#but look at what they were ACTUALLY against

[dolcekissy]

Maybe reader stays at bestfriend rafes place after a night out (they always share a bed) and when she wakes up hungover he gives her pain meds but when she starts to feel hot all over he realizes he accidentally gave her a sex pill

wait this is so tea.......

disclaimer // 18+ content. this story includes unprotected sex, p in v, pulling out, bsf!rafe, yur. not proofread srry lol

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last night was a mistake. that's your first thought when you wake up in your best friends bed, sitting up with a groan as you slap your hand over your forehead ─ nausea hitting you like a truck when your eyes finally open, the brightness of the room making your head pound.

rafe chuckles, his back against the headboard of his bed as he scrolls through his phone, glancing over at you. "you good?" he laughs, thumb double tapping on a picture topper posted last night at the party, scrolling through each slide on the post.

"do i fucking look good?" you barked, fingers digging into your temples as you rub them ─ closing your mouth immediately as saliva builds up in your throat, that familiar salty taste welcoming your taste buds. he scoffs, standing up with a smirk as you lay back down on your side, eyes squeezing shut.

"want some water? medicine? food?" he asks, not even giving you a chance to respond as he walks out, already on a mission to gather everything for you ─ it's hilarious seeing you try not to vomit all over his bed after he warned you last night when you were pouring your 5th drink of the night, but you're still his best friend he needs to take care of.

he's grabbing water, crackers, and a bottle of meds for you, returning back to the room to turn the tv on ─ putting on your favorite movie and helping you sit up to take the meds, trying not to laugh as you chug the water bottle, wide eyes staring into his as you grip his arm like a damn child,

"goddamn, ya thirsty?" he laughs, placing the water bottle on his nightstand as you sigh and lay back down, trying to ignore the nausea simmering in your belly as you focus on the screen in front of you ─ rafe laying right back down next to you, scrolling on twitter and glancing at you every couple minutes.

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you're halfway through the movie when you realize how hot you are, face is hot to the touch, palms sweating, a thin layer of sweat coating your body. you're throwing the blankets off your body, readjusting your position, grabbing rafe's attention when you're letting out the most dramatic huff he's ever heard.

"you good?" he asks, brows furrowing in confusion when you sit up with a whine, tugging his sweatshirt off and adjusting your tank top.

"no, i'm on fire." you huff, gasping when his hand touches the exposed part of your back, head snapping in his direction.

"jesus, you're fucking burning." he mutters, setting his phone down as both of his hands feel over your body, concern written all over his face when your eyes flutter shut ─ your body leaning into his touch with a pained whimper. his first thought is to give you more medicine, hand reaching over to grab the bottle.

he's tipping the bottle over when he realizes the fucking object in his fucking hands isn't a labeled bottle full of pain killers, it's a plain white bottle full of fucking viagra.

don't ask him why he has a bottle of viagra, alright? he found a couple in his dads drawer and stole some for...a science experiment, alright? that's not even the point, what the fuck is he supposed to tell you? does viagra even work on women?

"hey! i accidentally gave you viagra instead of pain killers, so sorry! please forgive me!"

"hey! sooo...you actually took a pill men use for erectile dysfunction that's why you feel insane, hope this helps!"

are you gonna start feeling horny? is he supposed to help? someone fucking shoot him.

his questions are answered as you lean into him, the pained look in your eyes disappearing as a wild look takes over, lips parting as you grab onto his arm ─ squeezing his flesh hard enough to bruise the skin. your eyes fall to his lips for a second, gaze trailing down his neck.

"rafe." you mumble and he's letting out a shaky breath, cock twitching in his sweatpants. his brow twitches when you let out a soft whimper, inching closer to his body, heat radiating off of your skin even though you're dressed in nothing but a tank top and shorts ─ nails clawing at his arm as you move close enough to graze his neck with your lips, letting out a shaky breath, trying to control yourself as your body subconsciously moves to straddle his leg.

his palms are sweating when he grabs your hips, shakily holding you in place as you breathe against his neck, lips barely pressing against the skin as you whimper again, hips bucking against his thigh when his fingers dig into your hips ─ cock hardening every time your hips rut against his thigh, your fingernails digging into his scalp, panties soaked and uncomfy.

"a-are you-" he starts, eyes widening when you slap a hand over his mouth, leaning up to look him in the eye.

"we will never speak about this...okay?" you mutter.

"okay."

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your hands are flush against his chest, nails digging into his collarbones as you bounce on his cock, head tipping back to let out moans ─ eyes glazed over in pure bliss, mind mush as you ride your best friends cock ─ cunt so wet you should be embarrassed, your wetness dripping down the shaft of his cock, pussy squelching around him.

rafes eyes are glued to you, watching the way your tits bounce in your tank top, the way your sweaty neck glistens when you tip your head back, the way your cunt takes his cock so well ─ walls so warm and wet around him, groaning when you lift your hips to show him how wet his dick is before sliding right back down, grinding your hips just right.

he's reaching down to rub your clit, trying to get you to cum before he gets his best friend pregnant, groaning when you tense up and cry out his name, forcefully grabbing your hips and pulling you up his body, hot spurts of his cum coating your soft ass ─ eyes squeezing shut as grind your ass against his cock with a lazy smile, cooing when his cock keeps spewing for you.

rafe doesn't know if he should be terrified or excited he accidentally gave you a viagra when your scooting down his body, eyes on his as you suck the rest of his release off his tip, your eyes rolling back when he thrusts up into your mouth, a whimper falling from his lips.

oh yeah ─ he's fucking terrified.

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[beloveds-embrace]

Hiiii hshsh

So I got this idea on a car ride late at night after going to an extremely loud pub!! Which gave me this idea:33

Poly!141 plus reader

None of them know how to cook because they're used to having premade meals at the messhall or rations on missions! so when reader comes along (they can be part of the task force or they can be civilian), and they cook for them the lads decide that they're theirs now!! :3

I love this idea anon 😩😩

You didn’t think much of it at first, truly.

Cooking had always been second nature to you- something soothing, something tangible in a life filled with chaos. And in the military, chaos was the only constant.

It didn’t take long to realize something alarming, though: none of your teammates knew how to cook.

Not even the basics.

Soap, bless his heart, thought instant noodles counted as a proper meal. Gaz once tried to scramble eggs and somehow set off the smoke alarm. Ghost? The man could survive in the wild for weeks but willingly lived off protein bars and black coffee when left to his own devices. And Price could grill, sure, but anything beyond that? No chance. And it wasn’t as if a grill was always available.

So, you cooked.

Not because they asked. Not because you had to, or were made to feel like you had to. But because the first time you made something decent- just a simple stew, hearty and warm, after a grueling training session- they all looked at you like you had hung the damn moon itself.

Soap groaned after his first bite, tipping his head back in dramatic bliss. “Marry me.”

Gaz, already going for seconds, nodded solemnly. “Seconded. You can’t just cook like this and expect us to let you go.”

Ghost didn’t say anything outright, but the way he cleaned his bowl and then, after a pause, slid it forward for more? Yeah. That spoke volumes.

Price took his time eating, but you caught the way his gaze softened as he watched you. Like he was making a decision.

You didn’t realize what that decision was until the next morning.

You woke up to find all four of them stationed in the kitchen, waiting. Gaz leaned against the fridge, Soap sat on the counter, Ghost loomed in the doorway, and Price stood at the stove like he had any idea what to do with it.

“What,” you mumbled, still groggy. “Are you all doing?”

Price met your eyes, calm and sure. “Waiting on breakfast. If you do wanna make it, that is.”

And that was that.

You should’ve known. Feeding a group of hungry, half-feral soldiers meant claiming them.

And, apparently, it meant they claimed you too.

The first time you all came back from a mission completely wrecked, it happened without thought.

Everyone was exhausted- cut up, bruised, dragging themselves through debrief with only the promise of a hard-earned shower keeping them upright.

You were just as battered. Just as drained. But the moment you stepped into the barracks and saw the half-hearted collection of protein bars and tasteless ration packs sitting on the counter, something inside you rebelled and cracked.

No. Not tonight.

Your body screamed for rest, but you ignored it, rolling up your sleeves and getting to work. It’ll be worth it, you kept telling yourself, and the promise of an actual meal kept you going.

You weren’t alone for long, thougg.

Kyle trudged into the kitchen first, watching with quiet amazement as you moved. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

“I know.” you murmured, but kept going. A warm, fresh meal…

Soap dragged himself in next, blinking at you blearily before rubbing a hand over his face. “You’re an angel, bonnie. A bloody angel.”

Ghost leaned against the doorframe when he came a little later, watching. He didn’t say a word, but when you swayed slightly from exhaustion, he moved- one steady hand pressing against the small of your back, grounding you. He didn’t tell you to stop, or get in your way- just stayed by you, a steady, comforting presence.

Also helped chop the vegetables when you asked.

John didn’t say anything either. But he sat at the table, waiting patiently, eyes tracking every movement like he was memorizing you.

By the time you put the food down- something warm, filling, real- they were too tired to talk, but their gratitude was written in every movement and shone through every appreciative sigh they let out

Soap sighed into his bowl like it was the only thing keeping him alive. “If I die tonight, at least I die happy.”

Gaz nudged your foot under the table, a quiet thank you.

Ghost, ever quiet, simply refilled your plate before his own.

And Price met your eyes across the table, something unreadable yet warm in his expression, before nodding once. “Good work, soldier.”

The second time, it was worse.

The mission had gone sideways, backwards, and right into hell.

It had been long, brutal, pushing all of you to the breaking point. When you finally stepped back onto base, none of you were unscathed- Soap’s knuckles were split, Gaz’s jaw was bruised, Ghost had a gash along his ribs, and Price carried exhaustion like it was part of him.

And you? You were running purely on fumes.

But the moment you made it back to your quarters and saw the way they all moved- silent, weighed down by the kind of tired that settled in your bones- you knew.

Without thinking, you made your way to the kitchen.

Soap’s voice, hoarse with fatigue, followed you. “You don’t have to, lass. You gotta rest-“

“I know.” You croaked out. And you still did it anyways.

The stew took time. Slow, steady, the scent filling the air like something solid. Something safe. It gave you enough time to lay your head down just a little, eyes slipping shut just long enough for you not to pass out.

They didn’t argue.

They didn’t tell you to sit down, to rest, to stop.

Instead, they hovered- Soap setting the table, Gaz nudging a chair toward you every time you leaned too hard against the counter, Ghost watching you in that way he did when words weren’t enough.

Price stood beside you near the stove, his hand brushing your shoulder in quiet appreciation.

And when you finally sat down, they made sure you ate first; Soap nudged the biggest portion toward you. Gaz made sure your glass was full. Price made sure you didn’t lift a finger once the meal was done.

Ghost was the last to move, reaching over to take your wrist, squeezing once. A quiet thank you in the way only he could say it.

That night, none of them let you leave, either.Soap pulled you down onto the couch between him and Ghost, resting his head against yours with a tired sigh, and Simon pulled your legs to rest on top of his thighs.

Gaz, already half-asleep with his back rest against the couch, muttered.” You’re stuck with us now, you know.”

And Price draped a blanket over your shoulders, the weight of it solid and grounding. He patted your head, then his hand slid down to squeeze your shoulder while your eyes slipped shut, drifting off into a much-needed sleep. “That’s how it works.”

[nochepsicodelica]

♡ ʕ˶´• ᴥ •`˶ʔ ♡

"Toji, do you love me?" You ask, as if he isn't curled up with you, his head resting on your shoulder so that he can see the stupid videos that pop up on your feed.

"Why would you even ask me that?" He mutters, tilting his head up to look at you.

"You're taking forever to respond. Oh... my heart," you say, your voice forcefully strained while clutching your chest as if you're pained.

"Don't start--"

"It's crumblingggg," you cry out, dramatically. "Oh god, it hurts so much, Toji! How could you? Is this how it feels to have love taken away? I should go outside and tie myself to a pole and see if there are any takers. Maybe, someone will actually want me and give me a warm, safe, and loving home." You give him a hopeful smile. "Yeah... that sounds nice and peaceful."

"Uh-huh, sure. Too bad you're not going anywhere. You get me and our warm, safe, and loving home." You huff, childishly, at that, to which Toji grins. "You know I love your dramatic ass. You keep asking if we can get a dog, but you're basically like if a husky turned human."

You gasp at that, playfully offended, and stare at him in disbelief. "I'll be waiting for your apology," you say, putting your hood on and turning your back to him.

"Baby, come on," he pleads, chuckling. "Come on. You're not mad at me."

"I am. I'm furious," you say, monotonously. "You shouldn't even look at me right now. I'm ferocious," you add, trying not to laugh at your own word choice.

"Yeah? You're a scary thing, right now, 'cause I made you mad?"

"Mhm," you hum, in response, and continue to scroll and watch videos without him.

"Hmm..." He leans over and snatches your phone out of your hands, tossing it towards the end of the bed. You feel helpless as he smoothly pulls your hood off, flips you onto your back, and straddles you. Your arms are pinned beside your head, by his enormous paws. You've been somewhat manhandled into surrender and all you can do is laugh as you look up at him.

"This is your ferociousness?" Toji asks, with a dumb grin on his face when you simply nod and press your lips together, to do a horrible job of stifling your amusement. "I'm so strong and brave, huh?" Again, you nod, unable to contain the giggles that spill out. "What if I... I don't know..." he murmurs, leaning down, closer to you. "Just gave you a little..."

The distance between your lips is closed off by Toji's lips pressing against yours—a slow, savored kiss, that makes your hands go limp beside you. He is utterly disarming, even against your faux grumpiness.

He hums something low against your lips when your laughter begins to bubble up once again. "Mm... You were never mad at me, were you?" Toji asks.

"And if I was?" You say, a gleam of mischief in your eyes and a sly smirk on your face.

"I'll kiss you, again. Is that really what you want?" He says, as if it's a threat.

"You know it. Kiss me, sugar lips," you say, amusedly.

"Why are you like this?" He mutters, rolling off of you and positioning himself beside you on the bed.

"Fine, gravel lips. Rock salt lips, sandpaper lips—is that what you want me to call you instead?" You ask, turning over to face him.

He slings an arm over your waist and pulls you in close. The scent of his body wash smells warmer as it mingles with his body heat. It's relaxing, fitting for the lazy day you've both indulged in. "You don't mean it," he responds, smugly. "I was sugar lips before you decided you wanted to hurt my feelings."

"Whatever," you mutter, rolling your eyes.

"Love you, sassy baby," he says, teasingly. "Don't ever doubt it. Now, where were you going with that question?"

"Well, it was going to be built up to me asking you if you have a Valentine, but then you crapped all over it. Now, it's not cute and it stinks. My plan reeks of failure."

"There's my dramatic girl," Toji utters under his breath, a chuckle rumbling in his chest. "Why don't you try again?" He says, smiling with amusement. "I'll even play along, alright?"

You sigh, as if it's going to take forever to pick up from where you left off, but nonetheless prepare to retry.

"Okay, fine," you start off, a soft sigh leaving your lips. "You love me, Toji?" You ask once more, already trying not to laugh at the focus he holds on you, like he's answering a survey.

"You know I do," he responds.

"Okay. Are you busy on the fourteenth of February?"

"Not that I know of."

"Are you interested in doing something that day?"

"Yeah, you, but go on," he says, smoothly.

"Toji," you chide, with a giggle. "Be serious."

"Fine, fine. Uh, yeah. I am," he answers. "Gotta treat my baby real nice, don't I?" He says, with a smirk.

You press your lips together, and compose yourself before asking the next question. "Do you have a Valentine?"

He tilts his head and deadpans, as if you're playing some sort of joke on him. "Ma."

"Just answer the question, Toji," you whisper, like you're breaking out of the questionnaire you made for him. "Do you have a Valentine?" You repeat, in your normal voice.

"Yeah, I got a Valentine," Toji says, his eyes trailing down your face, to your lips and back up to meet your eyes, again. His hand slides under your sweater and grabs ahold of your bare waist. He loves the layer of goosebumps that rises on your skin when he touches you. You're just so reactive to him. "She's basically an actress with how dramatic she is. It cracks me up, 'cause it's like talking to one of those screaming huskies she's always showing me on her phone." He grins, ready for you to go off, again. "Look at her, look at her. She's about to do it, right now," he says, lowly, his eyes glued to your squinted ones.

"Hmph. If you want me gone, just say so. Here I am, trying to ask you out on a date for Valentine's Day. Trying to show you all my love and affection and... and ugh—you don't care about my effort. You don't care about how romantic I am. So, you know what you're getting instead of wined and dined?"

"What's that, mama?" Toji asks, attempting to stay serious through your little dramatic fit.

"A big pile of nothing. No chocolates, not even a rose. And then at night, i'm gonna make a pillow wall between us, so you can't touch me. I had a gooood surprise for you, too, but you won't get it, until... uhh... I haven't decided, but it won't be on Valentine's Day," you assure.

"Baby," Toji coos, smirking at the light grumpiness in your features.

"No," you grumble, with a huff.

"Pretty baby. My pretty, pretty Valentine," he murmurs, the corners of his lips curling when he sees your facade crumbling. "Oh," he utters, with a soft, barely audible gasp. "Look at that little smile. It's getting bigger... and bigger... and-"

"Stop!" You cry out, through a laugh. Toji takes that as an invitation to pull you in even closer. To see your sunshine-like smile up close and hear more of those uncontrollable giggles as he tries to kiss you.

"Don't turn away from my sugar lips. Kiss 'em," he instructs, reaching for your jaw. With ease, he makes you face him again, soft laughter still spilling past your lips. "Be nice," he says, his voice a low purr. "You're my good girl, right? You'll let me kiss you?"

You sigh, defeated, and stop resisting his affection. "Yeah," you mumble, a confirmation for both statements.

"You're an angel," he murmurs, before connecting your lips once again. You feel his thumb stroking your side, causing your heart to race and goosebumps to surface on your skin all over again. They spread even more when his hand travels towards your back, his fingertips running up and down your spine.

His kisses are soft and slow, yet, still manage to bring heat to your cheeks. You know that if breathing wasn't necessary, he would spend hours on just kissing you, nonstop. Kissing until your lips feel raw and miserably bruised—tender to the touch. Until just the act of him leaning in for a mere peck, has you putting your hands up to his chest to stop him before he gets to your lips, again.

With a soft, final smack of your brushing lips, Toji breaks the kiss. "Say," he drawls, a sly smirk forming on his lips, "do you have a Valentine, sweetness?"

You hum, like you're thinking thoroughly about the question. "No, unfortunately," you respond, wiping the smirk off his face in an instant.

"Baby, you have to answer the question honestly," he whispers, mimicking the way you did before. You crack a grin and nod, compliantly. "So... you got a Valentine, doll?" He repeats, in his normal voice.

"No, I haven't been asked," you respond.

Toji scoffs. "Really?"

"Yeah, you said to answer honestly. I asked you to be my Valentine, but you haven't asked me."

"You asked if I have a Valentine," he corrects. "See, you're not being entirely honest with me," he says, shaking his head and clicking his tongue in disbelief.

"Will you be my Valentine, Toji?" You ask, trying incredibly hard to stay serious, though your lips are quivering, giving away the laughter you're suppressing.

"Yeah, i'll be your Valentine, pretty. Will you be my Valentine?" He asks, in return.

"Yes, i'll be your Valentine," you answer.

"Great. And those plans you made for Valentine's Day... are we still on for that?"

You laugh. He looks like he's genuinely hoping you were joking about shutting it all down.

"Of course we are, baby. The plans were never cancelled. I didn't think you actually believed me."

"You're cold for that, ma. Ice cold," Toji grumbles, earning a chime of your laughter. His hand comes out from under your sweater and travels lower and lower until he's able to grab the back of your thigh and lift your leg over his hip. "Let me warm you up."

[muffinpink02]

Another Love (flatline)

Okay, this isn’t my usual kind of story, but I’ve always wanted to do a cheating fic. I haven’t been cheated on (yet, hopefully never) so I’m sorry if it doesn’t feel authentic. I took a different approach with it. But yeah, let me know what you think. Also thank you this anon. I know I didn’t do exactly what you asked but I hope you like it.

Warnings - smut 18, cheating, toxic, manipulative behaviour, swearing

word count 6922

The rain outside pelted hard against your living room window, the sad looking drizzle cascaded down the glass like a mini waterfall. The sky outside was grey and miserable, making your normally bright and sunny living room dark and gloomy. But being at the end of the year it wasn't a surprise the weather was so dull, even if you were living in the sunnier climate of Barcelona.

And as it was the end of the year that meant Christmas was only a week away. Which is exactly why you were searching on your phone for a last minute Christmas gift. Well, actually you had done all of your christmas shopping weeks ago. This last minute shop was for Alexia’s mum. Though, this gift wasn't from you, this gift would be from her very unorganised daughter. And just like Alexia did every year she left everything to the last minute and of course she had asked you to help her out.

“You’re better at shopping, amor. Just take my card. I know you’ll get something she likes.”

You of course couldn't say no to your fiance's pleading puppy eyes and honestly you didn't mind, you were better at buying the gifts for any occasion. And Alexia would only end up just buying something last minute that her mum definitely wouldn't want or use.

So you sat comfy on your sofa with a heavy blanket wrapped around you, snuggled in one of Alexia’s thick, soft jumpers, scrolling through your phone in search of the perfect gift for the older woman. You hummed, mindlessly nodding your head to the music that lightly played out of your speaker in the background. After another 20 minutes of scrolling you finally found the perfect gift. It was a beautiful red cotton scarf. Alexias mum had lost her own a couple weeks back, and as far you knew she hadn’t replaced it yet. So this was perfect! 

