#girl not only thank you for the list but thank you for the ask!!!!

[c0s-lettuce]

Hii if it’s okay, can I please request a Sergei x fem!reader where she was walking home and was in the wrong place at the wrong time and witnessed something bad guys were doing and was in danger, but she was saved by Sergei (the bad guys were on his list so he happened to show up). She meets Sergei again when the same bad guys come after her again because she had seen too much, and he saves her again. Because it seems that the bad guys will not stop going after her because of what she saw, Sergei brings her to his cabin to protect her until he has taken out all of the bad guys? He’s super protective of her and she’s really scared about everything that’s going on and feels safe with him, and after a while of staying with him, they both start to fall in love and she doesn’t want to leave even after everything is safe 🥹

guardian angel - sergei kravinoff x reader

fem!reader, minor movie spoilers

a/n: thank you for the request! sorry this took a while, i hope i did it justice 😭 happy holidays everyone!

word count: 3317

warnings: descriptions of violence, mentions of blood

A shortcut. That's all it was supposed to be - a quick detour down an alley. You've taken it a few times before, usually to escape the rain like tonight. It's a light sprinkle. One that might have been pleasant if it wasn't for the dark and your long day at work. Your walks home were, fortunately, mostly uneventful.

But not tonight. You'd blame it on bad luck. Or fate, if such a thing exists.

Unfriendly-sounding voices should have been your first clue to something being amiss. But curiosity drives you forward. Peering through the darkness, you see two figures surrounding a third person kneeling on the ground.

It seems like a confrontation of sorts, a heavily one-sided confrontation. They don't notice you, so you deem this a good moment to leave. You back away as quietly as possible. But as you approach the street, a black car pulls up, blocking the entrance.

The next few moments pass in a blur. There's a scream. A horrific squelching noise. You look back to see the third person now slumped on the ground. A silver glint in the hand of one of the other men. Two more men exit the car. There's shouting from one side, then both. You realise you've been noticed. You panic. Then, chaos.

You're unsure if you fell or were pushed, but you end up on the ground. You scramble away, and your back hits the wall of the alleyway. Bodies begin to go flying around you. Any attention that was paid to you is diverted. One man is in the middle of it all. He seems to know his way around killing, like a hunter.

Your front-row show is interrupted when you're dragged to your feet. A cold barrel is pressed against your temple. You freeze as you're held hostage. The hunter pauses and turns to you. Four bodies now lay dead, all killed in different ways. The man holding you is the only one left.

"Enough. Stop now, or the girl dies," the voice behind you speaks.

You notice that despite the man's intimidation, fear laces his tone. It's a mutual feeling as you stand silent and wide-eyed, afraid to move. The hunter raises his hands as if surrendering. You're not sure what to make of it.

But you don't get given the time to decide. In the blink of an eye, the hunter pulls out a knife, flicks it out and throws it towards your head. For a split second, you think it's all over. You squeeze your eyes shut. Either by bullet or blade, this is the end for you.

But then, the man's grip around you loosens, followed promptly by a dull thump. You turn around to see what happened. The man lies on the ground, a knife protruding from him square in the eye. Blood begins to pull around his head.

You bring your hands to your mouth and back away from the body. The sight is unlike anything you've seen. You're stuck between screaming, throwing up or passing out, but a voice from behind interrupts you.

"Are you hurt?" it asks, gruff and breathless.

You flinch at the sound. You turn back to look at the owner of the voice. The hunter stands before you, covered in the odd splatter of blood, hair and clothes mussed. You stare for a moment, bewildered.

Once you find your bearings, you reply, "Uh, no… no, I'm alright."

He nods, walking past you to retrieve his knife. The sound of the blade leaving the man's head makes you cringe.

"Sorry," he says, cleaning the knife on the man's clothes, "I would've warned you before I threw it, but that might have defeated the purpose."

You don't respond. Was that… a joke? What are you supposed to say to that?

In your silence, the hunter looks at you again. "You live around here?"

Again, it takes you a moment to answer. "Yeah, just a few blocks away."

"You should get home," he tells you, standing up. "Forget you saw anything."

You nod. That sounds like a good idea. A great idea, even. You force yourself to move, deciding on the regular route home instead of continuing this shortcut.

The hunter watches you pass but speaks up again before you get too far. "I'm sorry you had to see all that."

You pause, taking in his… somewhat considerate words. You glance back at him and mutter, "Thank you."

Once again, he nods, sighing as he looks down at the bodies. You turn away again and continue your way home. The journey passes in a haze, and you immediately go to bed once you arrive.

As days pass, that night feels like a fever dream. Details don't come to you, with everything being a messy blur in your head. It was probably a good thing. However, the only part that remains clear is the elusive hunter.

A tall, muscular frame. Wavy, brown hair. Bright, blue eyes.

You clear your head of these thoughts as you stand and pack up your things. You're the last person left in your work building today, having stayed late to finish some extra work.

Just as you're about to head downstairs, you hear a loud crash. It's followed by more sounds, a mix of grunts, thumps and things breaking. You look around but can't see anything from where you are.

You grow anxious and search your desk for a weapon. You settle on a large paperweight, gripping it firmly and sneaking out. You bypass the elevators and go to the emergency staircase, carefully opening the door and ensuring it's empty inside before slowly heading down.

The sounds have stopped once you reach the bottom. You poke your head out, giving an obscured view of the ground floor. As expected, it's a mess of broken glass and wood. Crimson paints the floor, blood coming from three bodies. There's one man left standing. You recognise him immediately. The hunter.

You let your guard down, lowering the paperweight in your hands. You step out and look around again, getting a better look at the damage. You feel bad for whoever has to pay for all this. You turn to the hunter. He's already looking at you.

"It's you," you say.

"It's me," he replies. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, completely fine. You?" you ask.

"I'm good," he says, looking around at the mess. "We should stop meeting like this."

You let out a small huff. "You're telling me. Who are these people?"

"They're part of a large criminal organisation. Their influence runs deep. They have people all over the continent."

"Criminal organisation…? Why are they here?"

"You saw them kill someone. You're a liability."

"They were here for me? But didn't you kill everyone who saw me?"

"They have eyes and ears everywhere. Must've found out some other way."

The thought unsettles you, and you sincerely hope you won't regularly be pursued by criminals. Suddenly, you miss the comfort of your home.

Then, the hunter speaks up. "I'm Sergei, by the way."

You're slightly caught off guard. But you tell him your name, and he repeats it with a nod.

"You should get going," he says. "The police will be here soon. I'll handle things here."

"Are you sure? This is my workplace."

"I'm sure. Go," he insists.

You acquiesce, collecting your things again. Before you leave, you and Sergei exchange contact details. He tells you to call him if anything happens. Once again, you find yourself walking away from the hunter and a pile of dead bodies he saved you from. But at least now you know his name.

You've been home for the past few days since the building became a crime scene. You gave the police a vague description of what happened, and they haven't bothered you since.

You think about the hunter, who you now know to be Sergei Kravinoff. A Google search and some light stalking didn't reveal much about the man. And with no work to do, you continue to lie around at home.

But one morning, you wake up to a phone call. It's Sergei.

"Hello?" you answer.

"Where are you right now?" he asks immediately.

"At home. Why?" you say.

"Hard to explain, but you're in danger. I'm going to send you a location. I need you to go there. I'll have someone meet you."

He hangs up before you can get another word in. Seconds later, he sends the location for a terminal at the airport. Despite the abruptness and absurdity, his words worry you, so you quickly pack a small bag and head to the airport.

A dark-haired woman greets you at the terminal. You board the small aircraft landed there as she takes the pilot seat. She answers a few of the many questions you have. Sergei has been in different parts of Europe to eliminate this criminal organisation. It seems you have not left the group's radar because they had your address. Afraid they're planning on tying up loose ends, Sergei asks you to go to his safe house in Russia.

Great, you think. This is a totally regular occurrence.

It's a long flight. After hours, you finally arrive, landing on a secluded airstrip surrounded by bush and mountains. Sergei waits for you outside, approaching the aircraft as the door opens.

"Thanks for trusting me," he speaks over the noise of the aircraft.

"Well, you've given me enough reason to," you tell him.

"I'm sorry it had to come to this," he says.

"Don't be," you reply.

He gives you a grateful nod as he gestures with his head. "Follow me."

He leads you away from the runway. The landscape turns forest-like as you walk along a trail. You look around at the surprisingly picturesque view despite the strange circumstances you're in.

"So, what is this place?" you ask.

"I live here most of the time," Sergei explains. "This property used to belong to my mother's family. It's pretty much all I have left of her now."

"Right," you reply. "And do you make a habit of bringing many women out here in the middle of nowhere?"

He shrugs. "Just the ones whose lives are threatened by criminals."

"…Is that a lot?" you ask.

Sergei smirks, leaving your question unanswered as he picks up the pace. "Come on, it's just ahead."

You watch him go ahead of you, letting out a huff at his non-answer as you try to catch up. After a small trek, Sergei leads you to his cabin. It's a pleasant spot, a geometric glass dome surrounded by shrubbery and nature. There's also a scenic body of water nearby. This place would do great on Airbnb, you think to yourself.

You spend your first evening getting settled in. Sergei tells you he's heading to Romania, so you'll have the cabin all to yourself. He makes sure you have everything you need before leaving. He also advises you not to wander far while he's gone, telling you there are leopards, tigers and bears in the area. Well, there goes your Airbnb pitch.

Later that night, you climb to the loft and get into bed. A stranger's bed. A stranger who has saved your life multiple times, but a stranger nonetheless. It's almost dead silent at night, nothing like back home. The rustle of leaves in the wind and the quiet chirping of insects act as your lullaby.

The glass gives you a perfect view of the starry sky as you lie back. With no light pollution, the sight is nothing to scoff at. And after everything that has happened in the last few days, it doesn't take much longer for you to find respite in sleep.

Sergei calls to check in with you from Transylvania on the second day, asking how you're doing and updating you on the situation. He tells you he's on the home stretch, and it'll all be over once the last few people are weeded out. He stays on the call for just a moment longer to tell you a joke about vampires.

Once he hangs up, it doesn't take long for you to become incredibly bored. You do what you can to entertain yourself. You take pictures of the scenery, snack on whatever is available, take naps, and discreetly poke around through Sergei's belongings.

By day three, there was nothing left to snoop. You've looked at everything, from the fridge to the bathroom cabinet. And more absurdly, from the alchemy station to the weapons collection. Sergei doesn't keep many things around, so there wasn't much you could learn from your nosiness.

You wake to a text on the fourth morning. Sergei tells you the job is finished. He's already on his way to the cabin. You let out a breath at the message. It's done. You're safe.

You look around at the space you've called home for the past few days. A strange feeling claws at the back of your mind. A sense of disappointment. At what, you can't yet place. So, to distract yourself, you spend the day tidying. Closer to the evening, you make dinner to the best of your ability with what's available.

Sergei returns and is greeted with the delicious aroma of your food. The smell is foreign to his cabin, foreign to him. You welcome him back, doing a quick once over. He's weary and battered but otherwise seems to be in good shape. And he's incredibly grateful for the food. It's almost amusing watching him eat, like a cat with a bowl of wet food.

After dinner, he's too tired to do anything or talk about what happens next, so you call it a night. You feel bad making him sleep on the couch. You tell him you don't mind him taking the bed. He agrees as long as you stay as well. Neither one of you bother to argue after that.

He passes out quite quickly, sleeping on his stomach with his head facing away from you. You lie on your side next to him, staring at the back of his head. Spending days doing nothing has made it so you're not all that tired. So, you lie in silence, a million thoughts running through your head.

Now that the situation is handled, Sergei will probably send you packing in the morning. That should be a good thing. You can get back to your home, your friends, your job. No criminals after your head, no fearing for your life. So, why is part of you reluctant to go?

You're pulled from your thoughts when Sergei stirs, yawning as he turns onto his back. He settles back down, and you think he's fallen asleep again until he turns his head towards you.

You meet his gaze, and for a moment, you're unsure what to do. You think about pretending you usually sleep with your eyes open to make up for the staring.

But all that proves unnecessary when he smiles and asks, "You okay?"

"Yeah," you reply. "Just not that tired."

Sergei nods, also turning on his side to face you. "I'm sorry you got caught up in all this."

"No, don't be," you say. "None of it was your fault."

"Still, I know it wasn't ideal, having to deal with something like this. And having to deal with me," he says.

"Dying wouldn't have been ideal," you tell him. "And I've been hiding out here the whole time, doing nothing. If anything, you're like my guardian angel."

He laughs, "That's one way to put it."

You smile back, and the two of you fall into a moment of silence.

"Thanks for looking after the place, by the way," he says.

"What? You mean leeching off of you for four days?" you reply.

He lets out an amused scoff. "I mean for cleaning up and making dinner. Especially the dinner part."

You nod. "It's the least I could do."

"I don't think I've had a proper home-cooked meal in years," he says. "The last time must have been when I still lived with my mother."

You pause for a moment, taking in the information. "No other cooks in the family?"

"No, my father never cooked," he replies. "He would make some poor, overworked chef do it."

You hum in response. "So, you've got low standards? That's a good thing for me then."

Sergei chuckles, appreciating your comment. The two of you stay awake for a while longer. Sergei tells you more about his childhood, his family, the accident that changed him, and his life after he left to be on his own. You also tell him about your past, which paled in comparison to his, but he seemed to appreciate it regardless.

His hand wanders under the sheets as the two of you talk, coming to rest on your waist. His thumb idly strokes your side. He listens to you intently and laughs at any funny parts you share. As his touch grows bolder, he pulls you closer, moving his arm to wrap around you.

You happily accept his embrace. Soon, the warmth of being in his arms and the comforting sound of his voice lull you to sleep. Sergei watches as you drift off. Out like a light. Adorable.

His mind thinks back to the first night you met. He remembers how scared you were, how you looked at him when your life hung in the balance. He felt sorry for you, a poor woman caught up in a mess that wasn't hers.

Sergei doesn't know why you trusted him so quickly, but he's glad you did. He's glad that you're here now with him. He's glad for it all. He realises then how nice it is to have someone to come home to. Someone who cares. Someone he can talk to other than his pilot or his brother.

He wonders what you think. He hopes you feel something similar. You must, right? Though there's a very good chance you think he's a lunatic, and you've just been humouring him. But he tells himself not to overthink, closing his eyes and holding you a little tighter as he waits for sleep.

When you wake in the morning, Sergei is already up, preparing a simple breakfast for the two of you. You eat together, engaging in light conversation. Despite your unspoken reluctance to leave, you know you must return to your life sooner or later.

He helps you pack up after breakfast, and you head to the airstrip. Sergei's pilot picks you both up, and you sleep most of the way back on the aircraft. After a smooth ride, you finally make it back home.

Sergei goes with you all the way back to your place. You open the front door and take a look around. Everything is how you left it, thankfully. Getting back to see your home trashed would have really soured your mood. You step in, place your bag down and let out a sigh. You're ready to continue sleeping, but your stomach rumbling redirects your priority.

Sergei leans against the door frame, watching you. He must have heard the evidence of your hunger because he chuckles. You turn to send him a glare, but he speaks up first.

"If you're up for it, I know a place. Good food, great music," Sergei says.

"Really? I thought you'd be happy to finally get rid of me," you reply.

Sergei snorts, shaking his head. "Quite the opposite, actually. I haven't actually gotten to spend that much time with you."

You're tempted, very tempted. But you pretend not to be. "As long as it's not in the middle of nowhere in a foreign country."

He laughs. "It's not. It's a normal restaurant. I promise."

You let out a sigh, feigning exasperation. "Alright, I trust you."

Sergei grins, pushing himself off the door frame. "Great, let's go."

➸

[soapcloth]

Ode - Vignette one (Prologue)

Grief Counselling au -> Ghost x reader

CW: Mentions of grief and loss | mini series - unedited - 800 words dividers -> @/cafekitsune

something small and cathartic to chip away at :)

When you peek your head through the door of the community room, you already decide you shouldn’t be here. 

Everyone looks at you; notably, the woman standing in front of everyone with bleary eyes clutching a piece of cloth. You really shouldn’t be here. 

“Sorry.” you whisper. “Is this the…” your eyes dart around, voice getting quieter. “-grief counseling room?” 

A man with a sympathetic look and a combover nods, wiping at a stray tear. “Sit anywhere.” he urges, prompting you to scurry over to a free seat. You get a quaint greeting nod from a girl beside you who can’t be any older than seventeen. You nod back, averting eye contact. 

“Jenette- As you were saying?” the man speaks up, prompting the woman standing to tremble a bit, take a deep breath, and continue- fingers flexing around the small blanket in her hands.

Your eyes start to glaze over, perhaps a protective measure courtesy of your psyche as you zone out. You focus on anything but the shake in the woman’s voice; the way your pants have ridden up on your waist in the uncomfortable chair, the feeling of your socks, the sound of a woman crying. You swallow the lump in your throat and exhale, only pulled out of your fog when a loud, thundering noise cuts through it. Blinking, you realize everyone in the room is clapping softly. 

“That was absolutely beautiful Jenette, thank you for sharing.” The man guiding the counseling coos, standing up and patting her on the shoulder as they pass. Your skin crawls, you know the exact way a kind hand feels on your shoulder- the act of comfort now making you a little sick with how many times you've been on the receiving end of it.

Once at the lip of the circle of chairs, his eyes sweep over the attendees, landing on you. “Anyone else feel like sharing before we break off for partnered activities?” 

You shake your head silently and he purses his lips. “No one?” he pauses. “That’s okay, everything with time." His hands clasp together. “Okay. You all know each other, I’ll let you split into groups.” 

