#don’t look too deep politically into it

[echo-riot]

✞⛧ Desperately yours Loser! 𝐸𝓁𝓁𝒾𝑒 x reader ✞⛧

Summary: your waitress flirts with you while you and Ellie are on a date at a bar-

Warnings: none, Ellie just being a bit jelly

Ellie had been fidgeting with the label of her beer bottle for the past five minutes, her freckled cheeks pink from the way she kept sneaking glances at you. She was trying—really trying—to focus on what you were saying, but your voice, your smile, the way you looked tonight… it was all too distracting for her. You had her wrapped around your finger, and she didn’t even mind.

“So, as I was saying—”

She nodded quickly, pretending she’d caught every word, but the soft smile you gave her told her you knew she’d been spacing out. She cleared her throat awkwardly, taking a sip of her drink to hide her growing blush.

The two of you were tucked into a booth at some low-key bar Ellie had been hyping up all week. She liked the vibe—dim lighting, quiet enough for conversation, and just grungy enough to feel like a place Joel would have disapproved of. Ellie had called it a “cool spot” when she suggested it, and though you’d teased her for trying to be suave, it was nice seeing her so excited about taking you out.

You were halfway through telling her a story when the waitress approached, a bright smile plastered on her face.

“Hey there,” the waitress said, her tone dripping with a little too much warmth as her gaze lingered on you. “Can I get you anything else? Or maybe you’d like something special, on the house?”

Ellie froze mid-sip, her freckled face scrunching slightly as her hand tightened around the bottle. She glanced up, her sharp green eyes flicking between the waitress and you.

You offered a polite smile, oblivious to the way Ellie was starting to bristle beside you. “Oh, no, I think we’re good for now.”

The waitress didn’t seem to take the hint, her attention fixed on you like Ellie wasn’t even there. “Well, if you change your mind, just let me know. I’d be happy to… take care of you.”

Ellie nearly choked on her drink. She set the bottle down with a loud clink, clearing her throat and muttering under her breath, “What the fuck?”

You glanced at Ellie, surprised by her reaction, but the slight clench in her jaw and the pink in her cheeks told you everything you needed to know.

The waitress lingered a moment too long before finally walking away, and the second she was out of earshot, Ellie leaned closer to you, her voice low and a little rushed. “Okay, what the hell was that?”

“What was what?” you teased, playing innocent.

“You know what,” Ellie grumbled, her brows knitting together as she gestured vaguely toward the waitress. “She was hitting on you. Right in front of me! Like, who even does that?”

You bit back a smile, reaching across the table to take her fidgeting hands in yours. “Ellie, are you jealous?”

Her freckled cheeks turned a deep shade of red, and she immediately looked away, scratching the back of her neck. “Jealous? Pfft. No. I’m not jealous. I just think it’s, like, super rude or whatever.”

“Mhm,” you said, clearly unconvinced. “Well, for the record, I’m here with you, not her.”

Ellie’s lips twitched into a small, shy smile, but she was still fidgeting, her knee bouncing under the table. “Yeah, but, like… she was so obvious about it. I mean, you’re—you’re you. Who wouldn’t hit on you?”

You leaned closer, your voice soft and teasing. “Ellie, I’m not interested in her. I’m interested in you. And for the record, I think it’s kinda cute that you’re all worked up over this.”

Her eyes darted to yours, wide and a little panicked. “I’m not worked up!”

You gave her a knowing look.

“Okay, fine, maybe I’m a little worked up,” she admitted, her voice dropping to a mumble. “But only because you’re, like… really fucking amazing, and I don’t want some random waitress thinking she has a shot with you.”

You squeezed her hands, your thumb brushing over her knuckles. “Ellie, you’re the only one I want. Besides, if anyone here should be jealous, it’s me. Half the people in this bar have been checking you out all night.”

Ellie blinked, her mouth opening and closing like she couldn’t quite process your words. “Wait, seriously?”

“Seriously,” you said, your smile widening. “But lucky for me, you’re mine.”

Ellie’s blush deepened, and she finally let out a soft laugh, her shoulders relaxing. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

The waitress returned a few minutes later, her flirtatious smile still in place, but this time, Ellie didn’t look away. Instead, she wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer as she gave the waitress a look that could only be described as smug.

“We’re good,” Ellie said firmly, her voice steady and confident. “Thanks.”

As the waitress walked away, Ellie glanced at you, a satisfied grin tugging at her lips. “What? I had to make it clear you’re taken.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, but the warmth in your chest told you all you needed to know. Ellie might be a bit of a loser sometimes, but she was your loser.

[homeofthelonelywriter]

Not your Burden Pt. 5

Idea | Previous Part

tw: future dom-sub relationship, sexually explicit content, pet names, age gap (early twenties - late thirties)

The house was huge. Huge enough for you to be confused after just walking for a few minutes and rounding only three corners. There were doors everywhere, but barely any of them were labeled. And during the few minutes you had walked, you had counted three different staircases. Simon quickly noticed and chuckled lowly. “You’ll get used to it. And if you get lost, either ask someone you see for help or stay where you are and call me, and I’ll pick you up.” You nodded, a blush forming on your cheeks, as his eyes were trained on you. Especially when you noticed how his eyes darkened as they flickered from yours to your lips.

But he shook it off, turning back around and continuing the tour. You just managed to remember the most important spots: the kitchen, the indoor gym and pool, the way to the garden, where there was another pool, his office, the library, and your room. Maybe you’d make your own little map at some point.

“And this is the gun range.” Your eyes widened as you glanced past Simon’s massive frame. It looked just like in the movies and you couldn’t help but wonder if you were allowed to try out shooting here as well. “Ah, Boss, bonnie.” Johnny grinned as you spun around to look at him. The scott nodded at Simon before gently pushing past you, stopping once he was through the door. With a mischievous glint in his eyes, he turned to you. “You wanna try?”

Before you could stop yourself, you nodded enthusiastically and pushed past Simon, never noticing the glare he had fixed on you and Johnny.

The left-hand man was nice enough, getting you some safety glasses and hearing protection, before getting a Glock. He led you to one of the booths and started to show you how the gun worked, but before he could get very far, Simon stepped in. “I think someone’s looking for you upstairs, mate.” It could’ve sounded perfectly polite, but the deep grumble in Simon’s voice conveyed a silent threat. Johnny quickly stepped back, his hands raised and with a smirk on his face. “Got it, boss.” Then he turned to you. “Have fun, beautiful.”

Another low growl escaped Simon’s lips before he could stop himself, his eyes fixed on his best friend until he disappeared around a corner. Then he turned back to you. “W-We really don’t have to do this now, if you don’t have time or something.” He chuckled and shook his head, picking up the gun. “It’s alright, love.”

Within a few minutes, he explained everything about the gun to you, that you had to know. After putting it into safe mode again, he handed it to you, so you could get used to the weight and feel. It was heavy and cold, but somehow…felt good in your hands.

While you were studying the piece of metal, he gently slit on the safety glasses, before popping on the hearing protection, making sure that it was sitting correctly. Gently, he hooked his finger under your chin and tilted your head until you were looking up at him. His eyes jumped to your lips, lingering there for a few moments, before he looked up again, smiling gently. “Ready?” You could barely hear him, but you nodded.

After putting on his own protection, he spun you around so you were facing the range. With gentle touches, he corrected your posture, giving you tips, but all that you could focus on was the feeling of his chest pressed to your back. Your breath hitched, as his hands traced your curves, giving your hips a gentle squeeze when you positioned yourself correctly. His body still pressed against yours, he lifted the left shell covering your ear. “Good. When you’re ready shoot.” He put the shell down again, his breath wafting over the side of your face and neck.

You tried to focus on the silhouette of a human, not too far away, before you took a deep breath and shot. The recoil and noise made you jump, but Simon was steady behind you, holding you close, while your heartbeat slowly calmed down. After a few moments, Simon gently took the gun from you and put it on safety before placing it on the table in front of you. Then he pulled off your protection, a proud smile on his face. “What do you think?”

You stayed quiet for a few moments, before grinning back at him. “That was amazing! How did I do?” He chuckled at your enthusiasm, pressing a button, to pull in the silhouette. “Your form was good and with time you’ll get used to the recoil and noise.” He glanced at the piece of paper, a surprised grin lighting up his face. “And your aim…is pretty good.” When you glanced at it, you saw that, while it wasn’t a bullseye, it was pretty close. You chuckled, looking back at him. “Beginner’s luck.” Simon shrugged, pressing the other button and you watched the paper go back to its earlier position. “May be beginner’s luck, but it’s good all the same.” When you turned back to him, you noticed that his eyes were still on you, he never looked away.

You swallowed thickly, averting your eyes, blushing when you heard him chuckle, a quiet ‘cute’ leaving his lips.

For the next hour or so, he continued to teach you. He let you test different guns, showed you how to aim, and also explained what to aim for if you only want to wound and slow someone down, instead of killing them. By the time Simon decided that it was enough for the day, your arms ached from the weight, and your hands burned from the friction.

“If you want to come back and shoot, let me know. I’ll come with you.” You frowned at Simon’s massive back. “Aren’t you like…busy?” He glanced at you over his shoulder, a smirk on his face. “I’ll make time for you, love.” Then he focused back on putting everything away. Once he was done, he gently grabbed your hand and led you through the building, until you were back in his office. There, waiting for the two of you, was a tray with two plates filled with pure deliciousness. You watched as Simon, with practiced ease, pulled off his suit jacket and rolled up his dress shirt’s sleeves, until they were snug just above his elbow. You almost drooled as you watched the muscles and veins in his arms shift whenever he moved.

“Come, eat.”

Next Part

A/N: Another part. I hope you enjoy it so far. And to everyone who comments: thank you so much! I always get really excited to read them! I love you! 💕

@alilstressyandlotdepressy @brickwall035 @trampondemand @inarabee @blinca @rileys3dworld @msjaeger @oreojenni @starlightmoon2020 @piconico17 @l1lpip @originalsoulcollector @ig-you-idiot @corvusmorte @ohdrey89 @dreamland08 @dprmoon @lilynotdilly @blinca @weirdducky17 @hidden-treasures21 @scaryplanetdestroyer @aikeia @kurochan3 @thriving-n-jiving @justdamnpeachy @tessakate @midnightgrimoire @awkwardalie

[thecoffeelorian]

True Colors

True Colors (Crosshair x Reader)

Premise: As a few masks begin to crack, the true faces of those that lie beneath start to show themselves one by one...and not even they might be able to recognize the things that they've become.

Word Count: 1,531

Masterlist: The Surprise Guest Series

Story Notes: Heya heya, guess what, folks? There's a very tiny hint as to the Reader's true identity at the end of this chapter, so! Be sure to look for it, as it might be a blink-and-you'll-miss-it kind of moment!

Special Notes: You know that "glorious return" of Crosshair that was supposed to magically fix everything in the squad...? Yeah, it looks to me like nothing but an inglorious cop-out, because what could have been a detailed discussion of all the past plot points was tossed out in favor of cutting corners for the millionth time. More details are here, as well as one of several blueprints for this story as I move forward. Thank you all for your patience.

PS: The Crosshair header was made by @stars-n-spice.

No Pressure Tags:

@crosshairs-dumb-pimp-gf @skellymom @youreababboon @donntmindmejustwandering @ms-grassi

@gigachadcowboy @summerfall21 @thora-sniper @groguandthebadbatch @theclonesdeservedbetter

@sw-2020-1 @lovefrommaxie @housepartyfortwo @ci-avmovies14 @evabellasworld

@cyare-of-the-501st @the-osborn-way @prettychaos1409 @otomefan @foggygentlemenprincess

@soemtlse012731-blog @sithstrings @omglisalithium @aemondvelaryon @mysticalgalaxysalad

@lulalovez @zombiedixon89 @filmandthings @sithstrings @generaljessiedotcom and anyone else who might want to dive in headfirst into this latest installment.

The next thing you know, at least from where you’re standing, Omega’s wrapped both arms around your waist in a hug; Crosshair’s gone frightfully silent; and, some distance away from all of you, you get to witness two grown Troopers get stuck orbiting Tantrum Planet.

“You’re doing what.”

Specifically, Hunter’s durasteel-gray eyes that once refused to make contact with yours are now glaring through you with all the heat of an ion engine, almost triple-hound daring you to repeat Omega’s words out loud.

“You heard her, General.”

By contrast, you’re not about to run off or look away, because now there’s a firm edge to your voice that you haven’t exactly heard before.

“Unlike you, I don’t think she likes the idea of abandoning her fellow fugitives.”

Up until this point, most people had generally been respectful to you, never mind not wanting to give you the slightest impression of your life being threatened in any way. That was one of the few joys you got from your home planet growing up, as well as the first thing you find yourself missing in its absence.

As of now, however, that respect had been tossed straight out of the proverbial airlock and left to suffocate in the vacuum of deep space.

“Don’t you mean kidnappers?”

“I meant exactly what I just said, thank you very much…”

And if this holier-than-thou nerfherder wanted to stare you down, well...then you would be all too happy to stare at him right back, consequences or no consequences.

“…And anyway, since you already know everything about me, when exactly did I kidnap her?”

In fact, it’s not that long before you start glaring back at him, your voice slowly filling with venom.

“Was it before or after she came knocking at my door and asked me for help?”

“Omega wouldn’t ever do that!”

Before either one of you end up coming to blows, however, there’s another Trooper to contend with. Along comes Wrecker jumping into the chat, the look of anger somewhat giving way to confusion. Either he doesn’t have the slightest idea what to think of you, or else he’s already been convinced to hate you ages before you ever did anything wrong.

“We…we told her not t’ talk to strangers. What makes you so special?”

In any case, though, you’re not about to take any puuduu from him, either. Not when you might be five klicks away from finding some manner of political asylum, be it with or without their ‘approval’.

Not when you officially had skin in this little game as of several hours ago, and you’ve got no intention of backing down or making yourself smaller just so somebody else can feel bigger.

“Nothing. I’m just a waiter from offworld…but I do know this.”

And if you haven’t surprised yourself enough today, well…your slow but careful nudge for Omega to go over to Crosshair for safety’s sake certainly takes the grand prize.

“Since we—and that does include Omega, so let me make that nice and clear—heard the Imps start knocking on other people’s doors right before we booked it, it’s only going to be a matter of time before they all show up to drag the three of us back to that lab…or worse.”

Having spoken your peace, you then decide to mirror Wrecker’s posture and fold your arms across your chest, a clear sign that they’re about to have the floor.

“So if you don’t want to end up responsible for punishing two civilians just to stick it to your headstrong brother…then I suggest you choose wisely. Sir.”

You finish your pitch with a polite bow and a hand over your heart, the planet-wide gesture of respect in your part of the galaxy. If it was someone else from your home planet you were talking to, then they’d most likely let out a nervous chuckle, make up a somewhat believable excuse for their behavior or apologize for the harshness of their words, and possibly even declare an unofficial truce between you by offering you a little caf and cake back at their apartment.

This Hunter guy on the other hand…well, he’s starting to look like he’s somewhere between passing a kidney stone and blowing a fuse. No living man, be he soldier or civilian, has ever turned that shade of purple before, and as far back as you can remember, you know they haven’t balled their fists up so tight that their knuckles looked more on the jaundiced side than their usual healthy brown.

Clearly, he has no idea what he wants to do to you first—beat you until you’re the same color and consistency as freshly ground nerf meat; or else die of embarrassment. At this moment in time, either one of these is totally possible, if not also a maximum threat level.

And yet—

“—Don’t we, uh…have an oil can somewhere?”

And yet, the one they call Wrecker, aka “The Big Guy” as you’ve personally just dubbed him, is starting to act like he may have just budged about an inch or two from whatever sinless high ground he might have held a moment before.

Well, thank the Force that somebody is.

“What oil can…?”

In other words, even though Hunter’s still enjoying the view from his own pedestal and probably ready to piss on your heads without so much as a single moment’s notice…he sure can’t keep Wrecker from thinking for himself.

“The one that Tech always kept on board for…for emergencies.”

Like bringing up the name of a fifth squad member for some kind of emotional leverage, for example, if not also making good use of it, too.

“The least we can do is hand it over, right?”

“Not if I order you to stand down.”

“Fine. Go back to Pabu without me.”

Or, dare you even think it, sabotaging all of Hunter’s “plans” solely out of having enough of his shitty behavior.

“As for me, I’m not losin’ any more of my squad.”

In any case, Wrecker’s striding right past Hunter, giving him a hard enough shove to make him stumble and nearly fall sideways…and finally, goes back into the Marauder to go and bring you the much needed oil can whether this stupid “leader” gives his permission or not.

Incredible. Maybe he’s not Hunter’s errand boy after all.

As for you, well…you’re left wondering whether or not Hunter himself can take all three of you out with a single blaster shot, especially if he decides to take his temper out on Omega for bringing the two of you back without asking him first.

“Sergeant.”

“I’m sorry…?”

At least, that’s your thought until he decides to back off instead…for now.

