, folding your arms. Stopping for a second, you take a breath. Play nice, you're supposed to be playing nice.Â
âSorry, I didn't mean to-âÂ
Eddie turns the machine back on and continues with his impromptu tattoo.Â
âCan't you just be⌠professional?â You ask over the buzzing.Â
âCan't you just relax for a second? No ones here. Fuck, you need to get laid.âÂ
Mouth dropping open in shock, you grab your bag and stomp out of the store, anger fuelling every step.Â
********************
Right, be calm, put together. You've dealt with worse people.Â
It's true. At the coffee shop you had on edge caffeine addicts shout in your face almost on a daily basis, but none of them got under your skin like Eddie did. Then again, none of them had spat truths like venom in your face.
Breathe. Just breathe.Â
Taking the leap, you walk into the shop, coffees and a tray of donuts in hand; a small peace offering. To your surprise, he is already at his station, sorting through ink pots.Â
You make quick work of handing out coffee and donuts to everyone, until you reach his side. There's plastic wrap around one of his fingers, you assume from his little tattoo session yesterday. It only serves to remind you of how tetchy you were.Â
âMorning Eddie.âÂ
âSo you came back. Tough little princess ain't ya? Remove the stick from your ass yet?â The grin he flashes you is wide but there's a bite to his words.Â
He's trying to rile you up, but you ignore it, thrusting a coffee at him.Â
âI'll be nice if you will.âÂ
Tension laces the air as he stares at your outstretched hand, but he takes the coffee.Â
âI'm sorry Eddie.âÂ
Opening the box of donuts, you gesture for him to take one. He does, stuffing half of it into his mouth.Â
âWhat about you?â you ask.
âHuh?â He mumbles through a mouthful of crumbs.Â
âAre you sorryâŚ?âÂ
âWhat for?âÂ
Setting your jaw, your hand is about two seconds from slapping the shit out of him, but you need the money. So, you huff and walk away.Â
âWhat did I do?â He huffs, shouting it to the shop.Â
âYou should just say sorry, you've clearly upset her.â Chloe calls over to him, a slight smile on her face.Â
âYeah, how do you know?âÂ
âYou upset everyone Eddie.â She laughs, and stands to greet her first client.Â
It's a tense kind of day, with neither you nor Eddie backing down, only speaking to each other if absolutely necessary. By the time everyone's left it's just you and him again.Â
He's finishing up with a client, telling them about aftercare as they gush about their new ink. It's difficult to deny, the guy is talented. This phoenix tattoo looks like it's popping right off of the skin, the flames so bright and detailed you could swear you saw them move.Â
Once they've left, there's an awkward pause. Eddie breaks the silence first.Â
âListen, I'm sorry sweetheart. I shouldn't have been rude to you. So I'll make you a deal. I'll give you a tattoo, for free, and we ask each other questions, get to know each other. What do you say?âÂ
Smiling in spite of yourself, you turn to face him. âAnd why would I want a tattoo?âÂ
He visibly relaxes at your grin, and flashes one of his own. âCome on, I'm the best. I promise I'll be gentle.âÂ
âWe close at six, so it'll have to wait.âÂ
Eddie looks at the clock, and bobs his head with each tick. Twenty seconds later he turns to you, eyebrows raised.
âFine, I suppose it is a bit silly to work in a tattoo shop with no ink.âÂ
He punches the air with glee, forcing you to smile despite your better judgement.Â
âWell then, what are you thinking, got any ideas in mind?âÂ
âI want a heart on my hipâ he groans, putting his face in his hands, âhang on, before you judge, I want one like this.âÂ
Pulling a book from your bag, you turn to the page neatly bookmarked. It's an anatomical heart from a textbook you own, a line and dot drawing.
âOh.â Eddie's eyes light up, âthat's pretty metal, actually. So, you just happen to have this on you?âÂ
âNo, I've been thinking about it for a while. It's⌠not what people would expect. And when I got the job here, I was working up the courage to get it. Carrying around the book was a promise to myself, I think.âÂ
He busies himself with getting a stencil ready, the drawing supplied speeding up the process.Â
âRight, climb on up princess, show me where you want it.â
Blushing, you unzip your skirt at the back and roll it down slightly, shifting your blouse up high. The smile Eddie gives you is salacious, but he doesn't say a word.Â
âRight here?â Softly his fingertips graze you, making you jump. That simple act crackles over your skin in an electricity unknown to you.Â
âY-yes,â you practically whisper it, face crimson.Â
âSo, questions. Can I go first?âÂ
âSureâ you nod, feeling vulnerable flashing this much skin.Â
âOK,â he starts, pressing the stencil down, âI'll start with an easy one. How old are you?âÂ
â23.âÂ
He nods, prepping the needle, âyour turn princess.âÂ
âHow old are you?âÂ
âAh, copycat,â he grins, testing the gun, the sudden noise making you jump, âI'm 30 sweetheart. I know, I look younger.âÂ
Act younger is more like it.Â
âI'm gonna start, you still alright?âÂ
âUh huh.âÂ
âAtta girl. It'll feel like a scratch.âÂ
He leans forward as his words burn your insides. Atta girl? Part of you wanted to tell him you're not a fucking horse, but another, deeper, part keens at the praise, kicking it's feet and twirling its hair like some dizzy schoolgirl.
The needle touches and you jump, but it's fine. It's easy. If anything, it's rather nice? You gasp at the feeling, your feet wiggling.Â
âRight, next question. Why here, why this job?âÂ
The gun is moving across your skin, consuming all rational thought. You could lie, but a part of you feels like he'd know somehow.Â
âI thought it was a printers shop, or a copy place.âÂ
He laughs briefly, but continues to focus on your new ink.Â
âI knew it. Pretty, innocent thing like you, wandering into this den of depravity? Too good to be true.âÂ
Glazing over his comment, you think of a question to ask.Â
âHow did you start working here?âÂ
Eddie scoffs and turns off his machine for a moment, âyou need to get creative, stop using my questions.âÂ
âI really want to know!â You say, meeting his derisory look.Â
âFine, quid pro quo and all that shit. Been here seven years. I begged. I begged Mac for an apprenticeship everyday for a week. He gave in, and here I am. Ask something else, that was boring.âÂ
You wrack your brains, trying to think of something original, far too aware of the steadying hand that he's pushing onto your abdomen.Â
âWhat band is that?âÂ
It's the only thing that pops into your mind. He follows your eye line to his t-shirt.Â
âOh this? This is my band, Corroded Coffin. You should come see us sometime.âÂ
âOh, what do you play?âÂ
His face lights up, âI sing, and play guitar. That's why my fingers are so rough-â he holds one up, covered in black latex, â-oh yeah, gloves.âÂ
After you both share a chuckle, there's a breath of quiet between you, except for the sound of the tattoo gun.
âMy turn,â he says, smiling at your hip, âI gotta know, are you a virgin?âÂ
It's a miracle that he's as responsive as he is, since the question knocks you sideways. You sit up in shock, but he's already moved the needle off and away.Â
âYou can't just ask that, it's⌠it's rude!â you splutter, face glowing red.Â
There's no trace of apology on his face. In fact, his grin only widens with your reply.Â
âI thought so. Don't worry, I'm not gonna tease you about it.âÂ
Laying back down, you try to think of something to say, but it just doesn't arrive. He can read you like an open book and it's deeply unsettling, not to mention embarrassing.Â
âYour turn princess.âÂ
âI don't want to play anymore.âÂ
âOh come on, I'm being nice! Ask me something.âÂ
âFine. What was your last wet dream about?âÂ
To your dismay, he smiles yet again.
âYou, sweetheart.âÂ
Huffing, you cross your arms in annoyance. âFine, don't answer.âÂ
He's focusing on your tattoo, tongue poking out in concentration, âI'm nearly done, then you can go back to hating me.âÂ
âI don't hate you. I've never hated anyone,â you respond in truth. Eddie's eyebrows raise, but he remains focused.Â
âReally? You must have had a much better childhood than mine.â
It's quiet for a bit. You're not sure how to respond to that, feeling the cloud of his memory hanging thickly in the air between you.Â
âAll done.âÂ
âHuh?âÂ
He chuckles and points at your new ink, âtake a look.âÂ
It's beautiful. All line and dot work, like it was pulled from the book itself and glued to your hip.Â
âIt's amazing Eddie. Thank you.âÂ
The grin he shoots you is warm as he wraps your new ink and then removes his gloves. âNo problem. I'll lock up, the sheets on aftercare are right there. But you knew that.âÂ
Smiling affectionately, you take one and stand up, hovering for a second.Â
âEddie what do I owe-âÂ
â-not a damn thing. See you in the morning, princess.â
********************
The next few days were much more pleasant. Eddie was flirty, yes, but he seemed to understand when to stop. You had been nicer to him, biting back on the comments when you could. There was a rhythm to it, a constant dance of him flustering you and you annoying him.Â
Things really felt like they were falling into place. Until Eddie decided to cross the line.Â
Walk in Wednesday again, and the shop was dead. Julio was on shift, sitting in the back having a nap.Â
âHey Mac, can I ask you something?âÂ
âSure, what is it Miss?âÂ
âWell, how do people know about our Wednesdays?âÂ
âMostly word of mouth. We handed out flyers before, but it didn't really pick up. Honestly, I'm thinking of scrapping it.â He shrugs, taking a sip of coffee.Â
âBefore you do, I have an idea. I can design some flyers, get them out to the coffee shop I used to work at. It's by campus, I'm sure a few students would jump at the chance. You could offer a student discount, get them in the door?â You stare at him wide eyed, hoping he likes the idea. The little speech was one you'd practised about fourteen times before actually saying it to him.Â
He stares at you for a moment, then smiles. âYou know, that's a good idea. I like it. Tell you what, you make it a success and I'll give you a raise.âÂ
âOh, thank you! I'll get on it.â You beam, and start planning the flyer.Â
Ten minutes later you have your head down, your attention entirely on the paper in front of you. The noisy shop was purely a background soundtrack, including the approaching footsteps. Then, there's a whisper, directly in your ear.Â
âWhat you up to, princess?âÂ
âFuck!âÂ
You scream it out and jump so high you fall off your stool. Eddie's in bits, laughing so hard he's clutching his stomach.Â
âI'm sorry I didn't mean to,â he says, looking the least sorry you've ever seen a person look.Â
Clambering off the floor to berate him, your mouth flops open when you hear a rip. As you desperately turn your head to look down, you see where your pencil skirt has torn right next to the seam nearly up to your ass.Â
âFuck's sake Eddie! What the hell am I gonna do!âÂ
Hands shaking, you clench your jaw in panic, trying to frantically come up with a way to rectify it. Eddie holds his hands up to you as if he were approaching a wild animal.Â
âJust calm down princess, it's only a skirt.âÂ
Pouting, you hit him on the arm.Â
âIt's not just a skirt! I can't work like this, how can I go home and change, I won't be able to fix it and-âÂ
Eddie smiles and holds one of your hands.Â
âIt's gonna be OK, we can sort something out. You seriously need to chill, have a big O or something.â He chuckles, clearly meaning for it to be a joke, but it's hitting too close to home.Â
It's never happened for you. You've kissed guys, sure, but whenever they reach into your pants, it's either uncomfortable or downright painful. Even your own desperate fumblings haven't got you there. Most of the time you just feel stupid and awkward trying to touch yourself. So, you'd given up, thinking you're broken. That it'll never happen for you.Â
Tears well immediately in your eyes. He knows he fucked up, it's written all over his face. As he opens his mouth to speak you rip your hand from his grasp and run to the restroom sobbing.Â
It's stupid, it's so stupid. You know that, but the tears won't stop falling, face hot and scrunched as you sit on the closed toilet seat with your head in your hands. Your breath is heavy, gulping and wet; you dimly wonder if you can just stay here until the shop closes.