You flounder for a moment as his words sink in, eyes darting around. You certainly don’t know anyone here. When you look to the girl beside you, she gives you a sheepish look and it’s then you realize she's already paired up with a kind looking older woman. You nod apologetically. As you begin to internally panic, you’re slowly approached by the man with the combover, and now that he's close enough, you can see his name tag reads ‘Christopher’ 

“You can pair with…” he hums for a moment before his eyes light up. “Simon,” he calls out. “You still haven't paired up.” Though phrased as a question, you can tell it's a statement. 

Your eyes draw upwards and through the other attendees, landing on a massive, looming thing with a hollow gaze. He pushes off the wall beside the refreshments table, but doesn’t move closer. 

“You pair up with Simon over there.” Christopher directs, passing you a paper. 

You take the sheet and tentatively pad over to him. He’s somehow even bigger up close. 

Your greeting gets caught in your throat, but you can't help wondering if he’d even acknowledge if you did manage to get one out. He sips from his paper cup, steam trailing from it as the little stringed paper flutters across his prominent knuckles in turn. 

“D-drinks?” you finally spit out, earning a thumb jammed in the direction of the table directly to his right. “oh.” you sigh. “yeah- yeah, of course. Thanks.”

He grunts in response, taking another sip. 

You feel his eyes on you as you fix yourself a coffee and squirm internally. 

“Everyone settled?” Christopher asks, causing Simon to direct his attention away. “I’ve given each pair of you a list of common misconceptions when it comes to grief, look it over with your partner and discuss- is there anything that stands out? Surprises you?” 

The room fills with a soft hum as you look at the sheet, eyes falling on one in particular.

‘Myth: Grief will always resolve after a set amount of time’

Simon glances over and you look up, eyes trembling. “H-here.” you say, passing him the sheet.

You resign yourself to small sips of burnt coffee as you wait for the activity to be over.

Then, you find yourself coming back every week. You and Simon, though you can count the conversations you've had on one hand- have formed an alliance in your head, crowding the seats nearest to the refreshments table. You know it's more likely that he’s commonly sitting alone through these group sessions, but you like the thought that he saves it for you. Maybe he does, who knows. 

You pass quiet conversations through glances, and quickly catch on to the fact that he’s incredibly well-versed in picking up on small queues; the way he steps back to make room, makes himself just a bit smaller around the grieving women of the group. He often looks dismissive, but something tells you he’s always got one notched ear perked and listening. You know this is something he must have honed, but wonder if he was always so quiet in return. 

[604to647]

Toot-toot, Beep-beep

As is my style, squeaking in last minute to take part in @jolapeno's brilliant idea to encourage people to toot their own work; while I still feel very shy about my writing, I can't help but be heartened by the lovely interactions and kind encouragement I've received this past year - so Imma gonna give it a go! Thank you for the tags @aurorawritestoescape @joelmillerisapunk @milla-frenchy @evolnoomym @sawymredfox

@iamasaddie @sanarsi @greenwitchfromthewoods it was wonderful to read your lists, revisit some old favourites and grow my tbr 🥰🥰😘

One-Shots

Emily never met a fic she couldn't turn into a series, but once in a while she tries to contain herself:

What Was I Made For (Frankenstein AU Tim Rockford; Tim is our titular "Creature" but there is nothing monstrous about him. I cried while writing this!!!! 😭😭)

Photocopies (S1/S2 Narcos Javier Pena; does it still count as a one-shot if it's a follow-up to a one-shot I wrote the year before? And if I plan on writing more "one-shots" for the same couple? Another angsty one for these two as they're kept apart by Javi's poor decisions and dumb [affectionate] self-sacrificing nature 😔)

Instalment of Series

I write mostly series, so here are a few chapters from last year that I'm proud of:

Ch. 19 The Betrayal from Safest with You (Modern AU Retired Mob Enforcer Din Djarin; this is my first and longest running series - my baby 🥹. With this chapter I finally wrote that scene; you know the one you think up originally and end up building an entire story/series around?)

Hold On from The Rockford Portfolio (I will always think of this Tim Rockford fic fondly because it was born from such a fun, spontaneous coming together of the community after @mrsmando asked which Pboi is a Tiddy Guy, and together, we forever cemented Detective Rockford as a Boob Man).

Ch. 2 - White Chocolate Macadamia from Mi Galleta (Modern AU Pero Tovar; I spend a lot of time pouring over bike diagrams, biker images and biker Tiktoks for this chapter where we give our scary bouncer a sports bike. It was really hard work 🤭 Also, Protective!Pero 🥹)

Part 1 of Strawberry Shortcake (Frankie Morales goes to a strip club and falls in love with a cocktail waitress; this one came out of nowhere and was mainly vibes, but I love it. When I wrote it I knew I was leaving it on a cliffhanger, but had no idea where I was going to take it [Narrator: she took it to 22K words in total])

Smut

Having only started writing in 2023, this was an area of major insecurity for me! So, this year we practiced, practiced, practiced:

Ch. 16 The Match-up from Safest with You (Baby's first sex tape; Modern AU Din Djarin)

The Detective and the Agent (Baby's first threesome; Tim Rockford + Marcus Pike)

At First Light (Baby's first somno; Tim Rockford)

Paperwork (Baby's first cockwarming; Tim Rockford)

Challenges

I think Jo also said recently that writing can often be a lonely activity, solitary in nature. Whenever someone hosts a challenge or writing/fandom event, it goes such a long way towards alleviating this loneliness, pulling us out of our isolation - it's really so, so nice. People who host, you're gems 🥹

Agent Hephaestus (Pedro Pantheon hosted by beskarandblasters; an allegorical telling of Agent Marcus Pike as Hephaestus. The hardest thing I ever wrote! At one point, I printed this out and edited it old school style, literal pen on paper😂😂)

Dance for me (Mootboards and minifics hosted by @yopossum. Such a fun idea and remains the prettiest moodboard on my blog 😍 Happy to be able to give Detective Tim Rockford a silly detective case plot [my favourite fiction genre to read] and patting myself on the back for adding a few Strawberry Shortcake easter eggs as well 🤭)

Brandy by the Fireplace (Trope-off hosted by @auteurdelabre. The trope I chose was "Fish out of Water" so naturally, we had to go with Frankie Morales. Self proclaimed City girls and anxious girls [gn], I hope this one speaks to you. I've never disclosed this before, but this one is inspired by true events 😭😂).

The Might of the Realm (The Glandolorian challenge hosted by @beefrobeefcal. My first love, husband, Din Djarin in a canon compliant post-S3 story that fits into an AU that has been living in my mind rent free since that last season ended. Maybe I'll write more for them, because as stated before - Emily never met a one-shot she could leave alone 😂)

Hidden Gem

Dodge (Vigilante AU Javier Pena, aka what happens when Emily thinks of a way to write that Daredevil fic that's been rattling around in her brain since 2018. This is really unlike anything else I've written - I'm a big Marvel fan, but probably won't ever write MCU fic [I do read a fair bit though!] so I'm proud of the way I was able to weave story elements from two of my fave fandoms together. If you read it, a) um I love you and b) tell me if you're also a Daredevil fan and if you're getting those vibes 🥹🥹)

No tags because I'm so late but please do share and toot yourself if you're so inclined! Thank you all for visiting me this past year - your support has helped me so much, I can't even tell you; I would never be able to toot myself without your kindness. Love you lots! Here's for more to toot in 2025! 🥂🥂

Dividers by @saradika-graphics 😘

[quintessenceofdust88]

Little Blobs, ch. 4

Hi my loves! Ch. 4 of LB is up before 2024 is over for me, woo-hoo! (and for those of you who are already in 2025, here's the first update of the year hehe) This is a very Tommy-centric chapter, and I hope you enjoy it! On the positive side: Nonna Rosa is here! On the down side: so is Tommy's dad. You're in for a (angsty) treat! I wanna add a special shout-out to @peppermintquartz and @bidisasterevankinard who helped on the writing process and made the chapter (and the next one) a lot better bc of it! Thank you, my loves ♥♥

Ever since Tommy and Evan got back together, they’ve visited Tommy’s grandmother in his home town in Indiana about six times: for Christmas in 2024, when Buck met Nonna for the first time; a few random visits whenever Tommy could find the time, just because, well, Nonna isn’t getting any younger, he wants to check in on her as much as he can. And, of course, to deliver their wedding invitation, which Nonna promptly framed and added to her mantelpiece. In none of these visits, Tommy had been as excited to see her grandmother as he is now.

Tommy never thought he’d get to tell Nonna she’d be a great-grandmother, at least not from his part (his three cousins, as good Italian-blooded people, have about four kids each). He’s giddy with excitement, and the best part is that Evan’s as excited as him; his husband loves his Nonna and adopted her as his own grandmother from the moment they met. 

The cutest part, though, is how Evan has repeatedly been manifesting his excitement; he’s been hit with what Maddie has cheerfully informed them is called ‘pregnancy brain’, which means he’s prone to forgetting things and getting distracted (even more than usual). At the airport, Tommy had to keep a hold of his boarding pass, or else he’d have lost it, and he still asked Tommy where it was about four different times. When they landed in Indiana, he had to gently remind his husband that no, they couldn’t go straight to Nonna’s house, they had to get their luggage first (and then he had to remind Evan that his bag was, in fact, the green one that had passed by him four times already). And now, in the car, he’s asked Tommy three times if…

“Tommy! Did we bring the yarn and the box? It’s gonna ruin the whole thing we’ve planned for Nonna if we didn’t!” He says, and Tommy has to hold back his laughter, just nodding patiently.

“Yes, sweetheart, it’s in your handbag. Two rolls of yarn inside the box, yellow and green because we don’t know the gender of the babies yet and we don’t want to impose gender stereotypes anyway” Tommy recites dutifully, and Evan nods in relief. 

“I mean, gender stereotypes are so stupid anyway” Evan says, and lights up as he always does when he has a fun fact to share. “In fact, did you know that in the beginning of the 20th century, the colors were inverted? Blue was considered a soft color, for girls, and pink, which was considered stronger, was for boys. It was actually Sears who inverted it, and then all of the other stores just followed their lead”

“Really? I didn’t know that” Tommy says, even though Evan told him this exact same fact yesterday when they had this exact same discussion, but if he doesn’t remember, Tommy won’t be that guy. He knows how much Evan enjoys sharing the information he researches. “So no pink and blue yarn, it’s a deal. Are you ready, my love?” Tommy asks, placing a hand on Evan’s small bump. 

He’s thirteen weeks along, and the only reason it’s not showing too much right now is because he’s wearing a navy hoodie (Tommy’s, by the way, because ‘it just fits better and smells like you’) to protect himself from the cold November weather in Indiana. But he’s already put an order for new uniforms, and when he’s wearing T-shirts, their blobs are already showing. Tommy is ridiculously happy any time he sees it.

[Read on AO3]

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[mountaesan]

a wild goose chase ; h. taesan

pairing. loser frat boy!taesan x fem!reader ( ft. frat brothers!sungho & leehan ) genre. slice of life , angst if you squint , strangers to lovers , university au synopsis. taesan isn't one to usually to go on a wild goose chase , but his world is turned upside down after one conversation with you word count. 3.8k warnings. alcohol consumption , taesan fumbles a baddie ( you ) , reader wears makeup in one scene , taesan is horrendously down bad playlist. her by block b , phone number by jinusean ( screamed when they collabed w jinusean . . . i lich rally grew up with this song so it was so surreal for me LMAO ) notes. this is the first and last time i will ever write solely in a member’s pov. i struggled way too much man. i had sm fun writing this but i lowk hate it lol

Since his first day of being a pledge, Taesan’s been in a strange limbo, teetering between a thin edge of savoring the pulse of life that could only exist in a too-crowded, too busy frat party, and loathing the sweaty chaos of beer-stained floors.

Today felt like the latter.

He bit back a curse when he felt the cold splatter of cheap beer spilling onto his shoes. Yup, definitely the latter. 

The culprit, a half-drunk freshman he recognized as a pledge from another frat, mumbled a short apology before scampering off to the bar. Taesan ran an exhausted hand through his hair, contemplating once again, his choice to join a fraternity, and pushed through the crowd to the entrance of the frat house.

“Hey, Woonhak,” Taesan clapped a hand on the shoulder of his Little, a freshman with bright eyes and a cheery smile.  “You’re off pledge duty. I got you.”

Woonhak glanced at the older brother with an excited glint in his eyes. “Really? Are you being serious?”

Taesan leaned against the doorframe, the cool night air brushing against his face as he took Woonhak’s place at the entrance. He had just enough view of the street to feel like he wasn’t entirely stuck in the chaos behind him. Taking the clipboard from Woonhak, he gave the younger boy a mock glare.

“Go, before I start assigning you something worse, like mop duty,” Taesan said with a smirk.

Woonhak saluted dramatically before disappearing into the house. Probably to find the rest of the pledges and bask in his temporary freedom.

Taesan sighed, flipping the clipboard to glance at the guest list for all of two seconds before setting it on a nearby ledge. Who cared if they were invited or not? As long as they weren’t carrying anything sketchy, it wasn’t his problem.

The first group approached, a trio of giggling girls holding red Solo cups. Taesan raised a skeptical brow, clearly noticing the alcohol already in hand, but he didn’t bother questioning where it came from.

“You’re good. Go on in,” he said, waving them through without hesitation.

They gave him a quick thanks and hurried inside, their laughter trailing behind them. Another group shuffled up next, this time a pair of guys who looked like they’d eat guys like Taesan for breakfast. One of them squinted at him, as if sizing him up.

“Do we need to, like, sign in or something?” the guy asked.

Taesan stared at him blankly. “Nope. Enjoy.”

And so it went. Taesan let a steady stream of people through, his “screening process” consisting mostly of quick glances and half-hearted waves. He let his mind wander, relishing the cool breeze and the occasional quiet moments when no one approached.

Half an hour passed. Maybe more. He wasn’t keeping track.

“You’re really just letting everyone in, huh?”

The voice startled Taesan out of his thoughts. Turning, he saw a familiar face–Sungho, a senior who lived for frat events but somehow managed to stay above the chaos. He stood with his arms crossed, an amused smile playing on his lips.

Taesan shrugged, his usual deadpan expression intact. “What do you want me to do? Start a full-body security pat down?”

Sungho laughed. “Nah, but you could at least pretend to care. Who knows, maybe someone will bring a llama into the house or something.”

“A llama would probably be the highlight of the night,” Taesan shot back.

Sungho rolled his eyes but stayed beside him, leaning against the frame. “You hate this, don’t you?”

“Absolutely.” 

They stood in silence for a moment, watching another group wander up the driveway. Sungho nudged him.

“Come on, at least ask if they’re on the list this time,” he teased.

Taesan groaned but picked up the clipboard. He glanced down at the list for show and when the group reached him, he asked, “Names?”

The group rattled off something incomprehensible over the thumping bass from inside. Taesan nodded as if he cared, waved them through, and dropped the clipboard again.

“Wow. Stellar effort,” Sungho deadpanned.

“Thanks. I try,” Taesan replied, monotone. 

“Well, I’m going to bounce. Do your job properly, dude.” With a final pat on his shoulder, Sungho’s footsteps retreated as he disappeared back into the house. 

The familiar weight of resignation settled over Taesan again as the door swung shut behind him. With a sigh, he slumped further into his position, resting his back against the doorframe as he half-heartedly pretended to check people off the list, all while counting down the minutes until he could leave.

He didn’t even look up when another group approached, letting them through with a lazy wave. He was honestly getting close to abandoning his post altogether. He’d never been assigned this duty in the first place, and he sure as hell didn’t care enough to do it right. 

But then again, if he left, Woonhak would catch flak for it, and Taesan wasn’t about to make his Little’s life harder. Besides, he had no interest in receiving a demerit for a job that wasn’t even his in the first place. No way he’d risk that.

So, he stuck it out, like some reluctant sentinel standing at the gates of a frat party he hated. 

One thing to clarify though, Taesan doesn’t hate his frat. He joined for a reason. Sure, it had taken some convincing from Leehan, but Taesan wanted to belong. He wanted to be part of something bigger. He enjoyed the parties, the camaraderie with his brothers, the sense of pride that came with being part of a long-standing tradition. 

But on days like today, when the music felt too loud, the bodies too close, and the heat in the house too overwhelming, he didn’t exactly feel connected to it. Some days, it was just too much. But that didn’t mean he was going to bail entirely. 

He was still there. 

Taesan’s thoughts drifted again, only for a soft tap on his shoulder to yank him back into the present.

“Okay, okay, I’ll do those full-body pat downs since you want them so bad. Wanna be my first?” Taesan said without thinking, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he turned around, fully expecting Sungho to reprimand him for doing his job poorly again.

But when he turned, his words caught in his throat.

It wasn’t Sungho with his broad shoulders, ready to scold him. It was a girl.

A pretty one, at that.

You were stunning, with sparkling eye makeup that caught the light like stars and a half-empty Solo cup clutched in your hand. Your smile was teasing, but there was something about your energy that made Taesan forget how to breathe for a second.

Your wide eyes met his, and his heart did something weird. A small, unfamiliar skip. He cleared his throat, trying to shake the feeling, but it didn’t go away. You were too pretty. Too close. And for some reason, everything about you made the party fade away, even the thumping bass of the music and the chaos inside the house.

He immediately regretted his sarcastic quip.

You blinked once. Twice. Then, with an easy smile, said, “So, you’re really going to give me a full-body pat down?”

Taesan swallowed hard, cursing inwardly at his own awkwardness. He’d never been good at talking to pretty girls, and you, with your sharp eyes and mischievous grin, were making him feel like a fool.

“Uh, no,” he replied quickly, his voice awkward. “I was just, uh, joking.”

You raised an eyebrow, still smiling. “Oh? Too bad. I could’ve used a full-body check,” you teased lightly, glancing down at his clipboard. “But seriously, I’m looking for someone. Have they come in yet?”

Taesan blinked, completely thrown off his game. “Who?”