You added the item in your bag, filled out all the postage information and just before you could click the ‘buy now’ button, your screen turned black. Your phone battery had given up on you. 

“No! Fuck sake.” You grumbled, throwing your head back in annoyance.

What were the chances? I mean you were warned at 20% and 10% but still!

A loud sigh escaped your lips as you reluctantly kicked the covers that were wrapped tightly around your legs, freeing yourself from your comfy cocoon. You were about to go to your bedroom to grab your charger until you spotted Alexia’s ipad sitting under the coffee table. You leaned over and grabbed the device, thanking the heavens you didn't have to leave your spot.

“Please have charge.” You prayed as you pressed the on button.

The apple tech gods must have heard your prayers as the screen sprung to life with a full battery. “Yes!” You cheered as you slumped back into your pit, wrapping the covers around your body. 

You easily unlocked the device, typing in your date of birth for the password. You smiled as the screensaver appeared. It was a photo of you and Alexia last year, when you had been away on holiday, the very same holiday the blonde had proposed to you. You wore a huge smile while the blonde was lovingly kissing your cheek, both your sun kissed skin glowing on your faces.

You could still remember the moment she pulled the blue velvet box out. Your eyes had tears in them the moment she got on one knee, it was the easiest decision you had ever made.

It only made you more excited for the upcoming holiday you had booked. Not that Alexia had any clue, this was a surprise holiday, completely planned all by yourself. It was technically for her birthday but you couldn't wait another 2 months, she’d almost found out about it four times already!

You opened up the website again and found the red cotton scarf, you added the item to your trolley once more and began the process of filling out all of the shipping information again. You didn’t mean to tap the notification when it appeared on the screen, you swore as it instantly opened you up to Alexia’s emails and straight to the one that just landed in her inbox. 

“Shit.” You huffed. 

You were about to click off of the app and finish your purchase and you would have, if it wasn’t for the yellow emoji that caught your eye. You knew you shouldn't have, but something in your gut told you to read the message.

You blinked.

You stared at the screen. 

You blinked again.

Your face screwed up in confusion as you read the words, your heart instantly dropped to the pits of your stomach. “What?” You whispered to yourself

Alexia - I'll see you around 4 after training. Be ready. 

Joe - be quick, I’ve missed you 😘

“Missed you?” You said out loud. What?

No. Wait. Maybe there was more to it than this. Maybe it wasn't what you thought it was, surely not. Alexia wasn’t cheating on you, she’s your fiance for fuck sake, this wasnt what you thought. Just breath, don’t over react. This might be a friend or someone you don’t know, and she's meeting up with them. This might be nothing. Right? It's nothing. 

But, it also might be something. 

You scrolled a little further up on the conversation. 

Joe - Did you have to rip my underwear? 😂

Alexia - Sorry, i'll buy you another pair 

Joe - just for you to rip those too? 

Alexia - maybe 😘

Your breath caught in your chest as the words sunk in. You were wrong, this was clearly more than a friend.

You felt sick.

Your eyes kept going over the words, over and over and over until they didn’t make sense to you. You stared until the black lines that formed letters became small blurs that you could no longer read or process.

Alexia was cheating on you. 

Alexia. Your fiance. Your world. Your life. Your person was cheating on you.

This couldn’t be real, surely not. It must be a prank. A wrong email. Maybe she had been hacked or it's a code for football talk. Maybe …. something? You were so desperate you would believe anything else right now. But it was real, it was right in front of you, in black and white. You just didn’t want to believe it. You couldn’t.

Your mind went completely blank, a numbing feeling sunk into your bones. Nothing was processing right, it was like your body was trying to reject what it was feeling. Even your vision seemed to stop, everything around you seemed to blur. A deafening silence sliced through your head, ringing painfully inside your ears. 

Breath. 

With a shaky hand you swiped up to see how far this went. Maybe this was a one time thing? Not that it made it any easier, well, maybe it would? Maybe. But that thought was killed instantly as you watched the messages between Alexia and Joe go on and on. Your finger kept swiping the screen, watching the days and weeks go by. The dates were going further and further back. It felt like it would never end. 

Your stomach twisted as the dates went back eight months. Months. This had been happening for 8 months. Nearly a year. How? How was she doing this? When was she doing this? Why was she doing this? Countless questions were steam rolling through your head. You didn’t notice your fingers were gripping the iPad as hard as they were until the muscles in your digits started to hurt. 

The messages were short. There were no declarations of love or anything that seemed intimate. Just a lot of ‘when’ and ‘where’ there was the odd flirty message, like the one you read, but nothing cryptic, it almost seemed business li

“W-what?” You stuttered in disbelief.

This surely wasn’t happening, this had to be a dream. A nightmare.

You took a deep shaky breath, squeezing your eyes shut. You wanted to wake up and see that none of this was real. You had to wake up from this nightmare and see Alexia sleeping soundly in your warm shared bed as she cradled you against her chest like she did every night,

Please don’t let this be real. 

You didn’t realise you were crying until your tears began to drop on the screen, blurring the words that had just turned your world upside down. Your body was shaking, trembling hard as your fingers moved to swipe along the messages. You scrolled to the start of their conversation, needing to know how this started. 

No, you needed to see her. You needed to put a face to the name. You needed to see who this Joe was. 

You studied the name of the stranger. You instantly searched for her on Alexia’s instagram followers. It didn't take you long before you found her profile. Her public profile. Did they even care to be careful? The carelessness felt like another kick in the teeth, it almost felt like the stranger wanted you to see her. Maybe she did.

You scanned her profile. She was the complete opposite of you. Her hair, her eyes, her nose, her style, her smile. She was nothing like you. 

She was beautiful. 

Somehow that made the pain worse. You couldn't stop the humiliation creeping down your skin, and your walls going up. Your mind dived into a deep pit of insecurity, not only was you being cheated on, but the girl didn't even look like you. A nauseous feeling flooded your brain. Did Alexia not find you attractive anymore? Was this the kind of girl Alexia actually liked and wanted?

A certain photo caught your interest. Joe was laying beside a pool, her perfect body cladded in a bikini that hardly contained her intimate parts, you scoffed in disgust when you spotted Alexia’s name in the likes. She had liked a few of her photos. Once again not caring about her footprint, she either had no shame or was just careless. It just felt like another punch in the gut. You continued to stalk Joe’s insta, looking for any more sightings of Alexia in the likes or comments, and maybe even a photo. 

She was stunning. She was perfect. She wasn't you.

You felt stupid. So fucking stupid. How many lies had Alexia told you? 

Your mind wandered to where they even met. Was she a fan? Did she know her from a life before you? Did she work for Barca? Did she find her online? On a dating app? Maybe they met on a night out?  It wasn't hard for her to do, you had noticed you had been asked less and less on nights out with the girls. Probably for this exact reason. Was she the only one, or was there others? Or maybe Alexia wasn't even meeting with the team.

Did the team know? Were they aware of what Alexia was doing? You had noticed some of the girls didn’t speak to you as much as they did before, maybe this was why? Maybe they felt bad, too ashamed to look you in the eye. But Alexia could.

Then it started to click, the late nights, the texts from Alexia telling you she was staying behind for extra training, it was all starting to take a different meaning. You pictured Alexia and Joe sneaking around, checking into some random hotel, naked and wrapped up in white sheets, panting and laughing at how clueless you were.  

You could feel the acidic bile daring to rise as you pictured Alexia with your rival. Did she make her feel better than you could? Satisfy her in a way you couldn't? 

That's when the intrusive images flashed in your mind, images of Alexia doing all the things she did to you to your opposite. Did she fuck her the same way she fucked you? Did she go down on her the way she went down on you? Biting at her thighs, making her beg to give her what she wanted, while your fiance smiled up at her with her hazel eyes. 

Her mouth kissing you hours after being with her. That’s when the bile finally rose up from your stomach. You ran to the bathroom just in time to make the toilet as the sick came up. You wiped your mouth with the back of your sleeve, your back slumped hard against the wall before collapsing on the bathroom floor. Your lip quivered as the tears finally spilled from your eyes, your body trembling against the cold tiled floor.

How was this happening? Alexia had proposed to you just last year, you were planning a wedding, a future together, a family. 

What did you do wrong? 

You didn’t know what to do. Should you call someone? Should you call Alexia? No. Should you leave? But where would you go? All your family and friends were back in the UK. You had some work friends here but you weren't close enough for something like this.

Everything was falling apart. Everything you thought you knew was one big lie. How could someone you love treat you like this? How? 

After what felt like hours, you found the strength to wash your mouth and face before carrying yourself back to the living room and opened the ipad back up. Reading the messages that were breaking your heart but you couldn't tear your eyes away.

The messages were short, no more than two lines but every word felt like another blow, another hard hit that made your chest painfully tight. You didn’t realise you were hardly breathing until your body forced you to take one large gulp for air. 

You felt your body go numb when you realised Alexia had met her on your 5th anniversary. 

God, you felt so stupid. You had waited at home for her. You had spent hours cooking a three course meal, all her favourites. 

Your eyes begin to blur again when you read their messages.

Joe - Are we meeting at the restaurant or should I meet you at the hotel?

Alexia - Come to the hotel, I want to see you before I go out

Joe - okay, but this time we have to make the reservation. We missed it last time.

Alexia - well if you hadn't have put on that dress that drives me fucking crazy we would have made it. 

You were broken. 

How was this your Alexia? 

This surely wasn't the same girl that made you feel effortlessly loved? The girl that knew you better than you knew yourself. The same girl that brought you untold happiness, happiness that you never knew existed before you met her. This wasn't the same girl that asked you to dance 5 years ago in the dingy little bar. The girl that had put a ring on your finger promising you a happily ever after. 

How was this her? Your Alexia. Was she even your Alexia anymore?

Nothing felt real. You looked around the living room, it didn’t look right, nothing looked right, nothing was the same. The peace and warmth you felt from the apartment had instantly disappeared, it felt cold, lifeless. 

You jumped when you heard a text come through on your phone, it was from Alexia.

Alexia - Hola, baby, we’re going over game strategy so I will be home a little later today

And there it was, another one of her lies. A heavy weight sunk over your body, making you feel numb to the bone.

You placed the ipad on the coffee table and slowly stood up. Your legs felt like led as you began to walk, you didn't really know what you were doing, your body felt like it was going into some weird overdrive or maybe it was the shock from it all. You stopped and stared at the christmas tree that flickered in the corner, your mind took you somewhere else. You weren't sure how long you were standing there before your legs brought you to your shared bedroom.

—-----------

The familiar sound of keys rattled in the door. It was once a sound you looked forward to, instead your stomach lurched. You took a deep and shaky breath as you got ready to come face to face with your finance, the woman that had shattered your heart into a million pieces. 

“Amor, I’m home.” 

Alexia frowned when you didn’t reply, she removed her shoes and made her way into the apartment to find you. It didn't take her long to spot you in the living room, sitting at the breakfast table. 

The beating in your chest thumped hard when your eyes fell on the blonde. You wanted to hate her, you wanted to instantly fall out of love with her, you wanted to feel nothing when you heard her call you by your pet name, but that wasn't the case. You still felt everything you did before you saw the messages, before you knew the truth.

But you knew where she had been this evening. 

Alexia could instantly tell you had been crying, your blushed cheeks and watery eyes gave you away, not that you were trying to hide it. You wanted her to see the hurt she had caused.

“Bebé? What's wrong?” 

Alexia hurried over to you, she was about to cup your face, but was stopped in her tracks when you moved away. Your eyes met hers, you could see her hair was wet, she at least had the decency to shower before returning home, or make it look like she had just showered after training.

“I know.” Your voice croaked out, the hours of crying weakening your throat.

Alexia’s face frowned in confusion, it instantly annoyed you.

“Que?” 

“Joe.”  Even saying her name out loud made you want to scream.

Alexia’s face dropped, you could see the look of horror as realisation hit her. Her mouth gaped open but no words came out. The silence was deafening, you felt your skin burning, it felt itchy, painfully itchy you wanted to tear it off. After what felt like hours, though it was likely seconds, Alexia finally spoke.

“Wh-what? Who? What do you mean?” The blonde anxiously fiddled with the zip on her joggers. 

You felt your shoulders slump, she didn't even have the decency to just be honest, but why would she? She’d lied this whole time. 8 months. 

“Don’t. Don’t play dumb, Alexia. I saw your messages on your emails.” 

Alexia's frown deepened. A flash of anger flickered across her eyes. “Why were you going through my emails?” 

Was she really going to try and turn this on you?

“What? Are you actually fucking asking me that?” You snapped, your own anger boiling over.

“No! I mean-” Alexia pushed her hand through her wet loose hair, you didn't miss the way it shook. A trait she did when she was nervous. “I don’t know what you’re talking abo-”

“Don’t lie to me!” You shouted, voice cracking. The tears you were trying so hard to hold down bursting at the seams. “Please. Just stop lying, Alexia.” God. You sounded so weak.

Alexia looked at you, those beautiful hazel eyes you loved so much filling with tears. Her foot was tapping against the floor, she looked scared. Good, you thought. She bit her lip so hard it looked like it might bleed. You watched her through blurry eyes, she took a step back from you, covering her face with her hands. Her body stiffened as she took a deep breath.

“She means nothing to me.” Her voice was just above a whisper. But you heard it.

You sucked in a hard breath. Even though you knew what you knew, hearing her confess it hit you harder than you could have imagined. You closed your eyes, trying to compose yourself, but when Alexia put her warm hand on your shoulder you broke down, your skin prickled where she touched you.

“Amor, please. Please don't cry.” The blonde begged. 

You covered your face as the tears streamed down your hot cheeks, you could feel your heart beating painfully fast. It felt like you were about to go into shock, maybe you were, your body felt like it was taking a brutal beating from the inside out.

“You were with her tonight.” You weren't asking. You felt her hand stiffen on your shoulder.

The silence was so loud.

“You were with her tonight, weren't you Alexia.” You repeated. Your tone was sharp. You bluntly moved her hand from you, not wanting her to touch you. You ignored her gasp from the out of character movement from you, but you didn't care. The thought of her hands being on someone else made the pit of your stomach tighten painfully.

You watched as a few tears slipped from her eye’s. You could see the panic starting to hit her. You stood up, you needed to move, you walked past Alexia even though a small part of you wanted to hold her. What the fuck? No. You ignored it. You walked to the open kitchen, you grabbed the sides to help you with your balance, you were sure your legs were about to give up on you, your knees buckling under the turmoil of emotions that ran through your body. 

“I just don’t understand.” You squeaked out, turning your head to see Alexia who looked like a kicked puppy. 

“I am sorry. I-I- she means nothing to me. I swear.” She slowly walked over to you but stopped when you moved away.

You didn't believe her. You would never believe her again.

“You’ve been doing this for months, months Alexia! Lying to me for fucking months, seeing this girl behind my fucking back!” You screamed. Your chest was heaving with anger.

Alexia didn't say anything, what could she say? She stood there looking like she could be sick, the colour draining from her face.

“You asked me to marry you, Alexia. I have a ring on my finger because I love you. Don’t you love me? What have I done wrong?” 

You didn’t know why you had blamed yourself, but it felt like you needed to know. 

Alexia looked panicked, your words clearly making her wince. “No! I do love you! I-I- she is nothing. It’s just sex. It’s just a big mistake. I don’t know why I did it!”

That hurt. You would have some kind of understanding if you and Alexia didn't have sex, but you did. Yeah, of course it wasnt every night, or even every week but you were still intimate. So this must have been more than sex.  

You shook your head, you didn’t believe that, not anymore. You felt so small as your world began to crumble around you. The blonde was now by your side, catching you before you dropped to your knees. 

What was happening? How was this your life right now? It wasn't meant to be like this. Alexia was never meant to be the one that broke your heart.

“Baby, please. I’m here.” She grabbed your body pulling you into hers. 

You had a burning urge to hold her, you wanted to feel safe in her arms like you always did, but you felt weird, her arms didn't feel right anymore. It made you feel sick, you could feel your stomach churning as you pictured Alexia holding your opposite. You flinched away like she was made of fire. 

“Here? You’re here? You havent been here, you’ve been creeping around fucking some girl and god knows how many others behind my back! Don’t you dare say you’re ‘here’. You screamed so loud the neighbours would have heard every word.

Let them hear.

Alexia shrank at your words. You hated that you felt bad. She was the one that had hurt you.

“Why? Just tell me why? Am I not enough?” You felt like you swallowed a stone with that question. 

Alexia sniffled, wiping her tears with her sleeve. It made you realise how little you saw the girl cry. 

“You are everything and more, I swear it. I….I panicked.” Her accent grew thicker as her words shook in her throat.

“What? Panicked for what?” You questioned. 

“After I proposed.” She took a breath for air, her hazel eyes looked more green after she cried. “I panicked and got scared. It was only meant to be once, but then we started planning the wedding. It got more real and I-I just didn't know how to stop.”

“You asked me to marry you!” You said in disbelief. 

“I know! And I still want to!” She whispered.

You scoffed. This girl had some fucking nerve.

“Why would I marry someone who can lie to my face every night? Lie about where she is? Touch someone else and lay in bed with me the same night!” 

The neighbours were definitely getting a show now.

Alexia dragged her face, her puffy lips wet with tears. How could she still look so beautiful?

“I’m sorry. It was all just a big mistake I swear!” She moved closer to you. “Please, amor, forgive me! I have not been myself, I’m so sorry. I love you so much. I want to marry you and be with you! You are my world, my everything! Please! Please forgive me! Please.” She was hardly breathing, her gasps of air were short as the tears came pouring out of her. She dropped to her knees in front of you, her crying getting louder and louder, you thought she might be having a panic attack. 

Your own tears fell from your eyes as you watched the woman you love break down in front of you, you wanted to believe her, but your trust had shattered the moment you read those words. How could you trust her again?

“Alexia.” You whispered her name as you put your hand on her arm. 

The blonde looked up, her wide hazel eyes bore into yours. She looked so tired. She put her hand over yours and stood, her face inches from yours. 

“Babita, please. Please. I love you so much, give me another chance.”

Her large hands came up to your face, you allowed her to wipe the ever flowing tears from your cheeks. Even though it was Alexia who had broken your heart you still needed comfort, you still wanted to feel her. You still loved her.

She took you not moving for a good sign, taking her chances and gently cupping your cheeks. 

“Please, mi amor. I am so sorry. I am such a fool, you’re everything I want. I love you so much. I can’t do this without you.” 

She moved closer to you. Her familiar smell washed over you, she smelt like home. She wrapped you up in a tight hug, you felt yourself lean into her, you didn't know why. Maybe because your whole world had just been turned upside down and you needed to feel something, even if she was the culprit that caused you all this pain.

A couple of minutes passed by, all in silence other than a couple of sniffles from you and Alexia. And in those minutes you weren't sure where you went, it felt like you had left your own body. Like this was all just a big weird dream and you were about to wake up and see that it was all a mistake, see that this wasn't real. 

Maybe you were having a panic attack.

Alexia stroked your hair as your tears still fell, the front of her jumper was wet from your face but you only snuggled more into her.

You hated yourself for it. Why were you so weak? Why were you not screaming and calling her all the names under the sun for breaking your heart? For ruining your self confidence, for making you question everything you thought you knew. Why can’t you do it? 

“Alexia.” You whispered into her jumper.

“Sí, carino?” 

“You-you’ve broken me.” Your voice cracked as more tears came.

Alexia’s tears also sprung to her eyes as she heard your words, her arms held you tighter. She took a big shuddery breath before she kissed your head. “I’m so sorry. I will be sorry that I hurt you, until the day I die.” She confessed. 

Her words didn’t comfort you, not really. They made you wonder about the future you had planned with Alexia. The future you had once been so excited to share with the girl. Now all gone. 

“I will fix this, I will, amor. Please, let me fix this.”

You felt Alexia press her lips on the top of your head. You tried to ignore the warm feeling that swirled inside your stomach. It felt like you were losing a battle with your brain and body. You closed your eyes as a soft kiss was placed on your temple. It was the same spot Alexia kissed every morning. It was so familiar, and yet it felt different. Does it feel different? Or was your brain trying to protect you?

“You’re my world. I promise you I will fix everything.” She whispered into your ear.

Your lips quivered before a small sob escaped your mouth. You felt your eyes release a new wave of tears at her words of declaration, you wanted to believe her. You wanted to believe this could be fixed. Could it? 

Sad watery eyes met yours as you looked up at the girl in front of you. Her hands held your face. It was just you and her, staring at the other. This was the face you wanted to watch grow old. The face you wanted to wake up to everyday. The face you wanted to have by your side for the rest of your life. Now it almost felt like you were looking at a stranger.

Alexia placed her hand under your chin, moving your face to her own. Your body stiffened when you felt her lips press against your own. 

“No.” You whispered weakly as you pulled back.

“Please, don’t do this. I love you with all my heart. Please don’t let this break us.” The blonde whispered as she stroked your face. 

Alexia pulled back slightly to look at your face, her glassy eyes scanned your features, taking in every detail of you. You felt exposed. Completely open to her. It made you feel vulnerable. Alexia had been your world for so long. She made you feel real love for the first time. A love that made you feel protected, seen. 

“I love you.” 

Your brain screamed to run. Leave. Don’t let her fool you. This wasn't right, you knew it wasn't. But your heart didn't agree as you let her kiss you again. The kiss was everything you knew. Her lips were a safe blanket that you could wrap yourself around in. This was what you knew, how were you going to give this up? 

“I love you.” She whispered against your lips as she gently pushed you against the kitchen side. 

“Alexia-”

“Please. I can fix this.” She pleaded as her voice cracked with desperation. 

She leaned her forehead on yours, her body leaning more into you. She closed her eyes but the tears still managed to escape as they dropped on your t-shirt and seeped into the fabric. 