There's a gentle knock on the door.Â
âSweetheart, can I come in?â It's Eddie, voice softer than you've ever heard it.Â
âGo awayâ you manage. It's shaky and pathetic sounding, but it's out there.Â
âI'm not going anywhere. Talk to me, you'll feel better, I promise.âÂ
He tries the door, turning the handle before you get a chance to lock it. Jumping upright, you go to push him away but he grabs your wrist and pulls you into him. His embrace takes away that edge and pretty soon you're just sobbing into his chest.Â
As he strokes the back of your head, he makes shushing noises, his other arm wrapped tight around your shoulders. You're not sure how long you stay like that, in the warmth of his hold, his body pressed against yours. The tenderness calms you down until your tears stop, but he doesn't pull away.Â
After a while, he whispers, âfeel a little better?âÂ
âY-yeah,â you say, voice returning to itself.Â
Only then does he release you, rubbing a thumb under your eye to wipe moisture away.Â
âI didn't mean to hurt you. You wanna go somewhere and talk about it?âÂ
âI- I've never- I don't talk about- I-â you shake your head as if to clear it. A part of you wants to hit him, to shout at him, but his gaze is so concerned that you agree. Your shoulders slump, losing a bit of tension. âOK.âÂ
Smiling at you, he whips his flannel shirt off, leaving him in a white vest, and ties it around your waist.Â
âFor your modesty. Come with me.âÂ
Puzzled, you follow him out of the bathroom and back into the shop where Mac is sitting looking worried.Â
âWhat's going-âÂ
Eddie interrupts, âemergency late lunch needed, alright? Can you cancel my 3 o clock?âÂ
Mac seems confused, but looks at Eddie's earnest face, and your emotional one, and nods.Â
âNot a problem.âÂ
âThanks, man.âÂ
Before you can ask where you're going, he pulls you from the shop by the arm and across the street into a dimly lit bar, depositing you in the nearest booth.Â
âI'll be right back.âÂ
If he's uncomfortable by his appearance, he doesn't show it. The way he strides up to the bar, it's as if he owns the place. It's remarkable, the sheer confidence he embodies like a second skin.Â
âHey, John!â He hollers, knuckles knocking on the wood of the bar.Â
John appears, a gruff, stocky guy with a buzz cut and a sour face.Â
âWhat the fuck are you doing here.âÂ
âOh come on, you know you missed me.âÂ
John's face screws into something akin to a smile. âWhat do you want, you little shit.âÂ
âI love it when you talk dirty,â Eddie grins and winks, âtwo beers please.âÂ
A grunt and a nod, and John puts the beers down on the bar. As Eddie reaches for his wallet John waves a hand in dismissal.Â
âPut that away boy, your money ain't good here. Besides, your lady friend looks like she needs it.âÂ
You flush and tear your eyes away, embarrassed. Eddie walks back over and puts a beer in front of you.Â
âEddie, we're still working I-âÂ
âIt's one beer. It's alright.âÂ
You shrug and take a sip, nodding at the bartender, âhe knows I'm upset, do I look a mess?âÂ
Shaking his head so hard it releases some of his wayward waves from their confines, he tips his beer at you, before he takes a long chug.Â
âNo,â he says enthusiastically, âyou look just as pretty as you always do.âÂ
Scoffing, you turn your eyes downward. Eddie ignores your response, instead pressing on what happened earlier.Â
âSorry again,â he says, sounding genuinely distressed, "I don't want to see anyone hurt from something I said, least of all you.âÂ
Meeting his gaze, you smile incredulously. âOh? And why me?âÂ
âCome on, don't make me say it.âÂ
Staring at him, you fold your arms in an act of defiance. He rolls his eyes and looks at you.Â
âI like you. You're uptight, and mean to me, and a little conceited, but I like you. I don't want you to hurt. Can we just be friends? I'm a pretty good listener, you know? I can help.âÂ
Heat floods your insides. Eyes scanning him for any sign of a joke, you come up empty.Â
âI'm not conceited,â you counter weakly, clinging on to the familiar push and pull.Â
âAnd I'm the Easter bunny.âÂ
Giggling, you take another sip of beer.Â
âCome on, friends? Talk to me.âÂ
Sighing deeply, you fix your gaze at the table, forefinger tracing patterns in the condensation from your drink. âPromise not to laugh?âÂ
âI promise.âÂ
You can't tell how genuine he's being, as you don't dare look at his face, nerves controlling your every limb. His voice seems honest enough.Â
âI- I have a problem, something I can't physically do. You reminded me of it. It's not your fault.â Shrugging in an attempt to make this look less serious than it is for you, you take a pull out of your beer bottle once more.
âWait, are you sayingâŚâ he chuckles a little in disbelief, âhave you never⌠had an orgasm before?âÂ
âEddie, be quiet!â You urgently whisper, looking around the bar.Â
âNo one's listening sweetheart, no spies in here,â he says in a low tone, hand reaching out to grasp yours. Your first instinct is to shake his hand away but he holds firm, rough fingertips rubbing against your knuckles.Â
âEddie, I'm broken,â you whimper, voice breaking, âI can't do it.âÂ
âOh sweetheart,â he responds, chock full of emotion, âyou're not broken. You are perfect.âÂ
Pulling your hand away, you keep your eyes away from his, unwilling to meet that burning gaze of his. Unwilling to lose yourself in those sultry dark eyes.Â
âI can't do it. Anytime some guy tries, it hurts. I've given up to be honest. I just wasn't made for it.âÂ
He laughs again, dragging his hand over his face.Â
âFuck, sweetheart, the problem ain't you. Have you- have you tried, fixing it, on your own?â The last part is a whisper, you assume to protect your feelings.Â
âYeah, but I just feel stupid and awkward. I don't know.âÂ
There's a little silence between you as you both dwell in the suffocating fog of your confession, neither of you willing to clear it.Â
âListen, this may be way out of your comfort zone, but I'm saying it anyway. If you don't like it, we'll forget it, and I won't mention it again.âÂ
Finally looking at him, at the vulnerability on his face, you nod, not trusting your voice.Â
âI can⌠maybe I can help you. Show you you're not broken? As a favour between friends.âÂ
You laugh mirthlessly and finish your beer. âThat's a little more than a favour, Eddie.âÂ
âWe can keep it professional.âÂ
You stare at him wide eyed. His messy hair and dark glittering eyes. At the way he slumps in his seat like a king or a delinquent, you can't decide which. At his taunt frame, the tattoos spackling every available inch of his skin. Your eyebrows raise of their own accord.Â
âProfessional? You?âÂ
âYeah, me! I can do it, you know. I could make you come.âÂ
A shiver forces its merry way down your spine at his words.Â
âYou're really confident.âÂ
âYou haven't seen what I can do.âÂ
Blushing hard, you attempt to control yourself. âLook, if we're going to do this, I need you to promise some things.âÂ
âAh, of course, you would have rules,â he grins, as he leans back and spreads in his seat, âcontinue.âÂ
Searching your mind for a moment, you try to glean what you need.Â
âFirst of all, we need to be discreet, and professional at all times, clear?âÂ
âAs crystal,â he grins wolfishly, âanything else?âÂ
âYeah- I think,â you wrack your brains, trying to come up with something that would make this less intimate. Anything. But the roguish nature of his presence makes it hard to even think of a thing. Finally, your eyes widen at the idea that suddenly crosses your mind.Â
âFinal rule. No kissing.âÂ
He pouts, looking at your chest and back up, âno kissing anywhere?âÂ
âN-no, no kissing on the mouth.âÂ
Grin returning, he winks at you, a gesture that flips your stomach inside out.Â
âKinky. Alright, deal,â he leans forward to give his hand to yours. A hand covered in ink and calluses. Roughness and tenderness.Â
You shake it.
********************
For the next couple of days, your little arrangement isn't brought up. A wild thought hammers itself into your mind; either he wasn't serious, or you imagined it.Â
Those theories are put to bed on day three.Â
After you let Mac know about the flyers and the bonus poster you designed, you sit back and enjoy the praise given to you. It's funny, the feeling of being told a job has been well done makes you happier than you care to admit.
Eddie turns up at the counter, whistling through his teeth. âSweet looking flyers, how'd you swing those?âÂ
âI designed them. I've got a degree in design and marketing, if you didn't know,â you sniff, rearranging the stationary on the counter to avoid his eyes.Â
âMaybe you could help me design some for my band. These look pretty metal.â He says, picking one up and looking at it closely.Â
âMaybe.âÂ
Eddie leans in close, so close you feel the warmth of his breath on your cheek.Â
âIf you're still up for our arrangement, I'm free tonight.âÂ
Heat immediately flushes your face. Ignoring him entirely, you write your address and a time on a notepad, and thrust the paper into his hands.Â
âCovert, I like it. See you then princess.âÂ
By the time 9pm rolls around you're a jittery mass of nerves, having changed clothes no less than four times, tidied your apartment, changed the bedsheets and paced so much you're surprised there's not a groove in the floorboards.Â
In the end you'd decided on a baggy band t-shirt and your sleep shorts. It was a rational calculation to make Eddie think you're just wearing what you usually would at home and therefore show you're not nervous. I mean, you are wearing what you'd usually wear at home. He didn't need to know about how long it took you to reach that decision.Â
The sound of the intercom buzzing sends your pulse into overdrive. Pressing the button, you let out a strangled âHello?âÂ
âHey princess.âÂ
âCome on up.âÂ
FuckfuckfuckfuckfuckâŚ
A soft knock at the door and you count to five, trying to remember how to breathe. When you open the door, you're stunned. He's leaning on the doorframe in a fucking button up shirt. It's black, and clings to him deliciously. His hair looks a little damp, loose around his shoulders, and his aftershave is making you feel dizzy.Â
âOh, you didn't need- I mean-â you point at his shirt, and he looks down and chuckles.Â
âJust came from band practice. Took a shower, and this was clean,â he shrugs and shoulders into your apartment. âNice place. Where's all your stuff?âÂ
You look around at your sparse apartment. Everything in order, down to the fresh flowers on your tiny dining table.Â
âThis is all my stuff,â you say, confused, âI don't like clutter.âÂ
He chuckles, walking over to you. âNo wonder I annoy you. I am clutter.âÂ
He's close now, close enough so that you have to look up to see his face. His rough fingers ghost your arm, sending a wave of goosebumps over your skin.Â
âNice seeing you in something casual. L7, right?â He asks, pointing at the t-shirt.Â
âYeah, you know who they are?âÂ
âI'm surprised you do. Thought you'd be a Mariah Carey kinda girl.âÂ
You scrunch your face in distaste. âNo, not at all. You don't know everything about me.âÂ
He leans in, warm breath a whisper in your ear. âI know some things about you.âÂ
Squirming hotly, you lead him to your room before you lose your nerve.Â
âSo, the princess's bedchamber. It's nice,â he remarks, flopping down on the bed as if it were his own.Â
âTake your boots off,â you snip, folding your arms.Â
âAh, there she is.â He smiles, but does as instructed. Once more he's laying back into your scattered pillows looking perfectly at ease. You, on the other hand, stand there, spine a vertical rod as you stare back at him.Â
 âCome on then, sit down.âÂ
Nervously you sit at the foot of the bed with your legs crossed.Â
âNow princess, what do you do when you touch yourself?âÂ
Blushing furiously, you stammer out, âwhat, do you expect me to like, show you?âÂ
He chuckles, diffusing some of the tension. âAs much as I'd like that, I don't think you're ready for that kinda shit. Just tell me, what's your thought process?âÂ
Staring at him for a little too long, you open your mouth and close it again. He rolls his eyes.Â
âLook, if you want me to help I'll help, but you gotta give me something here.â He looks as if he's about to get up and leave; your arm shoots out on its own accord, grabbing his leg to stop him.Â
âSorry, sorry. I just, I've never spoken about this kinda stuff. I don't know about any process, I just⌠reach down and fiddle around?â You blush even more.Â
âSo you don't like, watch anything? Or read anything?â He looks a little amused.