“Her name’s Ji-an. She’s—”

Taesan felt a sharp pang of guilt when he realized that he had no idea who had come in, much less if someone named Ji-an had arrived. He cursed himself internally. Turns out his half-assed guest checking routine wasn’t exactly working in his favor. Maybe he should’ve listened to Sungho.

“I—uh—yeah, sorry. I have no idea,” Taesan stammered, suddenly feeling like an idiot.

Your smile faltered slightly, but you didn’t seem upset. Instead, you shrugged. “It’s fine. I figured I’d ask anyway. I’ll just look inside.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry I wasn’t any help. I didn’t really—uh—” he trailed off, feeling even more awkward.

But you didn’t seem to mind. You tilted your head slightly, your smile returning. “You know, I have to say, the ‘full-body-pat-down’ idea has some potential. Maybe you should do that for everyone. Could be your new thing.”

Taesan blinked. “My new thing? As in, like, a career move?”

You laughed, and Taesan found himself smiling despite himself. “Sure, why not?”

The two of you bantered for a few more minutes and the tension in Taesan’s chest loosened with each passing second. He wasn’t the smoothest guy, but for some reason, it didn’t feel like he was completely messing up with you.

After a while, you gave him a friendly wave with a warm smile. “Well, thanks for the pat-down offer,” you said. “I have to go find my friend now.”

Taesan opened his mouth to say something, anything, but he couldn’t find the words. He should’ve offered to help, or at least asked for your name so he could tell you if he saw Ji-an. But he didn’t.

After you disappeared into the house, Taesan cursed himself, kicking the ground in frustration. “Idiot,” he muttered, rubbing a hand over his face.

Quickly racking his brain for any ideas, he spotted a nearby pledge as his eyes darted around in a frantic attempt to regain some sense of control over the situation. He grabbed the pledge by the shoulder, his voice sharp.

“Hey, find Woonhak,” Taesan instructed quickly. “Tell him to come back to the door so I can go inside. I gotta—uh, I gotta take care of something.”

Before the pledge could respond, Taesan was already darting into the house. He couldn’t waste another second. He had no idea where you had gone, but he couldn’t just let you slip away without at least trying. He pushed through the partygoers, the bass of the music vibrating in his chest as he made his way deeper into the house, hoping to spot you again.

But no matter how many people he bumped into, no matter how many faces he searched, you were nowhere to be seen. The house was a blur of bodies, the dance floor packed, conversations overlapping with laughter and the clink of bottles.

“Where the hell did she go?” Taesan muttered under his breath, frustration beginning to boil in his chest. He stood still for a moment, trying to focus, to catch his breath, but it didn’t help. You had disappeared into the crowd. 

By the time he reached the bar area, Taesan’s determination had wavered, and he felt more ridiculous than ever. The bartender, someone he recognized from his BIO 265, gave him a nod as he slid onto a barstool. He needed something to take the edge off.

“Three shots of tequila,” Taesan said with a tired smile.

The bartender raised a brow but didn’t ask any questions. A few moments later, three glasses were set in front of him. Taesan didn’t hesitate. One after the other, he threw them back, the warmth and burn of the alcohol cutting through the mess of thoughts clouding his mind.

The shots hit him fast, the tipsy feeling spreading through his chest and head. The nervous energy he had been carrying around since the moment you walked up to him seemed to dissipate. He felt lighter, like the heavy weight of self-doubt was slowly lifting.

“Alright, alright, now we’re talking,” Leehan said as he slid into the empty spot next to him, a grin spreading across his face. “What’s going on, dude? You look like someone punched you in the gut for the past hour.”

Taesan slouched against the bar, his fingers tapping in time with the music. A small smile formed on his face despite himself.

“I… I messed up, dude,” Taesan started, his words slightly slurring, but not enough to lose coherence. “I talked to this girl, but I—ugh, I don’t even know why I said the stuff I did. I don’t know what came over me. She was cute, man. Like, really cute.”

“Alright, spill,” Leehan said, nudging him. “Give me all the deets. Maybe I can find this chick for you.”

Taesan huffed, running a hand through his hair. “She came up to me while I was covering my Little for door duty. She asked if someone was here, but because I’m so amazing and perfect at my job, I had no clue. We talked a little and then she…  walked off.”

Leehan grinned, his curiosity piqued. “What’d she look like?”

“She was… pretty,” Taesan said, gesturing vaguely. “Like, really pretty. Sparkly eyes, Solo cup, electrifying smile. She was—ugh, I don’t know how to explain it.”

Leehan’s grin widened as he leaned back against the bar. “Sparkly eyes and an electrifying smile? What are you, a poet? Goddamn, someone’s got it bad. Did you at least get her name?”

Taesan groaned, burying his face in his hands. “No. She was looking for her friend, Ji-an. That’s all I know.”

Leehan let out a low whistle. “Man, you really blew it. But hey, this is a party. If she’s still here, we can find her.”

Taesan lifted his head, shooting his friend a skeptical look. “You’re not serious.”

“Dead serious.” Leehan clapped him on the shoulder, the force almost making Taesan lose his balance on the barstool. “You’ve been moping since you got here. Might as well do something about it. Come on, dude, let’s go.”

Taesan hesitated, the tequila in his system making his thoughts fuzzy. He wanted to protest, but deep down, he didn’t want to sit there all night replaying the interaction in his head. If there was even the slightest chance of finding you again, he couldn’t let it slip away.

“Fine,” he muttered, sliding off the stool. “But if this turns into some wild goose chase, it’s all your fault.”

Leehan laughed, already scanning the room like a man on a mission. “Relax, dude. I’ve got a good feeling about this. Let’s start with the dance floor. That’s where all the magic usually happens.”

The two of them weaved through the crowd, Taesan’s eyes darting from face to face in search of you. The party was in full swing with the music loud and the air thick with energy. People were dancing, laughing, and shouting over the loud bass, but Taesan couldn’t focus on any of it. His mind was consumed by the image of your teasing smile and the way your eyes had sparkled under the dim lights.

Ten minutes quickly turned into half an hour, and Taesan glanced over at Leehan dejectedly, who responded with a shake of his head from the other end of the room. They made their way to the center of the dance floor, meeting halfway with matching downcast looks. 

“Sorry, dude. Riwoo said he saw some girl dragging a drunk Ji-an out not too long ago. That might’ve been your girl.” Leehan clasped his hand on Taesan’s shoulder. “Forget about her, man. There’s plenty of other fish in the sea.”

Taesan shook his head. “You don’t get it. She’s not someone you could easily forget about overnight.”

“You’ll be saying otherwise when you’re shitfaced by the end of the night. C’mon.”

Taesan did not say otherwise at the end of the night, but he did have something else to say to Leehan when he woke up the next morning with a splitting headache and a hangover bad enough to curdle milk.

He groaned when his alarm blared loudly, shrill beeps drilling into his skull like a jackhammer. His hand shot out from beneath the blanket, swiping at the nightstand in a desperate attempt to silence it. On the fourth swing, his fingers finally managed to find the snooze button, and for a moment, blissful silence returned. 

But Taesan’s head continued to throb, each pulse serving as a cruel reminder of the series of events last night following his encounter with you.

“Leehan…” Taesan croaked, his voice rough and crackly. He barely managed to crack one eye open, but immediately shut it again when the daylight spilling through the blinds felt like knives stabbing into his brain. He groaned louder. “Leehan… you shit.”

“Nuh-uh. I’m off best friend duty,” came a muffled response from across the room. Leehan’s voice wasn’t any better than Taesans. “I don’t know a Leehan.”

Taesan tried to sit up—key word: tried. The room spun violently, and he immediately slumped back down as he clutched his temples. “Oh my God… I’m never letting you bartend ever again.”

Leehan gave no response, and Taesan became awfully suspicious that his best friend had fallen back asleep, at the luxury of no morning classes terrorizing his schedule. Lucky bastard.

Panic prickled at the edges of Taesan’s foggy brain. Morning class. He had morning class. And it was one of those unforgiving ones where attendance counted for more than 50% of his grade. Shit. He rolled out of bed, landing on the floor with a graceless thud. The impact sent another wave of nausea crashing over him, and he mumbled out another frenzy of colorful, obscene words.

Taesan crawled to his feet, using the edge of his rickety, old dorm bed for support. He staggered to the closet, pulling out the first clean shirt he could find. It was inside out. He didn’t care. Pants? Found them on the floor. Socks? Mismatched, but at least they were clean (he checked).

He stumbled into the bathroom, squinting at his reflection. His hair was a bird’s nest, and his face looked like it had been dragged through a gravel pit. He splashed cold water on his face, hoping it would shock some life back into him. It didn’t.

“You look like you were visited by the grim reaper himself,” Leehan called from the warmth and safety of his bed. Taesan was brimming with jealousy.

“Feel so much worse,” he muttered, gripping the sink to steady himself. He grabbed his toothbrush. The minty toothpaste felt like ice against his teeth, and for a second, he thought he might actually cry. By some miracle, Taesan made it back to his room, tugging on the first sweater he could find, followed by his bag slinging over one shoulder. 

“If I die in class, tell my parents it’s all your fault,” he said, glaring weakly at Leehan.

Leehan saluted lazily from his bed. “Have fun, champ.”

Taesan didn’t dignify that with a response. He sprinted out the door, pushing down the urge to regurgitate everything he’s had to eat in the past 24 hours, and prayed to every deity he could think of that he’d make it to class in one piece. 

Somehow, he did.

Taesan stumbled into the lecture hall with barely a minute to spare. His hoodie was pulled so far over his head, it nearly covered his eyes. He slid into a seat at the very back, slouching low to make it himself as inconspicuous as possible. The professor’s voice droned on at the front of the room, but Taesan wasn’t listening. He couldn’t. His mind was elsewhere, rewinding to last night. To you.

He could still picture your bright smile, teasing and playful. The way your eyes sparkled under the dim lights, like they held secrets he’d spend a lifetime trying to uncover. You had been so easy to talk to, like you’d known each other for years instead of minutes. He replayed the sound of your laughter ringing in his ears, the warmth of your hand brushing against his, the way his heart had skipped a beat when you looked at him with a twinkle in your eyes.

The short, five minute memory served as a lifeline, pulling him through the fog of his hangover. He barely noticed the minutes ticking by, and before he knew it, the lecture was over. Students began filing out as the sound of their chatter filled the air, but Taesan stayed seated for a beat longer. He was reluctant to leave the sanctuary of his thoughts. Of you.

Finally, he heaved himself to his feet and trudged out of the lecture hall, his body heavy with exhaustion. Coffee. He needed coffee—something hot and strong to chase away the remnants of his misery.

But then he saw you.

You were across the quad, walking with your bag slung casually over one shoulder. The sunlight hit you just right, catching in your hair and illuminating your face. Your presence cut through the haze in Taesan’s mind like a beacon, and he froze, his heart thudding painfully in his chest. For a moment, he forgot all about his headache, his nausea, the dryness in his throat, even the fact that he could barely stand upright. 

All he could see was you. 

And you were walking away, towards the main building.

It was like the universe had thrown Taesan a lifeline. He bolted down four flights of stairs, his bag bouncing against his back as he burst out of the building. He sprinted across the quad, ignoring the confused stares of his classmates.

Taesan’s lungs burned, and his legs felt like jelly, but he pushed forward, desperate to catch up to you before you disappeared again.

“Wait!” he called, his voice cracking slightly.

You turned, eyebrows raised in surprise. He skidded to a stop in front you, panting heavily both from the exertion and the sheer adrenaline of seeing you up close again. For a second, he couldn’t find the words. His mind had turned blank, except for the thought that you were prettier than he remembered.

“Door guy?”

“That full body security pat down is still on the table, if you want.”

Taesan’s words hung in the air, and his eyes widened in horror as he realized what he’d just said. He had blurt out whatever words first came to mind, not realizing that he sounded like a complete weirdo in front of you. His face turned bright red, and he opened his mouth to backtrack, but then you laughed—a warm, genuine laugh that sent his heart into overdrive.

“Smooth,” you said, still smiling. “Real smooth, door guy.”

Taesan rubbed the back of his neck, grinning sheepishly. “The name’s Taesan. I… I meant to say hi. But, uh, hi.”

“Hi, Taesan,” you replied, your smile softening. “I’m [Name].”

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[xechu]

[Devour] Chapter 1: Reunited

Pairing: Ryomen Sukuna x fem!reader

Word count: 4.5K

Warnings: please read my blog's rules before interacting. 18+ mdni, angst, eventual smut, hurt/no comfort, explicit sexual content, undertones of misogyny (because the 'olden days'), mature themes, depiction of gore and violence, mentions of pregnancy and abortion. Please note that these warnings pertain to the entire series as a whole, and not just to this specific chapter.

Tags: mini series, angst, smut, Heian Era, true form Sukuna

Summary: Years have gone by. You find yourself forced into a marriage that you wanted no part of. The people in your village begin to reveal their true colors to you. Backed into a corner, you do something unthinkable.

A/N: Happy New Year, everyone! If you would like to be added to the tag list, please let me know. Chapter 2 is expected to come out next Thursday (Jan 9th at 12:00 PM EST). Thank you so much for reading and stay tuned. x

Masterlist: < Prologue | Chapter 2 (To be continued) >

You vividly remembered that fateful day as if it was just yesterday. After meeting Ryo, you sprinted back to the village, begging your grandmother to teach you all there was to know about plants, flowers, and herbs. Your grandmother laughed heartily, asking what had spurred such an interest in a young girl when she should be enjoying her youth instead. But your gut told you to keep him a secret; it felt as if he didn’t want to be known, so you made up a flimsy excuse to quell her curiosity. In hindsight, now that you were much older, you realized that your grandmother probably knew you were keeping a secret.

You often thought about Ryo, the boy who reminded you of the sun, and you would frequently visit the forest where the two of you had met, hoping to see him once more. But true to his words, you never encountered him again.

Years had passed in the blink of an eye, and you had grown into a bright young woman. However, the days of bliss would soon end when you found yourself caught in a dire conflict with the rest of the village.

It all happened on the day of your grandmother's funeral, she was your only family member since your parents passed away when you were small. The pain of her loss felt insurmountable, and you didn't know how to move on. There was no one you could lean on, and you selfishly wished to yourself: if only Ryo had come back to be your friend all those years ago. You had not been given enough time to fully mourn her loss when a group of elders and villagers approached you, their expressions grave and urgent.

Despite the immense grief you felt, you agreed to their request for a meeting in the main hall. As you entered the hall, the atmosphere shifted; something about their demeanor felt off. It wasn’t long before their true colors became apparent, unveiling a harsh reality that would shatter your understanding of everything around you.

“Y/N, as you are aware, the village has not been doing well,” one of the elders said. You nodded, your stomach twisting as you recalled the recent events that had transpired.

For the past few months, it felt as if the village had been cursed—crops withering, and people dying in horrific ways from an unknown illness. Thankfully, your grandmother passed from old age, and escaped the troubles that plagued the village. There was no discernible reason for this phenomenon, and the atmosphere had become increasingly tense and fearful. Everyone became cold and distant, only fending for themselves.

“There is, however, a silver lining to all this. A hope for our village, but it requires your cooperation,” the elder continued.

“Of course,” you replied, your throat tightening. Something felt horribly wrong. “How can I help?”

“Lord Yamamoto is looking for a wife. If you marry him, you can convince him to invest in our village. We will put in a good word for you.”

Just hearing Lord Yamamoto's name was enough to put you on edge. Lord Yamamoto had a notorious reputation that everyone knew about. Being well into his sixties, he would have been your father’s age had he still been alive. He was known for his short-temper and abusive nature, rumors had it that his last two wives perished under mysterious circumstances. Any parent who had even an ounce of love for their daughters would never marry them off to such a monster. Now, left with no family, it seemed you had become an easy target. Truth be told, you were past the age of marriage, but your grandmother had fiercely protected you from being immediately married off as soon as you came of age. She had always insisted that you live freely and carve out your own path in life.

“Lord Yamamoto is a tyrant,” you replied, trying to mask your unease. “That man should not be marrying anyone. It would only be a death sentence.”

“But you have no choice, Y/N!” another elder exclaimed, unable to hide his desperation. “If not you, then there will be no one else.”

“Don’t be so narrow-sighted. He might be good to you; old age has probably softened him,” another elder chimed in, trying to convince you.

“I…” you shook your head, your voice trembling. For the first time in your life, you felt truly alone and terrified. “I don’t want to marry him. I don’t need to marry anyone.”

“You owe us, Y/N,” one woman spat, the venom in her words slicing through your resolve. “After all, it is your fault that our village is cursed!”

Your eyes widened in disbelief. “How could you—”

“Don’t even try to deny it! My son saw you with that monster all those years ago. You invited him into our village, and now we all suffer because of you!”

“M-monster?” you gasped, appalled by the accusation.

“There is only one. The abomination with four eyes and four arms.”

Ryo? Your heart tightened at their insinuation. They didn’t know him at all.

“And my son has seen you wandering in and out of that forest over the years, meeting the monster in secret!”

“He's no monster!” you shouted back, anger coursing through you.

“Hah! So you admit you've seen him. You ought to be stoned to death. There could only be one reason why the two of you would meet in secret,” a middle-aged villager said, eyeing you up and down.

“Your grandmother was too lenient on you. That’s what happens when you have no parents to guide you. Daughters without parents become ill-mannered and rebellious.”

“Do not speak of my family as if you know them,” you retorted.

“Oh, I know your grandmother; she was a kind and hardworking woman. She worked until her death just to sustain an insolent wench like you.”

“While your poor grandmother worked her bones down to dust, you were spreading your legs for the King of Curses in the forest!” they continued their relentless assault of accusations.