“I’m a sergeant, not a general. Learn the difference.”

And with that, he also turns and goes back inside the Marauder, not a single look backward spared for Omega this time. Funny thing…you had originally thought that she was the designated favorite, and would therefore have some kind of leverage over all future squad decisions. Their initial reunion had suggested that much had occurred before, after all…so what the kriff had changed since then?

“Eh…that went well.”

Unfortunately, there doesn’t exactly seem to be a lot of time to mull this one over. Even though Omega’s speaking up again and trying to stay upbeat, she’s not looking so confident any more.

“We—we should be able to get off this planet now, right? We can go back to the island, and—and then…”

Rather, she’s looking nervous, just a little heartbroken, and—if there’s room to make a fast-food related analogy here—dejected with a shot of annoyance to wash it all down. Most likely, there’s no limits to her personal feelings, especially after what just played out in front of her.

“And then…take a break?”

You, on the other hand, aren’t about to be knocked down by that Sergeant’s issues, because they’re just a fraction of what you would have had to deal with if you’d faced the Empire coming after you. In fact, if he decides to keep his shit up and keep on poking the Krayt Dragon—well, even if he does hate you, he’ll have to think twice before dishing out the same treatment to her.

In other words, you’ve got zero tolerance for bullies, and it won’t take much for you to let the rest of this ‘squad’ find that out the hard way.

“Yeah…yeah, let’s do that. Take a break, I mean…”

This is why you’re slipping a comforting arm around her before letting Crosshair have the other, a makeshift hug for them both to break up the tension of it all.

“As long as you need,” you promise her, your attention solely upon the two in front of you, and not so much upon the ones lurking in the background. Oh yes, let the others stew in their own moody juices for a while, because for all that you care, that’s all that they need to have.

As for you and your traveling companions, a bit of rest is exactly what you deserve right now...and Force help the di’kut who dares to interrupt it.

[selunesdreams]

Chapter 19: Kiss the Ring

How are kindred spirits working out for you now? Would Spite like to weigh in on that topic?” Lucanis narrowed his eyes. “You’re impossible.” His hands found her waist, lifting her from his lap and inclining his head toward the kitchen doors.  “Come, I’ll walk you to your chambers.” “Are you kicking me out?” she asked, her voice carrying a hint of spirited defiance. Lucanis smiled and leaned in close, lips brushing along her jawline. “It’s clear you are unwilling to listen to my words,” he murmured, “so I’ll have to find other ways of holding your attention until you take me seriously.”

Pairing: Lucanis x Fem Rook/OFC x Spite???

Summary: A Dellamorte family heirloom causes more problems than it's worth.

Word count: 3.7k

Things of note/warnings: 18+ fic, MDNI! Please read on AO3 if you need to track warnings, they will be inevitably detailed better there (or just want to be real sweet and give me hits/kudos/comments).

Read on AO3

─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───

Lucanis stirred at twilight, the embers of the fireplace long turned to ashes. Nestled in the crook of his arm, Rook shifted and groaned softly, her dark hair splayed across her face. He reached around, brushing a lock from over the bridge of her nose behind her ear, and carefully slipped out of bed.

Something wrong? With Rook?

Spite’s voice was far more quiet than usual. Lucanis wasn’t sure if it came instinctively to the demon, or if he was so concerned about Rook that he’d resorted to hushed whispers as his phantom-like form hovered over her as she slept.

She’s just dreaming, Spite. Leave her be. 

He pulled the curtain aside and glanced out at the sun rising over the gardens. Caterina would be awake soon, if she wasn’t already. Better he find her in the kitchen than for her to come knocking on his door. 

He bathed and dressed, scribbling a few words on a piece of parchment from his desk. Carefully, he pressed his lips to Rook’s temple and left the note on his side of the sheets. She grumbled something and swiped weakly at him before rolling over. He grinned, watching her resume her deep slumber before slipping into the hall.

Caterina. Then return here!

“That’s the plan.” He said to Spite under his breath.

Lucanis had never woken with a woman next to him before, let alone someone he felt so strongly about. He’d imagined it so differently. In another life, he would make breakfast, coffee, remain in bed until the afternoon and listen to her talk…

Mierda . He already hated this Talon business. After the Wigmaker job, he and his cousin had toasted to Illario’s future as First. Lucanis wanted none of the notoriety, the demands, the politics of it all. Had Ilario been patient and trusted him, things might have turned out differently…

And now nobody had what they wanted. Not really. Even with Rook in his bed, Lucanis had doubts about what it meant for them. Had they moved too quickly?

At the dining room table, Caterina was already situated with her breakfast, reading through a heap of correspondence. Evidently Illario had not delivered her mail while he had her locked away.

“Well, what was so urgent that you had to abandon your own celebration?” She didn’t bother to look at him as she scrawled something down.

Lucanis tensed and poured himself a cup of coffee, avoiding her eyes. He felt like a child again, as if her cane would come down across his shoulders at any moment. 

“I apologize. Rook and I were called away by an urgent matter-”

“Save it. I was young once.” Caterina snipped, cutting into her grapefruit with a spoon. “I know exactly what urgent matter you needed to address under my roof.”

Across the room, Lucanis caught one of the staff staring and shot her a disapproving glare until she blushed and hurried into the hall.

“Just don’t get that girl pregnant. Weddings and pregnancies are opportune times for enemies to present themselves.”

ROOK IS NOT-

“Caterina,” Lucanis squeezed his eyes shut and pinched his nose, praying to the Maker this did not turn into another nosebleed before he had the chance to explain Spite to his grandmother, “if we could talk about anything else…”

“Fine. We will talk about this .” She pushed her plate across the table. “I watched Fiammetta fight last night. Dante failed that girl. We train our children the way we do for a reason! But he abandoned Crow tradition the second he kicked the hornet’s nest that was the Antaam’s wrath!”

Waving her spoon in the air, she continued ranting.

“Dante never taught her to stay out of trouble, because he assumed trouble would always find her. Typical fathers, underestimating their daughters!” Caterina scoffed. “Fiammetta didn’t learn the instincts you and Illario did. Viago’s influence is the only reason she learned our ways fast enough to become a Crow.”

“Yet even with all Illario’s training, Fiamma still brought him to his knees.” Lucanis said in a warning voice. “You give her too little credit.”

“You brought him to his knees. Had he not had such a soft spot for her, she’d be dead. And every House watching that display last night knows it. Illario took a hostage when he could have easily taken a life. The Crows saw her exploit his weakness, not demonstrate her strength!”

WE! BROUGHT HIM TO HIS KNEES. 

Frustration and confusion warred in Lucanis’ eyes.

“Do you not care for her, Caterina, is that it? Did you try to chase her off during your private chat last night?” 

“If that were the case, I would not have wasted my time.”

“Then what is this about?”

“Do you really think it was Viago ’s idea to send her here as punishment?” Caterina sneered. “Fiammetta has potential. I had every intention of molding her into a better Crow during our time together, but she is beyond my reach now. You, however, can still help her.”

“You are not so charitable, Caterina. What do you get out of this?”

“You have always been such a romantic, Lucanis. Better you end up with someone like her, than someone who would take advantage of your position. House de Riva would be a strong, worthy, connection-”

“Enough.” 

Lucanis knew better than to raise his voice at his grandmother, but as he set his coffee mug down on the countertop, it took exceptional effort to remain composed.

“Let me make myself clear. I will take up the mantle of First Talon, and one day when you are gone, I will lead the Crows. Whatever is left of the Dellamorte name’s honor will be preserved by me. This House will endure.”

His fingers pressed hard against the ancient oak table as he leaned his weight over it.

“But if I end up with Fiammetta de Riva, it will be because it was not just my choice, but hers . Not the result of another plan you orchestrated. Not the future you decided for me.”

“I am not a matchmaker.” Caterina snapped, “I’d prefer you to remain alone than endure the loss, the paranoia, that comes with First Talon! If I could spare you that fate, I would, but I fought too hard, lost too much, to relinquish our title to another House. But if you insist on falling in love, do not choose someone that would die so easily.” 

Lucanis found both himself and Spite without words. Caterina was not a vulnerable person, but this was as close as he’d ever gotten to hearing some semblance of mourning from her. 

“You do not reach my age without becoming well acquainted with death. I have watched generations of Crows from birth to death, the rise and fall of Houses scratched from history books. I have killed people I once considered friends and lovers. That garden is fertilized by the bodies of my family, my children. I am wise enough to avoid arrogance, so believe me when I say that no Crow knows death better than me .”

Emotion did not betray her features as she spoke with unwavering conviction. Caterina looked down, stirring a dash of milk into her espresso. The porcelain cup, expertly crafted from bone ash, produced a delicate sound that contrasted his grandmother’s harsh tone.

“Never let your guard down around what you love, and always expect that you will lose it, anyway.” 

─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───

Following one of the deepest sleeps she’d had in quite some time, Rook reached across the mattress for Lucanis, her fingers brushing only the cool, smooth silk sheets. She squinted at the sunlight peeking through the curtains, catching the dust motes dancing in the air. A part of her questioned if it had all been a dream until she found a neatly folded note where Lucanis had slept.

In the unfortunate event you wake before I return, make yourself at home. - L

A slow smile spread across her face as she laid on her stomach, clutching his message tightly in both hands and rolling onto her back to stare at the bed canopy.

Lucanis Dellamorte invited her to his bed. How deep this went, she didn’t have the slightest idea, but just this once, she got something she wanted. Whatever happened next, no one could take last night from her. 

The marble floor was icy beneath her bare feet as she padded to the bathroom. No expense had been spared on the deep, clawfoot tub, or the floor to ceiling length mirror by the sink. Rook examined her disheveled hair, the raised welts and purple bruises blooming on her skin, before turning the tub faucet. The tap instantly delivered scalding hot water, and she winced as it burned her fingertips. Even Viago didn’t enjoy such luxuries. Caterina must have paid a fortune for these kinds of enchantments.

She bathed slowly, taking the time to sample Lucanis’ extensive collection of bath oils and salts from across Tevinter, just long enough to hear the door open in the bedroom. Rook stood and snatched a towel, wrapping it around herself just as Lucanis peeked inside the bathroom. 

“I brought you coffee. And these.” He set a folded stack of clothes on the counter. “They’re clean. You left them behind in the guestroom. Your boots are by the door and the staff are laundering your dirty clothes.”

She cocked her head at his distant tone, frowning as he ducked out the door. Wet footprints and puddles glistened in her wake as she crossed the bathroom floor, catching Lucanis by the wrist. He stiffened at the unexpected contact, and she pulled in him forcefully, jolting with surprise as her lips pressed against his. At last, he relented, one arm instinctively snaking around her waist as he melted into the kiss.

“You’re so reserved this morning.” She mumbled against his lips, “what happened?”

“Caterina.” He muttered, pulling away. As he retreated from the room, Rook let her towel drop to the floor and slipped on the clothes he’d brought her. The leather drug against her damp skin, fitting loosely on her torso. Leading in Varric’s absence had taken its toll on her body, and her old clothes highlighted her health’s decline. She felt a slight pang as she mourned her old self.

“Is your grandmother cross with you for leaving early?” Rook asked, flipping her damp hair out of her shirt and combing her fingers through it. As she stepped back into the bedroom, she found Lucanis on the edge of the mattress, attention fixed on her silk gown from the previous evening. Was he having regrets? 

“No, she’s…” He drug a hand down his face, a weary sigh escaping his lips. “Just more eager for me to take her role than I had expected.”

“Can’t say she hasn’t earned her retirement,” Rook said, joining him, “but it’ll have to wait until these gods are dealt with.” 

Lucanis shook his head. “I won’t abandon our contract, Rook. I gave you my word.”

“I thought you wanted me to burn your contract?”

“I meant it.” Lucanis remained on edge, but his expression softened. “But you’d still have my word.” 

Rook’s heart thudded in her chest, an ache in her stomach intensifying as she watched him, brows furrowed in deep thought, beside her.

“Did we…make a mistake?” Her voice wavered slightly, and she regretted her words as soon as she spoke them. She wasn’t certain she wanted an answer.

Lucanis’ eyes widened.

“No, of course not! Last night was…” His voice faltered, and his palm slid over her leg, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake before coming to rest on her knee.

“It meant a lot to me, Rook.”

Her eyes darted away uncomfortably.

“It doesn’t have to mean anything, I just would hate for you to-”

Lucanis interrupted her words, his hand sliding behind her head, pulling her closer until their lips met in a fervent kiss. The initiation flooded her with relief, and as he released her, his hand lingered on the back of her neck.

“Whatever this is?” He whispered with a smile, “I’ll take it.”

He stood up, his movements accompanied by the creaking of the bedsprings, and brushed the wrinkles from his perfectly tailored trousers.

“Viago is going to have questions, you know. We didn’t return through the eluvian with Davrin.” 

“This is hardly Viago’s business-“

“Since when has Viago minded his own business, Fiammetta?” Lucanis tilted his head with a grin. “Certainly not when it comes to you.” 

“Let me handle that.”

She stood up with a wink, retrieving her weapons from where Lucanis had set them on the coffee table and sheathing them at her waist.

“I’ll see you back at the Lighthouse?” She asked, a mischievous grin playing on her lips as she tugged on her boots.

Lucanis forced a flat smile and nodded. 

“I look forward to it.” 

His gaze followed her to the door. Whatever had been troubling him still lingered there, but she didn’t dare ask about it.

“Rook?” He called after her. She glanced over her shoulder as her fingertips hesitated on the handle. 

“Watch your back today. After what happened with Illario…”

“I prefer when you watch it,” There was a playful challenge in her tone as her eyes glittered in the sunlight, “but I fare just fine on my own.”

─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───

“Shouldn’t you be babysitting?” Rook asked as she strode into the Cantori Diamond. Viago was alone at his desk, shuffling through a few papers. 

“It’s Teia’s turn.” He said without looking up. 

“You have a lot of trust in Illario.”

“I have a lot of trust in her.” 

Viago set his pen down, massaging his temples with his thumb and forefinger.

“We had a…productive talk. After I had him personally move your giant mirror back here. I don’t think he could so much as climb a staircase if he tried, between the swollen muscles and bruised ego.”

Rook considered a scathing remark, but something in her cousin’s face softened her. 

“I’m sorry, about yesterday. You caught me at a bad time.” 

“No, I…” Viago exhaled and dragged a gloved hand across his face. “Perhaps Teia is right. I am…hard on you.”

“You taught me…everything. It’s kept me alive. I could stand to be more appreciative.”

Viago’s brows knitted as if he doubted the intentions of her gratitude.

“Maybe my methods are no improvement over your father’s, but…I have high expectations of you because I know you are capable of rising to the occasion.”

Her cousin averted his gaze, clearly uncomfortable with his admission. Rook blinked in surprise, sparing him a verbal jab and glancing across the room.

“That being said, your fighting yesterday evening was sloppy.”

Ah, there it was. 

“Never miss an opportunity for criticism, do you, cousin?”

“You still lack the important teachings. Discernment, knowing your enemy, how to avoid a fight in the first place…” Viago’s lip curled, “But I blame your father, not you.”

“This I have to hear.”

“Then stop interrupting me and listen, Fiammetta!” Viago snarled. “ He didn’t care if you fought well, so long as you survived long enough for him to swoop in and save you. You shouldn’t need anyone to save you. I won’t always be around to, and you can’t hide behind Lucanis’ rank-”

“Excuse me? What does Lucanis have to do with any of this?”

“Is that not a Dellamorte heirloom on your finger? You did not join your friend to take the eluvian back to the Lighthouse after the party. Do you think I was born yesterday?”

“Caterina gave me this ring.” 

Viago shook his head and laughed bitterly.

“Cousin, you have no idea what you’ve accepted. Gifts from Caterina Dellamorte do not come without strings.”

“What could she possibly want from me?”

“Grandchildren. Legacy. Rebuilding the Dellamorte line.” He suggested, clearly displeased to be the one pointing it out. “You are the only woman Lucanis has ever shown a public interest in. Don’t think you are immune to her schemes, Fiamma.”

Rook examined Caterina’s ring with discomfort. Had it not been so sentimental, she’d have ripped it from her hand and thrown it in the canals by now. Maybe she could pawn it in the casino downstairs.

“I’m not the marriage and family type.” 

“No Crow thinks they are until…”

Viago swallowed uncomfortably, rearranging the papers in front of him. 

“I’m asking Teia to marry me.” He announced, clearing his throat. “When this is all over.”

Rook carefully schooled her expression of shock, not wishing to draw attention to them.

“Did you get her pregnant?”

“What? No! Do you take us for fools?”

“But why? The back-and-forth between you two is so fun to watch. Why ruin a good thing with marriage ?” 

Viago scowled, leaning forward and bracing his palms on his desk.

“I want every Crow to know that to cross her is to cross me. None of the fools in Antiva would give what I’d give for her. Would sacrifice themselves, everything to ensure-” 

He cut himself off and hung his head. 

“I think of little else. It torments me. It has since the moment I met her.”