âWhat on earth are you talking about?âÂ
âPorn, sweetheart.âÂ
It's so blunt that you jump a little. âOh no, I've never, oh no no.âÂ
âChrist,â he whispers, âright, you can like, set the mood. Look at something to turn you on? It'd probably help you feel less awkward.âÂ
âOh. Right.âÂ
âAnd do you ever just like, slouch? I feel like I'm back at school looking at ya.âÂ
âHuh?âÂ
âJust, come here.â He pats the little space between his spread legs and you hesitate for a second before you crawl over to him.Â
âHow do you want me to sit, like cross legged or-âÂ
He grabs your hips and spins you, forcing your back into his crotch.
âStop trying to control every little thing,â he says in a hard tone, one you're too embarrassed to admit makes your insides tingle. Softer, he continues. âLook, if you're ever gonna get there you need to relax, stop trying to control it, and stop overthinking.âÂ
âGreat, all of the things I'm shit at.âÂ
His laugh is loud, it vibrates into your spine. âI'll help you, OK? You trust me?âÂ
âIn a very limited sense of the word, yeah.âÂ
âLemme rephrase. You still OK to do this?âÂ
âYeah.â
âGood. Just relax.âÂ
You're not sure what you are expecting, but it certainly isn't his hands winding into your hair, fingertips rubbing softly at your scalp. It shoots tingles down your spine, your entire head feeling fuzzy and warm.Â
You stifle a whimper, biting your lip. His fingers stop.Â
âIf you want to make noises, you can. Tells me I'm doing a good job. That goes for everything else too, alright?âÂ
âAlright.â You whisper.Â
âYou comfortable?âÂ
âYeah it's just- well-â
âTell me.âÂ
âI think it's your shirt buttons, they're digging into my back a bit,â you admit, feeling the sharp points down your spine.Â
âEasily fixed.â He taps your arm and you lean forward. Some rustling, and he throws his shirt to the foot of your bed.Â
âNow just chill sweetheart.âÂ
His fingers begin rubbing at you again, thumbs sinking low to pop at the bubbles in your neck.Â
âFuck, that's really nice.���Â
He hums appreciatively, working his hands lower and dropping them to your shoulders. The massaging continues, and you feel yourself melting, your body moulding into his. Your legs, once ramrod straight, have bent a little and parted of their own accord, the muscles loosening. Even your breathing has slowed.Â
âThat's better, atta girl,â he says and you whine at the words, a little pathetic mewling sound that tumbles past your lips.
âOh, you like that, don't you?â The smile is evident in his voice, a smug tone smeared liberally across each word.Â
âYou, you're so-â you begin, but his hand drags across the front of your shirt, just over the tops of your breasts.
âI'm so what?â He whispers in your ear.
âSo, so arrogant,â you huff. He laughs, a husky chuckle, and dances the tips of his fingers over your clothed nipple. Gasping, you grasp at his thighs either side of you.
âYeah? What else am I?â He says, nibbling at your earlobe.Â
âYou- you're cocky, and- and self assured- Oh God!âÂ
Rudely interrupted by him tweaking your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, you swear, back arching off of him for a moment.Â
âYou know,â he says in a gravelly tone directly in your ear, âthose are pretty much the same thing.âÂ
âYou drive me crazy,â you huff, squirming a little against him as his hands explore your chest over your shirt.
âGood crazy or bad crazy?â He smiles, then bites softly at your neck.Â
âI- I haven't decided yet.âÂ
âGood. I can say the same about you,â he admits, his hands trailing lower, pulling your shirt up so he can stroke at your bare sides. The touch of fingertips on your skin sends a river of sensations through you that run deep into your core.Â
âAre you going to- what are you doing, exactly?â You breathe, starting to move against him.Â
âI'm warming you up sweetheart. Why, don't you like it?âÂ
Genuinely curious, you try to ask what you want to know without using the words.Â
 âN- no, I do. Do you have to, erm, get warmed up? When you, you know.âÂ
He lets out a little huff of a laugh. âGuys are a little less⌠complicated, than girls. For the most part.âÂ
âOh. OK, so you can just. I mean, you just, get excited?â Your breathing becomes more ragged when the tip of his thumb grazes the underside of your breast.Â
âSweetheart, I got hard seeing you in these little shorts.â Running a finger down your stomach, he lightly pings the elastic of your sleep shorts as if to accentuate his point.Â
âReally?âÂ
There's no denying it when he moves his hips up and you feel his solid bulge press into the small of your back.Â
âReally. Can I take this off?â He asks, twisting the hem of your shirt in one hand.Â
âYeah.â It's a whisper. You're a little scared of being bare chested, but not having to see his face helps. Plus, he's wound you up so much you're on the verge of begging for his touches, pleading for more.Â
He guides your top up, up, up, revealing you slowly. Coaxing it over your head, you move your arms up so he can remove it. It ends up in a heap on top of his shirt. One tattooed arm wraps around your waist, pulling you toward him more, his hardness pushing against your ass.Â
His breathing is unsteady as he grinds his hips, pushing onto you further. Gasping, your fingers are vices, firmly attached to his thighs in a vain attempt to anchor you.Â
Suddenly his hand is winding into your hair, tugging your head aside so he can run a fat tongue across your neck. You shudder at the sensation, feeling the hard ball of his tongue piercing against your throat When he takes his pillowy lips and sucks at the spot between your neck and shoulder a moan slips out. Grunting in approval, his hands are on your bare tits, fingers pinching at your hardened nipples.Â
âHoly hell!âÂ
He laughs, running rough fingers down your body, circling your new ink, then dipping down past your waistband. Those tattooed fingers barely brush your pubic hair, teasing you, then glide back up to your stomach.Â
âEddie, please.âÂ
Your voice is small, not your own. Eddie groans low in your ear, rubbing his length into the fat of your ass.
âFuck, princess, I like you saying my name like that. You want me to touch you right here?â he says, pressing down hard over your clothed clit.Â
The sheer relief of having his touch where you need it gets you close to tears; a gulping shudder of a sob rips from deep in your chest.Â
âSee, you're not broken, sweetheart. Can I take these off?âÂ
Shaking, you hook your fingers into your sleep shorts and pull them down your legs, air hitting your most intimate area. Eddie huffs in your ear, his inked hands rubbing up the insides of your thighs.Â
âYou're so fuckinâ sexy.â
Before you can retort, his fingers dip down to your entrance, gathering your slick. You can hear how wet you are, but it's not in you to think about it. You can't think, only feel.Â
When his fingers run up and start rubbing circles into your clit, your response is visceral. Bucking up, you chase the feeling, searching for even more.Â
âI'm gonna slip a finger in, alright princess?âÂ
You nod, waiting for the pain, wincing before it even starts.
âIt's OK, you're fine, you gotta relax baby.â He strokes your stomach with his free hand, pressing kisses to your temple.Â
The tip of his finger breaches you, and the pain doesn't come. Your soaking wet cunt invites him in, warm and pulsing with arousal. He slips it into the hilt, his palm pressing into your clit, and your moan is long and loud. It's never felt like this. Never has it stoked a fire in your gut, bubbled your insides like pop rocks and Coke, turned you into a writhing mess.Â
He fucks his finger into you, slipping a second in to join the first, and you move your hips, chasing the building tightness in your belly. Each thrust of his hand has you bucking, and in turn rubbing against his member trapped within its denim prison.Â
âThat's it, good fuckinâ girl.â His voice is strained, as if he's trying hard not to lose control.Â
âEddie, oh fuck, f-feels so- good, yes, please, please-âÂ
You're not sure what you're begging for, and Eddie doesn't seem to be in any state to ask, but it doesn't matter. His fingers fuck into you in earnest, stroking hard against some spot inside that has you babbling and quivering around him.Â
âGod, you're so tight, this little cunts gonna drive me crazy. So wet and perfect, Jesus Christ.â
The feeling seems too much and not enough, and it grows higher and higher, flooding your body with a pleasure so intense you're sure you black out. The only thing you're aware of is your voice screaming out his name as your body thrusts wildly into his grip. Finally, it dissipates, your body melting against his form, sweating and spent.Â
You take a breath, and another, trying to gather your wits enough to speak. Eddie speaks first.
âSo sweetheart, everything you dreamed it would be?â He asks as he strokes your hair.Â
âBetter. Fuck, Eddie. Thank you.âÂ
âAnytime. Seriously. Any. Time. Day, night, weekends, holidays-âÂ
You giggle, slapping his thigh, and sit up, grabbing your discarded shirt to cover up.Â
âSorry, that was probably a little er, frustrating for you.â You say as you glance at his bare torso, drinking in the sight with your eyes for the first time. He's lean, but ripped, a faint sheen of sweating making his tattoos glisten in the low light.Â
âWhat do you mean sweetheart?âÂ
âWell, doing that, not getting anything in return...âÂ
He chuckles lightly, âOh I wouldn't say that,â he glances down, gesturing to his jeans, âfull disclosure, I came in my pants.âÂ
âReally?â your eyes widen, staring at him with disbelief.Â
âI ain't lying. Wanna check?â He waggles his eyebrows at you, making you laugh again.Â
âYou seem better already. Right, I better go.âÂ
Shoulders deflating, you pout, âI suppose you better.âÂ
âHey don't look at me like that. I hoped that helped. Sleep tight, drink some water. I'll see you tomorrow princess.âÂ
And just like that, he leaves. Of course he leaves, it was just a deal you struck, nothing more. A favour. you wipe stray tears from your eyes and try not to focus on the sound of the front door shutting.Â
As you collapse on the bed, exhausted, you think about his hands, his words. There's something screaming inside, telling you you're playing with fire, but as you drift off you can't find it in you to mind.
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At Fault | MV1
pairing: Max Verstappen x reader
summary: Max invites his ex to a gp and upsets you. Soft and stubborn Max, but heâs a cutie. A mix between angst and fluff, but mostly fluff towards the end. Lots of reader just ranting. Plus a little cameo from the Ferrari WAGs <3.
warnings: Does Kelly count as a warning? Kinda of toxic, Iâm not really sure? But who actually likes seeing their boyfriendâs ex girlfriend??
authorâs note: Italics are flashbacks! This turned out longer than expected, but I hope you guys like it! Itâs also been a while since Iâve written fics, so it there are any errors pls ignore themđ
The tension in the car was thick. So thick, Max believed he could cut it with a knife.
Your arms were crossed as you stared out the window while Max glanced at you wearily every other second. Thankfully, there were only three of you in the car. You and Max in the backseat, and the driver in front being separated by a divider. Though, Max was sure the driver was able to hear the current disagreement between you and him.
Max fidgeted with the lanyard of his paddock pass and stared at the side of your face. He knew he had upset you and honestly you had every right to be. You were biting the inside of your cheek in frustration trying to keep your emotions at bay. As much as you wanted to argue with Max about how you disagreed with his actions, he was due to race in a couple of hours and you didnât want to add any more stress on his shoulders.
But Max wanted to talk about this now while you were both alone.