“That’s not true!” you yelled, tears brimming in your eyes, though you stubbornly held them back. “I—”

“Look, there is no need for us to keep stating the facts that Y/N will never admit to,” a calmer voice interjected. The man reminded you of a fox—sly and conniving. “Y/N, your grandmother was a good woman. That is the only reason we wanted to do you this favor. If you don’t marry Lord Yamamoto, your safety will no longer be guaranteed in this village. To be frank, many villagers want you dead.”

The revelation hit you like a ton of bricks, suddenly, the hall felt too small, the imposing elders and villagers too big. You couldn’t breathe. One thing was clear, however: you had lived in ignorant bliss all along, and you realized it too late. No matter how you looked at it, both options seemed to lead to your impending doom.

A heavy silence loomed in the hall.

“I..." you clenched your fists tight enough to almost draw blood, "I will marry Lord Yamamoto,” you said quietly, your head dropping in defeat.

“Excellent. I’m glad we could reach an agreement,” the fox-like man replied, his voice dripping with false satisfaction.

With that, the group of elders and villagers walked away, heads held high as if they had just become the saviors of the village, leaving you feeling more trapped than ever.

---

Your entire village gathered to bid you farewell on your wedding day, but it felt nearly impossible to find joy in the moment. You were being sent off to a tyrant, and just days prior, it had been revealed that everyone had secretly loathed you all along. Despite the heavy weight of this revelation, you did your best to maintain a facade of ignorance, but the experience was jarring to say the least.

Lord Yamamoto had sent four of his men to collect you in a shoulder carriage. The Yamamoto estate was about a day's journey away, which meant you would arrive at your new home by nightfall. The wedding ceremony was scheduled to begin immediately upon your arrival, and then you would be expected to share a bed with your new husband. The thought of bedding a stranger—someone who could practically be your father—made you shudder. Your stomach churned as feelings of disgust and dread surged within you; bile threatened to escape your throat. You weren’t even certain you could persuade Lord Yamamoto to invest in your village, rendering the entire marriage a cruel farce.

As you sat in the uncomfortable carriage, your thoughts spiraled into desperation. Perhaps you could make a run for it, a grand escape. You had a vague idea of the landscape from your childhood adventures, but could you truly outrun four men? The route to the Yamamoto estate would take them through a dense forest by the mountains—this would be your most opportune moment if you decided to flee. Your heart raced as you weighed the risks, contemplating whether such a plan was feasible.

You couldn’t tell how long you had been in the carriage, but the sounds of a rushing river signaled that the group had now entered the forest. Quietly, you peeked through the crack of the small carriage window to confirm your suspicions.

It was now or never, you thought, as adrenaline began coursing through you. Even if you managed to evade the men, would you be able to survive the forest before it claimed you? Then again, you’d rather face the unknown dangers of the wilderness than submit to an abusive husband.

“E-excuse me,” you called out, your voice wavering slightly. The carriage came to a halt.

“Yes, my Lady?” one of the men replied.

“I’m sorry, but I… need to use the bathroom,” you lied, the words tumbling out with an urgency that surprised you.

A brief moment of silence followed as the four men deliberated how to handle the situation.

“Worry not, my Lady; we will find a suitable spot for you immediately,” one of them said.

“Thank you…” you murmured, feeling the carriage lower as they prepared to let you out.

“Please, come out. We will wait for you by the riverbank,” another man instructed, his voice firm yet respectful.

Climbing out of the carriage, you noted that the men sat dutifully by the river, their gazes averted to preserve your dignity as the lord's wife.

“Call us when you’re done,” one of the men said loudly.

“Yes,” you replied, your voice steady despite the nerves churning within you. “I’m sorry; it might take a while. I suppose I’m a little nervous about meeting Lord Yamamoto.”

You made your way into the depths of the forest, further from the men, quickly scanning your surroundings to plan your escape. Your heart raced; you knew you only had so much time. Without another glance back, you took a deep breath and made a run for it, pushing yourself into the wilderness.

---

It was a miracle you had managed to escape, but as you feared, nightfall approached quickly, casting the forest into darkness and enveloping you in a chilling cold. A part of you had anticipated the difficult challenge of surviving a night in the wild, but you didn't have much time to consider the grim reality of your situation.

You patted your surroundings to guide yourself through the increasingly opaque darkness. Oddly enough, you didn’t feel scared—not nearly as terrified as when you had been coerced into marrying Lord Yamamoto.

You suddenly recalled the stories your grandmother used to tell about the forest and mountains. She described them as spiritual places where benevolent and malevolent spirits coexisted. If you were fortunate, the kind spirits would guide and protect you; but if luck was not on your side, the malevolent spirits would claim you as their own. It was strange that amidst your dire situation, you were reminiscing about these childhood tales, and a sense of unease began to settle in your chest.

After some time, it became apparent that you were lost. You couldn’t tell if you were moving deeper into the forest or away from it; it felt like an endless abyss. You were getting tired and cold, so you decided to stop your exploration, this was where you would have to set up camp for the night. You attempted to fashion a makeshift bed out of your wedding kimono, and you shivered as you lay atop your haori, realizing perhaps you shouldn’t have taken it off. Staring into the darkness, exhaustion took over, and you began to drift into sleep.

You were not sure how long you had been asleep when peculiar sounds jolted you awake. Your senses heightened, and you feared you might have come into contact with a wild animal. Listening closely, your blood ran cold. The sounds were not those of a mere animal; bones were snapping, flesh tearing, and spluttering noises could be heard. Was this what awaited you—death?

Suddenly, silence enveloped the forest. You clasped your hands tightly over your mouth, feeling bile rise in your throat. Your survival now depended on remaining as quiet as possible, but the sound of heavy footsteps drew closer. You realized you had already been noticed, and with no other option, you gathered every ounce of strength to escape.

You barely made it a few steps before whatever it was caught up to you at an inhuman speed. A powerful grip seized your arm, and an intense force held you in place—it felt as if your arm might snap under the pressure.

"Ah—!" you tried to scream, but a rush of air stole your voice before you could utter another sound. In an instant, the figure turned you around, enveloping you in a tight embrace.

Your heart raced as you stood there wide-eyed, confusion swirling within you as you tried to process what had just occurred. The forest fell silent, the usual sounds of the night muted, leaving you alone with the darkness that surrounded you and the shadowy figure holding you.

Was this a friend or foe? The uncertainty gnawed at you, heightening your anxiety. Just as panic began to bubble to the surface, a voice broke through the stillness.

"Little flower."

---

Sukuna's POV

For Sukuna, this encounter felt like a resurgence of old feelings he had desperately tried to lock away. Every moment shared in the past relentlessly crashed over him, threatening to consume him. Time had altered him, reshaping his reality in ways beyond imagination. Yet here you were, untouched by the darkness, a flower blossoming amidst the ash. It appeared that while he had changed irrevocably, you had remained the same.

You had never met him after your fateful encounter as a child, and though your memory served you correctly, Sukuna could not say the same for himself. After his encounter with you, he had earnestly believed that he would not be able to return to your village; after all, beggars couldn't be choosers. In his mind, he would have to go wherever his next meal was.

As he began to travel, he meticulously retraced every step he took, a part of him still hoping to one day find a way back to you. The thought lingered like a whisper in the back of his mind. To his astonishment, it was as if fate had decided to grant him one wish. He stumbled upon an abandoned temple at the foot of a mountain, close to your village. The temple seemed to have belonged to a fire deity many years ago, and from that day forward, Sukuna made the temple his home. He would make the trip to steal glimpses of you from time to time. In his mind, he convinced himself that he was satisfied with seeing you from afar.

Sukuna quietly watched you—ensuring he kept you at arm's length. It became almost like a sacred duty to him, maintaining distance while keeping his desires at bay. Often, he would hear you call out his name in the very same forest where the two of you had sat together, sharing steamed buns. It took tremendous restraint to remain hidden, despite knowing you searched for him. He assured himself this was for the best, for this was how it should be.

As the seasons changed and repeated, he watched you bloom into the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on—a vision that captivated him more than anything he had ever encountered. Meanwhile, he had truly established himself as the King of Curses. Over the years, Sukuna had transformed into a force to be reckoned with, the pinnacle of jujutsu sorcery. He mercilessly hunted down curses, beasts, and people, reveling in the chaos and destruction he left in his wake. His bloodlust was insatiable, an ever-growing hunger that consumed him. If the two of you were to ever reunite, would you be able to embrace the man he had become and the grim realities of all he had done?

A part of him selfishly wanted to whisk you away, to claim you as his own. It would have been easy for him to act on those desires, to force you into complete submission, yet the very thought that you might come to resent or loathe him filled him with a profound dread. You had always awakened feelings within him that were foreign and unsettling, yet utterly intoxicating.

Life had become less isolating after meeting Uraume; the two of them shared a mentor-pupil relationship that brought a semblance of companionship to his solitary life. Uraume was not only a powerful sorcerer in their own right but also remarkably adept in the domestic sphere, handling cooking and chores with ease and efficiency. Sukuna willingly took them under his wing, finding comfort in their presence.

Then shortly after came Yorozu. She quickly caught Sukuna’s attention not just for her looks, but for her undeniable strength as a sorcerer. They shared the same bloodlust and a thrill for battle that bound them together. Over time, her obsession with Sukuna deepened, an intense devotion that complemented her wild and brash personality. She understood Sukuna in ways few could and accepted him unconditionally. Though they had an intimate relationship, Sukuna never once considered Yorozu as anything more than a fleeting distraction. The labyrinths of his heart still whispered your name. Many times, he had wished it were you writhing beneath him, your voice crying out his name.

Sukuna often imagined what it would have been like if he had continued to visit you instead, envisioning a life where the two of you grew up together. Where would that path have led both of you? Would you still have been his friend, unwavering and loyal? Or would you have learned to despise him like so many others had? Perhaps—he felt a dull shame in having such thoughts—would you have been willing to leave everything behind to be with him?

But one day, it all came crashing down on him. He was finally forced to confront his longing and fantasies when he saw you leaving the village in a wedding kimono, stepping into a shoulder carriage. You were smiling, and judging by the grandeur of the spectacle, it seemed you were marrying into a well-off family. In that moment, he had to accept the painful truth: you were no longer his.

Yes, this was how it should be; this was what you deserved. But no matter how much he repeated it to himself like a mantra, he couldn't suppress the rush of anger, jealousy, and bitterness that surged within him. That same day, Sukuna returned to the forest near the temple, his resolve completely shattered. In a fit of rage, he exterminated countless curses, unleashing his fury upon anything that dared exist in his path—until the voices of four men broke through his wrath.

“Damn it, where did she go?” one of the men exclaimed, panic evident in his voice.

“I knew something was off,” another replied with a sigh.

Sukuna immediately pinpointed the source of the voices; he recognized them as the same men who had come to collect you in that carriage. What happened? Why were they searching for you? Were you in danger? He continued to stalk the four men unnoticed, gathering information in silence. But he also knew the forest was immensely dangerous—he needed to find you before something else did.

“Lord Yamamoto would be furious to know that Lady Y/N has run away; he will have our heads!” one of the men said, his anxiety palpable.

“Keep looking,” a third man urged. “She couldn't have gone far. A girl won’t survive alone in the forest.”

A few moments into their frantic search, one man spoke up, his voice low but anxious. “Do you think those rumors about Lady Y/N are true?”

“Not this again,” another groaned, shaking his head. “I’d rather not think about it.”

"But Lord Yamamoto seems to believe them,” the first man insisted.

“That’s not our concern,” the fourth man interjected dismissively. “If Lord Yamamoto is gracious enough to accept her despite the rumors, then who are we to question it?”

“But what if she curses the Yamamoto household as well? Our lord could have chosen another young woman—why her?” the third man pressed.

“It’s not that simple,” the second man said, his voice rising in frustration. “Our lord has a reputation. Not to mention, he’s getting old with no male heir to inherit his name—he's desperate.”

"I heard Lady Y/N has no family; after Lord Yamamoto gets what he wants out of it, he could easily dispose of her. Nobody will come looking for her or mourn for her."

“Still, if it were up to me, I wouldn’t have chosen a woman who was impure. I heard it wasn't just any man she bedded, it was a demon: the King of Curses,” the first man's voice dripped with disdain.

Sukuna stopped in his tracks, his blood running hot.

“Keep your mouth shut!” one of the men warned sharply. “Do you not realize that we are in his territory right now?”

“Is that why you were so on edge since we entered the forest?” another scoffed. “Do you truly believe such a beast exists?”

“Why don’t the two of you stop talking and just look for her?” the fourth man urged, frustration lining his voice. “It won’t be her who perishes if we return to Lord Yamamoto without his bride.”

A torrent of emotions swirled inside Sukuna; the thought of you being treated like livestock to produce an heir for an aging lord disgusted him. And then there were the rumors about you sleeping with the King of Curses—how had that even come about? Sukuna's chest tightened as he surmised that you had probably run away from it all. This was all he needed to know. Without hesitation, Sukuna appeared before the four men.

"Good day, sir!" one of the men called out as he spotted Sukuna. "We are looking for a young woman. Have you seen her by any chance?"

Sukuna remained silent, his gaze fixed as he continued to walk towards them, an unsettling calm surrounding him.

"Tch, where are his manners?" one of them muttered under his breath.

“Wait, he looks a bit strange…” a third man whispered, unease settling into his voice.

"We're looking for a woman—” another started, but he faltered.

“I heard you the first time,” Sukuna snarled, his voice low and menacing.

The four men stood wide-eyed and frozen in fear, realizing that the King of Curses was indeed a real man—not a mere myth. Suddenly, an inexplicable force of impending doom engulfed them.

“You will do well to remember that you are in my domain,” Sukuna warned, his tone chilling.

“T-the King of Curses! It’s true!” one of the men stammered, panic rising in his voice.

“Hm, I suppose it is,” Sukuna replied, a taunting smile spreading across his face, akin to a cat toying with its prey.

“Forget Lady Y/N! W-we must inform Lord Yamamoto!” another man exclaimed, desperation lacing his words.

“How presumptuous of you, to think I would allow you to make it back to him," Sukuna’s smile turned sinister, his eyes glinting with anticipation of the chaos to come, "you could try to run, but it will be futile."

The four men began to sprint away, desperately trying to escape the King of Curses.

"Do your best. Run as fast as you can; I will give you ten seconds," Sukuna called out and began to count down.

"Time's up." Sukuna licked his lips and began to charge in their direction. Before the men could react, Sukuna struck, ripping them to shreds in an instant. Blood and gore splattered across the ground, painting the forest floor in a grotesque display of violence. A rush of exhilaration coursed through him as he reveled in the symphony of carnage before him. Every kill was an intense high for Sukuna; he was no different than an untamed beast. But he quickly pulled himself back to focus; after all, you were still missing, and he needed to find you before the sun set.

It was dark, and still, there were no signs of you. Sukuna knew this forest and mountain like the back of his hand, and he was in genuine disbelief that you had ventured so deeply into it. There was no way you would continue to wander blindly in the woods at this hour; you were probably tired and cold. He reasoned that the next logical step would be for you to set up camp somewhere, but he could feel the cursed energies of the forest becoming more potent by the minute. Of all the places you could have gotten lost, it just had to be here.

Sukuna gritted his teeth, his heart pounding frantically—a sensation that didn't come often for him. As he continued to navigate through the forest, he was suddenly hit with an intense surge of energy. This was no mere curse, and he couldn't risk you encountering it. Without hesitation, he made his way toward the source of the energy. He would extinguish it before resuming his search for you. But what he didn’t anticipate was that the curse would ultimately lead him to you.

Sukuna effortlessly slayed the curse, tearing it to shreds, when a vibrant piece of fabric caught his keen eye. Moving toward it, he suddenly heard a rustle as if someone was trying to make a run for it. It was you—he was sure of it. He quickly closed the distance, grabbing you by the arm. Before he could fully process the moment, his body instinctively pulled you into a fierce embrace.

“Little flower,” was all he could manage to say.

He knew it would be difficult to let you go again.

Writing © xechu - please do not redistribute or repost.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the photos used on this banner.

Taglist: @paradisestarfishh

[bitbybitwrites]

I was tagged by : @porcelainmortal, @alasse9 @forabeatofadrum

Thanks for thinking of me! . . I should really do this before 2024 is up, right? 😂

BTW its still Dec 31 here where I am, so I'll say it counts.

I've done a lot more than I expected this year, as I look back. And I'm kind of proud of myself.

I started writing for another fandom - RWRB. Its been fun adding these characters to the mix.

I managed finishing 1 multi-chapter fic and a 11 shorter fics.

I'm still plugging away on 3 longer multi-chapter WIP, adding and posting chapters as I go.

I have compiled an additional WIP list of (*stops to count*) 16 other fics that are not posted yet, but are in various stages of readiness. I flitter around adding bits to each when inpiration hits.

I think that's about it for me for 2024 - still writing, slow and steady. 😊

I'm always so happy to see any of kudos and comments if you have left any . . . and I'm still really apologetic that I haven't gotten to responding to many. There's only so much time in the day. I will try to get to them!

WRITING GOALS FOR 2025: Basically write more, and write as often as I can. There are so many of my WIP I want to get into and finish . . hopefully some of you will find them interesting to read!

Wishing you all a Happy New Year and a productive and creative 2025! I look forward to seeing/reading all you create!

See links and descriptions to everything under the cut!

1.) COMPLETED FICS

April 2024

Falling For You (Klaine fic) - 26,089 words

Summary:

Kurt Hummel thought by donating his services as a florist to Memorial Sloan Kettering, that he would simply be giving back to the medical community. A good deed for the month of December. Little did he know that a few chance run-ins with an adorable doctor and a sweet little girl in the hospital lobby would change all that. Written for the Klaine Secret Santa 2023 Gift Exchange.