“You’re in love.” Rook breathed. “I didn’t think it was possible for that poisonous heart to let anyone in.”

Viago pointed at her threateningly. 

“Say anything about this, and I’ll kill you myself.”

─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───

Rook strode across the dark courtyard to the kitchen, where she could hear the timbre of Davrin and Lucanis’ voices through the door. She pushed her way inside, finding both of them slouched in chairs before the fire, Lucanis drinking wine from a coffee mug as Davrin waved a tankard around mid-story.

“-You try fighting a hill with a sword sometime!” 

Lucanis leaned forward in his seat. “How did you kill it?”

“Lamp oil. Everything stank of burnt tentacles for miles after!”

“If the two of you were going to open a bottle, you might have told me first.” Rook said. 

“It’s not a good bottle.” Davrin slurred.

“Rook!” Lucanis’ face slackened as he noticed her arrival, setting his cup aside. “You’re back. How was Viago?”

“Worried, under a thinly veiled demeanor of irritation. Nothing new.” She sat on the arm of Lucanis’ chair and he blushed, glancing over his shoulder at the pantry.

“Is anyone else hungry?” He asked. “Maybe I should cook something…”

Davrin glanced between them and snorted quietly to himself. 

“You know, I was just thinking about getting some sleep. Enjoy your evening.” He said suddenly, rising to his feet and striding toward the courtyard. “Assan! Bed.”

The griffin raised its head from where it had been napping by the fire, and reluctantly stood and shook itself awake, padding out after Davrin.

As the heavy doors closed with a soft thud behind them, Rook eased herself onto Lucanis’ lap. He straightened in his seat and he caught her in his arms, his body warm against hers.

“You’ve been drinking, haven’t you?” She asked with a smirk. 

“Only enough to make Davrin feel safe spilling all his secrets.” 

She leaned back, legs dangling over the arm of the chair as she draped herself across him. “What did you learn?”

“It turns out he has a sense of humor, under all the brooding.” He bent and kissed her affectionately. “Did you learn anything today?”

“I’d tell you, but Viago would kill me. So instead, I’ll confess that I think your grandmother is up to something.” Rook offered her hand to display Caterina’s ring on her middle finger. “She insisted I take this when we were speaking in the garden, but it feels wrong.” 

Lucanis reached out, his thumb gently grazing the surface of the opal.

“How did I miss that?” He wondered aloud, voice just barely above a whisper.

“Dark rooms. Distractions.”

He hummed in agreement, his eyes distant.

“She gave that ring to my mother once. It was the mark of her favor. House Velardo killed my parents and sent it back to Caterina to demand she surrender the seat of First Talon.”

“Maker, Lucanis! It should stay with you, not-”

“Caterina’s gratitude is always symbolic.” He said, “She’d never put it in words, but if not for you, I would be dead, and that seat she lost everything for would have been stolen to my cousin, who could not possibly appreciate her sacrifices to uphold our House’s place in the Crows.”

“How long will your line fight to keep First Talon before you realize it is a curse?” Rook exclaimed as she fumbled with the band on her finger. “I don’t want whatever strings are attached to this-”

Lucanis stopped her, holding her hand and deftly securing the ring in place.

“No strings. You owe nothing to anyone.” He reassured her. “Not my grandmother. Not me.”

Uneasiness washed over Rook, and she shifted uncomfortably. Lucanis, sensing her discomfort, kissed the pulse point of her wrist, his lips soft against her skin.

“Keep it, please,” he pleaded. “It suits you. Even as a child, I knew it was meant for you.”

Rook threw her head back and groaned. “ Enough .” 

“I stole it from Caterina the morning of the funeral to present to the Flame as a gift. I looked up to him, you know. Several of us young Crows did. It was fitting - a fire opal for the Flame after he lost his wife, the Gem…” 

With a tender touch, Lucanis traced a thumb along her cheekbone. 

“But I saw you alone, and…you were the first kindred spirit I’d encountered since my parents’ deaths.”

“Yeah? How are kindred spirits working out for you now? Would Spite like to weigh in on that topic?”

Lucanis narrowed his eyes. “You’re impossible.”

His hands found her waist, lifting her from his lap and inclining his head toward the kitchen doors. 

“Come, I’ll walk you to your chambers.”

“Are you kicking me out?” she asked, her voice carrying a hint of spirited defiance.

Lucanis smiled and leaned in close, lips brushing along her jawline.

“It’s clear you are unwilling to listen to my words,” he murmured, “so I’ll have to find other ways of holding your attention until you take me seriously.”

Rook’s breath caught in her throat as desire swelled in her chest.

“I didn’t think you-” she began just as his fingertips danced down her spine.

“Go on, tell me what kind of man I am,” he challenged as he escorted her to the door. “I’d love to surprise you.”

[violasghost]

At the risk of sounding like a Pollyanna, Rachel coming into the picture at this point in time is likely a good thing for Chenford. Discussion of the Rookie S7, Episode 3

Confession, Not going to get into real-world stuff or politics here, but just wanted to say how thankful I am for The Rookie to have as a much needed distraction on Tuesday nights and also glad to know the actors and everyone involved in the show is safe and will hopefully continue to remain safe from the LA wildfires. #SendinglovetoCalifornia

So despite it being a few seasons since we have seen or heard from Rachel, lets face it Lucy Chen has gone through some serious hardships in the last season and a half and with very little support. After she lost Jackson, she pretty much lost her one and only close platonic friend. When Tim broke up with her, the first reaction we got after seeing raw and emotionally hurt Lucy was Smitty joking about other cops betting on the reason for their breakup. (Pretty insensitive, especially to Chenford nation who was mostly in shock at that point.) Then you get Nolan and Celena pretending to care but not really, Celena mostly concerned that Lucy wouldn’t be too much of an emotional basket-case because she wanted to move out of her place and into Lucy’s apartment. And when Nolan asked Lucy about how she was doing when helping Celena to move in at a later date, he clearly regretted asking her such a loaded question. Not to mention the person Lucy thought of as a little sister, Tamara moves out. So no Tamara, no Detective, no Tim, and no explanation for the breakup. So yeah Rachel couldn’t have come at a better time. Lucy needs a real true grown up friend, someone who isn't a colleague or a subordinate. And its great that they have a history and Rachel has known Lucy for longer than anyone else has known her.

Does the fact that Rachel dated Tim bother me? Not really. Mostly because both of them said everything they needed to say to one another (plus it was Lucy who originally fixed them up) and it looks like Rachel was pretty much rooting for Tim and Lucy before she blew into town, so yeah don’t think she will be competition for Chenford.

Another angle that hasn’t been explored and I’m curious if ‘The Rookie’ showrunners will go there is the fact that Rachel in essence is a counselor/social services. Remember, she worked with abused kids? Even if they don’t decide to use Rachel’s professional expertise, she’s staying on Lucy’s couch. She’s not just passing through for one episode. They have already hedged at this with the brief discussion about Lucy and Tim's relationship by the couch, and you know there will be more. Maybe just maybe, Rachel will be able to get Lucy to open up a little bit about her feelings and what happened with Tim. Which would be really good for Lucy.

And it would be really good for Chenford because in order for both Lucy and Tim to be able to move past the 'lets just be friends' cover, they have to get under the surface and dig deep and figure out what it is they both really want, and then work up the courage to go for it. Kinda like when they both decided to start dating in S5. Lots of parallels here since they really did a re-set with their relationship, but they have to work up to that point of realization first, that 1. the feelings are still there (which they are), and 2. its worth the risk (which it is).

Side note, I thought it was really cute when Lucy prepped Seth with all the Tim test answers and Tim cracking Nolan’s fancy safe house lock system, haha.

I also thought it was funny when Bailey returned and the locks were not working. Although still could care less about Jason. The guy who got out of the handcuffs seemed more interesting.

What did you think?

[ducktoo]

Cotton ball?

SMN's Honda Hitomi x Reader

Note: Anyone remember savage tomi?

The walls were lined with dark wood panels, polished to perfection, and the air smelled faintly of cigars and expensive leather. It was a room that exuded power and control—exactly what you’d expect from the headquarters of one of the most feared mafia organizations in the country. Everything here screamed authority, from the dimmed lighting to the intricate crest engraved on the glass doors: a blooming cherry blossom surrounded by sharp-edged swords.

You stood awkwardly near the hallway to the boss' office, trying not to fidget under the heavy gaze of Nako, the underboss.

Nako, despite her small stature, commanded the room effortlessly. She was perched on the edge of her desk, her legs crossed, wearing a fitted suit that made her look sharp enough to cut glass. Her hair was tied into a neat bun, not a strand out of place, and her almond-shaped eyes bore into you like she was evaluating every flaw you’d ever had.

“You’re the new consigliere?” she asked, her tone clipped and businesslike.

“Yes, ma’am,” you replied, your voice steadier than you felt.

“Hm.” She tilted her head, a thin smirk playing on her lips. “I don’t see it.”

You blinked. “See what, sorry?”

“Why she picked you.” Her smirk widened, and there was a glint of something—amusement, perhaps?—in her eyes. “The boss doesn’t trust easily, you know. And you… well, you look like you don’t even belong in this world.”

The words stung, but you swallowed your pride. “I assure you, ma’am, I’m more than capable.”

Nako’s laugh was soft, almost condescending. “We’ll see.”

Behind her desk, a massive map of the city was pinned to the wall, with different territories marked in bold colours. Each section bore the insignias of the smaller gangs and organizations that either owed allegiance to or opposed the Honda Family. Red pins marked conflicts—places where turf wars were brewing or negotiations were falling apart. Blue pins signalled alliances, and green ones were areas where the family had full control.

Your eyes lingered on the map. The Honda Family wasn’t just a mafia; it was an empire. Their reach extended far beyond the city, with ties to international smuggling routes, political puppets, and corporations laundering their wealth. You’d heard whispers of their power before, but seeing it laid out so plainly was something else entirely.

“Don’t get lost staring,” Nako said, pulling your attention back to her. “It’s not your job to worry about the big picture. Your job is to keep the boss happy and make sure she stays two steps ahead of everyone else.”

“I understand.”

“Do you?” Nako slid off the desk, crossing her arms as she walked toward you. Despite her small frame, there was something imposing about her presence. “Let me make one thing clear. This isn’t some glorified corporate gig where mistakes mean missed deadlines. If you screw up, people will f*cking die. People who matter to us. And trust me, if that happens, you’ll wish you were dead too.”

Your throat tightened, but you nodded. “I won’t fail.”

“We’ll see,” she said again, her tone dripping with skepticism.

She gestured to the large double doors behind her, the final barrier between you and the boss.

“The boss is waiting,” Nako said. “And word of advice? Be on your best. I mean it.”

“...What’s she like?” you asked cautiously.

Nako raised an eyebrow, her smirk returning. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

With that, she turned away, leaving you to face the hallway alone.

-

The double doors loomed in front of you like gates to another world. Nako’s words replayed in your mind, her warning sinking into your bones.

Be on your best. The boss doesn’t trust easily.

Your palms were clammy as you took a deep breath. You’ve prepared for this, you told yourself. You’ve studied their operations, analysed their power structure, memorized every key player and rival. You belong here.

Right as you were about to march towards your doom, a soft voice startled you.

“Are you okay?”

You turned sharply, your nerves already on edge, and came face to face with a petite woman standing a few feet away. She was holding a tray with a teapot and a single cup, her expression concerned. Her brown hair was tied neatly into a low ponytail, and her small frame was dwarfed by the oversized black blazer she wore.

“I—uh—yeah, I’m fine,” you stammered, thrown off by her sudden appearance. “Are you an aide?”

She blinked at you, then smiled—a gentle, almost disarming smile. “Something…like that.”

You nodded awkwardly, trying not to let your nerves show. “I’m here to meet the boss.”

“I figured,” she said, her tone light. “You’re the new consigliere, right?”

“That’ll be me, yes.”

Her eyes scanned you briefly, and for a moment, you felt like she was sizing you up. But then her smile returned, soft and unassuming. “Follow me.”

She turned and walked toward the doors, balancing the tray with practiced ease. You hesitated, your mind scrambling to make sense of her presence. If she was just an aide, why did she seem so comfortable here, so… confident?

Still, you followed her, trying to shake off your unease.

The walk to the boss’s office wasn’t long, but each step felt heavier than the last. The petite woman led the way without hesitation, her pace steady. As you approached the doors, she stopped and glanced back at you.

“Take a deep breath,” she said, her voice softer now.

You frowned. “Excuse me?”

She giggled—a quiet, melodic sound that felt oddly out of place in such a serious environment. “You look like you’re about to pass out. Relax. The boss isn’t as scary as everyone says.”

You weren’t sure whether to be reassured or annoyed. “I’ll keep that in mind,” you said dryly.

She nodded, her smile never faltering, and nudged the door open with her shoulder. “Right this way.”

The room you entered was smaller and cozier than you’d imagined. The warm lighting and shelves of books made it feel more like a personal study than the command centre of a powerful mafia boss. You’d expected something colder, more clinical.

The petite woman set the tray down on the desk, then turned to face you. “Here we are.”

You looked around, confused. “Where’s the boss?”

Her eyes twinkled with amusement as she clasped her hands in front of her. “You’re looking at her.”

You blinked. Once. Twice.

“…Pardon?”

She tilted her head, her smile now bordering on mischievous. “Surprised?”

“No, I—” you stopped, your brain grinding to a halt as realization dawned. “You’re… the boss?”

“Yup!” she chirped, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. “Honda Hitomi, head of the Honda Family. Nice to meet you!”

"Do we...sell cars as well?"

"Really?" Hitomi glared. Yet, you could see the corner of her lips nearly curl into a smile.

"Right, sorry."

You stared at her, your mind scrambling to reconcile the image of this cheerful, almost delicate-looking woman with the ruthless mastermind you’d read about. But you kept getting distracted by those chubby cheeks of hers.

This couldn’t be right. She looked more like a college student than the leader of a criminal empire.

Hitomi tilted her head, her smile turning slightly teasing. “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?”

You quickly snapped out of your daze, straightening your posture. “I… I wasn’t expecting this.”

She laughed, a sound so light and airy it made you question everything you thought you knew about mafia bosses. “That’s usually the reaction I get. Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it.”

You weren’t so sure about that.

She gestured to the chair across from her desk. “Sit. We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

Still reeling, you nodded and moved to take the seat, all the while trying to suppress the whirlwind of questions buzzing in your head.

As you sat down, Hitomi poured herself a cup of tea, her movements calm and deliberate. She didn’t seem fazed by your obvious discomfort—in fact, she seemed to enjoy it.

“Hm. Currently, you don’t look very impressive.”

Ouch. You straightened your back. “I assure you, I’m more than capable.”

Her gaze lingered on you, assessing. It wasn’t her size or appearance that made her terrifying—it was the way she could make you feel like a bug under a microscope. Just as you started to squirm under her scrutiny, she broke the silence.

“I like you.”

You blinked. “You… do?”

She grinned, and for a moment, she really did look like a harmless cotton ball. “You’re honest. And you don’t stutter like an idiot when you’re scared. That’s rare around here.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“Call me Hitomi,” she said casually, as if she hadn’t just turned the most intimidating meeting of your life into a friendly chat. “But only in private. In public, it’s Boss Honda. Got it?”

“Yes, Boss Honda.”

“Good.” She stood up, barely coming up to your shoulder even in heels. “Now, let’s see if you’re really as capable as you claim.”

-

The next few weeks turned into an endless parade of tasks, meetings, and what you could only describe as "managing chaos with a perfectly calm smile." Hitomi ran her empire like a conductor leading an orchestra. Every gesture, every word she spoke—soft-spoken and sweet—was calculated. It wasn’t just how she gave orders; it was how people scrambled to follow them without hesitation.

You had seen how these things usually worked. Before you joined, you had your fair share of experience in high-stakes negotiations and backroom deals. You weren’t exactly new to power plays or manipulation. But Hitomi’s methods were… different.

Take the time she dealt with a rival family’s informant. You knew how it usually went down: someone gets dragged in, roughed up, and tossed out like yesterday’s garbage if they don't spill it out. Simple, brutal, effective.

Hitomi, however, handled it with unnerving grace.

The informant—a wiry man with shifty eyes—stood in the middle of her office, fidgeting under her steady gaze.

“I hear you’ve been talking,” Hitomi said softly, her tone more curious than accusing.

“I—I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the man stammered.

She tilted her head, smiling gently. “Oh, you don’t? That’s odd because my sources tell me you’ve been very..chatty.”

The room went silent. You sat in the corner, observing, trying to figure out where this was going. She hadn’t raised her voice or made any threats, yet the man looked like he wanted to disappear into the floor.

“You see,” she continued, her voice still light, “I don’t mind a little gossip. It’s human nature, after all. But what I do mind…” She leaned forward slightly, her hands clasped neatly on the desk. “…is when that gossip endangers my family.”