âSchatje, are you really mad?â Max asked quietly, leaning closer to you and trying to get you to face him. He truly didnât mean to dampen your mood before the race. Most importantly, he didnât like that he was the reason for you being upset. Your brows furrowed ever so slightly and a faint pout was on your lips, both indications that you were in fact not happy with him.
âYes, Max, I am mad.â You answered, your voice trembling a bit. You had finally turned away from the window and were looking at him. Max felt a pang of guilt in his heart once he saw the look in your eyes. They werenât glaring at him with the heat of anger, but they were soft and glossy, you were hurtâhe hurt you.
Max cautiously reached out for your hand and tangled your fingers together, though your hand felt limp, like you didnât want to hold his hand at all.
âI told you the truth.â Max said, leaning his head down trying to catch your eyes again. You took in a deep breath before turning to fully face him.
âYes Max, you did and I absolutely appreciate it. I really do.â You began, grasping his hand between yours. âBut that doesnât make up for that fact that youâve had this planned out for nearly a month and only told me thirty minutes ago!â You argued.
Thirty minutes ago, before your ride to the paddock can pick you guys up, Max had revealed that his ex-girlfriend, Kelly, and her daughter would be at the garage to watch the race. When you asked how they got passes to the garage, he shared that he had flown them out and provided them with passes for the weekend.
âSo sheâs been here all weekend?â You questioned him, arms crossed and a brow raised at him. The Italian heat felt even ten times worse as you grew frustrated with your boyfriend.
âYeah, but they were at the Paddock Club, theyâre going to watch the race from the garage though.â Max shrugged, as if it were not a big deal. He adjusted the bag on his shoulder and grasped your hand in his free one.
You couldnât help the feeling of insecurity seeping into your bones. Kelly was rich and gorgeous, she was a model, and you werenât. You had a normal job that offered you stability, paid you good money, and you knew how to clean up nice. However, you were no where near her level of anything or any of the other WAGs at that.
âYouâve known this whole time that she was here?â You asked quietly, your brows furrowed at him. You hated that you kept asking him questions, it was like you were interrogating him.
Max looked down at you, confusion etched on his face, âI did, schatje. I flew them out and got them some paddock passes.â You acted before you could speak, and shook your head at him, rolling your eyes in annoyance. Your boyfriend was one of the sweetest people youâve ever met, however, many people took that as a sign to take advantage of him. While it took him longer to realize it, you noticed it instantly.
âI donât understand why youâre so upset though, I told you the truth, itâs not like Iâm doing anything with her.â Max defended himself, his hands wildly moving around. âShe reached out telling me that P missed me and wanted to come to a race, itâs not for her, itâs for Penelope.â
âI understand that Max and as harsh as this sounds, Penelope isnât your responsibility. I get that you helped raise her, but you guys broke up, you donât need to provide for her anymore.â You threw a hand in the air, emphasizing your point. âKellyâs fully capable of flying herself out and buying tickets to a race weekend.â
âI was just being nice.â Max raised his voice, also growing frustrated with the situation.
âAnd sheâs still using you!â You fumed, tears welled in the corner of your eyes. âHow many times does she have to use you for you to realize it? You guys broke up and she still manages to get what she wants out of you! Do you know how embarrassing it is to walk in and see her there?â You tried to reason with him. While many of his fans didnât approve of Kelly, you knew Twitter would have a field day clowning you when they find out Kelly was present in the garage. Social media was never always a nice place and youâve learned to ignore it, but that didnât mean it stopped the hate from happening.
Max ran a hand through his hair and sighed.
âThis is ridiculous.â He muttered under his breath, you scoffed and leaned back into your seat, staring at the window again.
âDo you not trust me?â Max asked forcibly, staring at the side of your head again. You let out a defeated sigh and turn your head to look at him, âI do trust you, Max.â
Maxâs shoulders slouched as he leaned on the seat sideways, his body fully turned to you.
âThen why do you not trust me with this?â He pushed, nudging your knee with his, trying to get an answer out of you. He knew he was at fault and he just wanted to make it right.
âI donât trust her.â You simply answered, feeling done with the conversation. The car turned, nearing the entrance of the paddock. You sniffled as you untucked your hair from behind your ears, removing your sunglasses from the top of your head.
âYou donât have to worry about her, schatje. I want you not her, thereâs a reason why we broke up.â Max reassured, trying to ease the tension between the two of you.
The car came to a halt, a knock came from the driver, indicating that you guys arrived at the paddock. Before you could leave, you turned to Max and said, âYet, sheâs still here.â
ŕŹâËâĄâ âš
Entering the paddock was always a frenzy. The moment you stepped out the car, fans were quick to recognize you, knowing that one of their favorite drivers were right behind you. You slid your sunglasses on and smoothed out the white maxi dress you wore. Max followed in suit and flashed a smile at the fans.
Shouldering his bag, he held his hand out to you, âI know youâre upset, but can I please hold your hand?â
You nodded and entangled your fingers with his. The two of you began your walk into the paddock hand in hand, as fans screamed and waved at Max. He gave your hand a squeeze before guiding you guys to some of the barricades and signing a few things for the fans.
After you guys scanned your passes, Max led you guys to the Red Bull garage. However, you came to a halt. Max was quick to look back at you, âYou okay?â
âYeahâIâm gonna meet up with Alex and Rebecca, if thatâs okay? We were planning on seeing each other before the race.â You tell him. A small pout formed on Maxâs lips, âOh, okay, Iâll drop you off.â He offered, still holding your hand.
You and the girls decided to meet up at the Paddock Club. In front of the entrance, Max stood in front of you.
âYouâll come to the garage to watch, right? I need you there.â He asked quietly, so that people passing by cannot hear your conversation.
You nodded, âYeah, Iâll be there before youâre in the car.â
Max mirrored your actions, âOkay, I love you.â He pulled you in by the waist and pressed a kiss onto your forehead. You squeezed his waist in response, âI love you too.â
Max watched as you entered the building, huffing to himself, while he watched you walk further and further into the building.
Placing your sunglasses above your head, you scan the room until you see one of the girls, Alex was the first to spot you, standing in her spot and waving at you to come over.
âCoucou mon amour!â She greeted you, (Hello, my love!) immediately wrapping you in a hug. You squeal as she squeezed you, âHelloo!â You giggled. You go to greet Rebecca, who is immediately giving you a knowing look. Being the older one amongst the three of you, she was often looked up to as the older sister.
She wrapped an arm around you and smoothed your back, âWhatâs wrong?â She asked while you got situated in the chair beside her.
You shook your head, âItâs just Max.â
Rebecca grabbed the bottle of champagne on the table and poured some into a flute glass. She offered you the glass, âThank you, I needed this.â
She smiled watching you take a long sip from the glass, âOh honey, I know.â
Alex pouted and nudged your foot with hers, âWhat happened with Max?â
âHe invited Kelly to watch the race at the garage today.â You bluntly shared, slumping yourself in your chair.
Rebeccaâs eyes widened, âShut up.â
You raised a brow at her, âOh, I didnât even get to the kicker yet.â
Alexâs brows raised, âWhich is?â
âHe flew her outâhe fucking flew her out and gave her tickets for the entire weekend.â You revealed through gritted teeth, still being aware of your surroundings. Rebecca cursed under her breath as Alex took your glass and refilled it with champagne.
Grabbing the glass, you continued, âSheâs literally been here all weekend and he only told me this morning. I just donât get it, they broke up, I donât know why heâs still so concerned about her.â You took another long sip of champagne,
âWhat was the reason why?â Rebecca asked you.
âApparently Penelope missed himâwhich I can believe, but did he really have to do all the providing when she can financially support herself? I get that he was trying to be nice, but still.â You grunt, fiddling with your glass.
Alex comfortingly rubbed your arm, âNo, I get it, if Charles did the same thing with his ex, Iâd also be upset.â
âI literally told him that sheâs using him once again.â You threw your hands up. âIf he wants her to be there so much, he might as well just get back with her. Likeâam I crazy for losing my mind at the fact they were in contact with each other, even if it wasnât in a romantic sense?â
Rebecca shook her head, âNo, your feelings are absolutely valid. Youâre just concerned and it obviously caught you off guard. He shouldnât have been texting his ex in the first place.â
You groaned and held your head in your hands, âI hate feeling like this, it makes me question if he actually wants to be with me or not.â
Rebecca held her finger up, âIâm gonna stop you right there.â Placing her hand on your shoulder she says, âMax might be acting very stupid right now, but one thing I know for sure is that Max loves you and absolutely adores you. Without a doubt.â
Alex nodded, agreeing with Rebecca, âLike have you seen the way he looks at you? He literally worships the ground you walk on. Iâm sure heâs beating himself up right now for doing what he did.â
âHe loves you, (y/n), everyone whoâs seen you guys together knows it. I donât think heâd put himself in this kind of position on purpose, youâve got that man wrapped around your finger, babe.â Rebecca reassured you, throwing her arm around your shoulder and pulling you into another hug.
âCome on cheer up, who cares if sheâs in the garage today? Youâre the one heâs gonna be going home with tonight.â You laughed shaking your head at her teasing.
âHey! Tonight and every single night!â Alex pointed out raising her glass at you.
ŕŹâËâĄâ âš
Two hours. Itâs been two hours since Max has dropped you off at the Paddock Club and he still hasnât heard back from you. Heâs been distracted all day. During a meeting with Christian and some of the engineers, he couldnât help but constantly check for a text from you, earning himself a scolding from the team principal. Checo and a couple of people from the team tried talking to him, but he wasnât paying attention. His eyes wandered wondering when you would enter the garage.
He did in fact see Kelly and Pâobviously he was expecting to see them since he invited them, but all he felt while talking to them was guilt. Guilty because he remembered the look of hurt and betrayal in your eyes and how he was the reason behind it. He hated it, he felt grimy, and dirty for going behind your back and texting Kelly. Not even ten minutes into catching up with the mother and daughter, Max realized that you were in fact correct. Kelly had used him again, instantly making advances on him despite knowing he was happily taken. But for the sake of P, Max made sure to be friendly though kept his distance to not feed into her motherâs schemes.
It was nearing lights out and you were still not in the garage. He had gone through his warm ups with Bradley, had his fireproofs and suit on, and even laced up his shoes. Still, no sight of you whatsoever in the garage. He was beginning to worry about you, sending you a couple of messages to your phone.
The car was due to be on the grid and there was about half an hour left till lights out. Max looked around the bustling garage, checking to see if you had snuck in without him seeing, though to no avail, you still werenât there.
âMaxâŚMaxâŚMax?â GP tried to get Maxâs attention. Snapping a finger in front of the driverâs face, Maxâs eyes flickered over to his race engineer.
âWhat do you want now?â Max groaned, throwing his head back. To onlookers, it looked like a typical interaction between Max and GP. Though, GP felt like he was babysitting a child whose attention span couldnât focus on one thing for more than a few seconds.
âMate, Iâve been talking to you for the past five minutes.â GP claimed. Choosing to ignore the information he had just âbriefedâ Max on, he decided to be a friend.
âWhereâs your head at?â GP asked Max. The Dutch man sighed, leaning against one of the storage units in the garage.
âI messed up with (y/n). I did something and it was my fault, I know it was. But sheâs not happy with me at the moment and I just want to make it right.â Max summarized, not sharing any more details to protect the privacy of your relationship.
GP motioned towards Kelly who was talking to one of the other influencers in the garage, âDoes it have to deal with that?â
âUnfortunately.â Max mumbled, crossing his arms and choosing to stare at the floor.
GP took a minute to stare at his driver. Max was deflated, he wasnât as hyped for the race or over explaining some random fact about god knows what. Instead, Max kept to himself, greeting people when he had to and communicating with his team prior to the race. Other than that, Max chose to stare at his phone and look longingly outside the garage.