You didn't say anything. All the words you had ever known escaped your brain, leaving you empty. Everything you had planned, all the questions. Gone. You were more ready this time when her lips sunk into yours again, you even opened your mouth, allowing her to push a gentle tongue against yours. You could taste the salt from her tears that stained her lips. 

What were you doing? Why were you letting her in? 

Because you loved her, you loved her with everything you had. Because you were a fool.

Her mouth cascaded down from yours to your jaw, leaving hot kisses on your skin as she made her way down to your neck. You hated yourself when a small groan left your mouth, but it turned into a small whimper as another sob escaped you.

Run.

But you couldn’t, your heart was broken, you needed to feel something, you needed Alexia, she was the one that made everything better, she was the one you went to if you ever felt upset. She was your light. She was who you needed. You just wanted to feel loved even though this wasn't what love was.

Your hands gripped her shirt when she came back to your mouth, you weren't sure if you were going to push her or away or pull her closer. Her kisses grew more desperate once she heard the groan you made, thinking this was the only way to have you back. 

She easily moved you from the kitchen to the bedroom, all while her lips attacked your neck and mouth, making you gasp for air. Your mind was a blur, a blur of pain and hurt. A blur of confusion. 

Your head was throbbing from the headache you caused yourself from crying. You tried to ignore it like the way you ignored the voice in your head telling you to stop this. But you didn't listen.

“I love you. I love you. I can fix us.” Alexia kept chanting.

She laid you on the bed as she slowly removed your joggers. You felt the tears run down your puffy lips, as you reached out for her needing her close to you again. But you couldn't look at her. You couldn't bring yourself to look at the girl you loved and hated.

Both yours and Alexias lips were puffy and swollen from tears. You felt your lips split as you licked them, stinging your plump flesh, you tried to focus on it as Alexia connected your lips once more before she began to move down your body.

“You’re so beautiful. I love you so much, babita. Let me make you feel good.”

You felt your breath hitch as the blonde kissed on your stomach. The familiar feeling of her body pressing on yours grounded you more than you would have thought. You almost forgot about why you were crying. You nearly didn't feel the pain that sunk into every fiber of your body. Nearly.

Her hazel eyes looked up at you as she moved further down. But you looked away, you felt shame flood your chest as you allowed her to remove your underwear. 

“I love you.” She mumbled against your skin. 

You gasped as you felt her tongue swipe through your folds. Your eyes started to wet again as you felt her mouth on you. Her hands gripped at your thighs, pushing you open as she gently licked at your sex. 

You felt everything and nothing. Your body felt like it was on overdrive, wanting to feel Alexia, but wanting nothing to do with her at the same time. You just wanted to feel something. It was an absolute mind fuck. And yet you opened your legs further as the girl wrapped her lips around your clit. 

Alexia stroked your thighs as she used her mouth on you. She kissed your clit before sinking her tongue into your cunt. You felt the way she groaned, probably from tasting your essence as it melted on her tongue. Your own body betrayed you. 

Your thighs started to shake as you felt that familiar swirl start to wash over your body. Alexia could tell straight away. She grabbed your hands that would have normally sunk into her hair by now and placed them on her head. You looked down from the touch, Alexia’s eyes were puffy from crying. She looked at you with a look you didn't recognise. 

Was it regret? Was it hope? Was it guilt for being caught?

Your fingers flexed loosely in her hair as your thighs started to shake. Your orgasm was building but you could tell it wasn't the same, it felt like it didnt know where to go. Or why it was even there. But you let her finish, you let her suck and lick your bud until your body shook against the bed. Your orgasm trickled over your body, leaving you feeling worse than you did. Alexia stayed between your legs to clean you up. 

You felt your chest tighten and your throat close up as a wave of sadness pulled you down. When Alexia reached your face it felt like you were drowning, it must have been your own cries as you shuddered against the bed. 

“Baby, please. Please, I’m here.” 

You grabbed Alexia's hand and pushed it between your legs, you needed to feel something. You still wanted to feel her. You didn't want to feel this sadness that was taking over your body.

Anything. Please feel anything.

“Please.” You begged as you pulled her closer to kiss you.

“I’m here. I’m right here.” She whispered before your lips locked.

Alexia circled your clit a few times before she dipped a single finger into you. You let out a small groan, you could feel you were tight. She pumped her fingers as she kissed your neck, you tried to ignore the tears that fell from her eyes onto your skin.

You hissed as she pushed another finger in. 

“Ho sento. I’m sorry.” She pressed a kiss to your lips as she moved her fingers slowly. “I’m sorry.” 

You grabbed her shoulders as she started to open you up. Her eyes fixed on your face as you closed your own, trying your best to escape today's nightmare. 

“I love you, mi amor. I love you so much.” She mumbled into your neck.

Her fingers got deeper as she moved faster. You finally started to float away as you felt nothing but her inside you, putting all your focus on this one feeling. 

“I will marry you. I want you to have my babies. Please let me.” She started to cry as she fucked you. 

Before you could register what she was saying you let out a loud gasp when she pushed a third finger inside you, but she knew it wasn't a painful gasp. She knew your body, she knew you. Your head dipped back in the pillow as you felt your second orgasm start to rise. Your small whimpers gave you away to the girl above as your nails dug into her arms.

“That's it baby. You’re so good.” She peppered kisses all over your face as she encouraged you.

Your eyes squeezed shut as your orgasm fast apoached. Your thighs shook against Alexia's hips once her thumb began to circle your clit. You felt it. You felt something. other than sadness, just for a few seconds. 

“Don’t stop!’ You begged as your orgasm rushed over you.

“I’m here. I’m here.” Alexia coed at you.

You saw stars as your pussy clenched tightly around the thick fingers. Time stood still as everything went quiet. No voices in your head. No sadness that took over your senses. Your tears stopped for just a moment as you relaxed into the mattress. All the pressure that your body had taken was finally melting away. 

You winced a little as Alexia removed her fingers as gently as she could. You slumped back into the pillow, taking a deep breath of air. You stared at the ceiling before you felt the blonde slot herself next to you. 

“Turn around, amor.” Her breath ghosted the lose her on your neck.

 You slowly moved, you knew she wanted to hold you and you let her without question. 

Was this really your life? Was this really you?

Familiar hands started to stroke your hair. You could feel how stiff Alexia’s body was behind you, maybe she was scared to move in case she frightened you away. 

“I love you.” She whispered again.

You didn't respond. You felt her arm snaking around your side, her hand looking for your own. You didn't think before you gave her what she wanted, her thumb instantly stroked your knuckles. It wasn't long before your tired and sore eyes started to close. 

An hour later you woke up as Alexia stirred behind you, sleeping soundly. You moved as slowly as you could, creeping out the bed as lightly as you could. You grabbed your clothes that you had waiting on the side, along with your suitcase that Alexia missed when she pulled you into the bedroom.

You looked over at her sleeping form, her blonde hair splayed across the pillow, a small frown sat between her brows. She looked beautiful. You almost wanted to climb back in the bed. But you stayed strong. 

“I love you.” You whispered to your lover.

The tears started to form again, quickly falling over your cheeks. You felt sick as you carried your suitcase to the front door. What were you doing? Was this the right thing? Yes. She cheated on you! She’s broken your heart. She doesn't love you like you thought she did. Leave. 

You took a deep shuddery breath before you removed your engagement ring and left it on the side, with the keys to Alexia's apartment next to them. You took one last glance over your shoulder, the Christmas tree caught your eyes as it flickering in the corner. You gently shut the door behind you, a loud sob escaped you as you left everything you thought was your future behind you.

[shomatoriashi]

02/11/25; 01:15pm

{ drabbles / headcanons }

[ how they celebrate valentine’s day with you ]

featuring: sylus, zayne, xavier, rafayel, caleb

notes: slight crack with rafayel's 😂

you were in the middle of reading your novel, believing that sylus was too busy to celebrate valentine's day with you as you were left to your own devices. despite the prior disappointment you felt at the thought of being unable to spend such a lovely holiday with him, in the end, you chose to be a good lover and simply spoil yourself for the day instead. you never brought it up or even asked, hence why you were currently surrounded by your favorite snacks, simply relaxing in bed while flipping though the pages of your book.

the start of your night was utterly normal, peaceful even when you found yourself surrounded by darkness just seconds later.

"what the hell?" you sit up in bed, dropping your novel on the ground as you blindly searched for the lamp settled on the nightstand. however, you were unable to move, feeling a pair of hands wrapping around your form coupled along with a series of laughters.

"luke, kieran, unhand me right now!" you bark at the twins, feeling them carry you away from your bed with ease.

"no can do, miss queen! boss man gave us strict orders to bring you to him!"

the twins continue carry you away, seemingly able to navigate through sylus's mansion even without the need for any lights. you try to wiggle out of their hold, yet end up letting out a grunt when you felt your ass landing against a plush cushion. the twins had dropped you off somewhere, making you glare into the darkness, ready to chew out the troublesome pair-

only to have your eyes widen with shock when the lights came back on. your eyes stung for a brief moment before allowing you to finally see the surprise sylus had planned for you. you were settled on the dining table, and seated across from you was sylus himself, lifting up a glass full of red wine in a toast. "hello sweetie, how nice of you to finally join me."

your mouth opens, yet the words become lost the moment you were able to actually look at the table. as far as your eyes can see, you saw various dishes across the table, finally taking in the scents of your favorite foods and various heart shaped confectionaries for dessert. tears dot your vision, making you wipe them away with the back of your hand, "i thought you had forgotten. i-"

hearing your sniffles and seeing your tears causes sylus to put down his wine glass, standing back to his full height as he took quick strides towards you. taking you within his embrace, he lets out gentle coos of your name, setting you on his lap while holding you against him.

"as if i would ever forget to celebrate our love, little dove."

filled to the brim with utter adoration for him, you cling to the front of his suit, allowing sylus to lean down and capture your lips in a sweet kiss, reminding you of just how pure and deep his love ran for you.

when zayne asked what you would like to do for valentine's day, your mind immediately went to the art museum you had wanted to visit since its opening a few months ago.

never one to deny you of any of your wants and needs, zayne takes you to the museum while walking around with you. he basks in the joy and awe with each painting and sculpture you pass by. and despite how you were the one who had purchased the box of macarons to share-

zayne was the one left holding it, since you were so engrossed at being at this museum.

yet the turning point came when you stood in front of an oil painting that seems to take up the whole section of the museum. your eyes were glued to the watercolors that painted the scenery of the deep ocean along with what appeared to be mermaids swimming in and out of an underwater city.

"wow, this is amazing. i heard rafayel was a genius in his own right, but this- his art, so breathtaking, almost like a fairytale..."

the way your eyes shimmer with admiration for the artist causes a surge of something dark and almost possessive to course through zayne's veins. the sudden sensation makes him grip at the box of macarons in a tighter manner, nearly crushing the cookies as a frown paints his expression. you were still ogling the painting when zayne decides to place the box of macarons on a nearby bench, coming closer to you as he wraps his arms around your front.

"what- zayne?"

he buries his face within your hair, "i didn't think i'd be able to feel jealous over a painting."

your eyes go wide, ready to ask what he meant when your lover suddenly leans down to press a kiss against your lips, swallowing the rest of your words. you let out a soft moan in response, shyly kissing him back while feeling zayne delving his fingers into your hair.

with you being so focused on his kiss, you were unaware of zayne's smile and his feelings of victory at being able to win your attention back from that man's painting.

you shared the love of stargazing with xavier, so when he invites you out on a picnic beneath the stars for your valentine's day date-

you said yes to his offer immediately.

you had prepared for this picnic throughout the day, making several sandwiches along with a charcuterie board to share along with some sparkling wine. xavier offers to carry the heavy basket filled with food as you held on to the blanket.

your ballet flats meets with the plushness of the emerald green grass, eyes already scanning the skies as you were basking in the sight of the twinkling stars settled millions of miles above you. xavier looks back at you, seeing the way you stopped as a kind smile graces his features.

taking a hold of your arm, xavier leads you towards the middle of the field, helping you spread out the blanket fully before settling on top of it with you. your boyfriend spreads out your meal, setting up the charcuterie board while offering you a sandwich as well.

taking tentative bites of your food, you rest your head against xavier's shoulder, simply basking in the moment with him. your eyes were glued to the galaxy above you, listening to xavier's voice as he pointed out the constellations and traced at the stars with his fingertips.

feeling warm and oh so happy with him, you look away from the skies and gently call out his name.

"yes?" you meet his gaze, seeing the love he had for you shining in them when you lean closer to the philos prince. "i love you, thank you for this."

instead of answering you with words, xavier leans forward to capture your lips in a sweet kiss, slotting his lips against yours while silently conveying i love you, too.

for valentine's day, rafayel treats you to a nice lunch before taking you to the aquarium. while walking around the gorgeous area, you felt your mouth watering at the sight of the ice cream shop settled near the entrance. after purchasing your tickets, rafayel slides his wallet back into his pant pockets when he meets your puppy dog expression.

he sighs, "okay princess, spill, what is it that you want?"

"an ice cream cone sounds really nice right now." you tell your boyfriend with a pout, pointing at the ice cream stand.

he feigns a sigh, yet walks with you to the stand anyways, allowing you to purchase your favorite flavor before ruffling your hair. you were giggling now, taking eager licks of your ice cream while offering some to your lover.

rafayel pouts, but leans down to take a huge bite out of the soft serve ice cream, making you laugh, "oh my god, that was a bite from a shovel!"

"no it wasn't!" he retorts while playfully pulling on your cheek, only to stiffen just moments later. he lets go of your face, and you give your boyfriend a confused expression while rubbing at your cheek, "huh? rafe, what is it?"

his frown seems to deepen, lips forming a pout as he marched deeper into the aquarium. your eyes go wide, following him all while calling out his name. your search for him leads you to an area where the coral reefs were on display-

and your boyfriend was actively glaring at this angelfish that had startling sapphire blue scales. you continue to take tentative licks of your ice cream, wanting to observe what would happen next-

only to see the angelfish's mouth open and close several times with bubbles forming within the waters.

"WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME?!" rafayel's voice echoes throughout the aquarium as his hands form into fists, pounding into the glass as the angelfish continued blowing bubbles at him.

"r-rafeyel, calm down, what happened?" you try your best to diffuse the situation, yet his pout deepens while pointing an accusing finger at the angelfish, "h-he just called me a limp noodle and said that i wasn't good enough for you!"

before rafayel could demand that one of the workers allow him inside of the waters, you pull your overly dramatic boyfriend away from the scene, feeling a bead of sweat run down your cheek as you thought of ways to help with calming the lemurian down.

"oh my god, i'm in heaven right now!" you tell your boyfriend of two years while cutting into the fluffy strawberry shortcake, placing the delicious morsel within your mouth all while letting out a moan of pleasure.

caleb simply chuckles at your words, tending to his own cup of coffee. he never once removes his gaze away from you, smiling like a lovesick fool, "whatever makes you happy, baby."

resting his cheek against the palm of his hand, the farspace colonel was glad he was able to take some time off for this special day. knowing that you were a true romantic at heart, there was no way in hell he would ever miss out on celebrating valentine's day with you.

so, he buys you all of your favorite treats, allowing the various plates filled with a variety of different cakes and chocolates to surround you. he admires the look of happiness on your face, basking in the way you ate each pastry in such a meticulous manner, as if wishing to savor every bit of it.

in the midst of caleb admiring you, he notices the whipped cream settled on top of your lips, feeling a devilish grin forming against his features. he says your name, breaking your attention away from your cake. "hm?" you face him just then, allowing caleb to lean forward to capture your lips in a chaste kiss as his tongue swipes away at the cream. caleb relishes in the way you were trembling before sitting back down in his seat, picking up his cup of coffee while taking a casual sip.

noticing the heat settled on your cheeks and the way your expression turned sheepish, he had to bite back the urge to chuckle at you while ruffling at your hair.

i could get used to this soft happiness. caleb thinks to himself, focusing his attention once more on your achingly cute features and how you were too shy to meet his gaze.

end notes: i feel like all of us wanted infold to drop a fluffy banner, but was a little disappointed / shocked when it didn't happen and got something feral instead 😭🙌🏻 so have this fluffy drabble instead to fill your needs for a fluffy valentine's day with our lads boys 🥰

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[purerae]

╭────༺♡༻────╮

YANDERE!PLAYBOY X FEM!READER

Valentine’s day Special! <3

warnings ;; yandere!playboy being a delusional freak (as usual), yandere behavior, MAJOR second hand embarrassment, slightest bit of angst (if you squint), crack.

╰────༺♡༻────╯

Valentine’s Day for Kieran was basically his second birthday. The rich boy never bought candy, why would he, when he could stock up for free just from today alone? His locker was overflowing with chocolates, candies, and love notes—notes that he didn’t even bother reading before tossing them straight into the trash. But the sweets? Oh, he made sure to keep those. Stuffing his bag full, he scoffed at the cheap, store-bought heart chocolates while setting aside the good stuff; the expensive ones, the homemade treats that probably took hours to make. Greedy. That’s all it was. Kieran was just greedy. But even with all the gifts, all the attention, all the adoration, it never really mattered—not until today. Not until he spotted one letter on his desk that actually made his heart skip a beat. Because this one? This one had to be from you. For the first time on February 14th, Kieran felt a genuine rush of excitement, something different from the usual smug satisfaction of being adored that just boosted his already huge ego. The envelope sat on his desk, neat and delicate, like it had been placed there with care—like it actually meant something. His fingers brushed over your initials written in beautiful cursive handwriting, slow and deliberate, his mind already running wild. Finally. You were finally giving in. He could already picture you, shy and flustered as you wrote it, your heart laid bare just for him. A love letter? From you? His sweet little obsession finally coming to her senses? He was grinning, twirling the letter between his fingers, taking his time, savouring the moment. Oh, you were so cute for this.

 He carefully opened the letter, fingertips tingling with anticipation. His heart was racing, his mind already running a mile a minute. What kind of sweet words did you leave for him? Were you confessing your love? Finally admitting that you couldn’t resist him any longer? God, you knew him so well! Every detail, down to the paper, the handwriting, the delicate way the envelope was sealed—it all screamed you. This was the first time that the suave playboy turned into a giggling high school girl, biting his lip to keep from grinning too wide. If he was just some regular guy, people would be throwing weird glances at him for nearly stomping his feet in excitement, but he’s Kieran, so no one does.

To be honest, all the girls around him loved it. They giggled amongst themselves, watching him act like a lovesick fool, finding it more endearing than embarrassing. Some of them seething in jealousy at the mysterious girl who got the school's renowned playboy all lovestruck like this. Man, pretty privilege was real. Any other man would’ve been clowned for this, but Kieran? No, Kieran could get away with anything—especially when he looked good doing it.

The white haired male just had to find you, had to catch a glimpse of his princess all shy and flustered from pouring out her emotions in this cute little letter. He was already going to force you into his valentines day plans-- but you, making the move first? Gosh, you never fail to surprise him. Kieran rushed around the school, finally found you hanging around the library. He waltzes over to your table, practically floating with confidence, that stupidly charming smirk plastered across his face. With an easy flick of his wrist, he spun the chair around, plopping down and draping his arms over the back like he owned the fucking place; the letter was in his hand, obnoxiously tapping it against his palm as he leaned in, way too close, eyes glinting with something dangerous beneath all that excitement.

“Sooo...” he drawled, looking at you up and down, voice smooth as ever, “...couldn’t resist me anymore, huh princess~?” the blue eyed male winked as he laughed boyishly, Though his words were condescendingly annoying, a glint of affection is laced in his orbs. 

You, the girl who just wanted some peace on this already lame ass day where you enviously stare at the lovey dovey highschoolers with, gaze up from your notebook as you stare blankly at him, forcing yourself not to immediately roll your eyes at the sight of the blue eyed playboy.  “Huh?” You blink once, and then twice at him.

Kieran scoffs out a laugh. Still so shy, bless your cute little soul. “The letter, sweetheart.” He waved it a little, like it was obvious. “Real cute of you, by the way. You always did have good taste.” Your eyebrows furrow as you stare at the pastel pink letter, squinting at it before looking back at him. “What letter? Dude what the fuck are you talking about?” tilting your head as you grimace at his stupid little smirk. Kieran let out a breathy laugh, tilting his head like you just said the funniest thing in the world. “Ahh, playing shy now? That’s adorable, really,” he mused, tapping the letter against his chin. “Didn’t think you’d get cold feet after pouring your heart out like this, but it’s okay, princess. I get itttt. Big emotions can be scary!” he says with a mocking pout, leaning in closer. He reached out, trailing a finger down your arm like he was so sure this was some flirty little game. Youre playing hard to get as always, its okay! He likes the chase. However, you cant back out this easily when he literally has the physical proof of your love-- no, infatuation towards him. “You don’t have to pretend, y’know. I already know it’s from you.” his other hand tracing the first letters of your first and last name that was engraved onto the envelope. 

But the way you just kept staring at him, utterly lost, was starting to poke holes in his fantasy. No. No, you were just messing with him. Testing him. Right? Rolling your eyes, you snatch the letter out of his hand, too tired to deal with whatever weird fantasy he had cooked up this time. With an exhausted sigh, you scanned the handwriting, flipping the letter over to really stare at the initials , and then—oh. Oh, this was actually hilarious. Your hand slaps your mouth as you stifle a giggle.

“Kieran,” you deadpanned, looking him dead in the eyes, “this isn’t from me. It’s from the other girl in our chemistry class. Y’know, the one with the same initials as me?” Silence.