The informant flinched. “I—I swear, I didn’t mean to—”

She held up a hand, and he immediately fell silent. “No excuses. I’m giving you one chance to fix this. Go back to your family and tell them you’re done. No more talking, no more listening. If I hear otherwise…” She smiled, but there was no warmth in it. “Well, let’s just say you won’t be around to talk anymore.”

The man nodded so fast you thought his neck might snap. “Yes, Boss! Of course, Boss! I promise!”

Hitomi leaned back, her smile softening. “Good. You can go now.”

The informant practically tripped over himself in his hurry to leave.

After the door closed, you finally spoke. “That was… effective.”

Hitomi looked at you, her expression unreadable. “Why waste energy when words can do the job for you?”

You felt intrigued by her methodology.

Then there was the shipment incident. One of the family’s shipments—something valuable enough that everyone was on edge—had gone missing. You were in the thick of it, running between Nako’s sharp orders and Hitomi’s calm presence.

The culprit, as it turned out, was one of their own. A lower-level associate thought they could skim a little off the top and get away with it.

The confrontation happened in the main hall. Hitomi sat at the head of the long table, her hands folded neatly in front of her. The associate, a burly man twice her size, stood before her, shifting nervously.

“You’ve been stealing from me,” she said simply, her tone so casual it could’ve been mistaken for a friendly observation.

The man stammered. “I—I didn’t—”

“Don’t talk,” she interrupted, her smile still intact. “It’s insulting.”

He froze, his face pale.

“You’re lucky I value loyalty,” she continued, tapping her fingers on the table. “So, here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to return what you took—every last cent. And then you’re going to work double shifts until I decide you’ve earned your place here again.”

The man swallowed hard. “Y-yes, Boss. Of course.”

“Oh, and one more thing,” she added, her tone light. “If you ever betray me again…” She leaned forward, her smile fading just slightly. “Don't even dream of having your thieving hands. Understand?”

He nodded frantically, backing out of the room like his life depended on it—which, to be fair, it probably did.

You couldn’t help but marvel at how she handled it. No shouting, no threats of immediate violence—just a calm, measured tone that left no room for argument.

By the end of your first month, you understood why everyone followed her so loyally. Hitomi’s power didn’t come from brute force; it came from something far more dangerous—an ability to control a room without lifting a finger. You’d seen her disarm enemies with a smile, strike fear with a single look, and turn even the most stubborn people into loyal followers.

It was terrifying.

And, honestly? You were kind of in awe.

-

The weeks following your exposure into the inner circle of Honda Hitomi’s empire were a trial by fire. Each day tested your limits—not just your intellect but your composure. Hitomi was mercurial: one moment, she was cracking jokes and putting you at ease; the next, she was spinning a web of strategy so intricate it made your head spin.

Nako, as the underboss, kept you on your toes in a different way. Her sharp tongue and unrelenting demands were almost a rite of passage for you. If you could survive her scathing critiques, maybe you’d earn a measure of respect—or at least avoid her outright disdain.

But then there were the quieter moments. The rare times when you were alone with Hitomi in her office. Those times felt… different.

Today was one of those days.

“Good work today,” she said casually, her voice breaking the silence as she poured herself a cup of tea. Her movements were unhurried, graceful even, as if running a criminal empire was no more taxing than organizing a casual luncheon.

“Thank you, Boss Honda,” you replied, standing stiffly in front of her desk like a soldier awaiting orders.

Hitomi sighed and set her teacup down with a soft clink. “You really need to loosen up,” she said, leaning back in her chair. “You’re making me nervous just looking at you.”

You frowned slightly. “I didn’t think it was possible to make you nervous.”

A grin tugged at her lips, one that felt both disarming and vaguely threatening. “Oh, you’d be surprised. But I’ve got a pretty good poker face. These chubby cheeks help.”

You hesitated before speaking again, carefully choosing your words. “It’s just… hard to reconcile who you are and your appearance with what you do. No offense.”

“None taken,” she said easily, though her gaze sharpened as it settled on you. “Let me guess—you expected someone taller. Broader. Maybe with a scar or two and a voice like gravel?”

“Something like that,” you admitted, feeling a little embarrassed.

Hitomi laughed, a light, airy sound that felt entirely out of place in the dark, heavy atmosphere of her office. “You’re not the first to think that. But that’s why I’m so good at what I do. People underestimate me. They see this,” she gestured to herself, “and think I’m harmless. Cute, even. It’s my greatest weapon.”

“That… actually makes a lot of sense.”

“Of course it does,” she said, her tone playful but with a flicker of pride. “I didn’t get here by chance, you know. Every move I make is deliberate. Every decision calculated. That’s why this whole operation runs like a well-oiled machine.”

You nodded, trying to absorb her words. “It’s impressive. And a little terrifying.”

“Good.” She smirked, picking up her teacup again. “That means you’re paying attention.”

The room fell into a comfortable silence as she sipped her tea, her sharp eyes scanning over a stack of documents on her desk. You took the opportunity to study her—not just her petite frame or the way her suit jacket seemed to swallow her whole, but the way she carried herself. Despite her size and appearance, there was an undeniable weight to her presence.

“Why’d you join us?” she asked suddenly, breaking the silence. Her tone was casual, but her eyes pinned you in place.

You swallowed hard, caught off guard by the question. “I needed a fresh start,” you said finally, keeping your voice steady.

Hitomi tilted her head, her expression softening just slightly. “Don’t we all?” she murmured, almost to herself.

The vulnerability in her voice surprised you. It was a brief glimpse behind the curtain, a reminder that even someone as formidable as Honda Hitomi had her own reasons, her own struggles.

“Do you ever regret it?” you asked before you could stop yourself.

She raised an eyebrow. “Joining this world?”

You nodded.

“Sometimes,” she admitted, her gaze drifting to the window. “But regrets don’t change anything. What matters is what you do with the hand you’re dealt.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. You weren’t sure what to say, so you stayed quiet, letting her words sink in.

After a moment, she turned back to you, her playful smirk returning. “By the way, if you call me a cotton ball or cutiepie again, I’ll have Nako break your legs.”

You choked on your own breath, coughing violently as her words registered. “I—I didn’t—”

“Oh, you definitely did,” she said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “And don’t even try to deny it. Nako told me.”

You made a mental note to get back at Nako later—if you survived this, that is. “I meant it as a compliment,” you said quickly, though your voice lacked conviction.

Hitomi leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand as she regarded you with mock seriousness. “A compliment, huh? Well, I guess I’ll let it slide this time. But only because you’re entertaining.”

“Thank you… Boss Honda.”

"I said Hitomi when it's just us two."

"Right…Hi-Hitomi."

Her laughter filled the room again, light and genuine. For a moment, it was easy to forget that you were sitting across from one of the most powerful figures in the criminal underworld.

But as you left her office, her parting words lingered in your mind, a reminder of just how dangerous she truly was.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” she’d said with a smile. “The moment you start underestimating me is the moment you’ll regret it.”

[bettydice]

#34 Stars for Solavellan :D

She hears him approach and doesn’t wait until she sees him to move slightly to the right, so he can sit down next to her, if he so chooses. He does not, not immediately. Instead, Solas stops a few steps away from her, keeping a polite distance. “May I join you?” Mango almost rolls her eyes at him, but restrains herself, when she sees the soft smile on his face. “You don’t have to ask, you know?” She pats the spot next to her. “I would not want to presume.” Solas sits down, thankfully leaving politeness behind, so that their bodies are touching, and he takes her hand.

“Mhm, you have my explicit permission to do so. In fact,” Mango interlaces their fingers, “I’d very much like it, if you did.”

She feels a rare stab of embarrassment after she says it, her heart not used to Mango pulling such private wants to the surface. She decides to let Solas see both her embarrassment and her want, her need, for him to cross that boundary between ‘Inquisitor’ and ‘Mango’ unasked.

He holds her gaze for four heartbeats, as always full of gentleness and understanding, then lifts their entwined hands and presses a kiss to the back of hers. “I can do that.”

With her free hand, she pulls him close, so their lips can meet. It has only been a few weeks since Solas let go of whatever concerns had been holding him back, and they don’t get moments like these as often as she’d like, but already their intimacy feels so familiar. There’s so much they have yet to experience together, so much they don’t know about each other, but there are neither questions nor doubts in their kisses.

Solas breaks the kiss, pulls back a little to smile at her. “This is not the reason I came here for.”

“And that is no reason to stop.”

“True enough. And now I certainly intend to resume this later. But first…” He pulls a small jar from the leather pouch on his belt - the jar that holds the ointment she uses on her left hand.

Mango leans back against the rock and fully relaxes her hand in his grip, while he massages the ointment into her skin. It helps with the terrible dryness, even if it cannot stop her skin from always feeling too tight, as though it doesn’t belong to her and is sitting on the wrong hand.

“Is this a different one? It smells… much nicer.” Lavender, very obviously, and something else she can’t pinpoint.

“I may have made some suggestions to the apothecary. I’m glad you’re pleased with the result.”

“I really am. Thank you, Solas.”

He hums in acknowledgement, then presses his fingertips deep into the heel of her hand.

“Oh.” Mango closes her eyes and sighs. “After trudging through the sand all day, I think my legs could use the same treatment.”

Solas’ fingers stop their movement, close to her pulse point. “Would you… want me to be presumptuous about that?”

A quiet laugh escapes her, and she opens her eyes to look at him. "Yes.”

He lifts his eyes to hers, gaze more intense this time, and resumes his massage. “I’ll try to respect your wishes, then.”

She is tempted to get up immediately and take him to her - their - tent, but her legs do really feel terribly sore. And it is blissfully quiet here, and the desert looks so beautiful in the moonlight.

She laughs again and the charged moment passes.

“You must be looking forward to visiting the Fade tonight - new places to explore.”

Solas huffs. “There is nothing on this side of the Veil, I’m not confident the other side will have more to show.”

“It wasn’t always nothing.”

His eyebrows draw together for a moment, the corners of his mouth turn downwards. He looks sad, not displeased. “… Yes. You’re quite right about that.”

“May I join you tonight? In the Fade? If there’s nothing to find… well, I can think of a few things to do instead.”

Solas laughs then and kisses her hand once more - this time, to signify the end of the massage. “Alright. I’ll come and find you then, Vhenan.”

“Please do.” Mango lifts her right hand and caresses his cheek. “But if you don’t mind staying on this side a bit longer… ”

Solas embraces her tightly and gives her a kiss that is only for her, that is an answer to everything she has wanted from him, a kiss that leaves no boundaries between them.

For a little while she is just Mango, kissing her lover in the moonlight, surrounded by peaceful nothingness.

[slaymitchabernathy]

Picture Perfect

“Coriolanus darling, the photography team is going to be here any minute so that study of yours better be picture perfect!”

Coriolanus only catches a glimpse of his wife walking past the open door to his study before she disappears around the corner in a hurry, Petunia her cat, right on her heels. And Soarynn is wearing very loud heels from what he can hear.

She’s been running around their penthouse all morning getting everything ready for today. Because today the Capitol Gazette is coming to photograph their apartment for their newest rollout.

Every month the Gazette chooses something to focus on, fashion, politics, and this month, its interior design. He doesn’t even know how Soarynn managed to pull the strings to get their apartment featured but she came home one day absolutely ecstatic.

Ever since, she’s been watching him with eyes of a hawk, slapping his hand the second he goes to move something two inches to the left. He’s thought about reminding his wife that this is technically his apartment, but he also values his life so he’s been a prisoner in his own home.

Last night they went out to eat because she didn’t want to risk getting the kitchen dirty after deep cleaning it, and this morning, she forced him to go out into the cold to pick up some pastries for breakfast.

He doesn’t know who’s more excited to get this thing over with, him or her.

Still, he knows how important this is to her so he makes sure that everything in his study is perfectly straight, everything in its proper place.

Soarynn flies into his study, out of breath and nearly knocks him down, “Slow down darling,” he says, steadying her with his hands on her arms, “take a few deep breaths and breathe, this is just a photo shoot.”

The gasp that comes out of Soarynn’s mouth lets Coriolanus know that he just made a terrible choice in words.

“Coryo, this is the Capitol Gazette! Everyone who’s anyone will be reading it once it comes out, they only publish a new edition once a month and our apartment is going to be on every page including the front one! If we don’t get this right then we, I, shall be shunned from society forever!”

A shiver runs down his spine, not because he’s scared of being shunned from society, but because he’s forgotten how much his wife can be a force to reckon with when she’s passionate about something.

He gives her a reassuring smile, “All will be well darling, the photos will turn out beautiful and you look beautiful.” She really does look beautiful. While Coriolanus was sent to scavenge for breakfast, Soarynn stayed home and locked herself in their bathroom, getting ready for the photos.

Her makeup looks flawless as always, letting her natural beauty shine through but he can see that she’s gone with a bolder lip color today, complimenting the blush she chose as well. Her hair has been pinned up in an intricate updo that looks so effortless even though about a thousand pins are probably keeping it in place.

For jewelry she’s gone with simple pearl earrings along with the pearl necklace he gifted her a few months ago. And, of course, her wedding ring rests on her ring finger, shining brightly since she just got it cleaned a few days ago.

“I still need to change,” she tells him, switching the subject, “would you please keep an eye on Petunia to make sure that she doesn’t get into any trouble?”

It’s as if she’s been summoned because Petunia pads into the room, a silky pink ribbon tied around her neck since she too will be in the photos.

No one in this household can escape today.

Coriolanus dutifully bobs his head up and down, earning him a pleased smile from Soarynn who leaves his study as quickly as she came into it. He gazes down at the cat who probably came here for Soarynn, not him and shrugs. “Prepare yourself for the worst,” he mumbles more to himself than to Petunia, already rolling onto her back in hopes for scratches on her belly.

Coriolanus rarely pets Petunia, mostly because it always ends in her scratching him but he crouches down and gives her a friendly pat, quickly withdrawing his hand before she can sink her claws into his porcelain skin.

Soarynn would be livid if he showed up to this photoshoot scathed.

The doorbell rings, reminding everyone in the house why things have been so tense and Coriolanus takes a deep breath, the sooner they get started, the sooner it’ll be over.

At least, that’s what he tells himself.

꧁ ꧂

Coriolanus never knew that his apartment was this photogenic.

The Gazette photographers have scoured every inch of their home to take pictures off, focusing on the smallest details which has led to Soarynn giving him some smug looks. He had teased her about fussing over the littlest things but her worrying has apparently paid off big time.

Right now he’s situated in his favorite arm chair in the living room while Soarynn sits on the armrest, gazing down at him so lovingly as if they sit like this every day.

“Oh, perfect,” the photographer says, snapping a few more photos, “so natural, such a beautiful couple.”

Soarynn’s smile falters at the compliment, Coriolanus knows that she’s been nervous about this day and now that it’s finally here, she’s on edge.

“Why don’t we move this to the bedroom?” The photographer suggests, earning him an eager nod from Soarynn, shooting up from her precarious spot on the chair, “Yes, it’s right this way.”

They all trail after Soarynn, making it quite the procession with Coriolanus bringing up the rear. But he doesn’t mind, not when he’s in the comfort of his own home.

Soarynn probably obsessed over their bedroom the most, wanting it to look like they never slept in here a day in their lives. She kicked him out at six o’clock in the morning so she could wash, dry, and steam the sheets before adding all the decorative pillows.

Coriolanus never knew they could have so many pillows on the bed but someone immediately compliments them so he says nothing.

He stands idly by the doors, watching Soarynn discuss possible places where the young couple can be “candidly” photographed. They decide on the closet and Coriolanus is led to pretend that he’s sitting on the small bench they have in their walk-in closet, acting as if he’s taking off his shoes after a long day of work.

Soarynn pretends to reach for something on a high shelf, looking back at him while he looks at her. The entire thing feels utterly ridiculous but Coriolanus doesn’t want to add to her stress so he goes along with it.

They only take a hundred photos before moving into the bathroom, also scrubbed top to bottom. Thankfully, he’s not needed for these photos and watches his wife apply lipstick while looking into the mirror so the photographer can capture a photo in the mirror’s reflection.

Coriolanus takes a moment to admire the absolute vision that his wife is. The dress she’s wearing is all white, fitting her perfectly in every spot. The sleeves are long and the front of the dress is pleated to draw attention to her waist. It stops right below the knee, showing off her matching white high heels he’s been subjected to hearing all morning.

Soarynn is so beautiful.

“Alright! Let’s move to the dining room people!”

Soarynn sighs, fussing with her hair and putting the lipstick back. She gives him a shy look, “You’re doing wonderfully darling,” he assures her, “you’re a natural.”

Soarynn shakes her head, following the crowd back out into their bedroom, “I feel so stiff,” she admits, “and also a bit silly. I cleaned our room top to bottom and they only took a few photos.”

You also woke me up at six o’clock in the morning, he wants to say but that won’t help the situation.

Coriolanus rests a loving hand on her waist, drawing her close to him so he can look directly in her stormy blue eyes. It’s hard for him to focus when she smells like vanilla but he manages to stay on task.