âListen, I donât know what exactly went down. But Iâve seen you with (y/n) and she clearly makes you happy, weâve all see how lively you are with her around. Youâve got a lot of groveling to do bud, but itâll be worth it.â GP advised, clapping Max on the back to wake him up.
âSheâll always be worth it.â Max quietly said, taking another glimpse at his phone. Only to be met with his wallpaper of you and him, with no notifications.
ŕŹâËâĄâ âš
Christian Horner stared at his monitor at the pit wall watching as drivers and their teams gathered on the grid. He saw Checo by his car, taking a few sips of water before the race. When the camera panned to Maxâs Red Bull, the driver was no where to be seen. Sparing him a second of wondering where his driver was, the camera cut to the garage where Max stood, race suit at his waist, looking no where near ready to participate in the race.
âWhy is Max not in the car?â He turned to GP, stress evident on his face. GP turned in his seat and looked back into the garage to see Max pacing. Cursing under his breath, he excused himself from Christian and rushed to Max.
âMax, the race is literally about to start!â
Max stops his pacing and places his hands at his hips, âI need my girlfriend.â
âWhat?â Bradley and GP both stuttered out. Max deadpanned at the two men in front of him.
â(Y/n), I need to see her before the race.â Max demanded. Bradley pinched the bridge of his nose, âMax, sheâll be here after the race, youâll be fine.â He pushed the balaclava towards Maxâs chest, who simply let the mask fall at his feet.
GP sighed at Max, before calling one of the Red Bull employees.
âPlease send out a search for (y/n), Max is refusing to get in the car.â He whispered to the intern. The girl looked at him confusingly but nodded and set out the garage.
ŕŹâËâĄâ âš
You rushed as best as you could in kitten heels towards the Red Bull garage. You were supposed to be at the garage at least half an hour ago. You and the girls got caught up catching up with each otherâs lives that none of you realized it was getting close to lights out. It truly was a funny sight, the three of you rushing out of the Paddock Club and running through the paddock like a bunch of maniacs.
â(Y/n)!â You heard someone yell. You stopped in your steps and looked around, only to see a girl dressed in Red Bull uniform. You recognized her, you believed her name was Nicole and was an intern for the team this season.
âHey! Is Max on the grid already?â You approached her, a little sad that you missed seeing him before the race.
âNo, heâs actually waiting for you. Theyâre sending out a search for you because heâs refusing to get in the car.â Nicole explained, placing a gentle hand on your back and guiding you through the crowd of fans and towards the garage.
ŕŹâËâĄâ âš
GP released a sigh of relief once he saw you enter the garage. He shoved Maxâs shoulder to avert his attention to you.
âWhatâoh,â Max began, only to stop himself and rush towards you. You met him half way, placing a hand on his elbow.
âIâm so sorry, I didnât meant to stay there for too long.â You quickly apologized. Max shook his head, âI donât care, Iâm just happy youâre here.â
Your brows furrowed at him, âWhy are you here? Why arenât you in the car yet?â
Max placed both his hands on your waist with a faint blush on his cheeks, âI need my goodluck kiss.â
You paused your actions, âYouâre kidding me. Max, the race is about to start in five minutes!â You scolded your boyfriend.
âPlease, schatje.â He pleaded, leaning closer towards you. Other team members and guests watched the both of you, the scene in front of them peaking their interests.
You gazed up at his stormy eyes, giving in because you knew he was stubborn and wouldnât stop until he got his way. Plus, the team would hate you if you lowered their chances of scoring points this weekend.
âJust because I kiss you doesnât mean Iâm not mad at you anymore.â You clarified quietly. His forehead nodded against yours, âI know schatje. I promise to make it up to you, I really do.â
A small smile forms on your lips, âI know, Maxie.â
Max takes that as his sign to crash his lips onto yours. One of his hands support the back of your neck while the other rests on your lower back. You smile against his lips, pulling back and placing a peck right above the small mole on his upper lip.
âI love you.â You whispered to him.
âI love you too.â He whispered back. Before you can fully pull away from him he quickly adds, âIâm serious about my promise.â
âI know, baby.â You squeeze him comfortingly. âNow get out there and win the race. Stay safe.â
He pressed a kiss to your forehead as both you and GP ushered him towards his gear thatâs been waiting to be put on.
ŕŹâËâĄâ âš
A man of his word, Max won the race. With at least a five second gap between him and Lando, your boy was top step yet once again. As much as he won, the thrill of seeing him win and crossing the finish line never got old. You celebrated every win of his as if it were his first. Youâd always be proud of him, whether he got pole or not.
Many of the engineers and members of the team began to rush towards the grid, eager to greet Max once he got out the car.
Looking around, you suddenly make eye contact with Kelly, who seemed to have been sizing you up. You werenât really sure what look was on her face, but the hints of a snarl were on her lips. With her nose stuck up in the air, you watched as she carried her daughter and began to follow the rest of the team.
âDonât mind her. Youâre the one he wants to see when he gets out that car.â A voice said from beside you. You jumped, coming face to face with Christian. Your eyes widened at your boyfriendâs boss. Prior to the race, he was informed of the search party the entire team had for you to get Max in the car. While he was annoyed earlier, he thought it was rather cute that Max was so fond of you.
âYou know, heâs never begged her for a good luck kiss.â Said Christian, a knowing look on his features. âYou on the other handâhe canât seem to function whenever youâre not around.â
âIâm sorry, I didnât know he was gonna put that much of a fight earlier today.â You apologized, feeling a bit flustered. âHeâs a bit stubborn sometimes.â You added, to which Christian chuckled at.
âOh, I know. Max and I have worked together for years.â He stated. He glanced out the garage and motioned towards it, âCâmon now, Iâm sure heâs already looking for you.â
ŕŹâËâĄâ âš
You make your way through the crowd of Red Bull members, many of them recognizing you and helping you squeeze through till you were at the very front of the barricade.
Max was already out, helmet in his hand, while his other embraced GP and a couple other engineers. You watched as he high-fived Penelope, barely sparing a glance at her mother. A little burst of pride went off in your stomach, you couldnât help it.
His blue orbs scanned the crowd of red and blue, looking for you. You yell his name, his eyes immediately finding yours. A smile breaks out on his face as he rushed over to you, dropping his helmet in the process. Despite the barricade between you two, he wraps both his arms tightly around you, lifting you off the ground.
âMax!â You squealed, your arms wrapping around his neck. His large hand found your cheek, slightly pulling you away from his neck so he can connect his lips with yours. Naturally, your lips moulded perfectly against his moving in synch. The team erupted in cheers around you.
âIâm so proud of you!â You tell him once your lips separate.
âI couldnât have done it without you.â He grins, gently pinching your bottom lip between his pointer finger and thumb.
He couldnât stay long, being told that he had to get to the podium for the trophy ceremony.
âIâll see you after the podium, schatje!â He yelled with a wink over his shoulder, causing a blush to form on your cheeks.
ŕŹâËâĄâ âš
The ceremony and the media tent took a while, you finally got to see Max an hour later. You were sitting in his driverâs room, when he bursted through the door already looking for you.
You stood up, smiling at him, âHey.â
He mirrors your smile. Placing the trophy on the couch he opens his arms for you. You walk into the comfort of his hold, burying your head into the crook of his neck and wrapping your arms around his torso.
Finally it was just the two of you.
âIâm sorry.â You said, though it came out muffled against his skin. Maxâs hands stopped the circular motions they were rubbing on your back.
âFor what?â
You pulled back looking at him, âI overreacted about the whole Kelly thing. I shouldâve taken your word for it.â
Max immediately shook his head, disagreeing with you. âNo, you were absolutely right about her. I shouldâve listened to you from the beginning. The moment I said hi to them she was already trying to come onto meâI avoided her by the way, I just entertained P.â
âIâm also sorry for what I said about P. I was in the wrong for that comment.â You said, a small grimace on your face when you remembered the off hand comment you made about the poor child.
Max chuckled, âSchatje, seriously, itâs okay.â
His calloused hands were rough against the soft skin of your face. He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and cradled your jaw in his hand.
âI may have a soft spot for P, but theyâre in my past. Youâre my future, (y/n). The future that I only want and see myself in.â Max admitted. Your eyes gleamed at him, âYouâre the future I want too, Maxie.â
âGood because youâre not getting rid of me that easily. Youâre stuck with me.â He joked, squeezing your cheeks.
âI love you. So much. I know it seemed like I didnât trust you today, but I want you to know that I do. I fully trust you with my life and I mean it.â You said, your fingers playing with the ends of his hair at the nape of his neck.
Max nodded, âI believe you. I love you too.â
The two of you basked in the silence and comfort of being in each others arms. Max was the first one to break the silence, âYou donât have plans after this right?â
You hummed against his neck, âBesides celebrating your win, nothing. Why?â
âBecause Iâm taking you out on a date.â Max proudly announced, a goofy smile on his lips.
âDonât you wanna celebrate with the team?â You asked him. Max shook his head, âNope, the only person I want to celebrate with tonight is you.â
You giggled at Maxâs antics, âWhatever you say, Champ.â
#f1#formula 1#formula one#max verstappen#mv33#mv1#max verstappen fluff#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen angst#max verstappen fanfic
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Teacher's Pet
Joel Miller x virgin f!reader
Summary: 25 years old, anxiety-ridden, and still a virgin, you ask your friend Joel for advice on your upcoming date. But you're more of a...hands-on learner. And he's more than happy to help.Â
Warnings: PWP, unbalanced power dynamics, virgin!reader, neighbor/bff/more experienced! Joel, age gap, first kiss, virginity loss, fingering, oral (f receiving), frequent check-ins, soo much banter and Joel is a menace also so soft and sweet :')....(ends on a cliffhanger but there will be a part two I swear).
w/c: 7.7k idk what happened
a/n: I am resurfacing for your monthly reminder that I do in fact still write!! Inspiration for this came out of literally nowhere but I took it and RAN with it and I think I like it?? As always, thank you to my baby love @undrthelights for helping me with this and always listening to my rambling and for being my biggest enabler Ilysm
Part Two
my masterlist
"Fine! What if, hypothetically speaking of course, you were to, hypothetically, give me a, um, hypothetical, lesson or whatever." Your heart is pounding so hard you can feel your pulse throb in your neck pound in your ears. You slowly drag your hands away from your face and look at him. He stares right back at you, brows furrowed. "A what?" "Forget it. forget I said anything,â you mutter, shaking your head. "No no wait, hang on, what do you mean? A lesson? Like aâŚa sex lesson?âÂ
"Seriously, Joel. Fuck off" you snap but with no bite or heat behind it. You bring the sweating bottle of beer to your lips and finish the rest of the now lukewarm liquid off in one gulp.Â
"What? I just find it hard to believe that you've never even had a kiss. Didn't you go to high school? Didn't you ever get invited to a party? Didn't you go to college? College kids do the do like all the timeâÂ
"Clearly not all the time" you mutter, a tad bitterly.
Joel raises his hands defensively and takes a sip of his own beer. "Just seems crazy is all. There's gotta be some chick or dude out there willing to take pity on you and pop your cherry."
You audibly gag at his choice of words. "I don't need a pity fuck, thanks." You stand from the couch and head over to the fridge. The bottles of cold alcohol inside are calling your name and you want something that will help soothe your nerves. You're not a big drinker, but when Joel is prying into your love life like he is now, you wish you were.
"Okay,â he starts from the living room. âMaybe I worded that wrong. What I meant to say was, there's gotta be someone out there who would be more than willing to show you a good time."