May 2024

Pretty Shiny things (Klaine fic) - 1,943 words

Summary:

The clangs and shrieks of the alarm system at Christie's Auction House filled the corridors, echoing through the mostly empty building. They were just as loud as the beating of Kurt and Blaine's hearts as they raced down corridor after corridor while they attempted to escape. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Kurt growled through his teeth as he ran, slipping slightly on the polished marble floor as he turned another corner. “I leave you alone for five minutes . . . FIVE MINUTES, Blaine. What on earth did you do?” **** Discovered a fun new thing on Tumblr called Ficlet Friday. This ficlet was inspired by a dialogue prompt by annepi: Prompt: Klaine - “I leave you alone for five minutes...”

June 2024

hold me close (FirstPrince fic) - 836 words

Summary:

Alex has had a rough day. It's a good thing that Henry's home to take care of him. For a Ficlet Friday prompt : "Tell me anything. Everything.”

blythe spirit (FirstPrince fic) - 1,756 words

Summary:

“I . . . I don't know why you're even interested." “Baby, I love you.  I'm interested in everything about you." Alex gave Henry a very pointed and heated look that definitely hit the mark. The flush on Henry’s face now deepened.  He worried his bottom lip between his teeth for a few moments as he considered his options. “Come on,” Alex softly cajoled.  “You can’t just say things like: ‘I played Elvira in a school production of Blythe Spirit’ and not expect me to ask for pictures . . or at least the lowdown on it all.”  Alex pouted again to prove his point.  “I’m a weak man, H.  These are the types of things I need to know more about.” ***** From a Friday Ficlet prompt: "Tell Me anything. Everything."

nightfall (Klaine fic) - 219 words

Summary:

Blaine sighed as he collapsed onto the sand. With his chin upon his knees and arms wrapped around his legs, Blaine gazed out toward the ocean, deciding that the purple-ish pink sky that stretched out before him was absolutely breathtaking. If only he had his camera with him. It would be a perfect addition to his next gallery exhibit. ***** Based off a Tumblr Prompt/Ask Game - "Create a microstory from the prompt selected" Thanks to Falles for giving me: "49 - nightfall"

i'll always come back to you (FirstPrince fic) - 504 words

Summary:

Alex will always come back to Henry . . .always Based on a microstory prompt: #32 - dust motes

July 2024

fire island follies (Klaine fic) - 3,027 words

Summary:

Blaine Anderson is off to a weekend on Fire Island - well, his good friend Santana is draggng him on one. He's not so sure it's the best thing to do - but a run-in with a beautiful performer from the Fire Island Follies quickly changes his mind. ****** From a Tumblr Friday Ficlet prompt from bowtiesandboatshoes : "We're going to Fire Island.  It's like gay Disney World." Title is from an actual burlesque/cabaret show: The Fire Island Follies

i hate waiting (FirstPrince fic) - 555 Words

Summary:

Alex needs to keep his daughter from being bored.   inspired by this adorable picture on Tumblr by wordsofhoneydew

study date (Klaine fic) - 945 words

Summary:

"Get your hands off me!" The sound of a scuffle had Kurt look up from his reading. To be honest, Divination was such a bore of a class. It's not like he needed to learn anything new about it. Kurt had all of his mother's crystals, divination tools, and journals tucked away in her old trunk up in the attic of their home. He could read tea leaves and scry with the best of them. He had long ago lost focus on the chapter Professor Holiday had assigned them for the evening, so at this point, any other distraction would be welcome. Even if it was prefect duties.

Originally this was a bit of a false start for my fic, Advanced Potions

The original prompt was "hogwarts!au + 4. meet messy + 6. "what is that?"

August 2024

what can compare with your beautiful sound (Klaine fic) - 1,183 words

Summary:

Kurt’s brow furrowed as he concentrated on the task at hand. He had to get it just right. His hand hovered just a few inches higher, and with a deft flick of his wrist, a drop of wax fell from the lit candle in his hand to his canvas below. The canvas moaned in ecstasy. “Now, darling, we don’t want to shift, now do we?" Kurt softly murmured as he leaned in close. "You've been such a good boy for me so far." ***** Based off of a microstory prompt from Tumblr : "candles"

November 2024

smutsgiving/wanksgiving 2024: rwrb/firstprince - 662 words

Summary:

Prince Henry has been given a new gift for his bedchamber. Entry for Smutsgiving/Wanksgiving 2024.

smutsgiving/wanksgiving 2024: klaine - 580 Words

Summary:

Dinner was lovely, but Blaine is really ready to go home. Entry for Smutsgiving/Wanksgiving 2024.

2.) PARTIALLY PUBLISHED WIP:

(Klaine) If I Can Make Your Heart My Home - (Klaine Reverse Bang 2023) Life in New York City and working in the restaurant industry wasn’t exactly what Kurt Hummel had expected it would be. He’s lonely, stressed out and miserable. He’s almost ready to throw in the towel and return home to Ohio when a chance meeting with a musician in Central Park changes everything. (Warning: an angsty rollercoaster of a ride. Soooo many cameos from Glee characters! 😉)

(RWRB) Puppy Love - (RWRB NYE gift exchange 2023) The cold snowy day that Henry Fox discovers an abandoned beagle puppy in an alley brings handsome, flirty veterinarian, Alex Claremont-Diaz into his life. Alex is a single dad, recently moved to NY with his young son who Henry hasn't met yet - or so Alex thought. (Fluffy kid!fic)

(Klaine) Sanctuary - (Klaine Word Scramble 2023) Crown Prince Blaine has stumbled into a secluded glade, trying to escape the horrors of the bloody war his father had brought upon their kingdom. Mourning his beloved older brother and faced with the burden of taking his place in the kingdom, Blaine yearns for a place to hid from the world to deal with the issues weighing on his heavy heart. He encounters a mysterious elf, the guardian of the magical spring that Blaine has mistakenly defiled, whose growing connection to his life the young prince can't ignore. (Inspired by an idea/ artwork by @datshitrandom and @justgleekout)

3.) WIP FICS TO FINISH AND POST

My WIP list can be found here! I keep it updated. Feel free to ask me about any of them if you're curious . . 🥰. Hoping to finish some of these in the coming year.

******

OK so ( as usual) I'm late to post - so if anyone hasn't done this yet and wants to - take my big open tag for it and maybe some of these folks might want to do one of these wrap ups as well?

Tagging ( participate only if you want to): @wowbright, @gleefulpoppet, @daisyishedwig, @spaceorphan18 @special-bc-ur-part-of-it

@myheartalivewrites, @14carrotghoul, @thighzp @tailsbeth-writes @onthewaytosomewhere

@sophie1973 @getmehighonmagic @tinyarmedtrex @henrysfox @blueeyedgrlwrites

@kirakiwiwrites @madas-ahatters-world @sarkyblueeyes @heartsmadeofbooks @iboatedhere

@little-escapist @littlemisskittentoes @kurtsascot @hkvoyage @lilinas

Psst. . . and if any fanartists see this and want to share what they've drawn this year, tag me! I'd love to see your work if I've missed some!

[maria-ruta]

💯🌴🎮 for Veronica!!

💯 HUNDRED POINTS SYMBOL — share three random facts about your oc that others may not know.

1 - she can't draw X) at all! haha lol... i guess she could learn that, since she is vampire...

2 - she has a box with some ancient falange relics inside her chest - near her heart

only few other vampires know about that, namely Jaqueline, who put it there (@tench-art 's character) and Charlie ( @osatokun 's character)

and also Adzone (who gave her that box to protect Veronica from the Beckoning) and Caroline (another @osatokun s character. she also has similar box. tho she probably doesnt know that Veronica keeps her box inside of her and idk where Caroline keeps her)

3 - Vampires wake up looking the same way like when they died every night.

Veronica wakes up with tired eyes/eyebags, her short hair is uneven, not a clean buzzcut, her nails are different leinght, some are broken. she also has stubble on her legs and armpits

usually she shaves, fixes her buzzcut or puts on a wig (or both), fix and paint her nails or puts on false nails etc like that

except if she is planning to make herself into a punk character - then she can leave everything as it is, or just add some makeup and nail polish. or if she is in tremendus hurry and can't "beautify" herself - tho she will be super stressed if it happens so, bc of the all that terible weight that most of other toreadors put on her, always demanding to look your best, and bullying/taking advantage of you if you don't match their standarts...

but tbh sometimes she can put make up while she drives... X'D its horrifying but she is horrifingly good driver X)

not many people got to see her "morning" look - she prefers not to show it. her close ones did tho

🌴 PALM TREE — does your oc have a green thumb? do they enjoy gardening?

no, i dont think so... she is a vampire so she can only live during nights - most plants sleep at night

🎮 VIDEO GAME CONTROLLER — what are three of your oc’s favorite hobbies?

1 - collecting different clothes, shoes and wigs obviously... she has tons of this shit

2 - playing online video games and trolling gamer bros by being better than them while being a girl (and also releasing this sweet accumulated agression lol)

3 - making cute instagram photos (while also never showing her face there - vampires cant do so)

old example lol:

Thank you for the ask!

Here is the list of questions, in case you wanna ask more

[pretend-theres-a-name-here]

I thought it could be cool to do like Jayce hanging out with Caitlyn, with the discussion turning to relationships and Jayce's feelings towards Viktor, possibly set during the episode 3 - episode 4 time skip.

Thanks for the suggestion!

A Realization

“He’s like my brother!” Jayce defended, and it wasn’t weak, it wasn’t.

It was the second time he’s had to tell Caitlyn that and she didn’t seem convinced. If you asked him how he found himself trapped in a debate about his own feelings he wouldn’t know what to tell you.

They were having their monthly night in, a time they both booked and set aside to curl up on Jayce’s couch, watch cheesy dramedies that neither would tell another soul they liked, eat pizza like their life depended on it and spend time together. Lately, the conversation has been turning to Jayce’s love life, or lack thereof, and Caitlyn was really pushing tonight. 

Every time she asked about his par—friend, a ‘how’s Viktor?’ sang way too suggestively in his opinion, he’d tell her it wasn’t like that. They were just partners, colleagues, friends, that was it. That was all they could be.

“Jayce, you’re like my brother,” Caitlyn grabbed his shoulders, forcing him to look at her, “I don’t feel this way about you, do you feel this way about me?” 

“W—I—I mean no, but that’s…that’s not…It’s different.” Ok maybe that was his only defense and maybe she had just completely disarmed him but that didn’t mean anything—that didn’t change anything!

Jayce was…fond of Viktor, of course he was, how could he not be when he spent nearly every day with him? When he sat back and just watched Viktor work, hunched over his desk or leaning against the whiteboard because he was too stubborn to reach for his cane, so determined on their dream.

Caitlyn was still holding on to him, “How’s it different, Jayce? Why is it different?”

Jayce thought about all the reasons it was the same, the instinct to protect him the same way he would Cait, the bond that formed so quickly after breaking into Heimerdinger’s office, but even that didn’t feel how it did with Caitlyn. So, he thought about all the ways it was different.

He thought about coming back to the lab late at night and finding Viktor passed out on his desk, walking him back to his room or guiding him to the couch when he wasn’t fully awake despite his insistence that he was fine and could keep working, how Viktor would push him away with no real intent behind the action but allow Jayce to help him anyway. He thought about the way Viktor laughed when they made a breakthrough and then thought about why his stomach flipped at the sound. He thought about how he had memorized Viktor’s voice without meaning to and how he was just waiting to hear it again every time they were apart.

When he looked up again, not even halfway through the list of ways this thing with Viktor was so different, special, he saw Caitlyn looking down at him with a knowing smile.

He sighed, flopping back against the couch and letting himself fall into her lap, “I think I like Viktor.” He mumbled, pulling a throw pillow over his face.

He felt her laugh, “I know.”

Jayce didn’t think this conversation would go anywhere in the future, no hope that the other man felt even a fraction of what he did, but he would find himself sitting in the same spot with the same girl, telling her all about their first date, their first ‘I love you’s. She would be the first to know all that happened, ‘a best friend’s right’ as she called it.

And later, on another monthly sleepover, he would show Caitlyn the ring tucked in a velvet box, hidden in his pocket for when the time was right.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Just a short one for this morning, if you’d like to make a request and help me out of writers block THIS is a list of what I write for.

[yanderes-galore]

Hi hope you’re doing ok ! Would it be alright if I request a Short story for yandere romance MK where the reader(if possible female if not gn is fine) finds out about his weird dark hobbies /thoughts. Reader tries to keep her distance only for it to backfire immediately. Now reader is trying to escape from MK only for the reader to bump into Mei, hoping to be helped the reader goes to her only for dragon girl to trick them and lead them back to MK much to the reader betrayal and MK joy 🌺anon 

Sure! Doesn't look like I added your anon name to my list... so I'll do that before this is posted :) Anyways, I hope I did well... Here's delusional MK having Mei help him keep you for himself.

Two Faced

Yandere! MK Oneshot (With Enabler! Mei)

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Female Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Possessive behavior, Stalking, Mei enables MK, Implied kidnapping, Delusional behavior, Clingy behavior, Secret picture taking, Unwanted affection (Kisses and hugs), Consensual turned forced relationship.

It was hard to say 'no' when it came to your ex, MK. He didn't force you into anything... but it was hard to stand your ground when he gave you those damn puppy eyes. Unfortunately... you were going to hit your limit at some point.

MK had always been... clingy. Clingy to the point it began to cause problems in your life. You loved him, you really did...

But he could never leave his girlfriend alone if he tried.

You immediately knew something was wrong when you noticed MK's strange behavior. Normally you never suspected a thing, he was just clingy and overly attentive. He's such a sweetheart...

One who apparently stalks his girlfriend.

It was when you found his diary and secret photo album that you noticed MK's behavior. You had a feeling he was watching you. With all those powers of his, anything was possible...

Those items were your breaking point.

You had broken up with MK since you found out his behavior. It was a difficult process, MK didn't make it easy to leave him. Not with all his pleading and tears....

You had distanced yourself from MK after the breakup. You knew he wasn't taking it well. How could you not when he kept blowing up your phone or kept trying to follow you around?

Mei had been the one you usually go to in order to vent. You had told her all about MK's behavior. You worry about him, but at the same time, you're concerned about his unhealthy behavior.

Mei always smiles and nods, listening to your pleas. She's a good friend of MK's too, yet she knows he's been strange lately. It hurts you both to see him cry... but he'll get over it...

....

He never did.

"Baby, please! I miss you!" MK pleads as you run. His condition has only seemed to worsen since the last time you saw him. Has he even showered properly?

"You were supposed to be my girl! I'm sorry I messed up, baby... please come back! I'll be better!" MK yells while you run through the quickly darkening streets.

He had waited until after work to confront you. You had just gotten out of your own job, expecting to walk home like normal. Unfortunately, when you got home...

MK was there with a nervous smile, twitching eagerly as he tried to go in for a hug.

After that you had ditched. You needed to run. You needed to go find help... but who could you—?

Your eyes widen when you see the familiar green attire of your friend. You run down an alley, waiting for MK to pass, before approaching Mei. Tears are in your eyes... you're out of breath...

"Help...!" You plead, Mei giving you a surprised look.

"Hey, girl... what's wrong?" Mei asks, looking concerned with you being so out of breath.

"MK... He's lost it! You gotta help me... I don't know how to fix this...!" You plead, Mei nodding in thought.

"... alright, come on, let's fix this." Mei agrees, quietly taking your hand. You give a thankful smile and follow your friend gratefully.

You're led through the streets. You assume Mei might take you somewhere to get help, or maybe even let you rest at her home. Either way... you feel very comforted by your friend...

However...

After a few minutes you find yourself in front of MK.

"W-What are you doing!?" You plead, looking at Mei with hurt eyes. Her own gaze is conflicted... yet determined.

"You wanted to fix things... right?" Mei whispers, glancing at MK. "In order to do that... maybe you two should talk?"

You can't believe what you're hearing.

"Mei! You found her! You actually found her!" MK squeals, giddy over the fact he finally has his girlfriend back. "Yes! Come here, baby...."

You yelp when MK pulls you into a bone crushing hug, Mei awkwardly watching from the side. She feels horrible... you didn't deserve this. But at the same time...

She couldn't bear to watch MK cry over you anymore, it only made him more destructive....

You struggle but MK is stronger than you. He peppers you in kisses and hugs, whispering pet names as he clings to you. You can't tell if you want to cry... or scream....

"Thank you so much, Mei..." MK whispers, glancing up at his friend. "I'm going to take my baby home now, she and I have some... catching up to do."

Mei nods quietly, watching as MK drags you down the street. You're struggling, tears brimming your eyes as you look to Mei for help. Mei hesitates... but doesn't react.

MK needs you...

Hopefully things go back to normal after this since he has you... right?

[lullabyalikpoptarot]

Hello love

It's my first time asking you about smth, so I hope you will answer <3

Can you please do Enhypen version " who would be attracted to..." (in terms of looks overall /aura/ energy) :

1- more feminine (ex: Sana(twice) Miyeon (gidle))

2- Girl crush/sexy type (example: Natty (Kiss of life), Karina, Ryujin(Itzy) Momo (twice))

3- more like cute/princess vibes (Wonyoung, 10, Yuna (Itzy) Hanni(NJ) etc)

4-mature(?) /noona /classic vibes (Irene, Joy (red] velvet), Jihyo (twice), Yoona (SNSD) etc)

P.s I used idols as an example, but we all understand that they can be attracted by people not only from the industry, there is more here, as I pointed out about vibes and archetypes/types (?).

Fun question

Heeseung (Judgment/Queen of Pentacles/3 of Swords) I don't know why but the imagery of the 3 of Swords, gives me girl crush vibes. I mean he has mentioned he prefers sexy in a fan signing, so I was expecting that one. I can also see maturity here.

Jay (The Moon/2 of Wands/10 of Pentacles) Hmm, I am getting mysterious. I am not seeing he has a type from the ones you have chosen. I see a need for sexual chemistry and someone who he can build a future with, so I don't think he has a type.