“You’re not silly, you’re prepared. There’s a difference. And the apartment looks great, you look great. You’re the picture of Capitol sophistication darling, people turn their heads when you walk down the streets. Women envy you and men envy me because they want to be with you.”

The last part gets him a small smile from Soarynn and she rests her hands on his chest, making it hard to focus again, “Thank you,” she whispers, fiddling with a button on his shirt, “I know I haven’t been easy these past few weeks leading up to this but your support hasn’t gone unnoticed or unappreciated.”

Coriolanus hums, brushing his nose against her cheek in a playful manner, “Well maybe you could make it up to me.” Soarynn giggles when he squeezes her waist, always so giddy from the slightest touch.

“How would I make it up to you?”

He shrugs, “Oh, I don’t know. A foot rub, a back massage, anything really. I’m a simple man darling.”

His lips finally meet hers and he kisses her softly, in no rush to go take more staged photos. Soarynn returns the kiss, also not in a rush which makes him smile, deepening the kiss.

They’re so caught up in their kiss that neither of them realizes that they’re being photographed until they hear a ‘click’ from the camera. They pull apart, looking out into the hallway where the main photographer grins at them, “That was the perfect photo for the cover! So natural. So perfect.”

Soarynn lets out a sigh of relief. She’s been worried about the front cover, not wanting them to look like absolute fools.

Coriolanus pecks her cheek, “See? The front cover is going to be perfect.”

Soarynn looks back up at him, resting a loving hand on his cheek while smiling.

“Picture perfect,” she agrees.

| tumblr oneshot/drabble |

| taglist: @strawberriicakes @kickmybark @wonderlandbound111 @melodyoflovee @thevoicesinmyprettylittlehead @erensrealgf @evilmenarehot |

[daenerysoftarth]

god how fucking lucky are we tho. one in a billion trillion chance at life and we’re so fortunate that it comes alongside oceans and glaciers and the northern lights and turtles and sand and river water and tornadoes and waterfalls and it’s just. how lucky is it to be born alongside such beauty

[shoveitevil]

i high key think my paretnrs might be getting divorced :((( they have been fighting basically every night since i can remember but they always fought so i just accepted it but they started to go sleep at other people’s houses more and mum went away for almost a week and dad keeps going on work trips and tonight is the first time this has happened for two times in a row dads car is just missing and they keep fighting always always always i sometimes can’t go to sleep bcs they are always talking and mum is always crying now even though the entire time before i was 10 she cried only once in front of me and that was when grandad died. my mum literally had to take my therapy appointment (which i really really needed bcs ive been feeling like absolute shit lately) for herself because she was feeling awful. its all dads fault i really dont like my dad anymore he was never emotionally present when i was younger and he’s still barely emotionally present now. i think there is a very good reason his first marriage went badly and i think there’s a very good reason that for almost 2 years all my stepsisters hated my dad and i think there’s a very good reason why the girls stopped coming over for weekends but its not like my mum is perfect she always defends my brother im always in the wrong when i get in trouble and shes very generous with school and stuff but she enables josh and his awful behaviour i feel like i cant have shit in this house i cant wait to move out

[rafey-baby]

c/w: bf!rafe being obsessed with reader’s tits while she’s riding him, use of daddy, Topper texts in the middle of it, fluffy undertones

18+ mdni!

wc: 740

inspired by this ask

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Just like that, Baby. There you go,” Rafe pants while he’s pawing at her waist as she stretches around him tucked deep inside her; hitting the spongy spot inside her with every roll of her hips on top of him on their couch. 

Their moans and grunts echo around the living room and a brief thought about him having to be somewhere else crosses his mind when he blinks. However, it’s quickly forgotten when his eyes flicker over to her tits bouncing up and down right in front of his face; enticing him, tempting him like cocaine. 

Therefore, he has no choice but to let his fingers greedily pluck at the straps of her tank top; letting them fall down her shoulders and exposing her tits for his hungry mouth. He gropes the left one with his big hand and sloppily mouths at the other; pressing open-mouthed kisses on the plump flesh, soft lips brushing against her sensitive skin.

“Shit, they’re fucking perfect, huh?” His words are slurred, eyes half-lidded and he thinks he could stay like this forever. 

She lets out a loud noise when he sucks her nipple between his lips; tongue playing with the puffy bud and rolling his thumb over the other one. 

“Yeah? That feel nice? Needed Daddy to pay some attention to his girls?” He croons against her tits; breath tickling her tender skin.

She whimpers in response, fluttering around his cock that presses harder into her tight hole when he lifts his own hips upwards; helping her out when he notices her thighs beginning to grow sore. 

He nuzzles his face against her breasts; groaning out against her skin when she squeezes around him, hands grabbling at his biceps in their pursuit of some form of solidity. 

“Taking me so well, huh?” He laves his tongue over a nipple before he’s grazing his teeth against it; playfully biting down and eliciting an overwhelmed shriek from her. 

“Ray…” she whines, feeling her orgasm approaching with each thrust of his hips meeting her own. 

“Hm?” He hums around the button but before she can open her mouth, his phone buzzes on the couch cushion next to them. 

He doesn’t even hear it; far too bewitched by her body for anything else to drift to the forefront of his mind. It vibrates with another message soon after and that’s when she turns to look at the screen that lights up with four new notifications. 

“It’s Topper,” she mumbles, halting her movements momentarily. 

“Huh?” His question is muffled against her flesh. 

“He’s texting you,” she picks up the phone and hands it to him. 

“Don’t really give a shit,” he tries to dismiss her, hands grabbing at her hips and trying to get her to continue moving but she stays rooted in her spot. 

“You should answer, maybe it’s important,” she insists, tone unwavering. 

“Top has never texted me about anything important,” he argues, pulling away from her with a crease between his brows; tentatively taking the device and flitting his eyes over the words.  

Top

Yo Rafe

Where are u? 

Me and Kelce are waiting for u at the island club 

U coming or? 

“You’re such a little devil, yeah? Made me forget about my fucking plans,” he murmurs teasingly; squeezing her thigh as he types out a response.

Shit, my bad

Kinda busy playing w my girls atm

Topper’s answer is immediate. 

Top

What girls?

Oh..

She looks down at the messages when a chuckle rumbles from his chest. 

“Rafe, why would you say that?” She complains with a pout molding her mouth. However, he merely offers her an infuriating grin as he locks the device, about to throw it on the coffee table before her fingers wrap around his wrist. 

“Wait, you’re not gonna say anything else?” She sounds almost worried, never the one to enjoy being rude to others. 

He thinks she’s too much of a polite sweetheart sometimes as he playfully rolls his eyes; fingers reluctantly gliding over the keyboard once again.

Maybe next time? 

Top

Yeah, whatever. Have fun

“Happy now?” He scrunches his nose at her, turning the do not disturb mode on before finally setting the phone down and gracing her with his undivided attention once more. 

“Very happy,” her smile is contagious when she takes ahold of his jaw; leaning down to press a honeyed kiss on his lips and swallowing his grunt when she shifts against him in a thank you.

[cheer-nympho]

Demon Eddie this, Demon Eddie that…take a minute to picture Demon STEVE

Theres so much fun to be had with that. Maybe that’s how he got to the top, favours and exchanges

People come to him with requests and they don’t know how, but he always gets it done.

And then they owe him.

It becomes a thing for him to jokingly go “you owe me!” With a big smile, but they literally do. And he always cashes in, but usually just for small things he wants in the moment. Like a spare cigarette or a drink at a party.

And hey! Maybe Eddie DOES try to summon demons…

And one night, after he’s playing dress up as a satanist, he finally manages to summon one successfully.

Not that he knows that, all he knows is that Steve Harrington is knocking on his door all of a sudden.

Stupid puffy hair and goofy grin staring at him while he leans in.

“You called?”

And Eddie looks towards the phone slowly and back to Steve. Because no, no he didn’t.

He’s too tired and high to even pretend to be polite, just shutting the door in his face before leaning against it with a deep sigh.

But when he opens his eyes, Steve is stood there. In his trailer. As if Eddie didn’t just block his only way in and- okay, yeah. His eyes are fucking red.

He probably shouldn’t have used that book.

[sttoru]

‘the king of curses doesn’t like sharing. especially not when it comes to his partner.’

☀︎｜tags. heian era!sukuna x female reader. sfw/fluff ? ig. set in the heian era, duh. jealousy & possessive themes. size difference (reader gets referred to as small!). tried to be realistic w/ sukuna’s characterisation so. . . don’t be surprised to read about him killing somebody. therefore, mentions of blood. reader is implied to have a fear of blood (dw sukuna takes care of it teehee). reader gets called 'brat'. not beta read; this sucks ass.

you were taking a stroll outside of the estate, the hem of the floral kimono you’re wearing lightly dragging along behind you. the weather was perfect with not a single cloud in sight.

a pair of silent footsteps follow yours and you sigh. even though it was an usual occurrence, you still aren’t used to having one of sukuna’s servants at your side at all times. your over protective lover insisted that it was for your own ‘safety’. as if anything or anyone could harm you whilst you stay within the four walls of the estate far up in the mountains.

sukuna is continuously busy and thus decided to assign you a personal maid that accompanies you and takes care of your every need when he isn’t able to. well - looking at the bright side of things - at least she tries her best to hide her presence from you. she tags along silently and only speaks when spoken to.

you stop near a sakura tree and tilt your head back to admire its beauty. after a few minutes pass, you hear a different pair of footsteps walking up your way. you turn your head and see a familiar male servant approaching you with his head held low.

his hands were holding onto a platter with a cup of warm tea and a few of your favorite delicacies. the brown-haired man greets you politely. maybe a bit too politely as his voice carries a bright smile, “good afternoon, my lady.”

you return the greeting with a smile of your own. it was like you to treat the servants around the estate with kindness and care — a total opposite of the king of curses. you take a pastry from the platter and look back up at the man, “thank you for bringing me these. i appreciate it greatly.”

the way you treat the ones of lower status has always been an admirable trait of yours. it might have stirred some forbidden feelings for you in the heart of the male servant. he knows that it was impossible - he’d seen how easily sukuna gets rid of those who get too close to you.

but, he isn’t here. the king of curses isn’t present in the current moment. the brown-haired male shifts in his place a little, fingernails digging into the material of the plate he was holding. he was going to do it — no one could hold him back. not even the maid who stood a couple steps away.

“y-you look very beautiful, my lady.” the servant stutters and bows his head at you. you are surprised to hear such a flattering sentence leave the lips of the man in front of you. none of the men around you had dared to be this straightforward in ages. they all knew the possible consequences that such actions could bring after all.

perhaps it was due to the absent intimidating presence of your lover. still, you can’t help but feel grateful. you giggle softly, covering your mouth with your free hand, “thank you so much.”

the male servant gulps at the sound of your laughter. ‘oh, how lucky the king of curses is - to have such a beautiful woman at his side,’ the man thought to himself. he was sure that he could treat you better than the indifferent sukuna himself.

he hesitates to continue the conversation for a second. there was an urge deep within him; to ask if you’d like to have some tea with him in the dining area. it would be extremely bold and maybe way out of line considering that you’re taken.

but, the way you reacted to his earlier compliment gave him a huge confidence boost. one that would sooner or later send him to his grave.

“would you perhaps be interested in joining me for a drink, my lady?” the servant asks and anything that happens after that instant, is all but a blur.

you can’t process the next few moments as everything happens way too fast. the last thing you remember seeing, was the servant before you. a sudden gust of wind passes by and the sounds of quick slashes fill your ears. you couldn’t figure out anything else as your vision gets blocked by something. or rather - someone.

a familiar and large hand covers the back of your head. the scent of the person holding you is also oddly familiar—a certain scent that made a shiver run down your spine from both excitement and light fear.

“sukuna?” you guess and guess correctly. your voice was muffled due to your face being smushed against his torso. you didn’t yet understand what happened, so you try to pull your body away from the king of curses, only for his grip on you to tighten.

sukuna’s face was as emotionless as ever. his eyes look down at the pile of blood near your feet — what was once a human being had now turned into nothing but a pure crimson liquid.

“foolish. absolutely foolish.” the king of curses grumbles, his tone filled with disgust. he doesn’t soften the grip on your body for even a moment. one of his four arms holds you captive against him, his hand firmly yet somehow tenderly cradling your head just above his midriff, “it seems that i cannot leave this place for a single second.”

sukuna glances at your personal maid who had been bowing to him the moment he appeared out of thin air. she could feel his piercing gaze on her and knew exactly what to do without being told: to clean up the mess that stained the garden’s pavement.

“sukuna,” you try to move your head again, but was still restricted. you let out a small whine in response. you just wanted to see your lover after spending an entire day without him. any thoughts about that servant from earlier had long vanished, “i want to see you. can i?”

the request is an innocent one. there isn’t a visible change in sukuna's expression, but the way you asked him that was quite. . . endearing, if he were to explain it. he would comply if it wasn’t for the literal bloodbath he created. which he doesn’t want you to witness.

“not yet.” he replies and effortlessly uses one of his arms to pick your small body up. your lover notices how you try to steal a glimpse at the scene behind you while he moves you around in his embrace. he grunts and gently smacks the back of your head, “no peeking, brat. do as told.”

sukuna knows how much you hate the sight of blood. he's being considerate towards you — even if you do not realise that just yet. however, he also does not have a single regret about murdering that servant. it was to be expected. anybody who dares to make a move on his woman should suffer his wrath.

plus, it's not like you don't know about sukuna's ruthless actions. you’ve come to get used to them; more and more male servants keep dissappearing without a trace after they’ve been ‘too friendly' with you. it's easy to guess who’s behind those disappearances.

it doesn’t bother you in the slightest. as long as you don't see it happening and as long as you get to stay under sukuna's care and protection - you don’t mind.

“can i look now?” you huff after sukuna has carried you away from the garden. the king of curses clicks his tongue at your impatience.

he sighs deeply before allowing you back on your own two feet, “i do not understand why you’re so adamant on looking at me, but fine.”

you waste no time and immediately open your eyes. your gaze doesn’t wander off towards your surroundings—it instantly settles on sukuna. he looked the same as usual; there was not a single change about his appearance and yet you find yourself smiling at the sight of him.

“i missed you.” you hug your lover and feel him returning the gesture a few seconds later. he looks the other way and may seem indifferent to your display of affection, though the man was secretly grateful for it. for you in general.

“mhm.” sukuna lets out a small noise of acknowledgment and that is all you get out of him. he doesn’t have to say much; his body automatically does the talking. he squeezes your body against his — your small frame disappearing behind his beefy arms.

the king of curses doesn’t understand why, but the way your eyes sparkle when looking at him, intrigues him. sukuna had never seen another human look at him like that before after all. they all cower in fear; except for you. you don’t show a single ounce of fear. thus why you are something - someone - he must keep for himself.

he has and will never have any intent on sharing you with anyone. you’re his, for as long as he exists.

[irisinluv]

Isekaied as the Yandere Villain!? PT 1

All I could do was stare at my reflection. This had to be a joke. I was going to wake up in my bed, right this instant.

“FUCK!”

Ok, so, pinching myself hurts. That’s fine. This is like. Some sort of lucid dream. What do they say to do if you’re lucid dreaming? Oh, that’s right, put your finger in your palm, it’ll phase through!

I resist the urge to scream as my finger meets solid flesh.

You see, I’m not in the right body. Or the right world from what I can tell. No, I’m supposed to be back home, waking up in a panic as I realize my alarm didn’t go off cuz my phone died after I stayed up way too late reading manga.

But of course, I’m not late to work, I’m in a lavish bedchamber right out of the latest webcomic I’d been reading! And by the looks of it…. I’m the crown princes crazy fiancé! As much as I love reading about the Isekai trope, I never wanted to be in one! And come on- as the Yandere Villain!? Couldn’t this at least be original? There’s hundred of stories just like “my next life as a villainess,” why couldn’t I be like… a stable hand or something? Ugh. Ok. Think!

I need to get home. Do the protagonists ever get back home in the stories I read? I pace around my room and rack my brain over every webcomic I’ve ever read, every manga I waited in line for, every anime I binged, even the unfinished manhwas! I can’t think of a single fucking one where they get home?

Well this isn’t going to stop me. I have a cat who’s going to absolutely flip if she’s not given fresh kibble in the morning. She has enough in her bowl for another 2 days but she needs it topped off ok! She’s a princess! I can’t be stuck here! Who’s going to throw her pompom toy for her if I’m not there???

What did all these have in common? What’s the barebones trope layout? Ok let’s see

1) person either died or falls asleep and wakes up in a new world…. Check

2) person is the villain!…. Check

3) to avoid the characters terrible death, person tries to change the story, ends up being new protagonist…

Ohhh… hey…. Do these Isekai characters ever just…. Play along? Even the “reincarnated as a baby” ones, they only play along till they’re old enough to try to run away or rework the political structure of the entire city. Maybe that’s it. Make it to the books natural end, and you’ll wake up where you belong. It’s like when you get part of a song stuck in your head. Play the whole song, and it’ll get out.