You groan and let your forehead fall against the fridge door. "That's the whole point! I came here to get advice for my date, someone who might actually be interested in me, and all you've done is make fun of me for not having fucked anyone yet. So thanks, Joel. You're a real pal."
You push away from the fridge and slam the door shut, a second beer in hand.
"Alright, alright, calm down." He says, hands in the air as if you were holding him at gunpoint as you head back to the couch. "Look, if this guy really likes you then he's not gonna care. Probably won't even be able to tell if you are or aren't."
"You think so?" You ask hopefully.
"Well, I mean, unless you're like... super bad."
Your heart drops into your stomach and you glare at him, "Joel."
"Oh come on, I'm kidding. You're not gonna be bad, okay? Just, go into it with an open mind and just relax. If he tries something you're not comfortable with or makes you feel weird, tell him. And if he gets pissy, dump his ass."
"That simple, huh?" You scoff.
"Well, yeah. You're the one who made it complicated by thinking it was a big deal."
"It is a big deal, Joel! I know nothing!
"Nothing? You ainât ever watched porn? Jesus, I had no idea you were such a prude."
You can't stop yourself from rolling your eyes and slapping the back of your hand against his arm. He yelps and laughs, rubbing his arm.
"I've watched porn before" you retort.Â
"What kind?" he asks with a wiggle of his brows.
"None of your fucking business" you respond, feeling your face heat up.
Joel's lips quirk into a shit-eating grin and you're quick to smack him again.
"Okay okay, sorry!" he says through his laughter. "So what exactly are you afraid of?"
You're not really sure how to answer. It's a combination of so many things, most of which are irrational fears and insecurities. Sure you've seen it all done before, but you're well aware that none of it is realistic. At least, not completely. And just the fact that you're freshly 25 years old without a single notch in your bedpost makes you dizzy with anxiety. It's not like you're saving yourself or anything, it's just that hook up culture has never agreed with you and there's never been an opportunity that made you feel like it was the right one. That is until now, with your cute coworker who you thought was miles out of your league asking you out on a third date. And now, the prospect of being in bed with him is looming over you like a dark cloud and the last thing you want to do is mess it up.
"I guess, I'm just afraid that he's gonna be disappointed, or I'm gonna weird him out, or I'm gonna do something wrong and embarrass myself.â Joel nods along and listens. "And if it is bad then we still have to work with each other and then what if it's awkward and everyone knows about it and then he hates me and--"
"Okay, whoa slow down there, buddy" Joel says, putting a hand on your shoulder. "One, you're overthinking this. You're literally thinking like, five steps ahead of what's actually going on. It's a date. And even if it does end up in the bedroom, you don't have to do anything you don't want to. No one's forcing you, okay? He can't. No one can."
"I know, but I want to," you reply quietly.
"Alright. Then do."
"I don't know howwww!! " you whine, flopping backwards into the couch.
Joel groans and sits up a little straighter, scrubbing a hand down his face.Â
"Well, there's no magic trick, I don't have a secret sex manual I'm holding out on ya."
You sigh, shoulders sagging as you look over at him. The idea comes out of nowhere, well, not exactly from nowhere, but it pops in your head so fast that you then have to bite your tongue before the words bubbling up from your throat come tumbling out.Â
It's not a bad idea, not necessarily.Â
You've been good friends with Joel ever since you moved in next door last year. An unlikely pairing, a 40 year old contractor and an almost 25 year old office worker. But after offering him a six pack as part of introducing yourself to the neighbors, you'd gotten along fabulously. He fixes things around your house and you send him home with hot dinners and warm, gooey cookies and you watch movies together almost every Friday night.
 It's an easy friendship, open and honest and supportive, and Joel has never given you reason not to trust him. He's a good guy, if not a little brash, but you know deep down he means well. And it doesn't hurt that he's objectively attractive, with his tall and sturdy frame, strong, calloused hands, dark messy curls....It's not a bad idea.
It's an absolutely insane idea.Â
You continue to stare at him, clenching your teeth together to hold back the question sitting on the tip of your tongue.
"What?" he says, looking back at you.
"Nothing" you mutter, eyes flicking away.
"You've got that face you make when you're about to say something really stupid, so just get it out."
You glare at him again, not enjoying the way he can read you so well.
"I wasn't gonna say anything."
"Well now you're lying."
"I'm not."
"You're doing it again!"
"Doing what?!"
"That face!"
"I'm not making a face!"
"Yes you are! Just spit it out!"
You groan and hide your face in your hands. You blame it on the one beer even though you know youâre not anywhere close to being drunk because how else would you justify what youâre about to say? You wait a moment, thinking about the weight of it but your mouth opens before you can stop yourself.Â
"Fine! What if, hypothetically speaking of course, you were to, hypothetically, give me a, um, hypothetical, lesson or whatever."
Your heart is pounding so hard you can feel your pulse throb in your neck and hear it in your ears. You slowly drag your hands away from your face and look at him. He stares right back at you, brows furrowed.
"A what?"
"Forget it. forget I said anything,â you mutter, shaking your head.Â
"No no wait, hang on, what do you mean? A lesson? Like aâŚa sex lesson?âÂ
His eyes are wide, and he looks incredulous. You can't blame him, because the more time that passes between your suggestion and now, the more ridiculous the idea seems.
"Iâm sorry, that wasâŚIt was stupid. Pretend I didn't say anything. Let's just watch a movie." You move to grab the remote, but Joel's hand covers yours, stopping you.
"Is that what you want?"
You look at him, searching his expression for any sign of disgust or apprehension. But all you can see is the same Joel you've known for months, patient, warm, and understanding.
"I know. I know it's stupid. But I can't get this date out of my head, Joel. It's all I can think about and the more I do, the more worried I get and I just don't want to fuck it up. And I know we're friends and this is weird and gross, but I just thought that... maybe, I could have some practice, so to speak."
He doesn't say anything. Just keeps looking at you, the panic rising in your chest the longer the silence stretches. You start to fidget, wringing your hands together in your lap.
"I'm sorry, that was way out of line" you say, moving to stand up, your skin sweaty and hot with embarrassment and your feet ready to run out the door and never come back.Â
But Joel catches your wrist, gently pulling you back down to sit next to him.
"Joel" you whine, not wanting him to humiliate you any further.
"It's okay, come here."
His voice is softer than before, and his eyes are kind. You let him pull you closer, the two of you sitting knee to knee. You can't bring yourself to look him in the eyes, not with your cheeks and the tips of your ears burning like they are, but Joel doesn't push. He simply moves his hand from your wrist, sliding it into yours. His palms are rough and warm, and the simple touch alone is comforting.
"You really wanna do this?â he asks softly. You can feel his eyes boring into you. âI mean, I'm not exactly a prize winning catch. And it's not like there's a shortage of willing men out there."
You shrug and chew the inside of your lip.
"Yeah, but you're my friend and I...I trust you."
There's another pause, and you wish that you could just disappear into the couch and erase this moment from your memory.
"How drunk are you?" he asks, glancing at the beer bottle on the coffee table.
"You saw me finish one bottle. And half of another. Iâm barely tipsy."
"Not drunk?â
"Nope."
"You're gonna remember this tomorrow."
"Uh huh."
"And you still want to?"
You groan for the millionth time and squeeze his hand.
"Yes I want to! Look, if you don't want to then that's fine. It was just a dumb suggestion and we can just forget this ever happened."
He hums, considering your words. His hand slips out of yours, and you think that's it, you've scared him off and washed the friendship down the drain. That you'll have to hide from him from now on, that you'll have to pack your things up and move because the mortification would be too much, and that he'll hate you, andâ
His two fingers sliding under chin surprise you, and he tilts your head up. He's looking down at you with that same even expression, eyes big, soft, and warm as he slides his hand over to cup your jaw in his palm.Â
"If you want to stop at any point, just say so, okay? I won't be upset and we can go back to the way things were before. Got it?"
You nod, your throat suddenly too tight to speak. His thumb sweeps over your cheekbone, the tender touch is enough to make your heart skip a beat. Thereâs no way this is actually happening. That your first kiss is going to be with your 40 year old menace of a neighbor. That youâre going to, how did you put it, get a sex lesson from him. His gaze flicks down to your lips and back up to your eyes and youâre positive youâre no longer able to breathe.Â
"Can I kiss you?" he asks softly. You nod.Â
You're sure he can hear the thumping of your heart in his own ears as he leans down. His other hand comes to rest on your hip and when his lips touch yours, a soft, tentative pressure, you're not prepared for the electricity that shoots through you.
He's barely done anything and already you feel like you're floating. Your own hands reach out to clutch his shirt, keeping him close, afraid he'll pull away and leave you cold and wanting if you don't. But he stays put, pressing himself against you, his lips working gently against yours. You follow his lead, kissing him back while trying not to overthink it.
It's nothing like the kisses in the movies or the books, where fireworks explode behind your eyelids or where your foot pops up in the air. It's far more subdued, more quiet and subtle. But the warmth that pools low in your belly and the goosebumps that erupt on your skin when his tongue slides against the seam of your lips, light and quick, makes you absolutely melt.Â
He pulls back before you can really react, and you're left with a dizzying rush of both blistering desire and excruciating anxiety. You want to pull him back in and never let him go. But your heart is beating so fast you can hardly breathe, your nerves are buzzing, and the urge to run and hide is nearly paralyzing.Â
"Was it bad?" you ask tentatively, cheeks heated.
"No" he replies, giving your hip a squeeze as a smirk plays on his lips. "It was fucking awful. Worst kiss of my life"
"Shut up!" you hiss, pushing him away with a hand on his chest. He laughs, the sound easing some of the tension in your body.Â
"I'm just teasing" he says, voice dropping lower. "C'mere, we can work on it."
His lips find yours again, and you try not to smile into the kiss but it's hard when you can feel the way his lips are quirked up as well. It doesnât take much else to get you to relax and let yourself fall into the moment, into the gentle press of his mouth and the warm hands on your hip and your cheek. He swipes his tongue against your lips again, his fingers pressing lightly into the hinge of your jaw to tilt your head back and coax your lips apart.
You let him, sighing as his tongue glides across yours, hot and smooth and sweet. Your hands slide up his chest, finding purchase around his shoulders, and when you move forward, pushing yourself against him, he grunts softly but lets you. He kisses you until the both of you are gasping for air, and when he pulls back, his lips are wet and red and you're certain yours must be as well.
"Better?" you ask, a bit breathless.
"Getting there" he answers with, his breath warm where it fans across your cheek.Â
"You're such a liar" you say with a goofy smile.
"Yeah, I know. Now try again, practice makes perfect.âÂ
You roll your eyes but lean back in nonetheless. It's a bit more heated this time, the feeling of his teeth nibbling on your bottom lip making you squirm. His hand rounds over your hip, palm smoothing to the small of your back to pull you closer, the heat of his body radiating through your clothes and warming your skin. Your hands move on their own accord, no thought behind the action as they slide up to his shoulders and then his neck, your fingers finding home in the curls at the base of his skull. When you give them a slight tug, you're rewarded with a muffled grunt from Joel. Emboldened, you pull back, lips swollen and tingling.
"Youâre a good kisser,â you pant. "Is that something people usually say?"
"When itâs true" he says, grinning at you. "And since I know you're gonna ask, I'd say that was a C+, maybe a B-."
You scoff but blush furiously at the smile he flashes, his eyes crinkling in the corners.
"Well then, tell me what to do next. What do I need to know?"
Joel hums as he thinks for a moment.Â
"What do you want to do?"
You stare at him for a second, blinking.
"I don't know, that's why I'm asking you" you say, shaking your head a bit.
"Well, how far do you want to take this?"