Jake (King of Wands/8 of Cups/3 of Swords/Justice/5 of Cups) I feel this boy is telling me his love story right now, sweetie I will get to that, don't have energy for this right now. I am asking a simple question here lol I'll go with girl crush; he gives me he likes sexy types from his last readings.

Sunghoon (Queen of Swords/Queen of Wands/The Devil) Oh, okay. I did ask him to keep it simple and he did, thanks lol He likes the sexy, daring, rebellious type, ooh getting kinky, sorry, just going to go with what I get, but also mysterious, he gave me the queen of swords again, so he definitely likes the intellectual, mysterious type. I say definitely not cute or emotional, nope, also mature.

Sunoo (Knight of Wands/8 of Cups/9 of Wands) Of course he wouldn't keep it simple. I am not sure what his type is. I am getting flirtatious type of people. He isn't giving me any indication of any listed above though.

Jungwon (9 of Pentacles/6 of Wands/Judgment) Whom ever he can win over. He may like the type that are hard to get. He is attracted to carefree, independent people. I don't see him having a type either. I can see mature, cute, girl crush, he likes a lot of different types.

Ni-Ki (The Hermit/Page of Cups/Knight of Pentacles) Of course, the hermit would pop up, probably a loner like him, or he is telling me he is attracted to being alone lol I feel him. But I can also see cute and childlike people as well. Very loving individuals. Someone very emotional. He would like a balance of maturity, but also a playful cute vibe.

[waterfallofspace]

hiii!! omg thank you so much for supporting my child 🥰 hahaha i think you’re always a snz writer even if you haven’t posted in a while!! if you’ve experienced the epic highs and lows of writing your own snzfic you know the pains and the joys 🙃 and ms ma’am even if it was only for a moment in time you went off!! (and it was wonderful)

anyways you know i always love to see your thoughts so here are my questions for you if you’d like!

🥳💌💋😎!

omg hii!!~ <3333 ofc i support it!~ it's an amazing list girl!!!~ and agahgahgh- >-< thank you!~ I did have a blast, and honestly might be trying to slip back into it here and there~

Thank you for the questions! I'll answer one, then stick the rest under a cut so I don't flood the feed with all my words~

🥳 Do you read your writing after you’ve posted it?

At the beginning I might scan/read it once to make sure everything formatted/copied over right, and there's no obvious typos, but after that I do tend to go back now and then when I want to remember what plot I used, or spellings, that kinda thing! Overall I don't usually read it in the 'what a meal' mentality, though if it's been long enough sometimes I can disassociate from it being my writing, and just enjoy it~

💌 Do you prefer to write from the perspective of the snz/sick person or the caretaker? Do you see yourself as one or the other?

I'm gonna give such a cop out answer and say both ToT but hear me out!!! I will explain in a way i hope still gives an answer!! so, for the sake of getting a full experience, i find it easier to write from the snz/sick person, since it's easier to explain how they feel and their symptom progression and such. however!!!! honestly i would always see myself in the caretaker position if i was picking, so i sometimes find that pov a lot easier to write?? feelings wise and such

💋 Do you like to get feedback midway through, or do you hoard your drafts until they're complete? / Do you typically feel comfortable sharing your wips with other people?

Okay so- I don't think... I've more than maybe twice, shared any drafts..? I don't really have people I would share it with inherently, but also I think I'd just feel so exposed ToT like, vulnerable, going here's this unfinished thing, witness my imperfections' aguagh idk- Though!! I will say, I do really appreciate input on plot and ideas and 'oh this spelling could work', at least in theory ToT again, don't really have people i've done that with, but i think as long as it feels a lot more like brainstorming together, I really enjoy it!!! but feedback/edits on a thing I'm still drafting (even my own at times-) stresses me out a bit aha~

😎 How long do you wait to post fics you’ve completed? Do you post them immediately? Do you want a few days?

Normally, when it's any sort of request, no time. If I manage to sit down and hammer it all out in one go, I'll usually edit once, read it over to make sure it flows well, then just go ahead and post it! Ones that are more for my own sake, if I finish them and are happy, I'll just post them before I can sit on it too long and lose the motivation to post or ability to see it for anything other than it's imperfections~

[kavehater]

Every time my mum throws yet another hissy fit although I can understand she’s being stupid and I let her yap to her hearts content cause she can never quit complaining, for some reason I’m so mildly bothered that the irritation makes me angry at every other thing.

For example : the fact that so and so hasn’t responded in 51 years, fifty more people haven’t even given so much as a single darn to ask why I haven’t replied yet or use those two brain cells of theirs currently fighting for third place to realise huh, maybe she’s going through a hard time ! Maybe you know like a decent fucking human being I could leave her a little note saying she can answer whenever she feels fit enough to do so but that I care for her, and the fact that I am irate by how care and compassion is offered on a silver platter to so many yet for me I have to beg and do the most absurd and pathetic displays to achieve even the slightest speck of kindness, and if I DONT do all of that in the one in a trillion possibility of me receiving kindness for free it makes me so disgusted and afraid because why the fuck would you do that, in fact why the fuck would anyone even do that even if I gave them my whole heart and soul anyways. All I am is less than dirt by way of reason given how I have been treated, and although I’m unsure as to why I am and that I can never fully understand the reason for why I’m not worth a single thing, and why I am worthless, i understand that that’s how the world works and I ought to adapt to my role and take it because nobody will stop for me

[motorsportbarbie13]

A Package Deal

In which Lando befriends a single mom without even realizing it.

Warnings: single mom. talk of parental death (no death featured on page), lando being a judgey jerk at first, kinda? Pairing: Lando Norris x SingleMom!Reader Word Count: 5.4k words

Master List

yourusername (private) posted

109 likes liked by yourdad, BFFsarah, McLaren, and others yourusername Work holiday party with my mini me! yourdad my two favorite girls! >>>yourusername thanks dad! <3

The fairy lights that stretched back and forth across the ceiling of the McLaren Technology Center sparkle down at you, a soft glow illuminating the spacious front lobby. Half a dozen 12 foot Christmas trees dot the cavernous room and tables decorated with rich red, green, and silver accents create intimate seating areas throughout. The only things indicating that the offices were home to McLaren's Formula 1 team were the seven or so F1 cars from past and present, all put on display for tonight's party.

The events team had certainly outdone themselves this year, that was for sure. If there was anything the McLaren events team went hard for every single time, it was the MTC's annual family holiday party. This year though, the entire team had extra reason to celebrate: earlier in the month, the team had brought home the Constructor's Championship for the first time in years.

"Momma, where's Aunt Sarah?" Your six year old daughter Stella asks softly, her little hand tucked securely in yours as she looks around, eyes wide in awe at all the decorations.

"I don't know, munchkin." You reply, grinning down at her. "Do you want to see if we can find her?"

Your best friend Sarah was surely already here as she was one of the heads of the events team. She'd been planning this party for months now, the added pressure from the championship win had nearly driven her mad. A quick text is answered even quicker and you lead Stella towards the massive ballroom that sits on the opposite side of the sleek modern building.

As you walk down the hall, the heels of your stilettos clicking softly, you're surprised to be hit with a wave of nostalgia. You'd been working for McLaren for almost two years now, after Sarah had given the head of product development your resume when you graduated uni with a degree in computer science and data analytics. Marshall, the man who ran the department, had offered you a job as a data analyst on the spot when you came into interview the following week. It had all felt like divine intervention, going from getting pregnant so young and having no other choice but to navigate parenthood alone to finding yourself employed within weeks of graduating. McLaren truly felt like your second home now.

"There's my Stelly Belly!" Sarah cries when she sees Stella and you walking towards her. Without a second thought, your daughter drops your hand and flings herself into the waiting arms of your best friend, one of the few adults the little girl trusts enough to open up to.

"Don't you look pretty tonight?" Sarah coos, nuzzling her head into Stella neck, eliciting a squeal and a cascade of giggles from your little girl. "And your mama looks stunning too!"

Rolling your eyes, you smooth down the front of the red satin dress you'd bought last week. "Are you sure it's not too much?"

Your brows knit together in uncertainty. Ever since having Stella at 19, your life had revolved around the little girl. Everything you did and every choice you made was made because of her and with her best interest in mind. Going to university when she was a newborn had been for her benefit and the time spent away from her while you studied and attended classes were paying off now with your secure job and hefty paycheck. But you weren't used to calling attention to yourself, totally content with working behind a computer screen in your quiet office tucked in the back of the MTC. You came to work, socialized very little, and went home to your daughter. This kind of event was very much out of your comfort zone.

"Stop that." Sarah scolds as she sets Stella down. "You look so good you're going have the mechanics breaking their necks all night long."

"Okay, that's enough." You huff.

"Momma, Sarah says there's holiday crafts over there!" Stella points vaguely towards the other side of the room. "Can we go? Please?"

"Of course, sweetheart. Let's go."

"I'll take her!" Sarah volunteers, capturing Stella's little hand in hers before giving you a look. "Go get a drink or something. Have some fun. Stelly Belly and I will go make all the crafts!"

You watch after your best friend and the other half of your heart as they scamper away, Stella's red velvet dress fluttering behind her. Somewhere deep in the pit of your stomach, a painful clenching feeling takes root. For the past six years, your entire universe has revolved around that little blonde headed girl. Even now, though you spent more time apart from Stella than you cared for because of school for her and work for you, whenever she was out of sight it felt like a bit of you was missing.

Once you see her settle at the table right next to Sarah and begin coloring something in front of her, you turn away and wander towards the open bar. If there was one thing McLaren did right at these kinds of parties, it was provide top tier food and drinks for the employees.

You order a glass of what smells like the most heavenly mulled wine you've ever encountered and find a spot away from the crowd, leaning against a pillar in the shadows of the room. You weren't used to being around so many people and while you were glad Stella seemed to be enjoying herself, you could feel your social battery already draining.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite McLaren employee." A smooth voice interrupts your anxious thoughts.

You blush into your glass of wine, knowing who it was sneaking up behind you before you even turned around. "I'm telling Oscar you said that."

Lando slips in beside you, caramel colored cashmere jumper brushing against your bare arm. "You wouldn't dare." He says, bumping your shoulder gently. You can hear the smile in his voice without even looking.

When you say you don't socialize much at work, there is always going to be one exception to that rule: Lando Norris. He had wandered into your office one day about six months ago looking for the legal department of all places. Lando had sheepishly admitted he may have accidentally signed a contract to be the spokesman for a bank in Singapore while drunk on holiday and needed to see what how mad everyone was going to be. You then had to admit you were, in fact, just a software engineer and not a solicitor and he was not, in fact, anywhere near the legal department.

An unlikely friendship had been born that day though because instead of turning around and scampering away out of sheer embarrassment, Lando had plopped himself down in the chair opposite your desk and spent nearly an hour and a half peppering you with questions about your job.

Lando liked those moments he got to slip away during his busy days at the MTC to see you. It seemed like lately, he would find himself carving out time during his day to make a special visit to your office no matter what else he had scheduled that day. He liked the way you talked to him like he was a normal person and how easily you laughed at his jokes. You never made him feel stupid or inferior for asking questions about whatever project you were working on that day and you never asked him about racing. Not once. You were also the prettiest girl he'd ever seen and he was embarrassingly addicted to making you smile.

"You look stunning tonight." Lando says in a hushed voice. "Red is your color."

Although he's next to you still, Lando manages to steal little looks at you out of the corner of his eye. The red dress you've got on tonight should be illegal and it's showing off every dip and curve of your body. You pride yourself on how well you dress at the office but tended to stick with neutral colors and classic, conservative shapes that weren't jarring and allowed you to fade into the noise of a busy office a bit. The red was totally out of character for you and Lando found himself wanting to buy you an entire closet full of colorful dresses.

Your cheeks go crimson and you're thankful for the dim lights that hide it. "Thank you."

The other thing you're not used to is attention from men. Like your social life, any semblance of a dating life had been put on the back burner when you became a single mom. You didn't much miss it, if you were bing quite honest. Spending time with Stella was better than wasting a night on a man that would only end up disappointing you.

So when someone like Lando complimented you on the dress you wore you don't quite know how to react.

"Momma! Momma, look what Auntie Sarah and I made!" Stella interrupts anything that's about to come out of Lando's mouth when she runs up brandishing what looks to be a fairy wand tied with dozens of glittery ribbons.

You crouch down, not missing the way Lando stiffens beside you, and take the plastic wand out of Stella's hand. "Is this a magic wand?" You ask, voice breathy with awe.

"Yeah! Aunt Sarah helped tie the ribbons on after I picked them. They're all glittery and match Elsa's ice queen dress."

You smile, Elsa had always been Stella's favorite Disney princess. "That is so special, Stelly Belly."

A few feet away, Sarah takes in how close you and Lando were before Stella interrupted and smirks. "Come on, Stella. I think I saw a cookie decorating contest starting over by the wands!"

You stand, eyeing your best friend. "I can take her, Sarah. I'm sure you want to mingle."

"Nope! Stay. Talk. Be merry!" Sarah's eyes bounce between you and Lando and your cheeks heat at the implication.

Beside you, Lando rubs at his jaw trying to process the information he's just learned. Momma? This girl, cute as a button, was calling you mom? He rifles through his memory, trying to think of any time you'd ever mentioned being a mom and he can't come up with a single thing. And he's pretty sure he remembers everything you've ever said to him.

"You have a daughter." Lando says it more as a statement than a question and you wince.

This was always the part where you tended to lose people. Being as young as you were, you were used to people being put off by the fact that you had a daughter. A lot of people your age weren't ready for kids yet and had a hard time figuring you out because you had such radically different priorities. Neither set of priorities was better than the other, just different.

"I do. Her name is Stella." You respond, leaning against the pillar once again. The cool marble sends shivers down your back as you prepare to lose someone who had made more of an impact on you than you realized.

"You never said anything about her." He observes, his tone unreadable.

"You never asked." You shrug, trying not to get defensive. "Her pictures are all over my office, Lan. I've never hid the fact that I have Stella."

Lando thinks back, recalling the office he's spent so much time in lately. You're right, of course. There are bits of Stella all over the place in the drawings on your desk to the school picture that sits near the spider plant close to the window. But somehow Lando had never noticed anything else other than you.

He rubs at the back of his neck, "I guess I just assumed she was your niece or something."

"Nope. She's all mine."

"And her dad?" The moment the question slips from Lando's mouth, he regrets it. His eyes shutter closed but not before he catches a glimpse of the way you flinch.

He hates himself for thinking he deserves to be privy to this information. For being so bold as to ask for the sordid details of your life when all you are to each other is a casual work flirtation. He hates himself for implying that you'd ever flirt with him when there was someone else in the picture. Or worse, that you now have to relive a painful story behind why there wasn't.

"You don't have to answer that." God, he was so good at speaking before thinking, wasn't he? It had gotten him into so much hot water with the press this year during the championship run and here he was again, putting his foot in his mouth like an idiot.

"It's fine." You sigh, knowing that anyone who wants to be in your life is going to have to hear the story at some point. You just hadn't anticipated it happening with Lando, having been perfectly content with the safety of your innocent work flirtation.

"I had Stella when I was 19, her dad was killed in a car accident when she was eight months old. She turned six in September.”

The silence that stretches between you is heavy, clashing with the light and festive mood that swirls around you.

"Christ. I'm sorry, love."

You hate how painful that tugging sensation on your heart is when Lando calls you 'love'.

Shrugging, you hope you feign nonchalance well enough to fool him. You know it doesn’t.

“Listen, I should go check on Sarah and Stella, make sure Stella doesn't sweet talk Sarah into a puppy or something. Those two together is how I ended up with a kitten last year."

The brightness in your voice is all for show but Lando sees right through it.

You're gone before he can get a word in though.

yourusername (private) posted

102 likes liked by BFFsarah, yourdad, yoursister, and others yourusername Quick trip into London for some last minute pressies! yourdad I'm a size Rolex in silver and gold please! >>>yourusername Ha Ha Ha, very funny father BFFsarah Brave brave girl! >>>yourusername brave or stupid, you decide!!!

"Come on, sweet girl, let's find your Papa a Christmas present so we can get out of this mad house."

You tug at Stella's hand, who was currently practically drooling over a display of sparkly gold and diamond jewelry in Harrods jewelry department. Around you, crowds swirl and people jostle each other as they all hustle to pick out their precious gifts before Santa's big night. Why you had chosen to come into London the weekend before Christmas was a mystery, but you were fully convinced that you had lost it when you had agreed to come to Harrods at Stella's request.

"But this necklace is so pretty, Momma!" Stella whines, eyes dragging over the diamond necklace on display in front of her.

"Yes, I know but I don't think your grandpa wants a diamond necklace for Christmas. Let's go up to the fifth floor where the kitchen gadgets are! You know how much he loves to cook!"

Stella rolls her eyes, which you choose to ignore. For all of her attitude today, Stella wasn't usually an ornery child. She was very well behaved and quite reserved so you gave her extra grace when it was crowded and loud like this. You knew she got overstimulated easily, just like you did.

"Fine." She sighs, casting one last longing look at the display. "Maybe Santa will bring me the necklace." She mutters and you have to tamp down a laugh.

You take Stella's hand in yours, despite her giving you another look of contempt. She was much too big of a girl to be holding her mother's hand, thank you very much. You ignored the glare and squeezed at your daughter's hand, knowing that she's not really angry at you.

Up on the fifth floor, the homewares section is significantly quieter than where you just were. Stella spots a display of colorful Kitchen Aid mixers that she scampers over to while you wander over to the espresso machines while reminding her to stick close. Out of the corner of your eye, you keep watch over her while debating the merits of different coffee machines.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite McLaren employee out in the wild." A velvety smooth voice sends familiar shivers down your spine.

"Favorite? You've been avoiding me since the holiday party." You quip without taking your eyes off the silver machine in front of you, knowing exactly who it is beside you without even looking.