Kieran just stood there, blinking, like his brain was trying to reboot. His fingers twitched slightly at his sides, and for the first time all day, he didn’t have a slick response ready. You watched, unimpressed, as his expression went through about ten different emotions at once—confusion, disbelief, denial, a little more denial—before finally landing on something unreadable. “...what?” He freezes for a solid minute before letting out a light chuckle, rolling his shoulders back like this was no big deal. “Ohh, right. Of course. The other girl.” He nodded, slipping his hands into his pockets, throwing on that easy, practiced smirk. “I knew that! I was just.. I was just joking, silly~!”

But inside? He was tweaking.

'What the actual hell. What do you mean it’s not from you? Then why the hell did it feel like you? Look like it was from you? Sound like you?' His heart was racing, but not in the good way anymore. His palms felt weirdly clammy. His eye twitched. 'No. No, no, no. This doesn’t make sense. This was supposed to be from you. This was supposed to be our moment. So why— who, who even is the other girl??? Has he ever even interacted with her??' Suddenly the heartfelt words that adorned the letter just seemed incredibly corny and cheesy to him. The bright pastel colours decorated along the paper blazed in his eyes, practically laughing at the delusional boy that stood before it. 

You crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow at him. “Uh-huh. Sure you did.” Kieran swallowed. Act natural. Act. Natural. The playboy opened his mouth, ready to spit out some smooth, damage-control comeback—but nothing came out. For the first time in his entire life, he had nothing. Just sitting there, frozen, swallowing the most brutal, humiliating reality check of his existence. And the worst part? You were just staring at him. Not even amused. Not even mad. Just tired and annoyed.

“Oh my God,” you muttered, pinching the bridge of your nose like you were physically in pain just being near him. “I literally don’t have time for this. Happy Valentine's Day man.”  You say with a tight lipped smile, grabbing your stuff as you pat his shoulder. And with that, you turned on your heel and walked away.

Kieran just stood there, gripping the letter so hard it crumpled in his palm. His ears were burning, his jaw tight, but his smirk? Still there. Bruised ego? Maybe. But shattered? Please. A mix-up like this wasn’t enough to shake him. You didn't straight up reject him, it was just a misunderstanding! It was all that stupid girl's fault for having the same initials as his dear soulmate! As if you could ever actually reject him.

No, no, this just meant you were still fighting it. Still playing your little games, still too stubborn to admit what you really wanted. Him. That was fine. He had all the time in the world to let you come to your senses. You’d see it eventually—how you were meant for him, how there was never any other option. And when you finally stop running? Oh, princess he’d be right there, waiting. Besides, there was always next year, and that time; he is certain that the only chocolates he’d be getting is from you.

a/n :: for some reason you guys looveee seeing kieran suffer so heres my early valentines gift for you all :p (maybe not you all but the three anons in my inbox LOL) purerae<3

[fontseeker]

This is a fake ad.

People are sharing it as if it's real, but it's fake. I don't know if the creator intended to make people think it was real, but people are treating it as if it is. And it's not.

The font used here is Cubest, released in 2021 by Måns Grebäck. Nintendo was not still advertising the DS in 2021. It stopped manufacturing them in 2014.

Also, the pixels are perfectly aligned horizontally and vertically. It has a filter placed on that makes it seem like it's a scan of a printed document, but a real scan would not be perfectly aligned.

There are people are trying to rewrite the past, in order to justify things in the present. Sometimes it's unintentional and sometimes it's malicious. Either way, you need to be wary.

People are commenting in response to this post, things like:

Yeah magazine ads were just like that 20 years ago #GOD I forgor about these ads (I've never seen one while they were live BUT-) remember what they took from you 😔 You don’t find ads like this in magazines anymore and I think that’s a good thing #and this is the company that destroyed bayonetta franchise cause it isn't kids-friendly Hypersexual push-back against 1980's repression. We're in another wave of repression, so start looking for shit to want to fuck you again in the 2030's or 40's.

People are treating this both as real, and as having cultural and even political significance.

You might think "oh, this isn't important, it's just a fake nintendo ad", but do you think the people who fell for this somehow know to only fall for the unimportant ones?

So how do you avoid falling for this? The most important thing is to check for a source, to ground it in reality. Don't just trust things that appear on social media out of nowhere. Did somebody scan this from a magazine? Which magazine? There are complete scans of lots of magazines on archive.org, so you can see ads in their original context to verify that they were actually in print when they were supposed to be.

It's important to connect things back to reality like that, and to let other people know the connection. It's dangerous to just find freefloating images or videos on the internet, with no known source or connection to reality, and to just share them to your friends anyway, so that it can continue on misleading people.

Nintendo DS

[rafesbabygirlx]

can you do something with Rafe and a very naive reader who doesn’t know when a guy is flirting with her and she’s just super friendly? like rafe will get confrontational and possessive but he’s never mean to his girl because she doesn’t know any better and he drags her out of the bar angrily but then is super sweet to her and they have car sex and maybe like the guy walks by and sees them and Rafe smirks at him through the window.

Pleaseeeeeeeeeee??????

Oooooff YES

I feel like I might get a little carried away with this one (I just finished and yes... it is long lol)

𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚟𝚎!𝚋𝚏!𝚛𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝚗𝚊𝚒𝚟𝚎!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚌𝚊𝚛 𝚜𝚎𝚡 (𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚛𝚢, 𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚕 𝚖 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚏 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐)

𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

The bar was alive with music, laughter, and the clinking of glasses. You were seated in a booth with Rafe, Kelce, Topper, and a few of your girlfriends, all of you were caught up in conversation, shouting over the music. Between stories and bursts of laughter, you finally glanced down and realized your glass was nearly empty.

Slipping away from the table, you made your way toward the bar, leaning in slightly to get the bartender’s attention.

“Vodka soda, please,” you ordered.

As you waited, you felt someone step up beside you. You turned slightly and saw a tall brunette guy—broad shoulders, sharp features, a confident stance.

“You here with anyone?” he asked casually, his voice smooth but loud enough to be heard over the music.

“Yeah,” you nodded, gesturing over my shoulder toward my group. 

You didn’t think anything of it, but he moved a little closer, resting his elbow on the bar. “Nice. You come here often?”

You shook my head. “Not really, just whenever my friends want to. What about you?”

“Every now and then,” he shrugged. “I’m Eric, by the way.”

“y/n.”

The bartender slid your drink over, and you picked it up, but you didn’t rush back to the table. Eric was easy to talk to, and after all, it was just casual conversation.

“So, y/n, what do you do?” he asked, taking a sip from his own drink.

“I’m a senior in college,” you said. “Studying fashion.”

His eyebrows lifted with interest. “That’s cool. So you’re into fashion?”

You laughed. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

He smirked. “Alright, be honest—do I look like I know anything about fashion?”

You gave him a once-over, eyeing his fitted black t-shirt and well-worn jeans. “You’re doing alright,” you teased. “No major offenses.”

“Good to know. I’d hate to be a walking fashion crime.” He leaned in slightly. “So, what’s the dream job?”

You hesitated for a second, taking a sip of your drink. “Marketing for a fashion brand, something creative. I love the behind-the-scenes of campaigns and branding.”

“That actually sounds really interesting,” he said, nodding. “Ever thought about starting your own thing?”

“I mean, maybe one day,” you admitted. “I’d want to work somewhere first, really get the experience before diving into anything myself.”

“That’s smart.” He tilted his glass toward me. “To future success, then.”

I clinked my drink against his, smiling. “To future success.”

“y/n.”

The sound of my name in a familiar voice made me turn, and there was Rafe, standing just a few feet away, watching the conversation unfold. His expression was unreadable, but his sharp blue eyes were locked on Eric.

afe walked up behind you, placing a hand on your waist. "Oh hi, Rafey!" you greeted, wrapping your arm around his waist as he moved in close to you.

"And who's this?" Rafe asked, his tone even but laced with something unreadable.

"This is Eric," you said casually. "We just started talking. He's really nice. We should hang out with him."

Rafe raised an eyebrow, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, is he now?"

"Yeah, he is."

Rafe’s gaze didn’t shift from Eric as he spoke. "And what have you and my girlfriend been talking about exactly?"

Eric shifted uncomfortably under Rafe’s stare. "Look, man, she didn’t say she had a boyfriend."

Rafe let out a sharp laugh, but there was no humor in it. "Oh, so it's her fault you're a creep?"

"Rafe, we were just talking, I don’t understand," you said, your grip around his waist tightening as you started to feel nervous.

But Rafe broke your hold, moving around to the other side of you, stepping directly in front of Eric. His presence alone made Eric take a step back.

"Listen, man," Rafe said, his voice low and firm. "I watched the whole interaction. You saw her with a group, you saw her ring, and you still thought you had a shot?" He leaned in slightly, his jaw tight. "Next time, when a girl gives you a polite response, take the hint and walk away."

Eric put his hands up. "Dude, I didn’t mean anything—"

"Did I say you could talk?" Rafe cut him off, his voice steady but dangerous.

Eric glanced between you and Rafe, clearly realizing he was outmatched. "Alright, man. Chill. I was just being friendly."

"Then be friendly somewhere else, before I make you regret it," Rafe said coldly, taking a step closer, forcing Eric to back away further.

Eric muttered something under his breath before turning and disappearing into the crowd.

Rafe exhaled sharply, shaking his head. Then he looked down at you, his expression softening slightly. "You okay?"

You nodded, still processing the sudden shift in energy. "Yeah. Rafe, that was—"

"He was too close," Rafe interrupted, sliding an arm back around your waist protectively. "And I don’t like people thinking they can just walk up on you like that."

You sighed, resting your head briefly against his shoulder. "Let’s just go, okay?"

Rafe nodded, pressing a quick kiss to the side of your head. "Yeah, let’s go."

With his arm still around you, he led you back through the bar, his grip just a little tighter than before.

Rafe tossed you gently into the back seat, sliding in right after you. His eyes were dark, filled with something unreadable.

"You're too sweet for your own good, baby," he murmured before crashing his lips against yours.

You pulled away slightly, breathless. "I don't know what you mean."

He exhaled, shaking his head with a small smirk. "You see the good in everyone. So much so that you don’t even realize how he was coming onto you. I’m not mad at you, you don’t know any better, but he was taking advantage of your kindness. Thinking he could have you. Take you away from me."

You frowned. "No, Rafe, he wasn’t. He was just being nice."

You let out a small laugh, but Rafe’s hand was suddenly on your chin, tilting your face up to meet his. Your smile faded when you saw the seriousness in his eyes.

"See what I mean?" he muttered.

You swallowed. "No, Rafe, I don’t. Why can't someone just be nice?"

His jaw clenched. "It’s the actions, baby. He was no good."

You sighed, shaking your head. "Whatever you s—"

Before you could finish, Rafe leaned in again, kissing you deeply, possessively. His hands gripped your waist as if grounding himself in you.

"Show me who you belong to," he whispered against your lips, pushing you down to the car floor.

He keeps his eyes locked on yours as he unbuckles his pants. You stare up at him with those big sweet doe eyes of yours and grab a hold of him once he's free, peppering kisses on his tip. Rafe throws his head back once you lower your mouth on him.

"Fuck- just like that," he speaks through gritted teeth.

You bob your head up down, taking in as much of him as you can. He moans at how good you make him feel. But in a split second, the vision of - that guy- all over you pisses him off and he grabs the back of your head and begins to buck up his hips jamming himself into the back of your throat. He doesn't mean to take his anger out on you, his sweet girl, but that shit really pissed him off.

You gag on him and grip onto his thighs, trying to breathe through your nose as best you can. Rafe thrusts a few more times before releasing himself from your mouth. He lets you catch your breath for a second before lifting you back onto the seat and laying you down.

He bunches up your dress around your waist and pulls down your underwear, tossing them into the front seat. He puts his thumb in his mouth getting it wet and brings it to your clit, rubbing it softly. You buck up at the feeling but Rafe grabs your waist and pushes you back down.

"Baby, you are the sweetest girl I know," Rafe murmured while not letting up from your clit.

You moan at his sweet words.

"You mean everything to me. No man could ever take you away from me. You’re mine."

You find it hard to speak, but need to let him know. "Rafe, I’m always yours. You know that."

His grip on your waist tightened. "I know, but I don’t want anyone else thinking they have a chance. I love you too much for that."

You smiled, placing a hand on his chest. "I love you too. Always."

Rafe sighed, leaning down to you for a deep kiss. "Good. Because I don’t plan on ever letting you go."

He moves down and attaches his mouth to you. Swirling his tongue around your clit, replacing his finger. He then sucks on it and you put your arm over your mouth to let out a loud moan into it, considering you're in the middle of a parking lot. Rafe puts a stop to that quickly.

"Let me hear you, no one's around." He smirks up at you and you smile back.

He continues to eat you out before moving up and pushing his pants down more and lining up to your entrance. Wasting no time in wanting to be inside you. He slowly pushes in and you throw your head back into the leather seat. Rafe doesn't take a second to adjust before pulling out and slamming back into you.

He sets a relentless pace, his motivation- that asshole back in the bar and loving the way you squirm beneath him. After a few moments, there is chatter outside the car, you panic but Rafe doesn't let up. Someone comes by the window to the car next to Rafe's. You can't hold back your moans and go to move your hand, but Rafe pins both of them over your head.

Rafe notices that familiar face to be Eric. He's nosy and moves over to the window to see what the faint noises are. Rafe stares at him through it and smirks wickedly.

"Wanna come, sweet girl?"

"Yes," you cry out and let out a loud moan signaling your end.

Rafe continues to fuck you through your orgasm, finding his own coming deep inside you, all while that dipshit from inside stands and watches like the creep Rafe knew he was.

tags + some moots 💗

@rafestoothbrush @weluvwbb @itsforeverandalwayz @butterfly-ibuki @megiiite @maybankslover @siredbtches @bigenergy777 @percysley @aupernatural-teenwolflover @slut4you @rafegf-real @skywalker0809 @snowtargaryen @kieeslove @leather-n-velvet @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @diasnohibng @slut-4-gojo @akobx @jjmaybankmylovee @slurpdew @rafesheaven @cameronsprincess @littlelamy @inthelibrarybtw @frankoceanluvr11 @writingroom21 @v3n1ce-bxtch

[katisconfused]

Putting the whole thread under a readmore because against all odds, it looks like tumblr might outlast twitter:

Tweet thread by The Tweedy Mutant:

One of the cruelest things about Autistic/ADHD masking is that you learn to treat positive emotions as a warning sign that you're about to do something "wrong" and that it is therefore "safest for everyone" if you maintain a constant, low-key negative internal emotional state.

To feel joy, you have to be in yourself and in the moment. You're not worried about how you appear to others. You can't be both hypercritical of your existence while also reveling in it.

Joy means that the mechanism for monitoring/policing yourself for the comfort of others no longer takes priority.

And when being yourself is so often a "wrong" way to be, being yourself without surveilling/"mitigating" yourself can feel perilous.

In fact, we've often been told it *is*perilous - to others. We're told that we're "rude", "weird", "extra", "unthinking", "impulsive", "over-the-top", "self-absorbed", "oblivious", "annoying", etc.

We don't hear those messages when we're already over-analyzing our behaviours from the point of view of everyone else and adapting them accordingly.

We hear those messages when the connection with that normativity-focused inner critic drops and family, bosses, educators, colleagues, etc. step in to play that role.

That might come from a meltdown or shut down, but it also happens in moments of true unselfconscious joy.

So joy feels dangerous. Joy becomes associated with alienating others, and eventually we come to feel alienated from joy itself.

I realized today that whenever I feel truly immersed in positive emotions (heck, even plain uncomplicated contentment), I am immediately fearful of who or what I must be irritating, neglecting, overstepping, steamrolling, etc.

I have received the message that my joy comes at a cost to everyone else. My happiness is something I do to others.

So I have learned to always keep my emotional barometer just slightly inside of the depressed range.

I can have a little mirth, as a treat.

CW: suicide/self harm

This is deadly. There is nothing surprising at all about the suicide and self-harm statistics of ADHD and Autistic folks once you understand that we are conditioned in this way. Training people to be depressed is deadly.

Sometimes I say that I am happiest when I am by myself, but I wonder if maybe I am just only actually "allowed to feel happy like truly happy without that lingering soupçon of impending indecorum and fuckuppery -- when I am by myself.

(Well not completely by myself. Usually also with my cats. Because they're always game for a little indecorum and fuckuppery.)

Oof I'm sorry this is all resonating with folks.

Another reason why I find myself trying to "manage my emotional expectations" is bc of the whiplash you get from being kneecapped when only moments before you were truly, neurodivergently happy.

It's like the physical feeling of getting the wind knocked out of you but on an existential level.

0/10 would not recommend

This thread was brought to you by one of those "find words for your feelings"

charts and the jarring realization that I view every emotion listed under "happy with suspicion and try to limit how much of it I experience.

Original post was made unrebloggable so I'm reposting the link. Click through for the whole thread.

[slapmeshigaraki]

౨ৎ "Are you scared, sweetheart?" ���ৎ

♡ warnings: meanie!sylus x reader, spit, gunplay, daddy, condescension, improper evol use lmao, actually pretty tame ngl the dirty talk is kinda gross though, sylus is out of character in this in case that bothers you

♡ a/n: okay i lied and said i wasn't posting this until later in the week, but i finished editing it early so... idk happy valentine's day i guess. another old fic that i just edited. enjoy pretties !!

♡ Sylus doesn't ask you for much other than to leave him alone for a few hours on Sundays so he can clean his gun collection, but after a few interruptions too many, he decides that you can stick around just this once. Afterall, maybe you can help? ♡

“What is it?” he said after letting out a deep sigh, not bothering to look up at you through the lenses of his glasses. They sat loosely against the bridge of his nose as he looked down at his lap, softly polishing one of his most prized possessions: a gun. You weren’t sure whose death he’d pictured on the other end of it, but he treated it like the last bite of dessert, savoring it, keeping it hidden away for a special occasion. No one could touch it, look at it, breathe on it, except him. When Luke and Kieran gave you your first tour of the house, they wouldn’t even walk you down the hallway of the safe, scared that ‘Boss would smell your scents when he returned.’ It wasn’t until months later when he’d decided that your firearm wasn’t up to par any longer that he’d invited you in to 'shop' for a new one. That’s when you saw it, hung up on the wall in a glass case so high that only he could reach. It was wrapped in a fine silk fabric, a pristine black cherry gun whose make or model was so far beyond your pay grade that you’d never heard of it before.

Every Sunday he disappears into the safe for hours before dinner. He was not to be disturbed. It was the only thing that he was really particular about, but he needed it just to clear his head—some solace after a long week. So, the fact that you were interrupting him for the third time with a knock on the door was grating, to say the least.

“Nothing I just-“

“Is something on fire, darling?”

“No, Sylus.”

“Has someone managed to break into the house?”

“No.”

“Has Mephisto spontaneously combusted, leaving a feather lodged into one of your eyes?”

“No.”

“So, you can clearly see that I’m busy? Then I’ll ask again, what is it that you need?” His eyes still wouldn’t meet yours, eyebrows furrowing as he spoke, his tone strained.

“I just wanted to know if you wanted rice or mashed potatoes for dinner, but since you’re so caught up in tending to an inanimate object, I’ll decide for you.” He was snippier than usual, the darkening of his voice making it obvious he was not in the mood for witty banter.

“Be careful there, sweetheart. I’d hate for that pretty mouth to get you into trouble.”

“Or what? Will you get trigger happy and let that precious gun go off? No, of course not because we must keep it clean for a hypothetical threat that doesn’t fucking exist.”

“Kneel.” It wasn’t a question or a suggestion. It was a command, an order barked at an underling.

“Go fuck yourself,” You said, venom in your voice as you made a move back towards the door, hand clenched around the golden handle.

“If you make me get up to come catch you sweetheart, you’ll be sorry.” His eyes met yours for the first time, a fiery crimson illuminating your line of vision. His gaze was dark, challenging you to disobey him. When Sylus told someone to do something, they did it and you were no exception. You might bite back once in a while, but he always knew that you’d do what he told you to at the end of the day.

So, you kneeled, perhaps too slowly because it wasn’t before long that your knees were forced to buckle beneath you, Sylus making good use of his evol to bind your ankles together. The cool marble tile flooring chilled your flesh as your heartbeat ran wild, your mouth getting wetter with each second, practically drooling as if you were waiting to sink your teeth into your favorite meal. In the same breath, your hands were bound as well, moved behind your back against your will and stuck together like glue.

“Go on, crawl to me.” There was amusement staining his expression, a sinister smirk plastered across his face.

“What’s wrong, pretty girl? Can’t you get to me? A big strong girl like you with such a dirty mouth, surely you can move just a few feet on your own.” You relaxed your legs, letting your knees spread apart to rest them.

“I can’t…” You mumbled under your breath, unable to meet his glare any longer.

“Speak up, pet. You were so loud a few moments ago. Speak to me with that same tough voice now that you can't run away from me.” His slender fingers kept moving, cleaning the trophy with such grace. It was rhythmic, methodical, and calculated. It made you wet just to watch him, reminding you of how easily those same fingers could make you fall apart in his arms.

“I can’t move.”

“You can’t move?” he whined, pouting, mocking you without remorse.

“Well, I want you kneeling in front of me. So how do you suggest you get over here, sweetie?”

“Sylus…” You pled, which was slightly better than flat out begging.

“Tsk tsk, where are our manners?” The same red mist that bound your wrists and ankles now curled around your throat, not hesitating to squeeze abruptly, threatening to rob you of all of your air altogether.

“Please sir, help me.” Without letting another second pass, you were pulled into the air and inched over to him by the mist, roughly thrown back to the ground before him. His legs were spread in his seated position, gun resting on one, the other resting between your thighs.

“Thank you,” You said, hanging your head to avoid meeting his eyes.