You swallow hard, suddenly feeling very shy. You canât deny that when the idea popped in your head it was accompanied by the mental image of you naked, spread out on his bed, but the actual act of asking him, or better yet, actually doing it is... intimidating to say the least. Are you really about to let him go all the way, to see you bare and vulnerable, let him pop your cherry as he would disgustingly put it? All just to âprepareâ for a date with a guy who might not even like you that way?
Yeah, probably.
"All the way" you answer. âI want to go all the wayâÂ
He doesnât pounce on you like you expected, doesnât press his lips against yours in a frenzied kiss that you had half hoped for. Instead, he simply looks at you, his brown eyes boring into yours, searching.
"Are you sure? You can always say no and you're not gonna lose me as a friend if this isnât what you actually want. I donât want you thinking that."
You can't help the laugh that bubbles up and slips out, because of course Joel, your kind, thoughtful Joel, would say that. He's a good man. A great one, even.
"Yes, I'm sure. But if you don't want to, I get it, I can just leave and-"
Joel laughs, the sound traveling up from deep in his chest, the rumble vibrating against you.
"Sweetheart, I wouldn't be doinâ this if I didn't want to. Just makinâ sure this is what you really want."
"I want it.âÂ
He squeezes your hip and swipes a thumb over your cheekbone once again.Â
âAlright then.â He nods, firm and resolute, and then looks around the room. â Weâre not doing it here, though. If you're getting the full Joel Miller experience, we're gonna do it right.âÂ
Your eyes roll reflexively, but your heart picks up its pace regardless.
"Iâm not gonna do anything if you call it that ever again."
"Fine, fine,â he relents. âLet me show you what a good, thorough fucking feels like. Better?"
Your jaw drops, and he's laughing at you, his body shaking with amusement.
"Fuck you" you grumble, shoving him away while trying to hide your coy smile.Â
"Yeah, that's what I'm hoping for," he says with a wide, self-assured grin.
"I'm leaving" you declare with a false sense of offense as you rise to your feet. Joel is quick to do the same and before you can take a single step away, he slips a finger through the belt loop of your jeans and tugs you back into him, wrapping an arm around your waist.
"Iâll stop, Iâll stop. I'm sorry" he says, not sounding it one bit.
You huff, but let him pull you closer until youâre pressed against his chest and you have to tilt your head back to look at him.
"Iâll be good. I promise."
"Liar"
"Well, yeah. But I can promise that I'll make you feel good."
You can't help the giggle that spills out and he kisses it away, his lips warm and plush and sweet against yours. The hand not resting on your lower back comes up, curling around the nape of your neck and keeping you close. You sink into him, and the fog creeps in again, dulling the rest of the world, making it seem fuzzy and distant, like the memory of a dream. All you can focus on is him, the warm solid weight of him against you, the strong arms holding you, the way his mouth moves against yours. And then heâs pulling back all too soon and you have to stifle a whine.
"Come on" he says, tugging at your hand.
His bedroom is dim, the little lamp on his nightstand and the faint glow of the moon through the curtains providing the only light. You swallow and take a deep breath as you step inside, your bare toes digging into the plush carpet, his hand warm and large where it grips yours.
He holds onto you as he sits on the edge of the bed. You step forward, letting him pull you between his knees. His hands settle on your hips, and you can feel their heat through the fabric of your shirt.
He doesnât ask if you're sure again and youâre grateful because youâre not sure if you could form any kind of response right now. Instead, he slides his hands up and under your shirt, fingers dancing across your skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps. Your breath hitches as his hands smooth over your ribs and around to your back, the tips of his fingers mapping out the curve of your spine, skimming over each notch and bump. They climb higher, the fabric of your shirt bunching around his wrists.Â
âCan I take this off, baby?â
Your heart jumps to your throat but you nod anyway. He grabs the hem and tugs your shirt up and and you lift your arms so he can slip it off over your head. He tosses it aside, the fabric falling to the floor beside the bed. Youâre left exposed, vulnerable and bare, save for the worn out bra you wear, a few too many washes and a few years past its prime.
Your hands itch where they hang by your side with the instinct to cover yourself, hide the imperfections that you know so well, the stretch marks, the softness of your stomach, the way the cups of your bra are just a bit too small and spill over the tops.
But then heâs pressing his lips to the space just above your navel, his scruff tickling your skin and making the muscles in your abdomen jump and twitch. His hands find your waist again, and when his lips continue their path upwards, his palms follow, skimming up your sides, thumbs tracing the outline of your ribs before stopping at the band of your bra.
"This too?" he asks, voice quiet and husky.
"Yeah" you answer with a squeak, and he grins like a kid in a candy store.
His fingers undo the clasp deftness that makes your knees go weak, the straps slipping from your shoulders and the whole thing sliding down your arms, landing somewhere near your shirt.Â
"God, baby, look at you" he murmurs, his hands cupping the underside of your breasts, his thumbs sweeping over the tops and then down the slope and around your nipple. Your breath hitches, the gentle touch sending a shiver up your spine. "You're fucking perfect."
The praise is unexpected and it sends a jolt of heat through your core. You whimper quietly and his hands are on you again, the calloused palms rough on the soft skin of your breasts. He kneads the flesh, squeezing gently before rolling your nipples between his fingers, pulling and pinching and teasing.Â
He pulls you closer and ducks his head, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. He looks up at you through his lashes, eyes dark and hooded, and his pupils blown wide with desire.
"Can I?" he asks.
"Please."
He leans in and wraps his lips around a peaked nipple, his tongue swirling around the sensitive nub, the gentle heat of his mouth on your skin making your knees weak.
His mouth works on one breast, tongue flicking and teasing while his free hand continues its work on the other. Pleasure builds and coils deep inside, the sensation unfamiliar but certainly not unwelcome. You whimper and he pulls away, releasing your nipple with a wet pop before giving it a sweet parting kiss.
He turns his attention to the other, his teeth grazing over the stiff peak and drawing a whine from your lips. He sighs when your fingers tighten in his hair, pulling at the strands until he groans softly against you. He sucks your other nipple into his mouth, the flat of his tongue pressing against it and dragging up and around, swirling and flicking. Youâre already breathless, panting, a thin sheen of sweat glistening on your forehead.
"Feels good, Joel," you whisper shyly.Â
"I know, honey" he says, a soft smile pulling at his lips when he pulls away. "Feel good anywhere else?"
He doesn't wait for a response, simply slips a hand between your thighs, cupping you through the denim, the simple action making you squeak.
"Here, huh?" he says, the heel of his palm pressing against you.
You gasp softly and nod, biting your lip, too shy to say anything.
"Get on the bed, baby."
You comply, crawling onto the mattress and scooting backwards towards the pillows, sitting at the head of the bed as you watch him. His eyes never leave you as he pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it onto the floor. Your heart thumps as you stare at his bare chest, his tanned skin dotted with a light dusting of salt and pepper hair. He's broad, his shoulders thick and chest solid. Your fingers burn with the urge to reach out and touch him, so you do, extending a tentative, slightly shaky hand.
He watches you closely, eyes flitting down to the palm pressed against his chest before meeting yours again, his mouth curling into a smile.
"You can touch" he says, reaching down to curl a hand around your wrist and bringing it up to his lips, pressing a kiss to the center of your palm before guiding your hand back down to his chest. "I think most people would enjoy that."
"You're having entirely too much fun with this,â you mumble while your fingers spread out across his pec. Â
"It is fun" he counters, his own hand sliding up the inside of your thigh, thumb pressing against the seam of your jeans and rubbing up and down. "But it'll be more fun once these come off"
Your lips part, a puff of air rushing out.
"You gonna take them off?" you ask, the words slipping out, bold and unbidden.
He grins, his brow quirking up.
"Look at you, being all bossy"
"You like it" you say, finally feeling some of the anxiety slipping away, the familiar and comfortable banter between the two of you slipping into place in a new, unfamiliar situation.
His smile takes up nearly his whole face as moves closer.Â
âI sure do.âÂ
He looms over you, bracing himself on an elbow next to your head before ducking down to kiss you, his tongue easily slipping into your mouth, warm and insistent. You sigh into it, your hands finding the warm, bare skin of his back, muscles gliding beneath your palms as you slide them up and around, fingertips digging into his shoulders. He's so warm and solid and you can't help the little noise that slips out, a soft, needy moan. You're about to break the kiss and beg him to touch you, give you something, anything, but he pulls back before you can.Â
"Impatient. I like that too" he says, voice barely above a whisper.
He kisses the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, then down your neck, his beard scraping against your skin. He continues his path, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses across your collarbones and down the valley between your breasts, his beard tickling your sternum.
His palm presses into the top of your thigh, and you instinctively open your legs for him, his hand immediately moving to cup you through the denim, thick fingers pressing against the seam and the bundle of nerves just below. Your hips rock up, seeking more pressure and he grins, entirely too pleased with himself right now.
You huff, and he laughs, the sound rumbling in his chest, but he relents, undoing the button and zipper of your jeans and tugging the fabric down, revealing the pair of pink panties underneath.Â
Joel sits up, pulling your jeans down your legs and letting them drop off the side of the bed, the sound of the denim hitting the floor indicating that you've officially crossed a line that neither of you can come back from. But if the hungry, desperate look on his face and the way you're practically vibrating underneath him are any indication, neither of you want to.
"I'll start with just my fingers, yeah?" he says, his hands running up the insides of your thighs, touch light and teasing, the tips of his fingers brushing the edge of your panties. You nod dumbly, at a complete loss for words right now.
He ducks his head, his lips landing on the smooth skin stretched over your hip bone. You squirm, ticklish, and he grins. His mouth is a great distraction from his hand, which has found its way back in between your legs, his fingers now pressing against damp fabric.
"Shit" he curses, his touch firm. "Fuckin' soaked already. Am I just that good?" he quips with a smirk.
"Jesus do you ever shut up" you gripe, but the effect is ruined by the whimper that escapes you when his thumb sweeps up, pressing hard against your clit.Â
"Oh, that's a pretty sound" he murmurs, repeating the motion to pull out another one, your hips bucking against his hand.
"Now," he starts, his tone shifting to the same one he uses when he's about to impart some life lesson. "This guy you're gonna see, or any man for that matter, should always take care of you before himself. That's just common fuckin' sense. And if he doesn't, you send him on his way" he continues. "Because a man that don't wanna see a woman get off is no fuckin' man at all"
You're about to interrupt, tell him he's an idiot and ask him to please, please, get on with it, but his fingers sliding under the elastic of your panties, swiftly pulling them down your legs steals the breath from your lungs. Your pulse sky rockets and you shift underneath him, crossing your thighs in instinctual effort to hide yourself from him.Â
"M'sorry I didn't shave or anything" you blurt out, your throat tight with anxiety and embarrassment once againÂ
Joel just shakes his head as he pries your legs apart.
"Baby, I could not give less of a shit about that."
"But-"
"No" he says, the word firm, an edge of command to his tone. "Youâre not apologizinâ for that. And if a man gives a shit, he's a fuckin' child who doesn't deserve the honor of bein' between these thighs" he says, pushing your knees further apart.
You nod and bite your lip, the words that are just so very Joel, settling in your chest and easing the tension in your body. You let out a long, slow breath and relax, trying to ease the nervousness.
"There ya go" he says, his fingers dancing along your slit, gathering the slick pooling there. You shudder at the gentle touch, your hips rolling up just a bit before you force them back down into the mattress, trying to keep yourself still.
"Nuh-uh. None of that" he says, immediately noticing the movement. He slides his free hand under you, his palm pushing into the small of your back and encouraging you to move again, to lean into your pleasure. "You take what you want, baby. Show me how good it feels. That's all I wanna see."