Ever since the holiday party nearly two weeks ago, you hand't seen Lando at all despite knowing that he was at the MTC at least a few days. You hated that you knew that most of that time he had been out of the country, skiing in France then golfing in Spain. You also hated that you kept track of the amount of times you had known he was in Woking at the MTC and hadn't even bothered to stop in and say 'hi' to you.

Lando's hand rubs at the back of his neck. "I know. I'm sorry." His voice is low, tinged with guilt.

"Listen, it's fine." You turn to face him for the first time and your traitorous heart thuds a little harder in your chest. That mullet you teased him about so much at first had really grown on you and boy did it look good today.

"It's not like we're friends, Lando." You don't work as hard as you probably should to keep the frustration out of your voice. "You don't owe me anything and it's the off season for you. I shouldn't have said anything."

Lando frowns at you, confusion knitting his brow together. "We...we aren’t friends?" The hurt in his voice was unmistakable, tugging painfully at something in the pit of your stomach.

Your eyes shutter close at the look on his face. Lando might play the lovable goofball for the public and in the press but you knew better. You knew that he was a pretty big softie at heart and you immediately regretted your words, knowing that they would have struck him deep.

"What was I supposed to think, Lan? You seemed pretty put off when you found out about Stella and then you just..." You pause, unsure of where this anger was coming from. You hadn't really realized how hurt you had bene by his sudden ghosting until this very moment. "You just sort of disappeared. It's fine. I'm totally used to it."

The vulnerability in your voice makes Lando's heart clench painfully. He had been spooked initially about you having a daughter and he knew his reaction probably left a lot to be desired. He just had been so blindsided by the appearance of your little girl that night that he hadn't handled it well. Lando had been unwilling to admit before that night during the holiday party that he had been becoming more and more attached to you and he didn't know where Stella fell into place between you and him. It scared him, adding an entirely new layer to the budding friendship that you two had struck up. A friendship that he had been wanting to see if it could have progressed into more but now...now he didn't know.

"Momma, can we get Papa a mixer so he can make me more cakes next year?" Stella's small voice interrupts that awkward silence that had fallen between you and Lando.

You can't help the chuckle that leaves your lips despite yourself. "Stella, I don't think that's a very good reason to gift someone something."

"I don't know, sounds like solid reasoning to me." Lando chimes in, smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he looks down at Stella. "Hi, I'm Lando." He crouches down so he's eye level with your daughter.

"That's a funny name." Stella regards Lando with a suspicious look. Stella is a quiet little mouse of a child most of the time and doesn't easily trust adults. There are very few people she's comfortable which is why her comment catches you off guard.

"Stella!" You scold, face going crimson at the lack of filter on her.

To your relief, Lando just chuckles. "I guess you're right, it is kind of a funny name. But I think Stella is a funny name too."

Stella' narrows her eyes but then she seems to realize he's just teasing her and she smiles. "I like you." She declares simply, as if deciding to be Lando's friend is the easiest thing in the world.

A fact that you already know is true.

"I'm hungry. Can we go get dinner now?" Stella turns back to you now and you startle a bit when you realize what time it is.

"Let me take you two to dinner. There's a place down the street that has some of the best chicken nuggets in all of England." Lando's offer throws you off for a moment you're so surprised. "As an apology for making you question our friendship."

Stella gasps as if that is the most exciting suggestion she's ever heard in her life. Your stomach does a quick swoop at spending more time with the driver outside of the office. You are a bit hesitant, pride still stinging from when he ignored you after the holiday party, but Stella looks so excited you find yourself nodding.

Twenty minutes and one espresso machine later, you have the giant package shipped off to your house before walking towards a cozy pub that Lando suggests. It's strange to you, walking down the crowded streets with Stella tucked between you and Lando, listening to her prattle away. Once in a while, Lando shoots you a look over the top of your daughter's head that is all amusement and happiness.

Meanwhile, you're reduced to silence, listening in awe to Stella's babbling. She has always been a reserved little girl, following in her mother's footsteps of being an introvert. She doesn't open up to just anyone and even when she does find an adult she likes, it takes her quite a bit of time to talk to them the way she's talking to Lando as he navigates the three of you towards your destination.

Around you, people bustle up and down the sidewalk, the streets of London an absolute hive of activity and it's a bit overwhelming. You're momentarily worried about Stella, knowing she doesn't do very good in crowds just like you but then something catches your eye that has your heart leaping into your throat. Captured in Lando's large hand is Stella's tiny one, a silent gesture of affection from your six-year-old. The way your chest squeezes at the sight has tears pricking at the corner of your eyes.

Lando catches the look on your face, full of awe and something else he can't quite place, and when your gaze snags on his moments later he gives you a dazzling smile. When Stella had reached out to take Lando's hand a few blocks ago, he had panicked a bit. He wasn't too experienced with kids, his niece’s being much younger than Stella, but he felt something deep in his chest that told him when the little girl beside him reached for his hand, it was a sincere sign of trust from her.

"Here we are." Lando says once you're safely across the road. "I hope you're ready for the best chicken nuggets in all of London."

Dinner is a loud affair, Stella peppering questions left and right to Lando and Lando expertly fielding them. He even gets some questions in edgewise and has both you and Stella laughing the entire meal. It's the most relaxed Lando's seen you the entire time he's known you. Despite his initial reservations at spending time with someone who has a child, he finds himself not wanting the evening to end. He's never been so thankful for last minute gift requests in his entire life.

Your bellies are full when you spill out onto the sidewalk, the chilly London air biting at your cheeks. It was going to be a cold train ride home. You reach into your tote bag to pull out a scarf and hat, tugging both on Stella despite her yowls of displeasure.

"Stella." You sigh, finally getting her to leave her hat on her head after a tense few moments as Lando watched on, smile sitting at the edge of his lips. "Come on, it's cold tonight and you know the train isn't much better."

"Train?" Lando asks, frown appearing on his face.

"We took the train into the city today. Someone wanted an adventure." You look pointedly at your daughter, who just shrugs, totally unfazed by the chilly evening air.

"That's like, a forty-five minute trip! On the train? At night? Alone?"

Something twists in Lando's stomach at the thought of you and Stella all alone on the train at night. He knows the trains are, objectively, safe and you'd probably be fine but it just doesn't sit right with him knowing that he'd have to leave both of you at a train station unable to be with you in case something happened.

"I know." You breathe, knowing that the moment Stella sits down on the train she's going to be out like a light and you're going to have a very grumpy six-year-old on your hands on the other end of the line. "I don't have a choice, I'm not ordering an Uber home. It'll be fine, Lando. We do this all the time."

The thought of you navigating the crowded train alone with the tiny wisp of a girl that tucked her hand back into his as soon as she got close enough to him hurts a surprising amount. It's a jarring feeling, one that he's totally unprepared for. His memory darts back to the night he found out you had a daughter. He thought for sure the budding chemistry between you would fizzle out. He had thought that he wasn't interested in getting involved with someone who had a child because it complicated things to a degree he wasn't sure he was ready for. He still struggled with looking after himself successfully sometimes. Dating someone with a child? Up until this very moment, Lando thought that was completely off the table.

"You're not taking the train home. I'll drive you." Lando's voice has an edge of finality in it that tells you this is going to be a fight, one that you're not sure you're prepared to fight.

You blink up at him, unable to form a response for several moments. Beside you, Stella cheers. "Yes! No boring train!"

"Woah, slow down." You warn, shaking your head. "Lando, I appreciate the offer but we can't." Stella looks absolutely crestfallen next to you as she yanks her hand out of Lando's grasp and crosses her arms over her chest.

"Why not?" Lando's frown mirrors Stella's and you nearly laugh.

Beside the fact that he couldn't stand the thought of you on the train by yourself with Stella this late at night, Lando didn't really want the night to end. He had sat across from you at dinner and there were several moments while Stella chattered on that he caught your gaze and you had given him the most prettiest smile he'd ever seen.

"Well, for one, Stella needs a booster seat to ride in a car and I don't think those come standard in Ferrari's or McLaren's."

"For the record, I drove my Range Rover into the city." Lando retorts before glancing around the crowded city street. "Look! There's a Mamas & Papas across the street! That's where my brother got my niece’s carseat a few months ago. I'm sure they sell booster seats too."

You can't help but stare at Lando, a bit dumbfounded. When you had started getting to know the driver months ago, you had what you had thought was a pretty accurate idea of who he was off the track: young, sinfully good looking, deeply unserious, and only interested in partying and having a good time. But voluntarily spending an evening with you and your daughter? Offering to buy Stella a booster so he could drive you home? The way Lando surprised you in that moment had you swaying on your feet a bit.

"Can we, Momma? Please! I want to drive home with Lando!"

There are two sets of big puppy dog eyes turned on you and you find yourself tossing your hands up in the air in defeat. "That's not fair! You two can't team up against me!"

Lando looks down at Stella, mischievous grin overtaking his handsome face. "I think we won, Stelly Belly." He shout-whispers, eyes sliding over to you, giving you a wink.

"You two are going to be trouble together, aren't you?" Is the last thing you say before Lando grabs your hand and drags you towards the shop to buy your daughter a booster seat.

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[yumeboshi]

𝜗𝜚。．．❛ #03. CORPSE BRIDE

𐙚 topic。．when you turn down yandere hsr men’s proposals.

．。𝜗𝜚 cw。general yandere themes, suggestive content, MINORS DNI

．。𝜗𝜚 a/n。aven, sunday, and boothill. sunday and aven are regular additions to my posts lol, wrote boothills less intense bc he’s too silly to imagine

#AྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིVENTURINE ⇢ ‘convinces’ you

。he will actually try to coax you into it. he doesn’t want to just force things onto you, that isn’t really what he wants 。“ill make you the happiest pretty bride, doll, just believe in me, hm?” 。continues to sweet talk you, telling you what he can do- buy you pretty dresses, give you anything you want, and he lists luxury after luxury. 。and he follows through his promises. even if you are being really disobedient, he’d still buy you more luxury than you could ever ask for. you will start questioning if you really don’t want this marriage- which is exactly what he wants you to do, to make you doubt yourself. 。his list goes on and on- a vip ticket to the Reverie, first row tickets to robin’s concerts, only the finest things that only his class of people could ever get their hands on. 。but in that list, he conveniently puts out ‘freedom.’ 。if you disagree, he’d pout, asking you why- and when you tell him you want to be free from him, he’d laugh, calling you a silly girl. 。“i already gave you a choice when we met. it was your choice to pick a card from an unknown pile.” 。he’d have the wedding commence in some really luxurious property of the ipc, and he will, invite your family over- he’s merciful. but is it mercy when you know you won’t see them ever again? 。“it would be a shame if they don’t see the happiest moment of your life.”

STANDING there with the most beautiful dress you could humanly ask for, your expression is nothing but a shell as Aventurine smiles at you through those shades. Your eyes are everywhere but on his eyes, when you stare at them, you feel like you’re losing yourself.

you are glad your gown came with a veil over your head, nobody can see your dead eyes, except him.

As the officiant goes on with the questions, you grip your bouquet a little harder to the point you feel their stems crumple, just like your shriveling heart.

You snap out of it after hearing silence- you see his expecting eyes on you and you nod blankly. “I do.”

And your husband smiles even wider, and he steps closer and slowly, while staring at you with uncomfortable adoration through those tantalizing purple eyes, he kisses you. You are expecting a tender kiss in a ceremony; but his gloved hand sneaks onto the back of your head, pulling you in hastily.

“I love you so fucking much, princess—” he breathes into you, brushing aside the saliva that trickles down your chin after his intrusion. “It took quite a while, but you’re finally all mine.” He pulls up your hand that has your forced vow on it, he chuckles and softly kisses your fingers.

“‘m gonna make you so happy, so ecstatic, that you’re gonna thank me for it, love. you will thank me that I restrained you from everything else.” he whispers, and the people clap, cheering; your family too, who smiles, knowing nothing that it would be your last reunion.

#SྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིUNDAY ⇢ breaks you

。he just takes it on another level (and does not find your struggles entertaining unlike the former) 。he will be, really heartbroken at first. the head of the oak family asking you to be his lifelong sweetheart is almost like him giving you his life. you are his entire world- and the world has rejected him. 。“…I see. was I not good enough for you, angel?” 。although his emotions will be very hard to control, he’s very used to commencing plans. he’d tell you that he could ‘talk this out’ with you. unfortunately, it’s not a choice, but rather, an order. 。sunday is a ‘the end justifies the means’ kind of person. he will do any means to make you eventually accept your fate. that will include imprisoning you in some faraway place and leaving you abandoned for so long, you will be broken, wishing for any interaction. food is only given to you through a remote device, with no human interaction. 。sunday itches to be with you- he is compassionate for you, his heart will ache to see you sob into an endless cacophony. a part of him will be tempted to go to you and be with you physically, not watching you from a screen. 。he will repeat it- he will visit once a blue moon, comforting you, asking you if you changed your mind. when you ask him when he’d release you, his expression will harden. 。“it seems you haven’t learned anything, sweetheart.” 。if you are still stubborn, he will be a little impatient. he will speed up the process by adding new things in- maybe making you dream of a lovely, free life and when you wake up, you’re just alone. he will not resort to anything violent, he cares too much about you to hurt you. although, ‘hurt’ in his dictionary doesn’t apply to mentally hurting you. 。you will sob and show your most dramatic, fragile sides to a descent of madness, thinking you are truly alone until sunday comes to visit. you are wrong, though- sunday has always been with you, just not physically. 。he has always been watching you cry into the void through a screen. always.

MAYBE you have finally lost your mind, because when Sunday comes to visit you and your dull prison, you collapse to your knees and immediately plead him.

“Please,” you sob, clutching his legs desperately- he doesn’t crouch, but looks down- almost like a god addressing its follower. Sunday is no god for you, but you beg like he is.

“Please what?” He looks at you, fingers brushing over your hands, tilting his head just the slightest. His golden eyes glitter in the dim light. He is waiting for only one answer, there is only one correct answer to his question.

But you do not give him the right one. “Please just let me go,” you break down. Your heart is throbbing from all the crying, vision blurry and your head is light with no energy to talk anymore.

His gentle, serene smile immediately warps into that of a cold one. “Try again?” His fingers grip your hands hard, warning you that his patience is running thin.

When you remain silent except for your sobs, he crouches down to stare at you on eye-level, boring holes into your fearful expression. Unlike his deadly gaze, his words are soft and flow out quickly like a river- albeit with a sigh of exasperation. “Sweetheart, I’m not going to stop this just because you beg.” His hand pushes yours against the floor to knock you down, figure towering over you as he leans in to whisper- “—although, they’re very pleasant to listen to.”

“Honestly, I don’t get why you are struggling right now. It’s so easier to accept your eventual fate. Unless, you do like to seek pain.”

His other hand goes over your stomach, then slides tantalizingly slow up your body- you shiver and tremble at each touch that is too foreign to you. Cold fingers cage your neck and you choke on your breath.

“I’m not planning on hurting you, angel.” His voice is still gentle, but his eyes are telling another story, they seem keen to hurt you again and again. “But I did say I’ll resort to other… methods. Since none of them seem to work, I suppose the only solution would be caging you with a baby.” When your eyes widen, he laughs dryly. “The look on your face tells me that you didn’t expect it. But you will be my loving wife, dear. You will not be able to run or reject me, not when your own child is at stake. It makes only more sense to… make you bear children. My children.”

As he watches you struggle under him, trying to breathe, he feels like he has entered ascension. Soon, one of your pretty fingers will have his ring, and very very soon, he will have his first child- the very thought of him makes him lose his mind. He so wishes to make you his, claim you inside, watch your pretty pussy gush out his cum while he’s pressing deep into your womb- but he also wishes to see a mini version of him, or you. He finds it too adorable to withstand. He will vow that his children will grow up pure and innocent.

“We will be the happiest family in the world,” he purrs. “And I’ll make sure of it.”

#BྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིOOTHILL ⇢ will try to prove himself

。maybe a little similar to aven. but while the latter will materialistically give you things and spoil you around to convince you, boothill will more likely show himself off instead. 。“i can fudgin’ shoot an ipc lackey in the head from miles away, sugar- ya can’t see that ‘n any other guy.” 。he’ll try to show you his capability to protect you- which will likely end up in multiple people dying but as a galaxy ranger, he has morals, so he will probably use the ipc as his shooting dummies 。overall he’s sweet even if you reject his proposal- he will likely be furious, just not at you. 。oh lord but during the day you rejected him, be prepared for multiple news flashes of dead people across the street. the amount of emotion will be too much for his consciousness to restrain 。when you confront him, he’d apologize, albeit a little too nonchalant. 。“‘m sorry sweetie, got a lil outta hand last night.” 。per your wish, he won’t kill anyone who’s unrelated and innocent- but he’d still go on a killing spree in the ipc headquarters to the point you are blacklisted on their list because he would shout your name and rant why you didn’t accept him while he shoots his gun all around the place.

“BOOTHILL, what the hell are you doing?” You frown when he returns- even after rejecting his proposal, he drifts around you like a lost stray dog. And he is always covered in blood, looking furious- but when you talk, his expression simply melts away like butter to a grin that shows his sharp teeth.

“What do ya mean what I’m doin’? Makin’ sure nobody hurts you.” He snickers. He smells like metal, like he always does, but this time it’s overpowering, which lets you know what he’s been doing.

“I don’t need protection, Boothill. You can just leave me alone.”

You’re beyond annoyed at his clinginess. No matter how many times you reject him, he’d always come back, showing something new off to you, and half the time it wasn’t anything pleasant, but rather his list of crimes.

“Aww, don’t be so uptight, sugar.” He chuckles and flashes a grin and his other metal hand spontaneously pulls you into his embrace— you jump. When did his hand get there? “All I wanna do is to make sure my future wife is safe and sound. Nothin’ wrong with that, hm?”