Ok, I’ve trained most of my adult life for this- I can totally ace this trope! I just have to stalk the crown prince, act totally in love with him, and be a bitch to the female lead. Then my finance will leave me, I’ll do some crazy dramatic act to try to kill the female lead, and then I’ll be exiled or executed, and wake up to feed my cat. How hard can it be?

Hard. It’s very hard.

Where the hell did he go!? My fiancé, the crown prince Eric, was JUST HERE. I swear! He turned that corner back there and then went down this hall… at least I think it was this hall? Ugh! This is impossible! For someone with such loud shoes and an armed escort, you’d think he’d be easier to follow! Now my feet just hurt. They don’t make these fancy shoes to run around the castle all day. They’re meant to daintily peek from beneath my many skirts as I host a tea party or some shit.

Ok. I’ve got this! I’ll just peek into each room until I find him, maybe I can get a better feel for the layout, or maybe find his office and see if he has a schedule or a day planner or something I can use to make this whole stalking thing easier.

I begin snooping, and it’s a bit of thrill to be honest! Back in my real life, I’m the kind of person to hide a wrapper deep in the trash can if I’m babysitting, sitting on the floor playing a game on my phone after the kid goes to bed rather than “making myself at home” the way the parents insisted as they showed me how to access Netflix. I’ve never been a snooper. Now…. Well. It’s totally on brand for this character! I’m not me, I’m a psycho lovesick fool! I giggle a bit at that as my fingers trail over a shelf of beautiful pottery in some sort of sitting room.

“What’s so amusing dearest?”

I practically screech as my heart leaps to my throat and I whirl around, and see the very person I’d been searching for has snuck up on ME…. That’s so unfair!

“W-what? O-oh! Nothing! I was just- uh, admiring the pottery?”

I stutter out as I try to recall how to act like a human being while simultaneously trying to stop feeling my own pulse in my ears. The idiot has the nerve to LAUGH! Full on snort and everything!

“What are you doing in this wing anyways? Weren’t you meant to be out riding today?”

Shit. I was so busy trying to figure out his schedule, I didn’t consider maybe the body I was shoved into had a schedule of her own. Ok. Play it cool- I’ve got this!

“Yes, well, I decided I wasn’t in the mood and wanted to stay in today instead.”

His brows furrow

“Oh, but you love riding? Are you feeling ill? I can fetch the royal physician for you if you-“

“No! That’s- that’s quite alright! I simply wanted a change of schedule, that is all. Um… what about you? What are your plans for the day?”

He looked a bit surprised at that, and a small smile danced on his lips.

“I was just going to the library to do some paperwork, boring stuff really, and then of course our dinner at its regular time.”

I nod like that means anything to me. Ok think, if I were crazy in love with this man, what would I say?

“Would you like some company? Reading in the library sounds really nice, maybe we could have some tea as well?”

Ok. I’m already fucking this up. He looks confused…. God damnit …. I knew I shouldn’t have skimmed over those early chapters- but the translation was shit ok!?

“Well… I’d actually love that. But are you sure? You haven’t exactly shown interest in reading, and you’ve never requested something like this before…. In fact I don’t think I can recall the last time we’ve interacted outside of dinner or a scheduled social event in… well. Ever.”

Wait…. What? Isn’t my character like goo-goo-ga-ga over him? Are you telling me she never asks to just… spend time with her lover? They only talk during dinner and parties or whatever?

“Of course, I think it’ll be relaxing! Just lead the way!”

My brain is working overtime as I smile politely at him as we reach the library and I pretend to browse for books. I’m missing something here. What is-

Oh. Shit. That’s right. I’m supposed to be really insecure and awkward about him. That’s why she stalks him- she spends all her free time obsessing over this man from the shadows, threatening the competition…. Yet chokes up when it comes to how to act natural. Her inferiority complex is what drives her entire character. And then to him, they’re just two nobles in an arranged marriage who speak on dull subjects like the weather and horse rides…. And who barely interact.

This must have been a real big shake up, she always stays out of sight, they never run into each other by chance. And she certainly never would ask to sit and read with him…. Maybe watch him do his work from a hidden keyhole somewhere, but that’s right…. She IS more of a traditional lady with her hobbies. She was raised to be the perfect noble wife, so naturally, her hobbies include things like dancing, needlepoint, and horse riding. The only studies she’s interested in are etiquette and things that noble ladies are supposed to know.

Well…. Shit. That’s so like me to already have fucked this up. But that’s ok. That’s ok- he’s going to meet the female lead and fall in love and so I just have to be the obstacle they need to overcome. Surely the details don’t matter too much…. It’s my first day in the job ok? Not everyone’s perfect!

I find a book that honestly actually sounds interesting, it’s historical, but it’s giving Hellen of Troy, the closest to a dark romance I think I’ll get from an academic personal library like this. I settle into what looks like the comfiest chair in the central area, and begin reading. The prince and I exist comfortably, the only sound being the scratch of his pen, and the occasional rustle of paper as he flips a document or I finish a page. We continue like this for several hours until he puts down his pen and clears his throat, getting my attention.

“I know it’s a long way from dinner…. But I was thinking I’d grab something light for a mid day meal and then take a walk about the gardens …. Would you care to join me?”

Honestly, some lunch and pretty royal gardens sounds like so much fun, so I agree. As we begin walking, I ponder how I can recover from all this.

You know what.. this can totally still go to plan. This is just me being the evil villain and sinking my claws into him! The female lead will appear, and I’ll reveal my true, nasty side to her! She’ll have to fight to save the prince from his marriage to me!

*insert evil laughter!*

“You’re smiling.”

“W-what?”

“A smile. It suits you. You’ve been doing that a lot today….. I like it.”

Ok and now I’m blushing. I go to reply when I suddenly find myself weightless for a moment, and then hit the ground with a hard thump.

“Ow! What the-!?”

My eyes snap up and glare at this pretty blonde girl who just rammed into me, and sent me flying

“Do you not know how to watch where you’re going!? Owww…. Ugh.”

Ok I’m sorry I’m usually a nice and understanding person but I’ve never been literally knocked over before! Who does that to a person?

Eric helps me to my feet and sends a reproachful glare toward the girl, asking me if I’m alright with most concerned look…. And the girl gasps and says,

“C-crown prince Eric! I apologize! I’d didn’t recognize you!”

She drops into a curtsy and lowers her eyes all demure and modest as if she hadn’t just bulldozed me. I send an incredulous look toward Eric…. She… didn’t see HIM? I’m the one she took out? He gives me an equally puzzled look and so I decide, you know what, fuck it. I’m this evil person in this world…. I need to act like it!

“And not recognizing his highness is an excuse for taking out the princess consort, soon to be crown princess? Are you blind or just daft?”

Oh my god I really just called someone daft! This feels like when you stay up late thinking all the witty comebacks you could’ve used against your high school bullies, except actually using them in the moment!

And Eric is being a sweetie and letting me handle this, waiting expectantly for blondie to answer me, just prompting her,

“Well?”

“Forgive me…. Princess consort…. You are right. My oversight in inexcusable. It appears neither of us were looking where we were going. I hope we can start fresh!”

I scoff- that’s it? Who does this bitch think she is? Yes, I was looking at Eric, but I was going a walking pace, who rounds a corner with so much force that you knock someone over?

Suddenly something clicks- oh shit! This is the female lead!!!! This scene happened in the story, just without the prince here. This is good, that means this is on track. Although I gotta say- I was much more on the female main characters side when reading it. Now, I just feel like she’s one of those mean girls in high school who’s not *technically* doing anything mean. Anyways- what was I supposed to say? That’s right.

“Yes…. Well. I’m sure we won’t be seeing much of each other anyways. If you’ll excuse me-“

Nailed ittttt…. Now her line?

“Well, actually…. My name is Lady Cressida, and I’ll be staying in the place for several months as my father is a foreign ambassador overseeing trade agreements with his highness the king. So I imagine we will be seeing *plenty* of each other. That goes for you too your highness! So please- forgive me, I look forward to getting to know each of you better!”

Oh that’s so cool, seeing her recite the lines from the story. But ok- I have a role to play as well. I scoff and grab Eric’s arm, pulling him behind me as I storm off, playing the part of entitled lover, stuck up and irritated at this ambassadors daughter who DARED to speak to my love.

Yea, this will work, Eric will think Cressida is a genuine sweetie, and see me as being the unreasonable bitch who’s refusing to accept her apology, or apologize for not looking where I was going either. And now I’m manhandling him- totally unlady like. God I’m killing this aren’t I? Minimum wage job and demanding cat, here I come!

What I don’t see, as I lead Eric by the arm, is the cold glare he shoots towards Cressida, before smiling down at our connected hands, an unreadable look in his eyes.

Part 2

SERIES IS DISCONTINUED- sorry y’all, just not inspired to write this anymore and don’t wanna force it.

[gothgoblinbabe]

Drunken Words, Sober Thoughts

Logan Howlett x fem!reader

Warnings:  ( MDNI 18+) neighbor!reader,fem reader, Logan’s kinda rude for a lil’ bit, neighbors to frenemies to lovers? Idk, alcohol consumption (nothing 18+ happens while anyone is intoxicated), swearing, i can’t write Wade’s witty dialogue for shit pls bear w me, implied age gap, unprotected sex (wrap it up I beg of you), poking fun at the Kardashians a little, swearing and I think that’s it, but pls lmk if I missed any!

Summary: You have a little too much to drink one night in Wade's living room, resulting in an indirect confession that Logan absolutely hears through the thin drywall of his bedroom. Wade then ditches your usual weekend plans in an attempt at playing cupid - and it may just be the best favor he's ever done for you.

Word Count: 8K (get comfy bitch)

divider credit here and here

Being Wade Wilson’s best friend and neighbor included two main components:

Watching trash TV and getting drunk every other weekend - usually at the same time - and Wade wasn’t going to let his new roommate's attitude ruin it in the slightest.

“She’s gonna be here any minute and if you don’t pull the stick out of your ass and be nice, I'm going to lock you in your room like a sad, lonely dog.”

Logan only grunted in response, sipping his drink in the doorway and watching him run around the living room to make the place look livable.

He’d only moved in a couple weeks ago and Wade had been trying to introduce you both - inviting you over when he knew Logan had no plans - but every time, he was out the door before you were even opening yours across the hall. He’d try everything he could to avoid meeting new people, fearful that any type of real connection with someone would be ripped out from under him just like it had been many times before.

Wade huffed in satisfaction when he was done moving a few things around, standing in front of Logan with his hands on his hips.

“I mean it, kitty cat. She’s a sweet girl - keep the claws in.”

“Told you to stop callin’ me that.”

“Too bad, so sad, kitty.”

As Logan was considering puncturing three evenly spaced holes in both sides of Wade’s chest, they were both interrupted by a knock on the front door.

You were on the other side, of course, a twelve pack of beer under your arm. You rocked back and forth on your heels while you patiently waited for Wade to let you in. You did kind of hope you’d maybe get to meet his new roommate this time - it was a little odd that he was never there when you were.

He answered the door after a second, placing a hand over his heart dramatically when he saw the beer in your arms.

“For me? Aw, sugar, you shouldn't have,” he sighed as he took the box from your arms, ushering you inside.

“Did I have a choice?” you joked back, kicking off your shoes.

You followed him into the living room only to stop in your tracks.

Logan stood near the couch in his sweatpants, looking like he’d been dragged into the middle of the room to be put on display. He did reluctantly agree to stay for a second and finally let him introduce you so he could sulk back to his bedroom and nurse a bottle of whiskey till he fell asleep.

“Well, there he is,” Wade said in a lackluster tone, “now, he is house trained, but he does bite occasionally - “

“Fuck off.”

His deep voice surprised you a bit, unintentionally raising your eyebrows with your gaze still on him.

“ I'm Logan.”

You nodded politely and introduced yourself, shoving your hands in your pockets nervously. He was tall, definitely a good couple years older than you and incredibly handsome, all of which made your stomach erupt into butterflies.

And Logan did not like the way you were looking at him.

He’d seen it more times than he could count on the faces of every pretty young thing that tried to take him home from the bar, batting their eyelashes at him and laying hands on him like it would be persuasive in any way. It never worked, as his dismissive attitude sent a clear message. He couldn’t be bothered to take any of them up on their offers and wasn’t interested in fulfilling some fantasy they had about being with an older man. He didn’t think much about stuff like that anyway, avoiding any chance of vulnerability and attachment to someone he was sure he’d eventually lose.

And you still had that look on your face.

���Night.”

With that, Logan disappeared down the hallway to his room and shut the door.

“He’s not much of a talker,” Wade assured you, “probably for the best.”

From then on, you’d occasionally see Logan come out of his room while you were over - getting something from the kitchen, doing his laundry, coming and going - and each time you had to feign complete disinterest. Wade had quickly taken notice of how you tried to keep your head down every time Logan entered the room to hide your pink cheeks and - naturally - there was no way for him to be quiet about it.

When Logan came out of the bathroom one time with a towel around his waist and dripping wet hair as you and Wade sat at the kitchen island, your best friend was more than eager to run his mouth.

“Oh, c’mon, don’t do that to her!” he exclaimed, gesturing towards you, “you’re practically dangling meat in front of a starving dog - poor girl.”

You had your face buried in your hands with your elbows on the counter, wishing more than anything that you could sink into the chair and through the floor.

“God, shut up.”

Your voice was muffled by your hands but he still heard you.

“And put a stop to my job as cupid?”

Logan rolled his eyes and shook his head, turning towards his bedroom. He’d seen the way your eyes widened the second he’d opened the door, traveling all the way from his bare shoulders to the trail of hair that dipped under the towel. You’d turned pink almost immediately. It would have been something he’d found cute maybe a couple decades ago, before the very last bit of his naivety had faded away. Now, it was just infuriating to him. He could try to drop every hint on earth that he wasn't interested (which for him, just meant avoiding you completely) and you still looked at him like a lovesick schoolgirl.

This weekend came along like every other, texting Wade back and forth about snack options and finally getting up to shuffle across the hall with a bag of chips.

He answered the door as usual, ushering you in. You plopped yourself down on the couch and kicked your slippers off, clad in sweatpants and a tank top. He sat beside you and you propped your legs up on his lap, snatching the TV remote from the coffee table to flip through channels. You heard what you assumed was Logan’s bedroom door open down the hall, keeping your eyes glued to the TV. 

“Peanut! Care to join?” Wade exclaimed as he watched his roommate enter the open kitchen, digging around in the fridge.

You still didn’t tear your gaze from the screen.

“Hell no.”

That wasn’t much of a surprise.

“Your loss!” Wade reached for the pack of beer on the table, offering one that you gladly accepted, “but don’t bother us, keeping up with the kardashians is incredibly important.”

“Uh - huh.”

Logan disappeared again in seconds and Wade shook his head.

You focused back on the TV screen.

“So, how many minutes into the episode do you think one of them is going to start a fight?”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Hours and many beers later, you were on the floor with your knees to your chest between the couch and coffee table as you tried to stifle your giggling. Wade was laid on the couch, no better off than you.

“Hey - hey, I wanna ask you somethin’,” his voice became a little serious, but he still had a shit eating grin on his face, “what are you into Logan for anyway?”

You dreaded the question, groaning and closing your eyes.

“Seriously! I mean, I’ve been here the entire time - “

“Wade.”

He looked at you expectantly, awaiting a response.

You contemplated your answer for a moment, your filter diminishing more and more with every sip of beer, “God, I don’t know, he’s - he’s jus’ big.”

You were snickering behind the beer bottle you drunkenly held in front of your face in an attempt to hide.

“I don’t think he’s that impressive. You know, he’s got small feet - tiny, like a child.”

That had you both doubled over, trying to muffle your laughs with your hands and the throw pillows strewn on the floor.

“Stop, stop - ” you choked out when you finally caught your breath, wacking him on the arm.

“Okay but really, what is it? I know you, you’re not into beefcakes,” he laughed and shook his head.

You sighed, not really thinking for even a second before you started speaking again.

“He’s older and he’s hot -”

“And completely cold and dismissive towards you.”

You rolled your eyes at his interruption but still nodded, “yeah - yes, but that’s not my point.”

Wade took another sip of his beer and motioned for you to continue talking.

“He, uh - ” you tried to bite down a giggle, your face turning pink, “I don’t know, I think he’d be good in bed.”

That made him sit forward on the couch, his mouth open in surprise, “I knew it! I knew you were a horny freak!”

“Am not!” you picked a pillow up from the floor and launched it at his face, “I’m allowed to be, anyway!”

“Whatever,” he caught the pillow in his hands, “I'm on operation ‘Cupid’ and I have never quit a mission, cupcake. So, what about him makes you think that? Is it because he's a hundred and eighty - something years older than you? He’s probably been passed around the block like a wh - “

“Okay,” you cut him off, cringing at the thought, “ I think I got the picture.”

Your mind began to wander again about Logan and you narrowed your eyes in thought, staring at nothing.

“What’cha thinkin’, honey bun?”

Wade's voice cut through your concentration and you shrugged, a smile creeping onto your face.