“Aw, so polite. See what happens when you ask nicely? See how sweet I can be when you aren't a fucking brat?” With that, his foot adjusted, the tip of his perfectly polished leather shoe gently pressed against your core. You struggled not to writhe against him, desperately needing some form of friction to soothe the ache between your legs.

“Look at me, darling.” You did. The fervent desire in your eyes obvious, bottom lip bloody from biting it so hard, restraining yourself from any more unnecessary commentary.

“You look so needy like this, my foot pressed against your cunt, pouting underneath me. You look like you want to ask me for something? What is it, baby? Do you need something from your daddy, hm?” A whine fell from between your lips against your control as you tensed your legs, begging them not to move without permission.

“Please can I- can you fuck me please?”

“Can I fuck you? Do you think that I should dirty myself--” the hold on your neck tightened once more, “by fucking someone so pathetic that they’re getting off at the thought of grinding on my leg? Someone who can’t go a few hours without my attention shouldn’t get my cock inside of them. Someone like that shouldn’t get to feel my cum filling them up and spilling out of their tight little holes. They shouldn’t get to feel daddy’s tongue cleaning them up, kissing and sucking every inch on their pretty little pussy, should they?” You couldn’t get yourself to say no, but you knew yes wasn’t what he wanted to hear, so you stayed quiet. The cool sensation of metal burned your skin in an instant, tilting your jaw up, forcing your vision toward to ceiling, your eyes getting lost in the gold detailing of the mural above. Silence filled the space between you two, the only sound to be heard was the quickening of your heartbeat and the flip of the gun’s safety that was pressed against your flesh. A lump grew in your throat at the noise. You could feel the sole of his shoe pressing into you even more, gently moving back and forth as you bit your lip again.

“Let me hear you, baby. Tell daddy how good it feels, go on.”

“Th- Thank you daddy. That feels so good.”

“Say ‘thank you daddy for making my cunnie feel good.” You whined at the request, embarrassment causing tears to prick and sting at the corners of your eyes.

“You don’t want to use your words? How ungrateful.” It wasn’t long before the coolness against your jaw was gone. You dropped your gaze to look at him once again. The man before you was starved, his face void any sign of amusement. You wondered if this is what his prey felt when he looked at them, a lamb waiting to be eaten by the lion, forced to let him play with his food before he could be thoroughly satiated. He put the barrel of the gun against your lips now, his thumb languidly dancing on the trigger.

“Open up for me. Let me see that pretty tongue.” You hesitantly stuck your tongue out, the spit that had been building up in your mouth finally free to drip onto the metal as he pushed the barrel against the back of your throat. Your eyes widened at the sensation, the realization that his prized possession was being soiled by your drool far too humiliating. The tears flowed freely now. Your cheeks grew damp as you cried out against the obstruction in your mouth.

“Aw sweetheart, are you crying? Do you want to push your hips against me? Will that make your cunnie feel better?” You nodded, sniffling softly as you shifted uncomfortably, the realization that you couldn’t move at all finally catching up with you.

“Go ahead, hump my leg. You have permission. Make yourself feel good for daddy.” You tried to do as he asked, moving your hips slowly back and forth, the ache only growing in between your legs, but all you could think about was how dirty that gun was getting your mouth. Sobs fell from your lips now. His face contorted slightly at your cries.

“M-s-sorry daddy,” You struggled out, words muffled by the metal. He slowly pulled the gun out of your mouth,

“Are you scared, sweetheart? Is that why you’re dirtying this pretty face with tears, hm?” You felt his skin for the first time against yours, his free hand gently caressing your cheek, thumb making small circles on your flesh.

“No I just… I hate that I’m getting your gun dirty. I know how much you care about it. I’m sorry I just can’t stop drooling on it.” His fingers softly pressed under your eyes, catching the tears.

“Your spit is the sweetest thing I could use to clean this gun. It’s just an inanimate object, huh?" he said, being sure to use your choice of words exactly.

"Don’t cry pretty girl.” As he spoke, your wrists and ankles fell freely, the stress on your throat lifting as the red mist fell away.

“Come up here,” he said, fingers beckoning for you to stand and sit in his lap, your back pressed against his warm and muscular chest. Hooking his arm under your knee, he spread your legs apart, resting your ankle over the arm of the chair. His fingers wasted no time finding their way beneath your skirt, softly pulling the satin fabric of your panties to the side as he slipped a finger inside of you without warning.

“Oh my god,” You moaned out desperately as he hummed in amusement.

“I’m jealous. Your god is getting all of the praise, but I’m the one that's making this pussy leak all over my fingers. That doesn’t seem very fair now, does it?”

“Fuck, daddy thank you.” His pace quickened, every inch of his long and slender fingers making you gasp and writhe beneath his touch as you bucked against his palm.

“You are very welcome sweet girl. Next time you want daddy’s attention, you can just ask and we can skip all the theatrics, hm?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Aw, ‘yes, daddy. Thank you, daddy.'” Such pretty words from such a dirty mouth. The same mouth that stained my gun, isn’t that right?” he said. You threw your head back, squeezing your eyes shut as his thumb rubbed small circles on your clit, your wetness forming a spot on the fine fabric of his pants as you felt his cock growing beneath you. It only made you squirm more at the thought of its thickness filling you up after being empty throughout this whole ordeal.

“Relax for me.” This was the only warning you got before you felt that same cool metal slide between your folds, the ridges of the firearm serving as a new source of friction to grind on before Sylus slid his finger out of your walls, replacing it with the tip of the gun against your entrance. He felt you tense up immediately in his grasp.

“No no no,” he said, thumb gently caressing your inner thigh, his touch burning you with ease.

“Relax baby. Let daddy’s pussy open up for him, hm? I just want that sweet little hole’s juices to cleanse my gun thoroughly.” Your mouth hung open, moans escaping as he spoke. Your head rested against his shoulder, hair messily rubbing against his shirt. He pressed his soft lips against your forehead.

“That’s it, puppy. Gooood fucking girl, you're taking it so well for me, huh sweetheart?” his fingers found your clit once more, melting away any tension. Slowly, the tip of the gun pushed its way between your tender walls, your flesh clenching around it tightly, making it hard for him to slide it in and out of you.

“That’s a greedy pussy, isn’t it— holding onto anything that it can, my fingers, my cock, my tongue, my gun. She just wants to be filled, hm? She just loves daddy so much that anything he puts inside, she doesn’t want to let go of?”

“Y-yes daddy, she loves you. Please please please keep touching her.” So, he did. Slowly but surely, he pushed the metal in and out, salivating as he watched the way your flesh gripped on to the tip before he’d shove it back inside.

“Fuck--you wanna cum for me? Gonna make a big mess all over daddy’s gun, sweetheart? How fucking filthy,” You nodded as Sylus’s rough hands gripped your jaw, forcing you to look up at him. Without warning, his spit filled your open mouth, slowly dripping from between your lips, coating your chest.

“Don’t swallow it. Keep my spit in your mouth when you cum for me. Stick your tongue out and cum all over me like a good little puppy,” He sped up even more now, the tip of the gun pushing against that spot inside of you that made your body heat up like white lightning that was trapped in a bottle and begging to be let out. He hit that spot over and over again, making your head fuzzy as he held your gaze captive with his scarlet eyes.

“Daddy—fuck—please, I don’t think I can take it.” You panicked, your hand desperately reaching for his wrist, hoping for some freedom from the incessant pleasure only for the mist to trap you once again, binding your hands up above your head and around Sylus’s neck, pressing your bodies even closer together.

“Shit—you’re so wet, you’re making a puddle in my lap. Are you gonna squirt around my gun, baby?” He said, emphasizing his point with a sharp push of the metal against you g-spot.

“No I- I can’t. It’s too embarrassing please don’t make me.”

“Come on, listen to your daddy and let go all over me. Squirt, cum, cry, I don’t care, but I’m gonna pull it all out of you either way. So, give it to me, it’s mine. I worked so hard for it,” he said, fingers finding their way into your open mouth, but you didn’t dare close your lips around them, just letting the spit drip down onto yourself and he bullied your pussy over and over again until you just couldn’t take it anymore. Tears streamed from your eyes once more as you let go. Your wetness spilled all over his lap, pulling guttural screams from your throat that were muffled by his hands.

“Good girl, that’s it. Come on, let go for daddy, baby. Poor baby, so pent up. It must feel so good to let go now, huh?” Streams of ‘yes’ and ‘thank you’ echoed through the room, bouncing off the walls as you squirmed against his grasp. He pressed his full lips to your face again as he pulled his finger and his firearm from your holes slowly. You watched him with tired eyes, as you were covered in your own wetness. The gun dripped with your juices, but he wasted no time putting the metal to his own mouth this time, flattening his tongue against the barrel of the gun and licking it clean.

“You are the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted, sweetheart. Maybe you should let you help me clean my guns more often.” Dazed, and far too exhausted to protest, you closed your eyes, resting your head against him once again, your hands finally free. He pressed small kisses against your sweaty face, gently brushing any hair from your skin before you spoke up again.

“T-thank you, Sylus.”

“The pleasure is all mine, pretty girl.”

[mcrdvcks]

7 minutes

chapter summary: You own a small bakery in Westchester. One day, Logan comes in for an order for the X-Mansion. After that he becomes a regular—something he persistently denies.

word count: 9.5k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: i'm a sucker for baker!reader and logan. though this version of reader is a little bit more extroverted and less 'innocent' than the other baker!reader's i've seen. anyways, this is my entry for @yxtkiwiyxt and @lubdubology's valentine's writing challenge!

i'm not a valentine's girly, maybe because i just find it to be a commercial holiday with no meaning (or maybe because i'm 20 and my only valentine has been my dogs) but i hate chocolate and the holiday so...

warnings/tags: baker!reader, fluff, wrote this with x2 logan in mind, but you can imagine any logan, not proofread

Anytime the X-Mansion had a special occasion, they got baked goods from your bakery—a small shop in Westchester.

The first time Logan met you was by accident, or rather an order given to him by Jean. “It’s Rogue’s birthday. You don’t want her to miss out on havin’ a cake, do ya?”

Logan grumbled under his breath but didn’t argue. He wasn’t in the mood for errands, but Jean had a way of making things sound like a guilt trip, and he wasn’t about to deal with that all day. So, here he was, pushing open the door to some small bakery he’d never been to before. The smell of sugar and vanilla hit him immediately, warm and inviting, but he didn’t care about that—he just wanted to get the cake and get out.

The place wasn’t busy, just a couple of customers sitting at tables, sipping coffee. He stepped up to the counter, glancing at the display case full of pastries, then tapped the little bell once. A moment later, you stepped out from the back, wiping your hands on your apron.

“Hey, sorry about that—oh.” Your eyes flicked up, and you did a quick once-over, taking in the broad-shouldered, grumpy-looking man standing at your counter. “You’re definitely not Jean.”

“Yeah, no kiddin’.” Logan exhaled, already regretting this. “She sent me to pick up a cake for Rogue.”

“Right. The X-Mansion order.” You nodded, disappearing into the back. “Give me a sec.”

Logan drummed his fingers against the counter, glancing around. The place was small but homey, shelves lined with small bags of cookies, muffins, and whatever else people liked to buy on impulse. It smelled good—annoyingly good.

You came back out a few moments later, balancing a cake box in your hands. “Here it is. Vanilla with chocolate frosting, right?”

“Beats me. Jean just said ‘get the damn cake.’”

You huffed a short laugh, setting it down and ringing it up. “Well, let’s hope she ordered what Rogue actually likes.” You gave him a once-over again, tilting your head slightly. “You new around here? Don’t think I’ve seen you before.”

Logan pulled out his wallet, shaking his head. “Been stayin’ at the mansion a while now. Just don’t do bakery runs.”

“Shame. You seem like the type to appreciate a good cinnamon roll.”

He gave you a flat look. “Dunno what that means.”

“It means you’re a grumpy bastard, and grumpy bastards usually like cinnamon rolls.” You smirked, sliding the cake box toward him. “I have a self-proclaimed ability to guess what people like. You’re either cinnamon roll or an apple pie.”

Logan huffed, eyeing you like he couldn’t decide if you were messing with him or just plain strange. “That so?”

“Mm-hmm.” You leaned on the counter, clearly entertained by his skepticism. “And my guesses are usually spot-on.”

Logan crossed his arms. “What if I don’t like either?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Then you’re just lying to yourself.”

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “This what you do? Size people up based on pastries?”

“Works better than you’d think.” You tapped the counter lightly. “So, which one is it? Cinnamon roll or apple pie?”

Logan gave you a flat look, then sighed. “Pie.”

You grinned like you’d just won a bet. “Knew it.”

“Tch. Lucky guess.” He grabbed the cake box and turned toward the door, already done with this conversation.

“Uh-huh, sure.” You leaned on the counter, watching him. “Come back when you’re not on a mission, and I’ll prove it.”

He paused, just for a second, then shook his head and walked out. The bell over the door chimed behind him.

“See you later, sugar,” you called after him.

He didn’t look back, but you swore you saw the faintest twitch of amusement before the door swung shut.

---

It had been a few months since the last time Logan had been over to your bakery. Then Scott and Ororo cornered him, telling him that “it was the least he could do for Jubilee.”

“I’m not goin’ to the damn bakery again.” Logan said, crossing his arms over his chest.

Scott sighed, unimpressed. “Logan, come on. It’s just a cake.”

“You say that like it’s a quick in-and-out job,” Logan grumbled. “Last time I went, I got roped into some damn conversation about cinnamon rolls.”

Ororo raised an eyebrow. “And that was… a problem?”

“Yes.”

Scott and Ororo exchanged a look.

“Look, Jean’s busy, and we’re in the middle of planning the party,” Scott said, folding his arms. “All you have to do is pick up the order. That’s it. No small talk, no distractions.”

Logan exhaled sharply. “Fine.”

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Scott smirked.

Logan ignored him, grabbed his jacket, and headed out.

---

The bakery smelled just as annoyingly good as last time. Logan stepped inside, tapping the bell on the counter once, hoping you wouldn’t be as chatty this time.

You appeared from the back, wiping your hands on your apron before looking up. The second you saw him, a slow grin spread across your face.

“Well, well. Thought I scared you off for good.”

Logan sighed. “M’just here for the cake.”

“Uh-huh.” You grabbed the order slip from the counter. “Jubilee’s birthday, right?”

He gave a short nod.

You disappeared into the back, and Logan leaned against the counter, arms crossed. The place wasn’t too busy, just a few customers sitting at the tables, chatting over coffee. It was cozy, warm, the kind of place people probably lingered in for hours. Not his thing.

You came back a moment later with a cake box, setting it down in front of him. “Vanilla with strawberry filling. I think she mentioned something about pink being mandatory.”

Logan pulled out his wallet. “You keep track of all your customers’ favorite cakes?”

You shrugged, ringing him up. “Just the regulars.”

He scoffed. “I ain’t a regular.”

“Not yet.” You smirked, handing him his change. “Though, I gotta admit, I’m a little disappointed.”

Logan frowned. “What now?”

“You never came back for me to prove I was right about the pie.”

He rolled his eyes. “Didn’t see a reason to.”

“Oh, there was a reason.” You leaned on the counter, tilting your head slightly. “You just didn’t wanna admit I was right. Which is why you can’t get the cake until you try a slice of pie.”

Logan narrowed his eyes. “You serious?”

“As a heart attack.” You crossed your arms, matching his stare with a smirk. “One bite. That’s all I’m asking.”

Logan exhaled sharply, glancing at the cake box like it might disappear if he didn’t grab it fast enough. “I don’t got time for this.”

“Oh, but you do.” You were already turning, heading for the back. “Sit tight.”

“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath, but he stayed put.

A minute later, you came back with a small plate, a fork, and a slice of apple pie. You set it down in front of him like you were presenting something sacred. “Here. Try it.”

Logan glanced around, already regretting this. A couple of customers had noticed, though no one was paying too much attention. Still, he felt like he was being set up. “This ain’t poisoned, is it?”

You snorted. “Please. If I wanted to take you out, I’d do it the old-fashioned way.”

“Comfortin’.” He picked up the fork, giving you one last look before taking a bite.

Warm, just the right amount of cinnamon, flaky crust—damn it. He hated when people were right.

You leaned on the counter, waiting expectantly. “Well?”

Logan chewed, swallowed, and grunted. “S’fine.”

Your grin widened. “Fine?”

“Yeah.” He took another bite, mostly out of spite. “Nothin’ special.”

“Oh, now you’re just lying.” You tapped the counter. “Admit it. I was right.”

Logan shoved another piece into his mouth, refusing to say anything.

You laughed, shaking your head. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

He pushed the plate back slightly and reached for the cake. “That enough of a taste test for ya?”

“For now.” You slid the cake toward him, clearly enjoying this way too much. “But next time? You’re trying the cinnamon roll.”

Logan grabbed the box and turned for the door. “Ain’t gonna be a next time.”

“Uh-huh, sure.”

The bell chimed as he stepped outside, but he caught your voice just before the door swung shut.

“See ya, sugar.”

---

The bell over the bakery door chimed as Logan stepped inside, hands shoved into his jacket pockets. He wasn’t entirely sure why he was here. No one sent him this time—no guilt trips from Jean, no nagging from Scott. Just… a damn craving, apparently.

You looked up from behind the counter, eyebrows lifting in surprise before a slow smirk tugged at your lips. “Well, well. Didn’t think I’d see you again so soon.”

Logan grunted, eyes flicking to the display case. “M’just here to pick somethin’ up.”

“Oh, sure. Totally believe that.” You leaned on the counter, chin resting in your palm. “Let me guess—apple pie?”

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “You’re way too smug about this.”

“Because I was right.” You straightened up and grabbed a slice of pie from the case, sliding it onto a small plate. “But, you know, since you’re here, might as well test another theory.”

Logan eyed you warily. “What theory?”

Without answering, you turned and grabbed something else, placing it next to the pie—a cinnamon roll, warm and fresh from the oven.

You tapped the counter. “Go on.”

Logan huffed. “I didn’t ask for that.”

“Consider it a challenge.” You smirked. “If you don’t like it, I’ll let you walk out of here without any ‘I told you so’s.’”

He eyed you, then the cinnamon roll, then back at you. “…And if I do?”

“Then I get to gloat forever.”

He shook his head, muttering something under his breath, but grabbed the plate anyway. Pulling out a few bills, he slid them across the counter.

You rang him up, watching as he hesitated before finally tearing off a piece of the cinnamon roll and popping it into his mouth.

His chewing slowed. You caught the slightest flicker of something—not quite annoyance, not quite satisfaction—before he swallowed.

“Well?” You leaned forward, grinning.

Logan picked up his plate. “M’leavin’.”

You laughed. “That good, huh? You know, you could just say ‘thank you’ like a normal person.”

Logan scoffed, tearing off another piece of the cinnamon roll. “Ain’t my style.”

You smirked, resting your elbows on the counter. “Yeah, no kidding. You’re more of the grumble and disappear type.”

He didn’t argue, just kept eating like acknowledging you would give you more reason to gloat. The place wasn’t too busy, which meant you had all the time in the world to mess with him—not exactly the outcome he was hoping for when he walked in.

“So, what’s the verdict?” You tapped your fingers against the counter. “Cinnamon roll or apple pie?”

Logan chewed, swallowed, and exhaled through his nose. “Pie.”

You gasped dramatically. “Wow. Just like that? No hesitation?”

“Nope.” He took another bite.

You shook your head, grinning. “That’s crazy. ’Cause it sure looks like you’re enjoying that cinnamon roll.”

Logan grunted, not meeting your eyes. “S’fine.”

“You said that about the pie, and look where we are now.” You rested your chin in your hand, watching him. “Face it, Logan. You’ve got a sweet tooth.”

“Tch.” He picked up the plate and turned toward the door, clearly done with this conversation.

“Don’t be a stranger, sugar,” you called after him.

He didn’t look back, but you caught the way his shoulders tensed—like he was fighting the urge to respond. The bell chimed as he stepped outside.

You smirked, already looking forward to the next time he walked through that door.

---

Usually, you did just fine lugging the large bag of flour from the crate to the kitchen, but after spending all day on your feet testing new recipes you weren’t exactly at your best.

You faintly heard the bell ring above the front door, and you called out “we’re closed!” before tugging the bag of flour again.

“You’re closed, huh?” A familiar gruff voice cut through the quiet.

You groaned, still struggling with the damn bag of flour. “Yeah, that’s what I said.”

Heavy footsteps approached, and before you could protest, the bag was lifted right out of your grip. You turned to see Logan holding it effortlessly like it weighed nothing.

You huffed. “You know, some people ask before just stepping in and taking over.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You were losin’ that fight.”

“I had it handled.”

“Sure you did.” He carried the bag through the doorway leading to the kitchen.

You followed, arms crossed. “What are you even doing here? You already got your sugar fix for the week.”

Logan set the bag down near the counter and dusted his hands off. “Needed somethin’ to do.”

You blinked. “So, out of all the places, you came here?”

He grunted, looking vaguely annoyed with himself. “Yeah, guess I did.”

You smirked, leaning against the counter. “Startin’ to think you like it here.”

Logan exhaled sharply. “Don’t push it.”

You tapped the counter lightly, still amused. “Well, since you’re here, you want something? Or are you just here to rescue me from my tragic battle with flour?”

Logan glanced around like he was debating whether he’d regret staying longer. Then his eyes landed on a tray of freshly baked cookies on the cooling rack.

You caught his look. “Ah. Now, let me use my special talent here—” You tapped your chin in mock thought. “You seem like a peanut butter guy.”

Logan scoffed. “Now you’re just makin’ stuff up.”