You squirm and whimper, the simple, almost lazy touch driving you insane. You've touched yourself before, brought yourself over the edge while imagining what it would be like to have the things you read about and watch in videos happen to you. But you've never managed to make yourself feel this good, never felt pleasure so intense, never felt a burning pressure in your abdomen so demanding that it radiates all the way to the tips of your fingers and toes.
And he's barely touched you.
"How's that feel?"
You can't even form the words, so you just nod and hum, the sound a mix of a whimper and a moan, your hips rolling up against his palm. He chuckles, and then the pressure increases, the friction building, his fingers slipping down, collecting more of your wetness to ease the drag against your skin.
He moves his fingers down, down, down, the tip of one circling your entrance, gathering the wetness pooling there. You whine loudly, any shame and modesty you once had replaced entirely with desperate need and pure desire.
"Please, Joel" you whisper, voice shaky.
"I gotcha" he says, dipping his fingertip in, just barely, and pulling a moan from deep in your chest. "Gonna give you what you need"
You groan, a long, low sound as he slowly sinks his finger into you. It's nothing like your own, so perfectly thick and long/ And you found the spot before, the spot that he curls his finger up into, but never at this angle, never with the perfect amount of pressure that he's applying right now.Â
"Mmm, look at that" he coos as you clench tightly around his finger.
"Joel, god, feels so good" you whimper pathetically.Â
"I know, honey, I know."
You clench again, the cockiness and self-assured attitude that usually gets under your skin now ignites your whole body in an entirely different way. He keeps his eyes on your face, watching as your eyes squeeze shut and your mouth drops open, your head tipping back as the pleasure builds.
"Another" you beg, the fullness not nearly enough.
"Greedy girl" he chides, but he pulls his finger out, and slides two back in. You swear that you could come from this alone, but he doesn't let you, the hand that was supporting your lower back disappearing, only to reappear between your thighs, his thumb circling your clit with firm, steady strokes.
White hot pleasure wraps around the base of your spine, the dual sensations of his fingers and his thumb sending you spiraling. The sounds falling from your lips are unrecognizable, high and desperate as your mind goes blissfully blank, your entire focus on the heat coiling in your abdomen. Your eyebrows pinch together and you bury your face in the pillow next to your head, trying to hide the ridiculous expression you're surely making, but you inhale the traces of his shampoo and cologne that cling to the fabric, the scent pushing you even closer to the edge.Â
You try to hold back. Surely you're not supposed to come this quickly, not just from two fingers and a thumb. Surely that's a sign that you're an easy lay, or too inexperienced, or-
"Just let it happen, baby. I can feel it, Just let go" Joel says, his voice cutting through the thoughts racing through your mind, his fingers crooking inside you and dragging across the spot that makes your hips stutter and a cry fall from your lips.
You can't hold back any longer, the pleasure cresting and crashing down around you. You squeeze his fingers, your back arching, the heels of your feet digging into the mattress as you roll your hips up into his touch, seeking more and more and more. And he gives and gives and gives, working you through it and drawing it out for as long as he can before you melt into the mattress, bones and muscles liquid and warm and satisfied.
He pulls his fingers out, and the sudden emptiness draws a disappointed whine from you, his answering chuckle making you smile.
"That was- fuck" you sigh, not quite capable of coherent thought.
"Absolutely mind-blowing? Yeah I know" he teases. You roll your eyes but don't say anything because it's true, and his cocky grin fades into a soft smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he watches you return to Earth.Â
"Can I- can I return the favor?" you ask, your gaze flicking down to the noticeable bulge in his jeans.
He grunts and shakes his head.
"Not yet. Got somethin' else in mind."
You frown and push yourself up onto your elbows, watching as he shifts from his position. You're about to ask what he's going to do until he's settling himself on his stomach between your thighs. You suck in a sharp breath as you realize exactly what he's got planned and your heart jumps, anxiety clouding your mind once again.Â
He rests his cheek on your thigh, his eyes meeting yours.
"Alright?"
You swallow and nod, licking your lips.
"Yeah. Just... no one's ever-"
"Yeah, I got that much, that's why we're here" he says, smiling smugly when you glare at him.Â
"But what if it's not good? Or I don't taste good? Or-"
"Stop" he says, the single word halting your runaway train of thought. "You need lessons in relaxing, not sex. You're so fucking tense all the time"
"Sorry" you say, immediately cringing.
He sighs, his breath ghosting over the skin of your inner thigh, making you shiver. "What did I say about apologizin'?" he says, his tone slightly sharp.
"I know. Sorry- shit, sorry! Fuck!"
He barks out a laugh and you huff, bringing up both hands to scrub over your face.
"See what I mean?"
"Yes, yes, you're very smart and know everything"
He hums and nips at your thigh.
"Damn right I do."
You want to snark back, but his mouth is moving, his lips trailing down the inside of your thigh and towards where you're aching for him, slick and wet and throbbing. He takes his time, laying kisses on your thighs, hips, and stomach, his scruff scraping the sensitive skin, huffing out a laugh when you start to squirm, your patience wearing thin.
His hands smooth over the soft flesh of your inner thighs, urging you to spread them wider before spreading you open with his thumbs, exposing you completely. You feel exposed, vulnerable, and the urge to close your legs and hide yourself from his gaze is overwhelming, the embarrassment making your skin burn. But before you can even think about closing them, his tongue is on you, sliding up the length of you and circling your clit. The moan that escapes you is embarrassingly loud and high pitched, but the mortification is easily swallowed up by the pleasure.
He hums against you, the sound and the feeling sending a shudder through your body. Your hands grip the pillow behind your head and you try not to buck up into his mouth, but your attempts are futile. He doesn't seem to mind though, in fact you think it spurs him on, his tongue flattening against you and lapping at you messily, the wetness he's coaxed from you smearing across his mouth and chin.
The sound is lewd and obscene, the sloppy, slick noises and the soft grunts and groans that rumble in his chest as he works you up. He pulls back, his breath coming out in pants, his chest heaving as he looks up at you, his eyes dark and hooded.
"Don't know what you were worried about" he says, his voice low and raspy. "You taste fuckin' divine"
His beard is shiny and damp, his lips glistening, hair messy from where your fingers were tangled in it. The sight of him looking so completely disheveled and filthy has you clenching around nothing, the ache almost too much to bear.
He doesn't say anything else, just ducks his head and gets back to work, his mouth moving with a renewed urgency, his hands gripping your thighs and pushing them further apart, allowing him better access.
Your eyes roll back and your mouth falls open, a constant stream of moans and whines and babbling pleas and praises falling from your lips, but you're not really sure what you're saying, not really sure of anything except the intoxicating pleasure coursing through your veins.
You hear him moan, can feel the vibration against your skin, and you glance down at him, and that's a mistake. The sight of him, his eyes closed and brows drawn together in concentration, his cheeks hollowed out as he sucks and nips and laps at you andâ is he fucking grinding his hips into the mattress?
You're fucked.
A throaty moan tumbles past your lips as your hips start to rock, a rhythm forming as you chase your orgasm. His hands leave your thighs and he slides one arm up, the weight of it resting against your abdomen to keep you still while his other hand snakes down, fingers dipping inside again, finding the spot that makes you see stars.
"Fuck, Joel, please, oh my god, I'm so- please"
He groans in response, the hand on your stomach pressing down harder to meet the two fingers curling and stroking inside of you. You cry out at the increased pressure right as he wraps his lips around your clit, sucking and swirling his tongue around the bud, his fingers moving faster and faster. Flames lick up your spine and spread throughout your body, threatening to burn you alive.Â
Your orgasm hits you like a freight train, knocking the wind out of you and turning your limbs to jello. Wave after wave of blinding euphoria crashes over you and all you can do is cling to the pillow and arch your back, your toes curling as he continues to work his fingers and tongue, happily letting you ride his face and grind into his mouth.
He doesn't let up, not until you're a whimpering, trembling mess, physically pushing his head away when it becomes too much. He pulls back reluctantly, a wicked grin plastered to his face, his chin and mouth absolutely soaked. You're panting, struggling to catch your breath as the aftershocks make you shiver despite the content warmth spreading throughout your entire body.You feel sated and sleepy, a bone deep satisfaction making you feel boneless.Â
But as you come down from your high, rational thoughts start to filter in and you suddenly remember the reason this all started in the first place.
You're here to learn, he should be teaching you how to please a man.
How to please him.Â
You watch as he gets off the bed and wipes his chin with the back of his hand. Your eyes shamelessly rake over him, the dusty pink flush that decorates his neck and chest, the curve of his belly down to the impressive bulge in his jeans.Â
You push yourself up, ignoring the way your arms tremble with the effort. He looks at you, his eyes scanning your face no doubt looking for signs of distress.
"You ok?" he asks, eyebrows pinched together in his typical concerned Joel fashion.
"Yeah" you say, a little breathlessly. "But I still want to..."
Your voice trails off and you glance down at his crotch, hoping he gets the message.
"That's alright, baby. It's a lot, we don't-"
"No" you interrupt, a hint of desperation in your voice. "You said you would teach me. Please, Joel. I-I wanna learn" You hope it's a good enough cover to the fact that you really just want him, your original goal forgotten. "I just don't want to embarrass myself" you add, pouting slightly for good measure, praying to god that he canât detect the underlying want for him and him only.
He watches you for a moment, seemingly contemplating his decision. And then his eyes narrow, because of course he knows. There's never been an instance where you succeeded in lying to this man. He always, always knows when something is off.
"Alright" he says, a slow smile spreading across his face, something mischievous sparkling in his eyes. "Dick sucking class is now in session"
You groan, your face twisting with visible disgust.
"Oh my god, that was terrible."
"What? It's true" he says with a shrug.
"That is- no, no way. Never say those words ever again. Ever." you say, pointing a finger at him accusingly.
"Or what?" he challenges, taking a step towards the bed.
You gulp and lick your lips.
"Or..."
He waits expectantly for a response. You have none, so you just shake your head and look away.
"Yeah, that's what I thought"
You glare at him and then sigh.
"You're a bully"
"Am I?â He asks, taking a step back to give you more room. â 'Cause you're the one that asked me to teach ya. On your knees, kid. Let's see whatcha got."
You chew on the inside of your cheek, trying to suppress a grin. You don't know how he does it, but his ability to make a joke or a quip out of anything always has a smile tugging at the corner of your lips, even when the jokes are awful and the puns are terrible. Even when the joke is about you getting ready to suck his dick.Â
"You're a bully and a pervert" you say, sliding off the bed and sliding to your knees, the plush carpet doing a decent job at protecting your joints.
"And proud of it.â
"Pride is a sin."
"So is premarital sex, so I'll see you in hell, honey"
You snort and look up at him from your place on the floor, grinning widely.
"You're ridiculous"
"You love it"
And that's the thing, isn't it?
Because you do. You love his innate ability to make you laugh, to make you smile even when he's about to take your fucking virginity. He knows how to comfort you, how to put you at ease, when to push you with his teasing and when to pull back and let you take control. You've never met a person who has so effortlessly made their way into your heart.
And here you are, on your knees for him under the false pretense of practicing for a man who's name you can't even remember right now.
You shake your head, the motion clearing the thoughts and the emotions that were swirling in your head, the ones that make you want to stand up and kiss him, kiss him until your lips are numb and you're left gasping for air.
"Joel?" you say his name softly.
"Yeah, baby?"
"Teach me."
Part 2 is already in the works I promise hehehe thank you for reading I hope u all enjoy!!
#joel miller smut#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x you#joel miller one shot#joel miller fic#the last of us#tlou fic#joel miller#pedro pascal characters
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