“Oh no,” he started, stretching the vowel, “you’re having a sex fantasy right now, I can see it on your face - disgusting. Tell me more.”

“What, you want details?” You laughed, giving up on trying to hide it if Wade could already read you like an open book. You were both terribly honest with each other - almost to a fault. 

“Not the full middle-aged-white-women erotica novel version,” he answered, “I can accept cliff notes.”

You thought for a moment, going down the mental list you’d made of all the assumptions you had about the older roommate that you rarely ever saw.

“He’s gotta have a huge dick. Like, massive.”

Wade nearly spit out his beer but nodded for you to continue.

“I’d let him, like - like,” you were giggling between words as you tried to form a sentence, “ fuckin’ rearrange my guts.”

That did make Wade spit his beer, which set off a train of uncontrollable laughter that you both tried to stifle. 

Still, throw pillows and hands over your mouths were not as effective as you believed. 

Logan’s eyes fluttered open, squinting in the dark. The digital clock on his nightstand read ‘2:24 am’ in red LEDs. He closed his eyes again and tried to drift back to sleep, only to be jolted up by the sound of the two of you laughing obnoxiously from the living room.

“For fuck’s sake,” he mumbled to himself, getting up to walk towards his door so he could tell you both to keep it quiet. As his hand touched the knob, he halted when he heard your voice.

“He’s probably good at eating pussy. He’d be like an animal - “

Logan was stuck in place, his eyes narrowed. Who the hell were you talking about? 

“Can we go back to the rearranging guts thing? ‘Cause I have to tell you, sister - he’s made of metal and he’ll really do it.”

That couldn’t be about him. He refused to believe you two were actually talking about him like that in the next room.

“I’d let him,” he could hear you snickering.

“Is this a daddy issues thing? The ‘I can fix him’ maneuver?” 

“I didn’t say I wanted to fix him, I said I wanted to fuck him.”

If this was about some guy, Logan should be relieved; thankful that you’d found a new target of infatuation. He should be relieved, but he was gripping the door knob like he was going to break it off.

Wade’s voice broke through his thoughts, “you’re lucky Logan’s not much into relationships, then.”

So you were talking about him. 

Your voice echoed in his head, your words cementing themselves into his brain. 

On the living room floor, you were chucking pieces of popcorn into Wade's direction, trying to land one in his open mouth. 

“Hey,” he started after catching a piece between his teeth and eating it, “if you do end up in Wolvies bed? Pics or it didn’t happen.”

You gasped and nearly chucked your empty bottle at his head, deciding against it when you remembered Logan was asleep in the other room. 

Logan was in the other room.

Just as you were about to panic to Wade about Logan overhearing your foul-mouthed and horny drunk rambling, you both heard the click of his door coming unlocked and the creak of the hinges. He appeared at the doorway in a beater and pajama pants, his hair sticking up in every direction. Truthfully, he looked cute.

“Shut the fuck up, both of you. It’s two in the morning.”

Adorable, even. 

“Oopsie! Sorry, Peanut. We had very important things to discuss,” Wade replied.

Without another word, Logan shut his door again and you and Wade sat in comfortable silence for a moment.

“Do you think he heard me?” you whispered, grimacing.

“We’ll find out.”

With that, you both decided to call it a night and you returned to the familiar comfort of your apartment.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

The next morning, Wade was up far earlier than his roommate, as usual. He sat on the couch with his feet on the coffee table, turning his head when he heard Logan’s door open.

“Sleeping beauty! So kind of you to bless me with your presence. What’s the occasion?”

“Breakfast.”

“Technically it would be lunch, peanut.”

Logan was facing the pantry in the kitchen and Wade could still feel the anger radiating off him. 

Ignoring his seething silence, Wade began to speak again, “you didn’t happen to overhear any conversations last night, did you?”

Logan was facing him again, pouring cereal into a bowl and speaking without looking away from it, “you mean the one where your little friend said she wanted to fuck me? Yeah, I heard enough of it to get the jist.”

Wade had a gleeful look plastered on his face as he turned in his seat, “so you’re gonna take her up on the offer, right?”

“That wasn’t an offer, and besides,” Logan was shoveling cereal into his mouth, “ ‘m not interested.”

“See, you say that, Peanut, and yet you just have to come out here at least once while she’s over.”

Logan was glaring daggers into his skull. 

“I live here.”

The younger of the two clicked his tongue, turning his attention to the TV screen, “All I'm saying is that she’s our neighbor, she's a sweetheart, she is single and has a job and an apartment all to herself, dude. Bone city.”

“Ew.”

“Think about it.” “Don’t need to.”

As Logan scarfed down the rest of his breakfast and put the bowl in the sink, Wade was already typing furiously in his messages to create a plan. 

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Another week rolled by, meaning it was time to get hammered and make fun of the Kardashians again. You held your breath waiting for Wade to answer the door, anxiously picking at your fingernails. 

He opened the door and ushered you in like any other time, except he was dressed to go out instead of the usual PJ attire.

“What, are you leaving me for a hot date?” you teased, dropping the snacks you brought onto the kitchen island.

“Yes!”

You furrowed your eyebrows and frowned, awaiting his explanation.

“I’ve got a date with Vanessa, but - “

Logan emerged from his room, navigating his way to the kitchen as if neither of you were there.

“Peanut! So glad you decided to join us! Hey - “ Wade tapped the kitchen island, motioning for him to come over so he could talk to you both at the same time.

“Okay - I have a date with Vanessa tonight, so I need you,” he motioned between the two of you, “to get along.”

You were about to interrupt, insist that you can just reschedule, but it was as if he’d read your mind.

“You’re already here, cupcake, just stay and chill out. And you - “ he turned completely towards Logan, “you’re going to be nice like I asked you. Do you think you’ll survive?”

Logan was staring at him, unblinking with a scowl on his face.

“You, uh, you don’t have to sit with me,” you mumbled to him, forcing him to finally acknowledge your presence.

He’d half expected it to be your idea as much as it was Wade’s - some kind of ploy to get him alone - but you weren’t jumping at the chance, trying to be touchy-feely with him, begging him to stay. 

He almost wished you would.

He cleared his throat and looked back to Wade, “I'm not gonna babysit your friend.”

“Who said I needed a babysitter?” you chimed in.

 They both turned to you to watch you slam the top of a beer bottle on the edge of the countertop, sending the metal top flying somewhere into the living room. 

“We have a bottle opener in the drawer,” Wade sighed in defeat, ”anyway - you don’t need to babysit her, I'm just saying she doesn’t bite and It would be uncool to leave her all alone.”

“Aren’t you the one leaving?” you asked, taking a sip of your beer.

“Not the point,” he answered, grabbing his jacket from the coat stand as he walked towards the front door, “play nice, don’t eat anything in the fridge with my name on it and there’s condoms in my nightstand!”

He opened and shut the door, leaving the both of you in awkward silence. Logan’s face was actually red, a mix between rage and mild embarrassment. 

“He’s a dick,” you muttered, trying to make some kind of small talk, only to be met again with silence. You sighed, going to the couch and picking up the remote. You finally made yourself look Logan in the eyes, your cheeks burning uncontrollably when he never broke his stare.

“Listen - it’s fine, I get it, you’re like…the lone wolf,” you laughed a little to yourself, having to divert your eyes to the fabric of the couch, “I’m not gonna burst into tears if you don’t sit with me.”

He was a little taken back by your bluntness, though it was refreshing. He figured you’d be pink in the face - practically begging him to stay - but you weren’t. You pretended you couldn’t give less of a shit with your eyes now glued to the TV. You were as cool as you could act on the outside, but you nearly lost that cool when he spoke again.

“I can sit for a bit,” he shuffled over to the couch, settling himself down next to you. If you weren’t gonna be all over him like he thought you would, he could withstand a couple episodes of whatever the hell you and Wade had been watching. He didn’t dislike you, really - just terrified of the possibility of intimacy. You were pretty, and from what he’d overheard now and then, you were funny too. He liked the way the smell of your body wash and perfume flooded the apartment whenever you’d stop by and how you’d always bring some leftovers to be sure both of them had eaten - leftovers of which the roommates would always get into a spat over - usually because Logan ate it all before Wade could even see what was in the container. 

Unfortunately for Logan, he began to enjoy you being around.

You could feel your stomach tie itself in knots when he sat beside you but nodded in acknowledgment, flipping through TV channels. You settled on the Kardashians again, tossing the remote on the table.

“This is the shit you guys watch, huh?” he teased, grabbing a beer from the pack Wade left behind. 

You smiled a little to yourself, noticing how he was slowly getting more comfortable with you, “mhm, top tier - wait till you see one of them talk, it’s like watching an alien.”

You actually pulled a miniscule of a laugh out of him and your heart nearly skipped a beat at the sound.

As the show went on and you both made snarky commentary at just about everything, you felt more and more like you were just hanging out with Wade - comfortable and casual, except for the way your face burned up every time he stretched and his white beater rode up his stomach.

“So,” you began as the episode ended, “thoughts? Opinions?”

He was looking between you and the screen, thinking hard, “I don’t get it.”

You shrugged, “me neither, to be honest, but god is it funny to watch rich people lose their shit sometimes.”

He chuckled again at your response, placing his empty bottle on the table next to yours.

It was silent for a moment, the air tense with something you couldn’t quite pinpoint. 

“What do you usually watch on TV?” you asked, intending to flip the channel to whatever he may be interested in - if he had to sit through Keeping Up with The Kardashians, it was only fair.

“Nothin’, really,” he answered, his eyes moving from the screen to rest on you, like a heavy weight on your chest.

“Do you even watch TV?” you asked, the both of you having abandoned the idea of trying to find something else to watch and just letting it play in the background.

“Nah,” he shrugged, his arms crossed against his chest, “ I don’t do much of anything.’

You could tell his answer was earnest and you frowned a bit, swinging your legs up on the couch and turning to face him completely, “nothing? There has to be something.”

He was unsure about how close you were to him now, your knees to your chest as you looked at him expectantly. He thought he’d be met with that look - the one you kept giving him in passing that he hated so much - but your face was neutral, waiting patiently for him to respond. Truthfully, he didn’t hate the look itself - or you, for that matter - but hated how it made him feel.

As if there were some sliver of hope for a future worth living through.

He cleared his throat, turning his body towards you on the couch, “I work out, sometimes - “

‘’Yeah, clearly’’, you wanted to say.

“Other than that,” he continued, “I don’t know, the bar - sometimes I'll let Wade drag me out somewhere but I usually leave after half an hour.”

“Huh, so you really are by yourself a lot,” you realized aloud.

 Logan never thought it sad until he heard it from your mouth.

“I like it that way, most of the time,” he shrugged.

“I can tell - took you two weeks to finally say hello. I think this is the most I've ever heard your voice, actually.” 

He realized you were right and did feel a little bad, “I’m sorry about that, by the way. I just don’t like meeting new people.”

“Me neither.”

It was silent then - save for the TV - either one of you waiting for the other to explain just why that is. You figured it would be easier if you went first.

“I never really had a lot of friends growing up. I had a hard time in school and a lot of the other kids didn’t like me. It was just tough to make friends, especially because - “

You stopped, thinking over what details to include and what to leave out.

“Because?” Logan prompted and you sighed, biting back a giggle.

“Because I was goth. I don’t mean I just dressed in black - I mean I wore white face paint and huge boots and ate lunch in the art room.”

That actually pulled a real fucking laugh out of him and you couldn’t help but mirror his smile.

“I’m not laughing ‘cause you were goth, that's not weird” he clarified, “I'm laughing because I just can’t picture it.”

You didn’t embrace the style as much as you used to, trading Siouxsie Sioux makeup for reading glasses and teased hair for your natural texture.

“I’ll bring over my highschool yearbook sometime,” you chuckled, shaking your head.

Realizing it was now his turn to speak, he readjusted himself in his seat and cleared his throat, visibly becoming a little uncomfortable.

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to, you know,” you reminded him gently, giving a soft smile. 

It only made it harder for Logan that you were so damn nice.

He tentatively explained the timelines, the different versions everyone has of themselves, how he’d gotten there. You hung on his every word, unintentionally giving him a sympathetic look when he had finished explaining. 

“So…you were just alone after all that?” your voice was soft, worry clear in your tone.

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, “yeah, yeah.. ‘till I met Wade, obviously.”

You gave him a small smile, “you’ll never be alone again, you know.”

For some reason, the unfamiliar comfort made his stomach turn and he simply shook his head, “Yeah, I'm never gonna be able to get rid of him.”

That made you giggle, nodding in agreement.

“You can try, but he will always find you - like a determined cockroach.”

That got the both of you and you’d never seen Logan smile that way - though, to be fair, you never saw much of his face anyway.

The version of you that sat on the couch across from him was far from who he thought you were. He felt guilty now for assuming things just from looking at you, but it was a habit he had yet to shake. It was clear you were beautiful - that was never a question - but talking with you made him realize just how much he may have missed out by keeping himself so closed off. You laughed at almost every joke he had made, comforted him when he was nothing but rude and always checked up on him and Wade. You smelled so nice, your hair looked so soft and he almost found himself wanting to reach over and run his fingers through it. In his eyes, you seemed to be everything he was not; all of the best qualities he believed he didn't possess.

“Oh, hey - do you want some popcorn? I brought the microwave kind, I keep telling Wade to get it himself and he never does,” you snapped him out of his trance and stood from the couch, already walking to the kitchen.

“Uh, sure,” he found himself getting up to follow you, not wanting to pause a moment of conversation.

You tossed the bag in the microwave and hit the button, leaning yourself against the counter. Logan leaned himself besides you, significantly taller. You’d held your composure so far, but having him so close and realizing just how much bigger he was made your heart beat like a rabbit’s. 

“So, you never asked about the mutant thing,” He spoke over the popping, looking down at you and waiting for the twenty questions.

You only shrugged, “I figured If you wanted to tell me, you’d tell me. I wasn’t gonna interrogate you about it. Plus, Wade told me.”

“Of course he did,” Logan scoffed, “I’m afraid to know what exactly it was that he told you.”

“You’ve got adamantium instead of bones,” you replied matter of factly, “and you’ve got claws. I mean, I’ve never seen them, but that's what he told me.”

He thought for a minute, stepping in front of you a little. He was about arm-length away, putting enough distance between you both that he was sure he wouldn’t accidentally knick you.

In a second, the adamantium claws protruded from between his knuckles, glistening in the kitchen light. You flinched for only a second, leaning in to inspect them. 

“Woah,” you muttered, bringing a finger up to the very end of one of them and letting it poke you, “cool.”

He was a bit confused by your calm demeanor, but relieved by it anyway. It was never a good time when someone had a bad reaction to the claws. The microwave beeped and he retracted them, stepping out of your way. You opened it and held the scolding bag with two fingers, realizing you needed a bowl to put it in.

“Logan, can you grab a-”

You felt one hand on your hip and could see his other reach above you, opening a cabinet you couldn't and handing you a bowl. Your back was almost flush to his chest, making you feel warm all over. He reluctantly pulled away from you and you cleared your throat, shaking the popcorn into the bowl.

He watched you from where you stood, taking in the curve of your waist and hips and realizing he was in much more trouble than he’d originally thought. He’d heard your drunken giggling about him - heard you vulgarly talk about how good you think he’d be at giving head - but he was still thinking it over with his bottom lip between his teeth. He finally broke the silence that filled the room.

“You know, the claws aren’t the only thing abnormal about me.”

“Mm, no?” you laughed a little with your back still turned to him. You could feel that your face was hot.

“Heightened senses,” he said simply, “hearing and smell, mostly.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Like right now, I can hear your heartbeat.”

Your eyes went wide and you practically froze in place.

“It’s fast.”

His voice was closer.

“Really fast,” his breath was in your ear, his hands coming to rest on your waist, “got even faster when I pointed it out.”

You swallowed hard, knowing very well there was no way to lie to him.

“Jus’ nervous sometimes. It doesn’t mean anything,” you exhaled, attempting to still your shaking hands. 

“Mhm,” he hummed, his deep voice reverberating through your chest because of his proximity, “what about the other night, though?”

You narrowed your eyes and turned to finally face him, nearly chest to chest.

“What are you talking about?” 

You knew exactly what he was talking about - you just hoped it wasn’t what you thought.

His hands were on the counter behind you, boxing you in.

“C’mon,” he looked at you expectantly with a shit eating smirk on his face, “what made you think I’d be good at eating pussy, anyway?”

You were red with embarrassment, pulling your hands up to cover your face, but Logan caught your wrists gently and clicked his tongue.

“Pretty girl, it’s alright - “

His gruff voice calling you such a sweet nickname nearly made your knees buckle.

“I can smell how wet you get, you know that?”

One of his hands moved to hold you by your throat, barely using any pressure.

“F-Fuck off,” you managed to mutter, stuttering when he pushed one of his thighs inbetween yours. This was nowhere near what you pictured happening when Wade dumped you in his living room with a guy who would barely even look at you.