“Oh, am I?” You picked up a peanut butter cookie and held it out. “Go on. Prove me wrong.”

He stared at you, then at the cookie, then back at you. “This a new thing? You testin’ psychic powers on baked goods?”

“Just take the damn cookie, Logan.”

He rolled his eyes but took it, biting off a piece. His chewing slowed just slightly, the way it always did when he didn’t want to admit something was good.

You grinned. “Called it.”

Logan muttered something under his breath but didn’t stop eating.

You leaned on the counter, watching him. “So, what’s the excuse gonna be next time?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Next time?”

“Mhm. You keep coming back, whether it’s for cake, pie, or playing the hero with fifty-pound bags of flour.”

Logan finished the cookie and dusted off his hands. “You assumin’ a lot.”

“Oh, I don’t assume.” You smirked. “I just have a talent for predicting things.”

He shook his head and turned toward the door. “Don’t wait up.”

You grinned. “Bye bye, sugar bear.”

---

The next time Logan showed up, he didn’t say anything at first. Just walked in, hands shoved in his jacket pockets, and stood at the counter like he was already regretting the decision.

You looked up from the register, eyebrows raising. “Back again already?”

“Don’t start.”

You smirked. “Didn’t say anything.”

Logan gave you a look that said he didn’t believe that for a second. His eyes flicked to the display case, scanning over the usual selection. You leaned on the counter, waiting.

“So, what’ll it be?” You tapped your fingers against the counter. “Pie? Cinnamon roll? Maybe a cookie? I know a guy who’s a big fan of peanut butter.”

Logan exhaled, shaking his head. “Just coffee.”

You blinked. “Coffee?”

“Yeah. You got a problem with that?”

You tilted your head slightly. “I just figured if you were gonna show up unprompted, you’d at least pretend you weren’t here just for the free samples.”

He gave you a flat look. “M’not here for free samples.”

“Uh-huh.” You turned, grabbing a mug. “Black?”

“Yeah.”

You poured the coffee and slid it across the counter. Logan took it without a word, lifting it to his lips.

You watched him take a sip, arms crossed. “So, what’s the excuse this time?”

He lowered the mug slightly. “What?”

“You always have an excuse for coming in. First it was Jean, then Scott, then some tragic flour-related emergency.” You smirked. “What is it today? Did someone put you on coffee duty?”

Logan didn’t answer right away, just took another sip. “No excuse.”

Your smirk faltered slightly. “Huh.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” You shrugged, resting your elbows on the counter. “Just didn’t take you for the type to stop by for no reason.”

He grunted. “Maybe I just wanted coffee.”

“Maybe.” You studied him for a moment. “Or maybe you just wanted to see me.”

Logan huffed. “You’re pushin’ it.”

You grinned. “That wasn’t a no.”

He shook his head, setting the coffee down. “This place always this damn chatty?”

“Only when you’re here.”

Logan exhaled through his nose, but he didn’t argue. You took that as a win.

“Oh, I know somethin’ you can do for me.” You quickly ran into the backroom and grabbed a cooling scone—raspberry lime.

Logan eyed it with mild suspicion as you set it down in front of him. “What’s this?”

“A scone.”

He gave you a flat look. “I can see that.”

You smirked. “Then why’d you ask?”

Logan exhaled sharply, picking it up like it might bite him. “And I’m supposed to do what, exactly?”

“You’re supposed to eat it,” you said, leaning on the counter. “It’s a new recipe. Gotta make sure it’s good before I start selling them.”

His eyes narrowed slightly. “And you don’t got anyone else to taste-test this?”

“Not anyone who’ll give me an honest answer.” You tapped the counter lightly. “Customers are too polite, and the old ladies who come in every Sunday think everything I make is ‘just delightful.’ I need actual feedback.”

Logan looked at the scone like it was some kind of trap. “…It got any weird crap in it?”

“Weird crap?” You blinked. “It’s raspberry and lime. How is that weird?”

He grunted, still skeptical, but took a bite. His chewing slowed slightly, which you’d come to recognize as the telltale sign that he actually liked something but wasn’t about to admit it outright.

You grinned. “Well?”

Logan swallowed, then shrugged. “It’s fine.”

“Wow. High praise.”

He took another bite, shaking his head. “You want feedback or not?”

“Go on, then. Let’s hear it.”

He chewed thoughtfully, eyes flicking toward the ceiling like he was actually considering his words. “Not too sweet. Tart enough to keep it from bein’ boring. Texture’s good.” He paused, taking another bite. “Could use a little more lime.”

You tilted your head. “More lime?”

“Yeah.” He gestured vaguely with the scone. “You got the raspberry down, but the lime’s kinda fightin’ to be noticed.”

You pursed your lips, considering it. “Huh. Okay, I can work with that.”

Logan took another bite, looking vaguely annoyed with himself. “Didn’t expect you to actually listen.”

“I asked for feedback. What kind of baker would I be if I ignored it?” You smirked. “Besides, I already knew it was good—I just wanted to see if you’d admit it.”

He scoffed, setting the half-eaten scone down. “You’re a pain in the ass.”

“And yet, here you are. Again.”

Logan grunted, picking up his coffee. “Don’t make a big deal outta it.”

You grinned, tapping the counter. “No promises, sugar.”

---

The bell above the bakery door chimed, and you barely glanced up from where you were wiping down the counter. “We’re closed,” you called automatically.

“You keep sayin’ that, and yet, here I am,” came a familiar gruff voice.

You looked up, smirking as Logan stood at the counter, hands shoved into his jacket pockets like he was already regretting coming in. “Back again already? Thought you were done giving me a hard time.”

He grunted, eyes flicking toward the display case. “Just get me a coffee.”

You arched an eyebrow but didn’t question it, grabbing a mug and pouring it fresh. As you slid it across the counter, you tapped your fingers against the wood. “You know, most people would just admit they like a place instead of making up excuses to show up.”

Logan wrapped his hands around the mug, not looking at you. “Ain’t an excuse. Just needed coffee.”

“Sure.” You leaned on the counter, watching him. “So, what was it this time? Jean send you? Scott? Or did another bag of flour need rescuing?”

He exhaled sharply through his nose. “No reason.”

That gave you pause. You tilted your head slightly. “Huh.”

Logan frowned. “What?”

“Nothing.” You smirked, clearly amused. “Just didn’t take you for the type to stop by for no reason.”

He gave you a flat look. “You got somethin’ against repeat customers?”

“Oh, no. I love my regulars.” You grinned. “Especially the grumpy ones.”

Logan shook his head, lifting the mug to his lips. He didn’t argue, which only made you more smug.

---

The next time Logan came in, it wasn’t for coffee.

The place was quiet—late enough in the evening that most customers were long gone. You were behind the counter, finishing up some inventory, when the bell chimed.

You looked up, brows lifting. “You know, I could just give you a key at this point.”

Logan ignored that, stepping up to the counter. “What’s good today?”

You gave him an exaggerated gasp. “You’re finally asking for a recommendation? I’m honored.”

He sighed. “Just tell me what’s good.”

You smirked, grabbing a plate and sliding a freshly baked hand pie onto it. “Figured I’d experiment today—blackberry and bourbon.”

Logan picked up the hand pie, giving it a brief once-over before taking a bite. He chewed, swallowed, then gave a short nod. “Not bad.”

You put a hand over your heart. “Wow. Practically a glowing review.”

Logan rolled his eyes, but something about the interaction had softened. He stayed leaning against the counter, glancing at the cooling trays behind you. “So, you always wanted to do this?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Do what?”

“This.” He gestured vaguely. “The whole bakery thing.”

You shrugged. “Pretty much. Always liked baking, figured I might as well get paid for it.”

Logan hummed in acknowledgment, taking another bite. He didn’t say anything for a while, but he didn’t leave either.

After a few beats of silence, you decided to return the question. “What about you?”

He glanced up. “What about me?”

You leaned on the counter. “You always wanted to be a broody loner who shows up at small businesses unannounced?”

Logan exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “You’re a real pain in the ass, you know that?”

You grinned. “Yeah, but I grow on people.”

“We’ll see about that.”

But he didn’t leave.

---

You had a habit of observing people. It came with the job—regulars had patterns, little quirks that gave away more than they realized.

Logan was no different.

The third or fourth time he came in, you started noticing them. The way his eyes scanned the room the second he stepped inside, like he was cataloging everything. How he never sat with his back to the door. How his shoulders only slightly relaxed after a few minutes, like he was still debating if he should be here at all.

“You’re always on guard.”

Logan, who had just taken a sip of coffee, lowered the mug slightly. “What?”

“You’re always watching everything,” you said, casually wiping down the counter. “Like you’re waiting for something to go wrong.”

Logan’s expression flickered—just for a second. “Force of habit.”

You nodded. “Figured.”

That was it. No prodding, no pushing. Just an acknowledgment.

Logan’s fingers tapped against the side of his mug. “That a problem?”

“Nope.” You smirked. “Just an observation.”

Logan held your gaze for a second longer, then shook his head. “You notice too much.”

“Perks of the job.” You leaned forward slightly. “You know what else I noticed?”

He sighed. “What now?”

“You linger.”

Logan frowned. “The hell does that mean?”

“You stick around longer each time.” You grinned. “Almost like you enjoy being here.”

Logan grunted, grabbing his coffee. “You’re annoyin’.”

“And yet, here you are.”

He didn’t argue.

---

The bell above the bakery door chimed, right on schedule. You smirked to yourself as you wiped your hands on your apron. Logan had been showing up like clockwork now—never admitting it, of course, but his routine spoke for itself.

When you turned around, you were already holding out a plate.

Logan narrowed his eyes. “What’s this?”

You set it on the counter with a flourish. “Leftover peanut butter cookies. Tragic, really. If only someone around here liked them.”

Logan exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “You plannin’ on feedin’ me every time I come in?”

“Would you complain if I was?” You leaned on the counter, raising an eyebrow.

He grumbled something under his breath but grabbed a cookie anyway, biting into it like he was proving a point.

You smirked. “Thought so.”

Logan chewed, swallowed, then gestured toward the plate. “These actually extra?”

You tilted your head. “Does it matter?”

His jaw flexed slightly, like he didn’t know how to respond. Instead of answering, he just grabbed another cookie.

You grinned.

---

It had been a long day. A really long day.

One of the ovens had decided to throw a tantrum, a supplier had screwed up an order, and to top it off, you still had to prep for a catering job in the morning.

You didn’t even look up when the bell chimed. “We’re closed,” you called tiredly, shoving a crate of flour toward the back.

“Yeah, yeah.”

You blinked, glancing up to see Logan standing near the counter, arms crossed.

You huffed. “Starting to think you don’t understand what closed means.”

Logan ignored that, glancing around at the half-prepped trays, the mess of ingredients still covering the counter. “You runnin’ this place by yourself?”

“Yep.” You exhaled, pushing hair out of your face. “Well, mostly. Sometimes I hire help for big orders.”

Logan grunted, then—without a word—walked past the counter, grabbed the flour bag you had been struggling with, and lifted it like it weighed nothing.

You blinked. “Uh—what are you—”

“Where’s it goin’?”

You stared at him. “You do realize you don’t work here, right?”

Logan gave you a flat look. “You askin’ me to leave?”

You hesitated, then sighed. “Corner shelf, second row.”

He carried it over like it was nothing, then turned back expectantly.

You crossed your arms. “What, you lookin’ for a job now?”

Logan snorted. “You couldn’t afford me.”

“Oh, please.” You smirked. “I’d pay you in coffee and pie. You’d be set for life.”

He shook his head but didn’t argue. Instead, he glanced around the kitchen again. “What else?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Are you helping?”

“Tch.” He grabbed another crate before you could protest. “You’re losin’ this fight, just let it happen.”

You watched him work for a moment, a little stunned. You weren’t used to people sticking around just to help. It wasn’t a grand gesture, wasn’t something he was making a big deal out of—it was just Logan, stepping in like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You turned back to your work, shaking your head with a small smile.

“Fine,” you muttered. “But you’re not getting paid.”

Logan grunted. “Figures.”

---

It was late—too late. You should’ve locked up an hour ago, but you were dragging your feet, finishing up inventory while Logan sat at one of the tables with his usual coffee.

You glanced over at him. He had been coming around more, sticking around longer. He never said why, and you never asked. It was just… the way things had settled.

“You always this restless?” you asked, breaking the quiet.

Logan glanced up. “What?”

“You always show up late.” You leaned against the counter. “Ever sleep?”

He scoffed. “Not much.”

You tilted your head slightly. “Because you can’t, or because you don’t want to?”

Something flickered in his expression. He looked down at his coffee, fingers tapping against the side of the mug. “Both.”

You studied him for a moment. “Bad dreams?”

Logan didn’t answer right away. Then, quietly—so quiet you almost missed it—he muttered, “Somethin’ like that.”

You didn’t push. You could’ve asked more, pried for details, but that wasn’t how this worked. Instead, you just nodded.

“I get it,” you said simply.

Logan looked at you, something unreadable in his eyes. “Yeah?”

You shrugged. “Yeah.”

The silence stretched, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Just… understanding.

Logan took another sip of his coffee, then exhaled. “You should lock up.”

You smirked. “You gonna tell me what to do now?”

He stood, grabbing his jacket. “Don’t need to. You’re already dead on your feet.”

You huffed. “You know, for a guy who claims he doesn’t care, you sure do act like you do.”

Logan pulled his jacket on, not looking at you. “Get some sleep, Y/N.”

You watched as he headed for the door, shaking your head with a small smile.

“Night, sugar bear,” you called after him.

He didn’t look back, but you saw the way his shoulders tensed—like he was fighting the urge to respond.

The bell chimed as the door swung shut.

---

By now, Logan had stopped making excuses for why he kept coming back. He still didn’t admit anything, but you noticed the pattern—how he always came in around closing time, how he lingered longer each visit.

Tonight was no different.

The bell chimed, and you barely looked up from wiping down the espresso machine. “Y’know, if you’re gonna keep doing this, I really should just give you a key.”

Logan grunted, stepping inside. “Don’t need one.”

You smirked. “Because you’d just break in?”

“Somethin’ like that.”

You rolled your eyes, finishing up before leaning on the counter. “So, what’ll it be? Coffee? Something sweet? Or are you just here to loiter?”

Logan didn’t answer right away. He walked over to his usual seat—the one near the window, back to the wall—and sat down with a sigh.

“No coffee,” he muttered.

That was new.

You eyed him. “Rough night?”

He exhaled sharply but didn’t answer. That was answer enough.

Without another word, you grabbed a mug, poured something fresh, and set it on the table in front of him.

“I thought I said no coffee.”

You sat across from him, propping your chin on your hand. “It’s tea.”

Logan frowned at it. “The hell do I look like, some kinda tea-drinkin’—”

“—Just drink it, Logan.”

He huffed but didn’t argue. Took a sip. Grunted.

You smirked. “Good, right?”

“...It’s fine.”

You leaned back, watching him. “You don’t have to talk, you know.”

Logan raised an eyebrow.

You shrugged. “Just saying. If you wanna sit here in broody silence for an hour, I won’t stop you.”

He stared at you for a long moment, something unreadable passing behind his expression. Then, slowly, he leaned back in his chair, sipping his tea.

Neither of you said anything else for a while.

But he stayed.

---

You had dealt with rude customers before. It came with the job—some people were just assholes. But most of the time, they were harmless.

Most of the time.

Tonight, some guy had been giving you a hard time—complaining about his order, getting a little too close, sneering in that way that immediately put you on edge.

“You got a problem with your ears, sweetheart? I said extra caramel—”

“I heard you,” you said, forcing yourself to stay calm. “But that’s not what you ordered.”

The guy scoffed, leaning over the counter. “So now you’re callin’ me a liar?”

Before you could answer, a familiar voice cut through the tension like a knife.

“She ain’t callin’ you anythin’.”

Logan was right there—sudden and solid, standing just slightly in front of you.

The guy turned, sizing Logan up. “And who the hell are you supposed to be?”

Logan didn’t answer. Just held his gaze, silent, still.

You had seen Logan fight before—you knew what he was capable of—but sometimes, it didn’t take claws or violence. Sometimes, it was just him, standing there, making someone realize they’d made a mistake.

The guy swallowed.

“Forget it,” he muttered, grabbing his coffee and leaving without another word.

The door shut behind him, and for a moment, the bakery was silent.

You exhaled. “Well. That was fun.”

Logan turned, looking you over like he was checking for something. “You alright?”

You smirked. “Aww, you care.”

Logan grunted. “Don’t start.”

You crossed your arms. “What, no dramatic one-liner? No ‘stay away from her’ speech?”

“Didn’t need one.”

You shook your head, still smirking. “You’re ridiculous.”

Logan didn’t answer. Just grumbled under his breath and went back to his seat, like nothing had happened.

But you noticed the way he didn’t touch his drink for a while—like he was still too on edge to relax.

---

“You’re actually serious about this.”

Logan stood at the entrance of the farmers’ market, arms crossed, looking very unamused by the whole thing.

You grinned. “Yep.”

“You dragged me here.”

“Oh, please. No one drags you anywhere. You came willingly.”

He grunted but didn’t argue.

You had invited him on a whim, half-expecting him to say no. But to your surprise, he had shown up—grumbling the whole way, sure, but still.

The market was lively—small tents, fresh produce, the smell of roasted coffee and warm pastries in the air. It was a nice change from the usual bakery setting.

Logan, however, looked wildly out of place.

“You look miserable,” you teased, nudging him.

“’Cause I am miserable.”

“You sure? ’Cause I saw you eyeing those smoked meats at the last booth.”

Logan huffed. “That don’t mean I wanna be here.”

You smirked. “Mhm. Keep telling yourself that.”

Still, he stuck close to you as you weaved through the booths. He didn’t complain when you stopped to look at pastries, didn’t roll his eyes too hard when you bought something ridiculous just because it “looked cute.”

At one point, you handed him a fresh apple cider donut.

Logan frowned. “What’s this for?”

“Because you look like you wanna kill someone, and I need you to chill.”

He gave you a look but took a bite anyway.

You grinned. “See? Was that so hard?”

Logan just grumbled around his donut.

You took that as a win.

---

Logan, for the first time in a while, came to your bakery for an order. It was for the Valentine’s Day party at the mansion and Jean and Ororo put him on pickup duty.

It was close to 3 pm when he arrived and the sign on the door was already turned to CLOSED.

He opened the door and walked in, the bell ringing above.

You were behind the counter, carefully arranging a tray of macarons into a pastry box. You glanced up at the sound, then smirked when you saw who it was.

“Ah, my favorite grump. Here for the party order?”

Logan grunted, stepping closer. “Jean and Ro made me do it.”

“Of course they did.” You shut the box and slid it across the counter. “Bunch of heart-shaped macarons, just as requested—raspberry, chocolate, vanilla bean, and peanut butter.”

Logan eyed the box, then flicked his gaze back to you. You looked… different. Dressed up. Not overly fancy, but enough to make him pause. His brows pulled together slightly.

“You got plans or somethin’?”

You tilted your head. “What?”

He gestured vaguely. “You’re dressed up.”

You raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Why, you jealous?”

Logan scoffed. “Ain’t jealous. Just askin’.”

You hummed, clearly entertained. “No date, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

Logan crossed his arms. “Didn’t say nothin’ about a date.”

You grinned. “Mhm. Well, in case you were wondering, Jean invited me to the party.”

His expression flickered—something unreadable for half a second—before he exhaled sharply. “That right?”

“Yep.” You grabbed another small box from behind the counter and handed it to him. “These are yours, by the way.”

Logan frowned slightly, opening the box. Inside were four macarons, but unlike the ones in the party order, these were regular round ones.

“Didn’t think you’d want heart-shaped ones,” you said, watching his reaction.

He stared at them for a moment. “These the same flavors?”

“Yep. One of each.” You leaned on the counter, smirking. “Figured you’d appreciate the peanut butter one the most.”

Logan huffed. “You really don’t let up, huh?”

“Nope.”

He shook his head but didn’t argue. Just shut the box and grabbed the party order. “C’mon. I’ll give you a ride.”

You blinked. “What?”

Logan gestured toward the door. “Party’s at the mansion, ain’t it? You’re goin’, I’m goin’. Might as well save you the trip.”

You smirked, grabbing your coat. “And how exactly are these macarons supposed to survive on a motorcycle?”

Logan gave you a flat look. “I got it handled.”

You chuckled, stepping around the counter. “Alright, sugar bear. Let’s see what you got.”

He grumbled something under his breath but held the door open for you anyway.

You stepped outside, pulling your coat tighter as the cool air hit. Logan followed, already heading toward his bike.

You stopped short, staring at it. “Okay, I gotta ask—where exactly are these macarons supposed to go? You got some hidden pastry compartment I don’t know about?”

Logan shot you a look. “I said I got it handled.”

You crossed your arms. “That’s not an answer.”

He exhaled sharply, then crouched slightly, reaching for the saddlebag attached to the side of his bike. With practiced ease, he unlatched it, revealing a snug, padded compartment inside.

You raised an eyebrow. “That’s… oddly convenient.”

Logan shrugged. “Picked it up a while back. Good for keepin’ shit from gettin’ smashed.”

You smirked. “So, what you’re saying is, this is a dessert-safe motorcycle?”

He grunted, carefully placing the boxes inside. “Sure.”

You shook your head, amused. “You are full of surprises, sugar bear.”

Logan ignored that, straightening up before turning to you. “You ever been on a bike before?”

You hesitated. “…Define ‘been on a bike.’”

His expression flattened. “That a no?”

“Not a no. More like a… not exactly.”

Logan exhaled through his nose. “Great.” He swung a leg over and sat, steadying the bike before nodding toward you. “C’mon.”

You gave him a look. “You’re just assuming I’m gonna get on?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You got another ride?”

You huffed, stepping forward. “Fine, but if we crash, I’m haunting you.”

Logan scoffed. “Yeah, yeah. Foot on the peg, swing your leg over, and don’t make a damn production out of it.”

You did as he said, slightly awkward but managing without embarrassing yourself. Once seated, you hesitated, hands hovering near his back.

“…Where am I supposed to hold?”

Logan didn’t answer right away. Then, without looking back, he reached for your wrists and pulled your arms around his waist. “Here.”

You blinked, caught off guard, but didn’t argue. His body was solid under your hands, radiating warmth even through his jacket.

“This gonna be a problem?” he asked, clearly amused.

You huffed. “Not unless you do something stupid.”

Logan smirked, kicking the bike to life. “Hang on, doll.”

You rolled your eyes but tightened your grip around his waist. The engine rumbled beneath you, the vibration humming through your chest as Logan eased the bike forward. The cool night air bit at your skin, but the warmth of him under your hands made up for it.

As he pulled onto the road, you couldn’t help but squeeze your arms a little tighter. Not out of fear—just instinct. Logan didn’t say anything about it, but you could feel the shift in his posture, the slightest adjustment like he was making sure you were steady.

The ride was smooth, surprisingly so. Logan handled the bike with an ease that made you wonder just how many times he’d done this before. The streets of Westchester blurred past, streetlights casting a golden glow over the pavement.

After a few minutes, you leaned forward slightly. “So, be honest. How often do you use the whole ‘wanna ride?’ line to impress women?”

Logan snorted. “You think I need a line?”

You scoffed. “Wow. That cocky, huh?”

He smirked, though you couldn’t see it. “Ain’t about bein’ cocky, darlin’. Just statin’ facts.”

You shook your head, amused. “Uh-huh. Well, just so you know, I’m only impressed if we get there in one piece.”

Logan huffed. “You doubtin’ my drivin’?”

“I mean, I don’t want to, but I’ve also seen how you drive a car, and—”

“That was one time,” he grumbled.

“And yet, Scott still won’t let you near the X-Jet.”

“One crash, and suddenly nobody trusts ya.”

You laughed, resting your chin lightly against his back. “You’re ridiculous.”

Logan didn’t respond, but you felt his chest rise and fall with a short, quiet chuckle.

The rest of the ride was mostly silent, save for the occasional gust of wind and the steady roar of the engine. It wasn’t bad, you realized. The night air, the open road, the way Logan rode like he belonged there—it was… nice.

After a while, the looming gates of the Xavier Institute came into view. Logan slowed the bike, coasting up the long driveway before finally coming to a stop near the entrance.

As the engine cut off, you let out a breath and loosened your grip. Logan tilted his head slightly. “Not bad for your first time?”

You huffed. “I mean, I survived, so I’d call it a win.”

He smirked. “Told ya I had it handled.”

You slid off the bike, stretching your legs. “Alright, sugar bear. Let’s get these macarons inside before Jean hunts us down.”

Logan grunted but grabbed the boxes from the saddlebag, handing you yours before leading the way inside. The moment you stepped through the doors, the distant sound of music and chatter spilled into the hallway.

You smirked. “Sounds like the party’s in full swing.”

Logan rolled his eyes. “Great.”

You nudged him playfully. “Oh, come on. It won’t kill you to be social for one night.”

He gave you a look. “Wanna bet?”

Before you could respond, a familiar voice cut in.

“There you guys are!”

Jean appeared from around the corner, arms crossed but a knowing smirk on her lips. “Was starting to think you got lost.”

Logan grunted, holding up the pastry box. “Got your damn macarons, didn’t we?”

Jean took them, amused. “And you made it in one piece. I’ll call that a success.” She glanced at you, smirk widening. “Enjoy the ride?”

You crossed your arms, smirking right back. “I mean, I was mildly impressed. Didn’t even have to cling to him for dear life.”

Logan exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “I hate both of ya.”

Jean just laughed. “Come on, you two. Let’s get to the party.”

You followed her down the hall, Logan trailing behind you like he was already regretting every life decision that led him to this moment. The music grew louder as you got closer, and when Jean pushed open the doors to the common room, the full chaos of the Valentine’s party hit you.

Streamers, heart-shaped balloons, and way too much red and pink covered every inch of the space. A long table near the wall was packed with snacks, desserts—including your macarons—and an absolutely massive punch bowl that looked suspiciously spiked.

“Oh, this is festive,” you mused, glancing around.

“Festive’s one word for it,” Logan muttered.

Jean handed off the box of macarons to Ororo, who grinned when she saw you. “Glad you made it!”

“Of course,” you said, smirking. “Wouldn’t miss an excuse to see Logan suffer through social interaction.”

Ororo chuckled. “Well, you’re in luck, because he can’t sneak out this time. Scott already said if he disappears before midnight, he’s getting put on dish duty for the next month.”

You turned to Logan. “I like this rule.”

Logan just grunted. “’S bullshit.”

Jean smirked. “Then you better stick around.”

Ororo pulled you away toward the dessert table before Logan could complain more. “Come on, you have to try some of the punch before Bobby finishes it off.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s just straight-up vodka at this point,” you said, eyeing the bowl.

“Exactly.”

You laughed but let her pour you a cup. The party was already in full swing—students dancing, music blasting, people laughing over whatever nonsense was happening near the pool table. It was easy, fun, not a bad way to spend a night.

Logan, however, looked like he wanted to be anywhere else. He had posted up near the bar, arms crossed, sipping a beer while occasionally glaring at anyone who got too close.

You made your way over, drink in hand. “Having fun?”

He gave you a flat look.

You grinned. “That bad, huh?”

He sighed. “Too loud.”

“Aw, poor thing,” you teased, nudging him. “Bet you’d rather be back at the bakery eating peanut butter cookies in broody silence.”

Logan took a sip of his beer. “Damn right.”

You smirked, leaning against the bar. “Well, if you survive the night, maybe I’ll consider rewarding you with some.”

His eyes flicked toward you, something unreadable in his expression. “That so?”

“Maybe.” You took a sip of your drink. “Depends on how grumpy you get.”

Logan scoffed but didn’t argue. Instead, he watched you over the rim of his bottle, like he was figuring something out.

Before either of you could say anything else, Rogue appeared, grinning. “Oh, good, you’re both here.”

You raised an eyebrow. “That’s never a good sign.”

“I need you two for somethin’.”

Logan immediately shook his head. “No.”

Rogue rolled her eyes. “You don’t even know what it is.”

“Don’t need to.”

She ignored him and turned to you. “We’re playin’ Seven Minutes in Heaven.”

You nearly choked on your drink. “You’re what?”

Rogue smirked. “C’mon, it’s tradition. Just pick a name outta the hat.”

Logan was already turning to leave. “Hell no.”

You grabbed his arm before he could make an escape. “Oh, come on, sugar. Don’t be a coward.”

He shot you a look. “I ain’t playin’ some dumbass game.”

Rogue crossed her arms. “Then you gotta do dish duty for a month.”

Logan clenched his jaw.

You grinned. “I like this rule.”

Logan exhaled sharply, then snatched a name from the hat. He glanced at it, scowled, then crumpled the paper in his fist. “This is stupid.”

Rogue smirked, looking at you. “Your turn.”

You sighed, reaching into the hat. When you unfolded the paper, your eyes widened slightly.

Logan.

You looked up, meeting his gaze. His expression was unreadable, but you caught the slight twitch of his jaw.

Rogue clapped her hands together. “Welp, you know the rules. Closet’s that way.”

You turned to Logan, smirking. “Guess we’re doin’ this.”

He huffed. “Guess so.”

Rogue practically shoved you both toward the closet, grinning. “Have fun, lovebirds.”

The door shut behind you with a click.

You turned to Logan, arms crossed. “So. This is happening.”

He exhaled sharply. “Tch.”

The space wasn’t exactly roomy. You were standing close, close enough to catch the scent of cigar smoke and something warm, familiar.

You smirked. “You look like you’d rather fight Sabretooth again than be in here right now.”

Logan rolled his eyes. “Ain’t far off.”

You chuckled, then leaned back slightly. “Relax, sugar. It’s just a game.”

He studied you for a moment, then shook his head. “You really don’t let up, do ya?”

“Nope.”

Silence stretched between you. There was something… different about being this close, no bar or counter between you, nothing but the dim glow of light filtering under the door.

Your gaze flicked to his lips, just for a second, before you looked back up at his eyes. His expression was unreadable, but there was something else there—something you couldn’t quite place.

You raised an eyebrow. “What’re you thinking?”

Logan exhaled slowly, then smirked. “You really wanna know?”

You tilted your head. “Yeah.”

He leaned in slightly, just enough to make your breath catch.

“…Thinkin’ this is a real stupid game,” he muttered.

You huffed a laugh, shaking your head. “Terrible answer.”

Logan grunted, crossing his arms. “Yeah, well. Ain’t much of a game to begin with.”

You smirked, leaning back against the closet wall. “You know, for someone who acts like he doesn’t give a damn about party games, you sure are committed to standing here in silence.”

Logan shot you a look. “Ain’t like I got a choice.”

“You always got a choice, sugar,” you mused, tilting your head. “Could’ve taken dish duty.”

“Rather be in here than deal with Scott’s bitchin’.”

You chuckled. “That’s fair.”

Silence stretched between you again. The closet wasn’t big, barely enough space for both of you without standing close. Logan stayed where he was, arms crossed, shoulders tense.

You tapped your fingers against the wall, glancing at him. “You ever actually played this before?”

He exhaled sharply. “What, you think I spent my younger years crammed in closets with gigglin’ teenagers?”

You grinned. “I dunno, Logan. You’ve been around a while. Gotta imagine at least one girl managed to talk you into it.”

He huffed. “Ain’t my thing.”

“Yeah, I figured.” You shifted, crossing one leg over the other. “You don’t really seem like the party type. More of a ‘drink alone in a dive bar and pretend you don’t wanna talk to anyone’ kinda guy.”

Logan shot you a dry look. “You got me all figured out, huh?”

You tapped your temple. “I’m observant.”

He didn’t answer, but you caught the slight twitch of amusement at the corner of his mouth.

You let the silence linger for a beat before speaking again. “You know, seven minutes is a long time. You might as well entertain me.”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “Entertain you?”

“Yeah. Tell me something.”

He scoffed. “Ain’t got nothin’ to say.”

“Oh, I doubt that,” you mused. “You just don’t like talking.”

Logan rolled his eyes. “You do enough of that for both of us.”

You pressed a hand to your chest. “You wound me, sugar bear.”

He exhaled sharply. “Don’t call me that.”

“You never complain when I say it outside of a closet.”

“’Cause outside of a closet, I can walk away.”

You smirked. “You sure about that? ’Cause last time I checked, you keep coming back.”

Logan grunted, looking away. “This is the longest seven minutes of my goddamn life.”

“Oh, come on. You’re having fun.”

“The hell I am.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Alright, fine. If you’re not gonna talk, I’ll just have to fill the silence myself.”

Logan sighed. “Fantastic.”

You ignored his sarcasm and leaned your head back against the wall. “Alright, let’s see… Did I ever tell you about the time a guy tried to rob me with a butter knife?”

That actually got Logan’s attention. His brows pulled together slightly. “The hell?”

You grinned. “Yeah. Came in one night, all twitchy, pulls a damn butter knife from his sleeve like it was supposed to be intimidating. Told me to empty the register.”

Logan tilted his head. “What’d you do?”

You smirked. “Took the knife out of his hand and gave him a scone.”

Logan stared at you, then shook his head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I prefer resourceful,” you said, grinning. “Besides, guy was clearly desperate. Didn’t have the heart to kick his ass.”

Logan grunted. “Lucky for him.”

“Lucky for me, too. He actually came back a week later with a real apology. Bought a dozen muffins.”

Logan huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Only you.”

You shrugged, clearly pleased with yourself. “Hey, you’re the one who said I talk too much. This is what you get. I could also talk about the time my cousin carpooled with—”

Logan cut you off mid-sentence. Not with a glare, not with a grumble—no, this time, he shut you up the only way that was guaranteed to work.

By kissing you.

It was sudden, barely enough time to react before he stepped forward, backing you up until your shoulders hit the wall. His hand came up, palm pressing flat beside your head, caging you in without a single word.

Your breath caught, brain short-circuiting for half a second before instinct kicked in. You kissed him back, fingers curling slightly at your sides like you were debating grabbing onto him.

Logan didn’t rush it—didn’t press too hard, didn’t let it turn into something it wasn’t meant to be. But it was firm, deliberate, enough to make your knees feel just a little weak.

And then, just as suddenly as it started, he pulled back.

The closet felt even smaller than before.

For a few long, charged moments, neither of you said anything. You were still pressed against the wall, Logan still close, his hand still braced by your head. His eyes flicked over your face, scanning for something, though you weren’t sure what.

Your heart was pounding, but you weren’t about to be the one to break first.

So, instead, you smirked, tilting your head slightly. “So… does this mean you’re my valentine now?”

Logan exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “You never let up, do ya?”

“Nope.” Your grin widened. “Not even after being dramatically kissed in a broom closet.”

Logan huffed, but he didn’t move away. He stayed right there, close enough that you could still feel his warmth, still smell the faint trace of whiskey and cigar smoke clinging to his jacket.

You tapped a finger against his chest. “I mean, you did just make a pretty big statement. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you actually like me.”

Logan grunted. “Don’t push it.”

You grinned. “That wasn’t a no.” You reached up, tapping his bottom lip with your finger, “c’mon sugar bear. Would I really be that bad of a valentine?”

Logan exhaled sharply through his nose, eyes flicking between yours. "You’re real pushy, you know that?"

You smirked. "And yet, here you are. In a closet. With me." Your finger was still resting against his lip, and you tapped it lightly, just to mess with him. "So, sugar bear, what’s the verdict?"

Logan caught your wrist before you could do it again, his grip firm but not rough. "That name’s gonna be the death of me."

"You’ll survive." You grinned. "So? Valentine or not?"

Logan didn’t answer right away. He still hadn’t let go of your wrist, his thumb brushing absently against your skin like he hadn’t noticed he was doing it. His gaze flickered down to your lips, then back up, his jaw tightening slightly like he was debating something.

Then, without a word, he let go, stepping back just enough to put space between you.

You arched an eyebrow. "That’s it?"

Logan crossed his arms. "What else you want, a damn serenade?"

"Well, now that you mention it—"

"Not happenin’."

You chuckled, tilting your head. "Alright, fine. No singing. But I’ll take that kiss as a yes."

Logan scoffed. "You assume too much."

"Mm. Do I?" You tapped your chin in mock thought. "You kissed me. Didn’t push me away. Didn’t tell me to shut up. And now you’re looking at me like you’re still considerin’ round two."

Logan’s jaw ticked. "You’re real smug."

"You like it," you shot back easily.

He didn’t confirm or deny it. Just exhaled sharply and ran a hand through his hair.

"Alright," you said, watching him. "Since you clearly can’t admit it, I’ll do it for you. Logan Howlett, the grumpiest man in Westchester, is officially my Valentine."

Logan rolled his eyes. "You’re impossible."

"And yet, here you are," you teased, throwing his own words back at him.

Logan shook his head, but the corner of his mouth twitched—just barely, but you caught it. "You done yet?"

"Not even close." You smirked, reaching for the doorknob. "But I’ll give you a break… for now."

Before you could turn it, Logan caught your wrist again, stopping you.

You raised an eyebrow. "Changed your mind?"

He didn’t answer right away. Just held your gaze for a second longer than necessary before he muttered, low and gruff, "you talk too much."

Then he kissed you again.

This time, there was no hesitation. No half-measures. Just Logan pressing you back against the closet wall, one hand curling around your waist, the other braced beside your head. The kiss was slower this time, deliberate, like he wanted to make sure you wouldn’t talk your way out of it.

Not that you were planning to.

You grinned against his lips, fisting the front of his jacket and pulling him closer. "See?" you murmured. "Told you you liked me."

Logan grunted but didn’t stop kissing you. Didn’t pull away.

Didn’t even argue.

i hope this was valentine-y enough! <3

[svgarseason]

𖹭 cw: fluff, suggestive, mdni

You really threw a wrench in mean bf sukuna's plans when you totally forgot about Valentine's day. You told him from the start that you didn't care about stuff like that, but he thought you were just playing the Cool Girl™. Realistically, all girls care about that shit. It's ingrained in their fluffy, pink, little brains, right? You're going to be mad as hell when he tricks you into believing he's completely ignored your first Valentine's day together.

That works just fine for mean bf sukuna, who just so happens to think you're super hot when you're mad. So, he ignores you all day while he shops. He smirks to himself as he thinks about how you must be scowling at your phone screen, waiting for a text that never comes. He outright laughs when he imagines the shock on your face when you see what he has planned for you. Maybe you'll do that thing where you bang your fists on his chest while he pulls your body against his. Maybe your eyes will be shiny with tears when you look up at him and say, "I thought you forgot!"

Turns out he's the one scowling at the screen when the whole day passes without a peep from you until you text him "picking me up?" Just before your shift ends.

"Yeah, I guess," he grumbles as he types it out. What kind of passive aggressive, feminine sorcery is this anyway?

His scowl only deepens as he listens to you chatter on about your busy day the whole ride home. You don't seem angry at all. In fact, you plop down next to him on the couch, as usual, practically sitting on top of him as you giggle at the TV and dig into your dinner. You don't even notice that he hasn't touched his own food. He's actually getting pissed in a serious way. And he looks it, even more so than usual, you notice. You fucking finally notice. "What's your problem?" You ask around a mouthful of your favorite takeout.

"Tch, nothing," he says, crossing his arms and looking away. Is he... is he really pouting?

"If you say so," you shrug. You know better than to press him too much, unless you want him angrier and even less prone to discussion. "I'm gonna get changed," you say as you stand to head towards the bedroom.

"No!" He says, just a little too loud.

"Why not?" You ask narrowing your eyes at him over your shoulder.

He would have physically stopped you, but you're a little too small and a little too quick not to slip through his grasping fingers.

"What's all this?" You ask, standing in your bedroom doorway staring at the array of pink and red bags, flowers, your favorite candies and snacks.

mean bf sukuna winces at the sight of the veritable mountain of gifts he had spent the day heaping on the linens. He may have gotten a little carried away, but he kept thinking of things. That bag you pointed out at the mall. And the necklace. And the sunglasses. Then he remembered you said you wanted to go to that concert, so he got tucked the tickets into your card. Then he thought you'd want to wear those shoes you pointed out.

"Oh, my god," you say in a small voice. "It's Valentine's day. I totally forgot."

You turn to him, but the apology that was on your lips dies in a fit of laughter when you see his face is as red as the gift wrap.

"You'll pay for that, brat," he growls as he tosses you right on top of the pile, fully intent on getting his money's worth out of you.

[hipstersfoundmyrobot]

Over the past ten years, Danny Fenton’s life has been a whirlwind, and that’s an understatement. Nonetheless, despite being the Ghost King and a consultant for the JLD as Phantom, Danny’s life is ordinary. Or as ordinary as a halfa king could manage.

Danny remembers being 17 and feeling so helpless and overwhelmed, especially when Jazz moved away for college. He didn’t expect that to be the end of his struggles. His sister coming back for Christmas break with the Justice League in tow was not on his bingo card, nor were his parents and Vlad being tried for supervillainy or the Anti-Ecto Acts and the GIW being a hoax. However, according to Tucker, the most surprising part of their senior year was their trio graduating with near-perfect attendance and good grades.

Nowadays, life is good for Danny. While his responsibilities as the High King of the Infinite Realms and his attachment to his haunt keep him from leaving Amity Park, he has found balance. After his identity as Phantom was revealed to the town, the community rallied in support of the half-dead teenager who saw his parents go to jail. Following Jazz’s insistence, he has enrolled in an online Astronomy and Engineering degree, which he finds much easier than high school. He doesn’t even have to worry about money, being the new owner of FentonWorks and DalvCo.

All in all, life is, finally, cutting the halfa some slack, which is why he now has more free time to fill, ergo his current situation. Sam, Tucker and Jazz are debating on his computer screen about what hobby he should try.

“Danny, dude, I’m telling you, you should take programming classes. We could make our own video game and-“Tucker’s excited rant cuts off as Jazz mutes the both of them.

“After the ecto-contamination of everyone in Amity, you’ll probably find a lot of people willing to join an environmentalist group. You know my activism rubbed off on you.” Sam’s voice is almost covered by the deep sigh that escapes Tucker and Danny can’t help but smile at his best friends’ antics.

“You guys, we’re trying to figure out something Danny would like. Baby brother, what is something you’d like to do ?” Danny can’t help but miss his sister when he sees her exasperated smile at his friends’ insistence that he tries something they like.

Leaning against his desk, his face in his hand, he shrugs, a bit embarrassed. “Actually, I did have an idea but I’m not sure.” On his screen, his sister’s face is open and supportive, meanwhile, Sam and Tucker don’t seem to have noticed they were inaudible. “I, maybe, wanted to try streaming ? You guys obviously don’t have as much time to play video games with me and it’s really not the same on my own… I like the idea of finding a community of people who enjoy listening to my weird space and ghost rants without having to leave Amity. Not that the Parkers aren’t my friends but—” He pushes his hair out of his face with a sigh, looking up at the ceiling. “I guess I want to meet new people ? But I don’t actually want to meet them.”

“That sounds great, Danny.” Jazz, supportive as always, finally unmutes the two.

“Yeah dude, I’m down to help you set it all up. You’re gonna need equipment-“

“And you’re gonna need to ectoproof it too. Are you going to hide your identity ? Acting like ghosts and your powers are the norm would be so funny.”