He chuckled, his other hand pushing on the small of your back to pull you closer into him.

“Yeah? I don’t think you really want me to, sweetheart. Besides, you didn’t answer my question.”

You could barely think, nevermind answer whatever it was he had asked. You were almost nose to nose, Logan craning his neck down a bit to level his face with yours.

“I, um,” your breathing was shaky, “fuck, I don’t know - I jus’ think about it a lot.”

“Me too,” he admitted before crashing his lips to yours, tangling his fingers in the hair at the back of your head. It was truthful - he’d probably thought of you every day since the night he heard you talk about him like that. 

You couldn’t help moaning into his mouth when he kissed you, letting him slip his tongue past your lips. His hands roamed down your back and to your ass, using his grip to rock your hips over his thigh.

“So beautiful,” he whispered as he moved down your jaw and neck, kissing and biting at the soft skin, “drove me crazy, hearing you say those things.”

“How much - how much did you hear?” you tried to ask, overwhelmed by his teeth grazing your neck. Your hands rested against his chest - as if you were going to push him away - but you never did.

You felt his lips curve into a smile against your skin, “heard enough.”

“And what exactly was that?”

If he was going to tease, you might as well bite back.

He pulled away momentarily to look in your eyes, knowing damn well he already had you where he wanted you.

“You don’t want to fix me, you want to fuck me, right?”

Your own words sounded so much hotter coming out of his mouth.

“Mhm,” was all you could manage to get out, too focused on the feeling of him pushing and pulling your hips over his thigh.

“Huh? Use your words, sweetheart.”

There was something about the affectionate nicknames he was using in contrast to the filthy way he was trying to push you down even harder on his thigh that made you lightheaded.

“Yeah - yes, I want to,” you practically whined.

That was all the confirmation he needed to hoist you up onto the counter with his hands on your ass. He was kissing you hungrily, his fingers hooking around the straps of your tank top to let them fall down your shoulders. You didn’t waste any time in breaking the kiss momentarily to strip yourself of the garment, tossing it to the kitchen floor.

“Fuck, jesus christ,” He groaned at the sight of your bare chest and immediately brought his large hands up to massage your breasts. A chill went down your spine when he leaned down to take one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking and swirling his tongue. Your hands were threaded through his hair, tugging every so slightly when he would pull his mouth off you with a popping sound. The majority of your chest was glistening with his spit when he finally brought his mouth to yours again, leaving a clear coating over the developing hickies that he left. You tugged at the hem of Logan's white beater to signal that you wanted it off. He did as you pleased, leaving plenty of skin for you to run your hands over. 

“Been thinking of you, all spread out of me,” he murmured in between kisses. He used his grip on your ass to grind you against him, his hard cock pressing against you. The pressure from it was enough for your pussy to start aching.

“I wanna know what you taste like,” he continued, holding your chin to tilt your head up, “can I find out?”

You nodded frantically and nearly choked on your own spit. You lifted your hips to let him strip you of your pants and underwear, leaving you completely bare on the counter in front of him.

You felt vulnerable, pressing your knees together only to have Logan use his hands to spread them apart.

“Uh-uh,” he clicked his tongue, “let me see your pretty pussy.”

He got on his knees on the kitchen floor, hooking his arms around your thighs and settling his face between them. He nipped at the hot skin of your inner thighs and you inadvertently tugged his hair every time he did so. He finally laid his tongue flat against you and you whined, the sound echoing through the kitchen. He was sloppy, practically drooling into your cunt and using it to lubricate his fingers so he could slip them into you. Your theory from before was proven right; he was kind of animalistic when he ate you out.

He was curling his fingers as he thrusted them in and out, sucking on your clit at the same time. You gasped when he spoke with his mouth still buried in your cunt.

“Tastes so fucking good.”

Your ankles were locked to keep his head between your thighs, leaning yourself back against the wall.

“Jesus christ, Logan - “ you whined, cut off when he growled into you.

“Mhm, ‘feels good, baby?”

You only nodded, unable to communicate with how deep he was curling his fingers into you. He continued to mumble praises against your cunt, amused by how much it clearly spurred you on.

“This is all mine, huh? Know you wanted it, could smell how bad you needed me every time you were over.”

You could feel the pressure in your lower stomach start to build.

“You’re so wet for me, such a good girl - makin’ such a fucking mess.”

It wasn’t long before you were pulling him back by his hair.

He reluctantly detached himself, looking up at you with concern. His mouth and chin were wet, his tongue peeking out to lick his lips.

“What’s wrong? You okay?”

“ ‘m fine, just - I was close -”

He groaned in a way that almost sounded annoyed, diving his tongue back into you, “C’mon, do it, then - come for me, pretty girl.”

His praise was enough to trigger your orgasm and you couldn’t help rocking your hips against his face as you rode it out. You were cursing, tears starting to form in your eyes when he didn’t let up. 

“L-Logan, fuck,” you cried. You could’ve pulled him off, told him it was too much, but he was so determined and skilled in the way he flicked his tongue that the discomfort of overstimulation dissipated into pleasure within seconds.

“One more for me, baby, one more. Think you can?”

You were moaning so loud at that point that you tried to bring a hand to your mouth to muffle the sound but Logan caught your wrist and brought it back to his hair, encouraging you to keep tugging and pulling.

Your second orgasms approached hard and fast, tears rolling down your cheek. Your legs shook uncontrollably as he finally sat back on his heels. 

When you caught your breath, he pulled himself up to slide his arms around your lower back and plant a kiss on your forehead, wiping your wet cheeks.

“Can I take you to the bed?”

You nodded and smiled wide, leaning up to kiss him.

He effortlessly carried you through the hallway and into his bedroom, your bare chest pressed against his. The second your back hit his mattress, his cellphone started to ring from his bedside table.

You watched Logan furrow his eyebrows and reach for the phone. He read the caller ID and bore an amused smile, switching it to silent.

“What’s so funny?” you asked, wrapping your arms around him when he came to hover above you.

“It’s Wade,” he chuckled to himself, “probably calling to see if everythings alright.”

That made you giggle, “yeah, we can tell him we’re doing just fine.”

“I’ll call him later.”

His lips were on yours again, the rough denim of his jeans rubbing against you as he pinned you to the bed with his hips. You slid your hands from his neck, down his back and around the front of his waist to rest on his belt buckle. Your fingers made quick work of the metal fastener and you tugged the leather from his jeans. He stood up off the bed for a moment to strip himself of the rest of his clothing. When his cock sprung up from his boxers and hit his stomach, you almost had to choke back a gasp. Again, you were proven right - he was huge. He crawled back between your legs and positioned himself on top of you. 

“You’re okay with this?”

If anyone told you maybe two hours earlier that you’d end up under Wade’s grumpy roommate, your chest heaving from the anticipation of finally having him slot into you, you would’ve called them crazy. Now, however, it was a reality - one you would’ve gladly spent the rest of your life in.

You realized he was holding back, gripping the sheets next to your head and waiting for a definite answer.

You nodded and scratched at the back of his neck affectionately. He guided himself into you and you groaned at the feeling of his tip alone.

“ ‘s okay?”

Logan was practically slurring his words with how hard he had to hold himself back. Your warm chest to his, your thighs locked around his waist, the way you smelled; it was all overwhelming in the best way possible.

“So good,” you whined, trying to push your hips up to encourage him to go even deeper, “want all of it, please, please.”

He was chewing on his lip when he finally let himself fill you completely in one thrust. You dug your fingernails into his back, leaving scratches that healed themselves within seconds. He let out a guttural moan with his face buried in your neck, concentrating on trying to build a steady rhythm without finishing things too fast. He propped himself up on his elbows on either side of you as he tentatively rocked in and out.

“So fucking pretty,” he huffed, a hand coming up to wipe the sweat dampened hair from your flushed face. It was so sweet, so intimate; nothing you’d ever really expected with or from him.

“You're handsome,” you managed to reply, amused by how taken back he seemed by the compliment, “perfect.”

He couldn’t remember the last time someone called him that - handsome, definitely never perfect - while actually looking at him like they meant it. Your eyes were trained on the features of his face, attempting to memorize every line and wrinkle; every bit of him that made him Logan. Your eyes felt to him like they could burn right through the wall he’d managed to construct.

Still, he instinctively scoffed as he hovered over you. He was never good at accepting compliments.

“I’m not the lying type, you know,” you assured him, whispering in his ear as he continued at a steady pace, “besides, do you think I'd be under you right now if that wasn’t true?”

“Mm - shut up”, he fought a smile and increased his pace in the hopes that it would render you speechless.

It did, of course.

You were a moaning mess atop his sheets with your back arched to accommodate Logan’s arm sneaking around you. His pace was enough to rock his headboard into the wall and he was thankful it was your apartment on the other side instead of a stranger’s. You were chest to chest as he whispered filthy things into your ear.

“Takin’ it well like I knew you would, baby doll - knew you’d like it when I fucked you like this.”

You were still at a loss for words, overwhelmed by the pressure in your lower stomach.

“You think you’ve got another one in you? C’mon, sweet girl, let me see it.”

His coaxing had your eyes nearly rolled into the back of your head as he pounded into you. Besides the grunts and moans between you two, the only sound echoing in the room was the slap of skin against skin and the squelching of your pussy as he dragged himself out and back in again.

You were almost drooling from how deep he was able to fuck you. The familiar fire in your stomach had you feeling warm all over, building and building itself up. As if he could read your mind, Logan’s hand reached down between the both of you and he started to trace tight circles around your swollen clit.

“F-Fuck, my god, Logan - “

He hummed affirmatively, almost as if to acknowledge that was indeed his name that you were chanting.

You squeezed your eyes shut so hard that you almost saw stars when your third orgasm hit hard and fast. You were probably loud enough for the entire building to hear as he worked you through it.

“Good girl, good girl - c’mere,” he praised, flipping you over so that you were on your hands and knees. You laid your chest as flat as you could against the mattress and arched your back. He didn’t hesitate in fitting himself snuggly inside of you again, his hands kneading at and smacking your ass as he used his grip to push and pull you. It wasn’t long before his thrusts started to become sloppy. He leaned down and hooked an arm around you, lifting you up a little so that his chest was pressed to your back. He moved his hand to your throat to tilt back your head. The way you looked back at him, your beautiful eyes boring into his soul - that was all he needed to finally let go. You felt him flood you with his come, a mixture of yours and his soaking the sheets underneath you. He gently pulled out and almost immediately pulled you against him to cuddle, his eyes already fluttering close. You didn’t take him for the cuddly type but it was just another wholesome thing you’d learned about him.

“You should call Wade back,” you mumbled, already drifting to sleep with your head on Logan’s chest.

“ ‘m busy, I’ll do it tomorrow.”

You chuckled to yourself, letting exhaustion overtake you.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Wade practically sprinted up the steps to his apartment the next morning, keys already in hand. If Logan hadn’t answered - even if it was just to tell him to fuck off - something really bad must’ve happened. You hadn't answered any of his fifteen texts, either.

He unlocked his door and prepared himself to be met with a gorey scene, only to be surprised that there was no sign of a scuffle. There was untouched popcorn in the kitchen, clearly abandoned at some point right after making it. Did Logan upset you enough last night to make you leave early? 

Of course, he’d completely missed your clothing that had been tossed just out of sight from where he was standing.

Wade sighed in frustration, striding through the hallway and stopping outside Logan’s bedroom. He banged his fist on the door and rested his hands on his hips as he spoke through the wood.

“Hey! Peanut! Did you make our guest leave early last night? How’d it go? You didn’t answer your phone and neither did she.”

On the other side of the door, your heads both popped up at the sound of wade’s banging. You stifled a laugh, looking to Logan for him to say something.

“Uh, yeah…she had somethin’ to take care of.”

Now you had to bury your face in his comforter, uncontrollably snickering. 

Without warning, Wade groaned and swung the door open - one neither of you thought to lock because no one had been home.

“You better get your ass across the hall and apologize for whatever it is that -“

He was met with the sight of the both of you in Logan’s bed, covered by the bedding. It was obvious you were both undressed, Logan’s boxers somewhere near Wade’s feet.

He gasped, looking between the two of you in confusion before a giddy smile appeared on his face.

“Oh, I see, I see. Right, mhm - “

Logan was already trying to shoo him out but Wade wasn’t going to let him before he got the last word in.

“You're welcome, by the way!”

He shut the door and you laughed.

Logan laid back again, resting his arm around your shoulders so he could pull you back into his chest again.

In the comfortable silence, doubt settled itself in the form of a pit in your stomach. What if this was a one time thing? 

Almost instantly, you felt his hand comb through your hair.

“Hey, uh,” he started, looking down into your eyes, “listen, I know I was supposed to ask this before I got you in here, but - um..”

You could feel your stomach turn, borderline terrified of what he was going to say next.

“Would you want to go out for coffee sometime?”

A wide grin spread across your face and you nodded eagerly, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek.

“I’d love that.”

A/N: this ones long as hell but so is just about everything else I write! if you've made it to the end I loooove u and pls interact if you enjoyed; hearing feedback is what motivates me to keep writing! as always, my inbox is open as well <3

[sushiyuzu]

cute yapper

warning: fluff + comfort — soft!sylus admiring you while you yap. like, a lot 🗣🤍

a/n: tysm for the cute request, dear anon! i apologize if it’s short for you but i hope you like it as much as i do <3

anon’s request / link: click here

you’re talking, and, well, it’s a lot.

words just keep coming out, one after another, and you can’t help it. you’re talking about everything—how your day went, a cute cat you saw on the way here, some new recipe you want to try, or that funny story from when you were little. it all feels so exciting to you, like you just have to tell someone.

and, of course, that someone is sylus.

he’s sitting there with his usual calm, cool look, his red eyes watching you. he doesn’t say much, just a soft nod here and there, maybe a small smile if you’re lucky.

it’s hard to tell sometimes if he’s really listening or if he’s just being polite. he’s so quiet, and it makes you wonder if you’re being too much, if he’s just letting you talk because he doesn’t want to be rude.

you pause for a moment, glancing at him. he’s looking at you, but his face doesn’t give much away. that only makes you more nervous. “...and, well, maybe i’m just boring you,” you mumble, voice getting softer as you look down at your hands. “sorry, i guess i’ve just been talking too much...”

you stop talking completely, a little embarrassed now. your fingers fidget with the hem of your shirt, and the silence between you feels heavy, like maybe he’s relieved you finally stopped.

then, after a moment, he moves closer, and you can feel his warmth next to you. his voice is low, soft, and it catches you off guard. “why did you stop?”

you look up, eyes wide, surprised by the question. “oh... um, i just thought maybe you weren’t really listening. i didn’t want to bother you.”

he lets out a small chuckle, like he finds something you said a little funny but in a nice way. “i was listening,” he says, his tone serious but also gentle. “i was listening to every word.”

you can’t help but blink in surprise. “really? but... i thought...”

he reaches over, his fingers brushing a strand of hair out of your face and tucking it behind your ear. his touch is soft, and you can feel a warmth spreading across your cheeks. “yes, really,” he murmurs. “i think it’s cute. you’re just so... so pretty when you talk. your face lights up, and your eyes sparkle. i could listen to you talk all day.”

he says it so calmly, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, but his gaze is warm and deep, like he means every word. you feel your heart start to race, a mix of joy and shyness making you fidget in your seat.

“so... you really don’t mind? you actually like it?” you ask, just to be sure, your voice coming out a little softer than before.

he nods, and his hand moves to rest on yours, his thumb gently tracing small circles on the back of your hand. “of course i like it. i love it, actually. you’re so full of life when you talk about the things you care about. it’s... beautiful.”

oh, the man that you are.

his words make your cheeks feel even warmer, and you feel a shy smile tugging at your lips. you take a deep breath, feeling a rush of happiness that’s hard to put into words. “thank you, sylus,” you whisper, your heart feeling full.

and then, before you know it, you’re talking again. your words are coming out even faster, even happier than before. you tell him all the little details, even the silliest ones that you used to hold back. it’s like a flood of everything you’ve wanted to share, and for the first time, you don’t worry about holding back.

sylus just watches you, his eyes soft and his expression calm, but there’s a gentle smile on his lips, and he’s nodding along, letting you know he’s right there with you. every now and then, he’ll lean closer, his hand still warm on yours, or he’ll give a soft chuckle when you say something funny. it’s like he’s completely focused on you, and only you.

then, as you keep talking, he leans forward even more, so close that you can feel his breath on your shoulder. before you can even process it, he presses a gentle peck there, playful but soft, then followed by a slow, open-mouth warm kiss. the sensation sends a small shiver through you, and you pause, surprised.

you feel his arms slide around you, holding you close as he murmurs, “don’t stop, okay? keep talking. i love hearing your voice.”

you nod, feeling a mix of excitement and comfort as you settle into his hold. you keep talking, feeling safe, warm, and wanted. for the first time, you don’t feel like you’re too much, or that your words are a burden. instead, you feel like every word matters, like every story you share with him is special, and he’s there to hear it all.

and you absolutely love him for that.

always.