“Right, you could ask a ghost artist to make your channel art. You clearly already have a niche thing going, you know ?” His Fraid’s excitement makes Danny feel more confident in his idea.

“What do you guys think of the name CosmicSpecter ?”

Jason has been back in Gotham for about two years. His relationship with his family is still strained but it is improving. He has a good thing going with Red Hood and his gang. However, he is still plagued by the Pit Madness, despite his best efforts he still doesn’t feel like himself. Meanwhile, everyone around him has accepted, however reluctantly, that this is who he is now, but Jason refuses to. He knows this isn’t him, but he is resigned that the foreign rage trying to control him will torment him until his (next) dying breath.

Maybe it’s fate, maybe it’s boredom, maybe it’s the scary TubeYou algorithm that has him clicking on the livestream thumbnail while tittering close to the Pit Rage. The guy has 463 subscribers and 6 current viewers and he’s halfway through a burrito when Jason joins. The light is dim, and his eyes seem to be reflecting the light. A meta, maybe ?

“Hiya ‘botched-resurrection’, nice to see a fellow undead here.” He takes a swig of a too green liquid from a soda bottle and flashes the camera with a wide smile. “We’ll go back to playing once I’m done eating. This new joint opened a few years ago, since our town isn’t under a fake government lockdown anymore, and honestly, I’m pleasantly surprised. My sister is probably relieved I’m eating something other than a burger.” The guy’s eyes widen slightly when a $20 donation comes through from one ‘jazz_hands’. “Really Jazz ? ‘Twenty whole American dollars in hopes you’ll eat healthier food one day’. There are real vegetables in here you know ? You’re being too harsh. Also stop sending me money as an excuse to embarrass me on stream.”

This is the start of the prologue I'm posting on ao3 tomorrow probably, I'll link once it's up

Streamer Danny AU, but he’s a really minor streamer. Like, he does it mainly just for his own fun and only has a few intermittent viewers.

But somehow Jason finds his channel anyway, and something about his voice is captivating. The pit rage quiets down in his presence. So he starts tuning in to basically every stream, or just putting on the VODs in the background to fall asleep to.

And on the other side, Danny takes note of this new subscriber who’s quite possibly his first truly dedicated viewer. So he starts interacting with him on stream sometimes - greeting him when he shows up in the chat, specifically asking/answering questions, etc

Needless to say, this did not help Jason’s growing semi-parasocial crush in the slightest…

[themultifanshipper]

Filming an ad for Hilton with Lando wasn't really on your bucket list, to be honest. 

Warnings: smut, voyeurism, filming (yeah you know where this is going), oral, blowjobs (mxm), based on that 12 minute video of Nortrell flirting, reader is a Quadrant employee

Requested by 🎲 anon ;)

He was your situationship friend, not a commercial partner.  

And neither were Hilton quite frankly, but what the hell. You knew Lando would share the money with you, he wasn't a total ass. 

You were part of the Quadrant production team, and you owed Lando this favour. 

So there you were, being shuffled around with Max and Lando around the fancy hotel, eating food and watching Lando do his photoshoots. 

You ended up in one of the rooms where Lando was supposed to be posing in a bathtub. 

You decided to skip this particular part and stood next to Max while he filmed with the camcorder. 

“I'm videoing you in a bathtub. Never thought this would happen.” Max deadpanned, making you and Lando burst out laughing. 

“Yeah right. As if you've never seen your boyfriend naked.” You teased. 

He huffed and looked at you mischievously. 

He waited until everyone else was packed up and out of the room to snap back. 

“Well actually there isn't anyone in this room I haven't seen naked, so…” 

Your jaw dropped, hopefully that little nugget wouldn't make it into the ad.  

You could blackmail Max into deleting it before sending the footage to the Hilton comms department. 

Lando scoffed and crawled out of the tub. He took off his robe and folded it, putting it back on the bed where he'd found it. 

“You're never gonna let us forget that are you? It's not our fault you don't know how to knock!” 

Max guffawed at the accusation. 

“You were in my living room, why would I need to knock?!” 

“Because we were naked!”  

“Oh my god!”  

You remembered that night. You and Lando hadn't seen each other in a while and Max was out so you had a little fun.  

You facepalmed while the two bickered back and forth. 

Long story short you got carried away and lost track of time. It could happen to anyone! 

Max came home, opened the door and saw the two of you going at it like animals. 

But what he neglects to mention every time he brings it up, is that he rather enjoyed the experience.  

Because you and Lando invited him to stay and watch.  

And watch he did… 

“I don’t remember you complaining while you were having a wank over it”  

“You said I could stay!” 

“Yeah, out of the goodness of my heart, and yet you still give us shit for it!” 

You'd had enough. 

“Oi! Shut the fuck up, both of you!” You shouted from where you were sprawled over the bed. 

Lando's gaze snapped to you. 

“You're not gonna weigh in here?” he asked you. 

“No, Max is right, it was his apartment, and you invited him to watch” 

“Oh I invited him, did I?” he stalked over to you, planting his hands on your thighs as he leaned over you. “Because I seem to remember you being rather excited at the idea of being watched.” 

You sat up, your face ending up inches from his as you stared at each other defiantly. 

“Yeah, I did enjoy it, so what?” 

“So” he chuckled “You're just as guilty as me... and I don't think you would be opposed to me inviting him more often” 

Your eyebrows shot up and you leaned in closer. 

“You tell me, he's your boyfriend” you murmured teasingly. 

He hummed and closed the distance, brushing his lips against yours. 

“You’re such a brat” he whispered.

“You love it, though” you smiled into the kiss, nibbling on his lower lip in the way you knew drove him absolutely crazy. 

Max couldn't quite believe what was happening right in front of him. 

He had the camera still pointed at the two of you, and watched as Lando climbed onto your lap, straddling your thighs as he deepened the kiss. 

One of you hands went to hold his lower back while the other curled into the hair at the back of his head to pull at it. 

Lando moaned into the kiss and Max felt his pants tighten. 

“Yeah” you rasped “Yeah, okay” 

“Fuck- let me… let me fuck you. Please” Lando panted, unbuttoning your shirt to palm at your tits. 

Lord, he was quite desperate today... it must have been the presence of the camera that made him want to jump your bones this badly.

You shuffled around, shedding clothes until you were both left in your underwear. 

Lando kneeled at the edge of the bed and peeled your panties off slowly, reveling in the way you shivered under his intense gaze. 

He licked his lips hungrily before diving in between your thighs. 

His deep groans served only to drive you mad with need as the vibration stimulated you further, and he slid a couple of his slender fingers into you. 

The way he knew your body like no one else could gave him the advantage of knowing the quickest way to make you come. 

Your loud moans echoed in the room and Max didn't know what to do with himself. 

His knees were seconds away from buckling, and he was transfixed by the way Lando's eyes were closed as he hummed at the taste of your release on his tongue. 

Then Lando sat back on his haunches and turned around, wet face gleaming obscenely in the light while he grinned at Max. 

“Sit down, camera boy. The cuck chair is right there” he pointed towards the leather armchair that was on the side of the bed, facing it, as if that was it's purpose. 

He did so, sitting in the chair and shuffling it closer to the bed to get a better angle. 

Lando crawled over your body and gave you a lingering kiss before hooking one of your legs over his shoulder. 

“Gonna take all of me baby?” he mumbled, lining himself up and pushing just the tip in. “Gonna be good for the camera and show them how well you take my cock?” 

You nodded, clinging to him desperately as he softly kissed the inside of your knee that was on his shoulder. 

He glanced at Max, who’s mouth was open, and pants well tented. 

He sent him a sly wink and Max had to slap a hand over his mouth to stop himself from cursing as Lando thrust his whole cock into you in one go. 

He wasn't huge in length, thank god, but his girth was impressive and the sight of it splitting you open was almost too much for Max to handle. 

He rubbed himself over his pants, trying to get a semblance of relief while he watched his best friend pound into your sweet cunt over and over, making the bed rock with the power of his thrusts. 

“Lando!” you cried, you were having trouble getting air into your lungs with the way he was slamming into you. 

“Fuck-“ Lando groaned, he was transfixed by the way his cock was coated in your juices every time it slid out of you.  

You were on cloud nine, the way Lando’s cock was stretching you out and hitting all the right spots was making you go limp, and Lando was able to lean over you to make you bend any way he wanted. 

“I can feel you tightening around me” he chuckled, the rhythm of his hips never faltering. “Are you getting close, sweetheart?”  

Max's heart skipped a beat. He couldn't deny that Lando's condescending tone was doing funny things to his brain. 

He watched you acquiesce and writhe in ecstasy when Lando thumbed at your clit while rolling his hips up into you just the way he knew made you feral. 

Max almost came at the sight, the two sweaty bodies rutting against each other desperately, and the sweet moans coming from you and Lando were making him ache. 

Then all movement stopped, Lando's forehead was pressed against yours as you breathed each other in and panted into the stale air. 

Then something shifted. 

Max felt the energy change when you whispered something unintelligible to Lando. 

The latter turned his head to look at Max, slight smirk creeping at the edge of his lips. 

“Want me to suck you off, camera boy?” he said. 

Max almost dropped the camera in shock at the question. 

That was new. In their many years of knowing each other they'd dabbled in voyeurism, even getting off to each other on the phone once. They had been particularly desperate that time. 

But never had they actually touched each other like that. 

“Go on then” he attempted to sound nonchalant, but there was a definite tremble in his voice. 

Lando grinned and made his way over, kneeling at Max's feet while his hands slid up Max's legs enticingly. 

“Do you uhm…” Max motioned at the camera that was still in his hand “what do want me to do with…” 

“Film me” Lando purred, one of his hands going to unbuckled Max's belt. “Keep the footage if you want” 

Max groaned at the thought of having such a video on his computer to use whenever he needed to unwind. 

“Okay” he breathed, just as Lando pulled his aching cock  out and gave it a teasing lick. 

Lando was making quite the show of it, looking straight into the camera while licking Max from base to tip.  

When he finally wrapped his lips around it, about halfway down and sucked, Max couldn't help the involuntary thrust of his hips. 

Lando didn't choke though, he just held Max's hips down and took him even further, his eyes fluttering shut in pleasure. 

Max had no idea Lando liked sucking cock this much. 

The hand not holding the camera went to tangle in Lando's curls, and only when his lips reached the base did he choke slightly. 

Max pulled him off for a quick breather and stood up, forcing Lando's head backwards to look at him properly. 

Deshevelled didn't even begin to cover it. 

Lando's cheeks were red and tears clung to his lashes. Not to mention the drool dripping down his chin. 

His eyes were lidded and slightly unfocused as he gazed up at Max with his tongue almost hanging out. 

“Fucking hell, man. I had no idea you were such a whore for cock”  

Lando whined pathetically and Max looked at you, where you were perched on the edge of the bed. 

“Did you know?” he asked breathlessly. 

You nodded with a smirk “Why do you think I ordered the strap-on?” 

Ah yes, Max thought. That little incident. 

Max had been staying over at Lando's for a few nights and a mysterious parcel had been delivered. 

You had shown up for some reason (Max didn't yet know about you and Lando) and taken it with you. 

Max and Lando had opened it beforehand though, so he knew the contents. 

Lando claimed he sometimes received packages for you because of some administrative problems with the postal service, or some other bullshit Lando managed to cook up. 

Max had then assumed you were a lesbian. Until he walked in on you fucking in his apartment that time. 

After that he assumed you were bisexual. He never suspected that it was in fact Lando on the receiving end of the strap. 

And he now knew Lando liked receiving it at both ends… 

Well that certainly was a vivid image, but not quite as vivid as the one currently burning into Max's retinas. The one of Lando on his knees while Max fucked his eager mouth. 

“So you like being fucked, huh?” He mumbled. “You like being used? Is that it? You such a slut that you'll let us do whatever we want with you?” 

Lando whined around his cock, and it didn't take long before Max was shooting ropes of cum into Lando's open mouth. 

He'd been quite riled up after all, and this was new and exciting territory, and Lando's mouth felt like fucking heaven. 

And the absolute whore swallowed every last drop of it, opening his mouth and showing him the proof. 

“Good boy” you and Max both said at the same time, and you glanced at each other with a smirk. This wasn’t the last time Max was going to join you, that's for sure. 

Later, back in the car that was taking you to your evening obligations. Lando let out an unexpected giggle. 

You and Max looked at him questionningly. 

“How much do you think Hilton would pay us for that footage?” 

“Lando!” 

[gallusrostromegalus]

An AEIWAM Bit:

Kensei Muguruma has a weird phobia of Things That Flap.

He tries very hard to pretend he doesn't, but things flapping in his proximity are extremely startling and make him jittery at best, or hyperventilate and collapse. Something about the fluttering triggers a fear response, and his total inability to ask for help or admit weakness has caused this to balloon into a terrible reactivity to almost anything with flapping wings.

Kensei was was very excited to move back into his digs in the Ninth. So excited that to no longer be living in crummy living world apartments that he has all his stuff moved in an unpacked before Shuuhei and Mashiro had actually gotten out of the hospital after the battle of Fake Karakura. It was the middle of winter, so all the division windows were closed and he didn't really look around outside.

… but the first warm-ish day in February he opened up the windows for some fresh air and screamed when he was suddenly barraged by several dozen songbirds into swooping his office looking for snacks, then becomes howlingly enraged when he realized there's easily a hundred different types of birdfeeder on the wall outside his office that Shuuhei has been dutifully filling in Tousen's Absence.

---

Kaname, over in the 12th: "Why do I feel like I've forgotten something important?"

---

Eight minutes later in the public groupchat:

KMuguruma: @KTousen WHY DO YOU HAVE SO MANY DUCKING BIRD FEEDERS???? KMuguruma:*FUCKING NOT DUCKING GOD HELP ME IF A DUCK FLIES IN HERE KTousen: ah. KTousen: @JUkitake got me into birdwatching in your absence. KMuguruma: BIRDWATCHING??? KTousen: Well, more like bird listening in my case. KMuguruma: WHO NEEDS A HUNDRED BIRDFEEDERS FOR BIRDWATCHING I THOUGHT YOU DID THAT SHIT IN THE WOODS?? KTousen: @JUkitake then got me a new type of bird feeder, bath or house for every subsequent holiday gift exchange. KTousen: It was very generous of him! KMuguruma: IF HE WANTS TO BE GENEROUS HE CAN COME GET THIS GODDAMN EAGLE OR WHATEVER OUT OF MY OFFICE. SHisagi: It's a pigeon sir. KMuguruma: IT'S HUGE AND TRYING TO KILL ME. IMadarame: @KZaraki Boss you gotta see this shit. KMuguruma: IS HE GONNA COME STAB IT?? IMadarame: lol. lmao. KMuguruma: IT'S NOT FUNNY!!! SHisagi: It's also not going to kill you. It's a pigeon. SHisagi: The only reason I haven't caught it yet is you keep screaming and swinging the broom at it every time it lands so I can't grab it. KTousen: It's a surprisingly grounding pass time. It really helped build a connection with the natural world around me that was of great solace during The Fuckery. KTousen: Actually learning something about birds might help with your phobia. KMuguruma: I DO NOT HAVE A PHOBIA!! KMuguruma: BIRDS ARE FUCKED UP AND EVIL AND TRYING TO KILL ME. KZaraki: That's totally true actually. KMuguruma: THANK YOU. KZaraki: I'm coming to kill you specifically in my Capacity as Prince Of All Birds. KMuguruma: what KZaraki: Be there in 10. KMuguruma: no wait what do you mean "prince of all birds"? IMadarame: The Boss is the son of She Who Rules The Sky By The Mandate Of Heaven, AKA The Firebird. IMadarame: 🔥🐦‍🔥🔥 IMadarame: So he's Prince of All Birds. IMadarame: Also, technically an Eagle. KMuguruma: wtf SHisagi: Yeah actually you should get moving he's not kidding about kicking your ass. KMuguruma: WTF?? SHisagi: He takes slurs against his people very seriously. SHisagi: also, if you leave I actually have a shot of catching this pigeon. KTousen: I'll send @MKuna over tomorrow to collect everything. @SHisagi if you can help get them off the wall? SHisagi: Roger that, Captain. KMuguruma: HEY! DON'T CALL HIM CAPTAIN! I'M YOUR CAPTAIN. SHisagi: He's still *a* captain, sir. KTousen: also the bat houses on the water tower. KMuguruma: THE FUCKING WHAT HOUSES??? SHisagi:🫡 KMuguruma: WHAT DID I JUST TELL YOU?? SHisagi: With all due respect Sir, I can see @KZaraki's dust cloud approaching you really should leave before he puts a hole in the building and we have to delay publication while we fix it. KTousen: Bat houses! There's approximately 2,600 rabbit-eared bats living in the old water tower on the roof. RUnohana: They do an excellent job eating mosquitoes over the entire city! Not one case of malaria or dengue fever in decades! RUnohana:💖🦇💖 🚫🦟🚫 KMuguruma: WTF WTF WTF???? SHisagi: @NinthDivision: CODE ORANGE, EVACUATE THE BUILDING AND PREPARE FOR A ZARAKI EVENT. KMuguruma: WTF WHY DOES HE HAVE HIS OWN DISASTER CLASSIFICATION??? SHisagi: You are about to find out! Godspeed Captain, I am evacuating the building. GSYamamoto: 😎👍 RUnohana: Just like the Good Old Days, Sir? GSYamamoto: Just so! SHisagi: I have caught and safely evacuated the pigeon! IMadarame:🥳🙌🙌🙌🥳 KMuguruma: WHY DID I COME BACK HERE???

[theoretically-questionable]

I'll go further: lots of (white) people *do* listen to rap. They just don't call it rap, and they actively distance themselves from anything too 'rap'-like until it gets popular — at which point they take pains to draw artificial distinctions between it and 'actual rap'.

I'm Australian. A lot of my peers growing up listened to Hollywood Undead, Hilltop Hoods, Bliss n Eso, Kerser, Limp Bizkit, and those two or three popular songs from Rage Against the Machine's discography (as did my internet friends in Canada and the USA: i'm leaving the UK out of it because their landscape around mainstream music and black rappers is different in kinda complicated ways imo).

But none of these bands were thought of as even close to 'rap' to my peers — HU and LB were just "rock/punk", Kerser was just "hardcore electronic", and (most egregiously of all) BnE and HH were just "hip-hop". They didn't listen to rap (bad, black), no! It was hip-hop (good, white)! (and of course, any Australian indigenous music, rap or otherwise, was fringe at best — the most 'indigenous politics' band was Midnight Oil (very white), and actual contemporary Indigenous music only got passed around as a joke (see Petrol Powered Goon Bag Holocaust going semi-viral amongst high-schoolers, for example).

The cognitive dissonance required to say a band isn't 'rap' because it's actually 'just aussie hip-hop' is... incredible, sure, but it's real. There's a... reflexive refusal, i guess, to engage with black art, to instead preference white artists in the genre, and to split parts of into 'less-rap' genres to make it more palatable.

Plus there's a persistent difficulty engaging with the actual themes of black art when it does get mainstreamed (see the focus on Lamar v. Drake beefing that skips over a *core* part of the feud, namely "you a fuckin' colonizer") (F.D Signifier's 'I'm What the Culture Feeling' is invaluable here for anyone looking to get their bearings on the context).

And there's this... weird shame that a lot of (again, mostly white) rap-combo-genre artists seem to feel about being rap-adjacent, now? It either trickled up from fans, or down from the bands, but it's everywhere. It's cringe, it's immature, it's juvenile masculine anger, it's not tasteful, it's not properly political. All the same patently incurious (at best) shit people say about black rap and culture.

"For anyone born before 1995 or so, the mere mention of the term “rap rock” is likely to produce reflexive shudders. The cultural imagination is littered with the unlovely offspring of attempted copulation between the styles; if, at some point, you made a name for yourself through combining rap and rock, chances are you either distance yourself vigorously from such efforts now or have learned to adjust to life as a walking joke."

—Jason Greene, 'The Unlikely Resurgence of Rap Rock', Pitchfork

Which is stunning, really, because bands in these 'hybrid' genres have been some of the most influential in the last two decades of the western popular musical landscape (and as OP said, probably less directly for the last forty plus years)!

These are bands that aren't just 'musically influenced' by rap, but bands that outright lyrically rap in their songs (regrettably, Lonely Island counts — "i don't listen to rap, unless it's a 'parody' band" was a huge genre for a while, christ)! But it's never 'actually rap' to the audience (who view rap as 'bad') and it's almost never non-white artists.

Everything from the edgelord-electronic scene (stemming out from MSI and similar bands which held an ongoing fascination with the 'shocking' aspects of black culture and rap) to straightforward nu-mental, rock, and punk, and even fucking Christian Rock/Metal, are all genres full of bands that explicitly started out directly engaging with 'rap' and were explicitly inspired by black rap artists.

Like, I don't cite Greene above just to support the idea that this reflexive shame around liking anything rap-like exists; the article also shows the writer straightforwardly leans into the 'cringe' these rap-combo genres apparently inspire. It's completely at odds with the actual trajectories (in terms of fame, subject matter, and political engagement) of the bands he's talking about. He even explicitly buys into the old canard that rap rock (as a rap offshoot) is/was predominantly misogynistic.

(The conversation around white artists extracting and popularising elements of black music culture for their own careers and musical expression, and their music's misogyny/aggression stemming from uncritical interpretations/reproductions of the more nuanced and culturally specific source material, is a whole other kettle of fish.)

rap has probably been the most consistently popular and influential genre of music for the past 40+ years but your average person on tumblr is less willing to listen to it than a random white teenage boy in the suburbs or a 4channer who lurks on /mu/ every once in a while