“I told you, I’m not going to accept-“

“Ah ah! Wait and see, you will be, I promise. But don’t drag the chase a lil too long. Even I get impatient.” Something cold pressed against your forehead and you realize it’s his gun. When your expression turns aghast with fear, he barks an amused laugh.

“You scared of this? Nah, I’d never hurt ya. Won’t wanna turn your body into metal like mine.” Although he says this with a dark smirk, he doesn’t remove the gun. “The sooner you agree to it, the merciful I become. Ya don’t wanna see innocent guys die because of your stupidity, hm?”

[eupheme]

— double the pleasure, triple the fun

[part iii of come on and show me | masterlist]

logan howlett x f!reader x wade wilson

rated e - 5.6k

tags: MMF threesome, mutual pining/crushes all around, dirty talk, poly relationship, multi-tasking, the world's worst romantic porposition, oral sex, vaginal fingering, ass play (fingering & rimming), double penetration, creampies, fluff and feelings

a/n: massive thank you to the wonderfully talented @avocado-writing, who kindly beta'd this for me! 💖

“Are you asking me out?” It comes slowly, in a rough rasp. 

It’s you that turns then, your eyes finding his. Your smile is sweet - a swirling heat of hope in your belly, “Depends on your answer.”

There’s something dark in his eyes. A curl of his lips, as his head dips. A kiss pressed against your spine, then lower. 

“Come on Wilson.” Logan husks, “Let’s get our girl ready.”

(Or, your two becomes three.)

“God, I want him to put a baby in me.”

Wade’s sigh rumbles beneath your ear, where your head cradles against his chest. 

Legs entwined as you stretch out together on the couch - a late-night wind-down after your boyfriend spent the evening picking out his To-Do List at Sister Margaret's.

To kill. Not fuck, apparently. Something he was quick to clarify.

“What are you watching?” Your eyes pull away from your own phone - seventeen chapters into an enemies-to-lovers slow burn you haven’t been able to put down all evening. 

A little stretch, as your head tilts to face him - knuckles propped under your chin, “That video has been looping for like, ten minutes.”

“And yet, still not long enough,” He sighs, flashing the screen at you, “Sir Mix-a-Lot, you never miss.”

The video flickers, a quick and skillful transition of clips - your eyes squinting at the screen from your angle.

“Is that... Logan?”

“Close, baby girl.” His finger boops against your nose, “Huge Ackman.”

There’s a little shake of your head, as your shoulder lifts, “I don’t know who that is.”

“And thank god,” He grins, letting the phone drop onto the cushions. A shift, as his hands dips against the small of your back, “If you did, you would divorce me so fast-“

Your eyes roll, as you bite back a grin, “I wouldn’t.”

“Definitely, maybe.”

Wade grunts as you push yourself with a huff - head dipping to press your lips against his. A low swirl in your belly, as his eyes go soft and his smile goes dopey. 

“I love you, Wade Winston Wilson,” You grin back, “New fake boyfriends and all, apparently.”

He hums, head tilting.

“And what about not-so-fake boyfriends?”

Your brow furrows.

“You are talking about Logan now, right?”

Wade’s knuckles brush your cheek, the humor in his eyes turning searching, “What do you think?”

And what a question it is. 

You’ve talked about it often. The occasional partner had cycled in for a night or two, but there had never been someone that struck you both like Logan had, arriving in your lives like a storm of thunder and lightning.

And you can’t deny that there’s feelings. Obvious ones, apparently, with how you acted in the past. Wade was still teasing you about your jealousy - you never had a handle on that emotion in the way he did. 

That innate knowledge of how he felt about someone, trusted them. Flirting was easy, but you’ve seen the way he looks at Logan, too.

It was different. Special.

“Two musketeers becoming the full set,” He holds his fingers up in front of you, two and then three, “Only unlike them, we’re fucking.”

You let out a sound of dissent, with the lift of a shoulder. 

“Oh, worm?” His brow raises, “Guess Disney wasn’t ready for that, either. Dibs on the religious one, then. I am a man of the cloth.”

“It’s a bad analogy, there’s four of them.”

He chuckles indulgently, “Okay, now I think you’re making things up-“

Now it’s your hand reaching, a finger tapping against his lips.

“I’d like that. I think Logan being our… boyfriend-” The word sends a rush of heat to your face as you stutter over it, Wade’s eyes gleaming.

“Oh my god, you are so fucking cute.” He crows, “We’ve fucked nasty-style and you can’t even say boyfriend-”

Your face buried in his chest, his name a muffled whine. A beat as the laughter still rumbles in his chest, before you peek at him.

“Do you think he wants that, too?”

“Oh, absolutely.” Wade hums, “That man is at least a 6 on the Yearning Richter scale. Felt by all, many frightened.”

You brighten at that prospect - your brain is already slipping ahead, “Do you think we should like, plan something? Ask him together?”

“Oh, don’t worry, gorgeous.” Wade grins.

“I’ll handle it.”

It's strange, seeing Logan in your space.

A good strange. A strange that feels nice - the subtle sweep of his eyes, as he takes in your apartment. The bag slung over his shoulder already tucked in your room, set on the ottoman at the foot of your bed.

He fits in, you think. Tucked into your couch as you put the finishing touches on dinner. Too used to being in their shared space at Wade’s. Of stolen moments when Althea was out. Hushed moments when she was home, muffled moans and bitten-back sighs.  

It will be nice to be able to take your time. 

They had arrived together, and there had been a certain thrill to that, too. 

Wade's knock that mimics the opening beats of "Smooth", before the door burst open. Funny to think about them crammed in a car together - they took Althea's, Wade tells you, when you later asked if they'd walked.

How he was already turning to you to referee, as you tip your head to kiss his cheek. 

"All I'm asking is if we're both sheathing our swords in the same scabbard, then why is he getting his panties in a twist about me putting my clothes in his bag?"

"Ignore him, sweetheart," Logan softens, leaning into the matching kiss you press against his jaw, "Been doing that for the last two months. It's good to see you."

And it is. Good to see both of them, something warm glowing bright in your chest.

The round table that always felt a little big for two feels perfect now - tucking between each other as dinner passes in a warm jumble of savory aromas and comfortable conversation. 

Smiling at the way they're both as engaged with your stories about your day, as you are about the work they've been doing together.

"-absolutely vaporized. It was disgusting, babe." Wade grimaces, "I was fine of course. Red, and all. But Lo here, eeugh. Still scrubbing the blood out of the nooks and crannies."

Logan makes a grunt of acknowledgement, "Had worse."

"Worse? Worse than getting gut-mist blasted across your chest?"

"I'll help, if you want." You offer, "Haven't seen your new suit yet."

At Wade's request, you try to keep out of his mercenary business - other than the stories he shares, the occasional repairs of his suit, or a late-night tryst. Doesn't want his life mixing, not after what's happened in the past. 

Dutiful boyfriend by day, mercenary by night. And also sometimes, by day. Evenings, weekends.

It’s an unsteady schedule, but it's one you've grown accustomed to. Maybe that’s what helps make this easy, the way you’ve already adjusted to mutant-regenerative-boyfriend-life. 

But it doesn't mean you're not curious. That you don't appreciate certain aspects when they’re offered for you explore - especially when they come in tightly wrapped in leather and lycra. 

And when you eventually rise to collect dishes, it's Logan that beats you to it. A finger sternly pointed towards the couch, Wade's hand at your back - already guiding you towards it, as you protest.

"Least we can do, sweetheart," Logan smiles, "Can't remember the last time I had a meal this good."

"Excuse me," Wade gasps, as he slips on elbow-length mis-matched gloves,"Did my midnight toaster strudels mean nothing to you?"

It's your turn now, to sit on the couch. To watch, as Wade supervises. The quiet talk that swiftly turns to bickering. A yelp and a splash of hot water, before he's retreating.

Sinking down on the seat next to you, as your thoughts swirl. Soft memories of past shared evenings, and the planting of something that you’ll tend to carefully, hoping it will flourish. 

"You're looking at him like he's got balls on his neck," Wade’s arm slings around your shoulders, tone knowing, "Got something on your mind, gorgeous?"

Your nose wrinkles at the visual, but then you turn thoughtful.

"Just like seeing both of you here." Your smile is soft, "It feels right, you know?"

He hums in agreement, and you glance his way, "Do you feel that way too?"

"Feels as right as Ryan Reynolds playing me in my upcoming biopic."

That has you cocking an eyebrow - whatever reference he's making flying over your head, "And that's... good?"

"Yeah, baby." He grins.

"Really fucking good." 

The hunger follows you into the bedroom, after. Your question about dessert gets swiftly turned around on you - hands catching at your waist. 

Threats and promises  to devour you instead - that the ice cream you bought can wait - as lips press against yours. Another mouth at your neck, in your slow and often-interrupted journey to the bedroom. 

Ganging up on you again, almost as if it were planned. 

And you’re not sure if it was, or whether they’ve unconsciously become more in-sync, between their hours together at the apartment and in their work. 

More alike than they are different, at their core - something you’re not sure you’d be able to convince them of, even though you see it.

It’s sweetly familiar, when you finally fall into bed together. Clothes already stripped off, a messy pile mixing together against the woven floral rug as you fit together. 

Spit pools on Logan’s tongue, as he sucks on his teeth. A low tilt of his head before his lips are parting, letting it drop where he has your thighs nudged apart, belly pressed down against the bed.

Warm, where it hits the cleft of your ass. His hand follows - a broad palm curving against soft skin, tugging you open. 

“What do I have to do to let me have you here?” Logan’s thumb smears his spit against the tight ring, voice low and honey-smooth. 

It makes you jolt, a soft sound pulling from your throat. Squirming, as his thumb comes back - rolling the pad against you. 

“She, shit-” Wade groans, as your mouth leaves his cock - the tip glistening as it drops against his belly, “Only lets people she’s dating fuck her ass.”

“Wade!” You whine, as your thighs try to close - Logan’s spreading to keep you open. 

A low rasp of a laugh, “Is that right?”

“Not me though. If you’re curious.” Wade hums, his arm still slung under the pillow, “Sometimes even a first date is too slow.”

Dark eyes drag up, to the shift of hips. Over the leaking cock, lying flushed and hard against Wade’s belly - something like hunger in the slow sweep up to the pulled-wide grin.

“This is you handling it?” You hiss.

“You’re acting like the man invented the elevator.” Wade shrugs - shifting to push himself up on an elbow, “Trust me, there is nothing more romantic than a ‘what are we’ conversation slipped into a discussion about double penetration. We’re multi-tasking, gorgeous.”

Some of the tension eases, with the way he smiles at you. There’s not an ounce of worry in his expression, only the dark shadow of desire, highlighted with humor. 

Waiting until you smile back, before he fixes Logan with a pointed look. 

“Look. I’m gonna level with you,” He sighs, as if divulging something imperative, ”Until you’re ready to commit to being Mr. Y/L/N, then fifth base is just gonna be out of the question.”

There’s the shake of a head, a low huff behind you. The slight stroke of fingers against your skin.

“Are you asking me out?” It comes slowly, in a rough rasp. As if putting pieces together. 

It’s you that turns then, your eyes finding his. Your smile is sweet - a swirling heat of hope in your belly, “Depends on your answer.”

There’s something dark in his eyes. A curl of his lips, as his head dips.

A kiss pressed against your spine, then lower. 

“Come on Wilson.” He husks, “Let’s get our girl ready.”

A moan rips from you. First, from his words - the jolting butterflies in your belly, a pooling warmth. The sound lengthening, as his tongue flattens where his fingers had teased. Your back arches as Wade pumps his fist, before throwing a filthy “I-Told-You-So” smirk your way.

It glances off you. Your fingers curled in the sheets, as Logan shoulders your thighs further apart. A wet swipe that travels from your cunt to your hole, smearing your slick and his spit against your skin. 

A finger nudging against you, as Wade leans - hand fumbling for the handle of the bedside table. 

“You think you can take both of us?” Logan purrs, as he carefully works you open. A fingertip sinking inside you, as you whine. 

”What, you think we were joking about role-playing?” Wade scoffs,”Why did you think all the dinner knives were missing? Lost ‘em all beneath the bed.”

There’s a shuffle, as he works himself further beneath you. A bottle of lube dropped on the bedspread, as his fingers reach - petting against your clit.

“Tried two before, didn’t we gorgeous? Me and the Pulverine, as we call him.” Wade coos, “Not as big as you, of course. But definitely a lot more sparkly.” 

“Toy’s not the same thing,” Logan hums, as you clench around him. Sinking deeper, slowly pumping, “‘s gonna be a tight fit, baby.”

The sensations are already overwhelming. Wade’s fingers slipping down - fitting one, and then two fingers inside your slick pussy. His thumb nudging against your clit, teasing.

Logan’s weight against you, shifting as his hips grind into the mattress. The messy swirl of his tongue, more spit added to the mess. His thick finger already feels like a lot, pressed down to the knuckle. Slow in the way he works you open, the hot embers in your belly roaring brighter.

“I want it.” You moan, “Want both of you.” 

Wanted it for a while now. Wondered if they’d take you like this. If you’d be able to take them, stuffed so full you could barely draw breath. Wanting to know what it feels like to come, with both of them pressed to the hilt inside you. 

Words fail you, soon after. There’s the cold smear of lube against your skin, a second finger notched. Your cry muffled with the press of Wade’s lips, tilting your face to his as their fingers find their rhythm together.

That steady swirl against your clit. How you’re clenching around them, your arousal slick on Wade’s palm. The sharp rhythmic slap ringing through your ears as you pant into his mouth. Logan’s teeth against the soft curve of your ass, a muffled groan as he fits a second inside you. 

It’s a mimicry of later, but it’s enough. Something bright burning in your belly, fueled by their desire. Hot breath against your skin, Wade’s cock grinding into your hip. 

“Come on, gorgeous.” He murmurs against you, “Let me feel you come with his fingers buried in your ass.”

You choke on your moan. Hips shifting, pushing one deeper and then the other as you chase the building high. The sharp stretch long spooling into pleasure, twisting around your guts, shimmering. 

“‘m gonna-” It’s breathed out, your eyes screwing shut. Focused on the countdown  that’s begun inside you, swiftly approaching with each crook of their fingers, “Fuck, I’m-”

Logan shifts, his breath ghosting against your spine, “Come for us, sweetheart.”

For us. 

Your face buries against Wade’s shoulder, as they bring you over the edge together. Working in tandem to take you apart, and they haven’t even really begun - fingers crooking and curling as a bright pleasure blooms in your belly. 

Wade had been right - it’s not the first time you’ve been full like this. But Logan was right, too. It’s different - the way you can feel them move together, as you whine. The orgasm ripples through you, the sensations drawing out as kisses are dropped between your shoulder blades. 

Soft crooning in your ear, but it’s all muted - barely aware of the palms that run across your skin. The press of mouths against your heated skin - until the pulses in your core fades, the room coming back into focus. 

They slip from you - first Wade, and then Logan. You’ve felt empty before but never like this, already missing the weight inside you. Craving more.

There’s a shift on the bed, Logan shouldering himself next to Wade, who you’re still stretched out on. 

“C’mere, baby. Fuck, need to feel you.”

Hand at your hips, coaxing you up. Encouraging you to straddle his thighs, but then Wade is tsking - reaching for you, trying to turn you around.

“Annnd I just gave myself a promotion to Director,” He adds with a long-suffering sigh, “When you want something done right, gotta do it yourself.”

Logan growls, as your weight leaves him, “The fuck you talking about?”

Wade’s brow arches, “The fuck I’m talking about is you doing this all wrong, peanut. When was the last time you partook in the devil’s threeway? Was it this century, at least?”

Hand gentle as he guides you to face away from Logan, your ass settling against the cradle of his hips.

“There you go,” He coos, “How am I going to give your pretty little kitty the attention she deserves if you have her all hidden away?”

Logan’s hard cock nestles against your belly, as your knees press into the mattress. Breath hitching as you gauge the size of him again. Hoping that the prep he did was enough - the soft buzz beneath your skin certainly has you feeling more than ready.

Slicking your fingers with more lube before they wrap around his shaft - a rough hiss sliding from his throat as they circle around, squeezing. Smearing it against swollen flesh, thumbing over the leaking head as you line yourself up. 

Wade shifting to watch, his head tilted against Logan’s shoulder, his fist already wrapped around his cock as you start to slowly sink down. 

“Sit on it, sweetheart, there you go.” Logan growls, as he breaches you. 

A sharp, inhaled breath as the tip sinks inside you. The building pressure and then the give - as you try not to clench down.

Pulling a rough sound from him. Fingers twitching at your hips - set on only steadying you. A rough edge creeping into his soft encouragement, “Nice and easy, baby.”

Another inch, but it feels like double. Sweat beading along the nape of your neck, as you stretch around him.

“Doing so good,” He rasps, “Take it slow.”

“Taking it like a fucking champ, baby.” Wade interjects, “Couldn’t have done it better myself, and Levy knows how often I thought about it.”

Your nails bite into his thighs, but it only makes his hips flex. Twin moans when it nudges him the rest of the way - your breath stolen when he’s seated flush inside you.

Not that different than when Wade’s fucked you, even with the length he’s got on Logan. But it’s the girth that has your lips parting - a ragged moan with the experimental roll of your hips.

“Pretty fucking sight.” Logan groans, through gritted teeth. Palms slipping around, gently tugging you back towards his chest.

His growl low in your ear, as his hips lift in an experiment thrust.

“Gonna stuff you full, gonna let us do the work.” He husks, a hissed breath when you clench around him. “Make you feel good, alright?”

Palming at your tits, as Wade shifts into position. Swallowing your begging, whined out “please-” as he kisses down your throat. 

Over your breasts. The back of Logan’s hand, against the curve of your belly. His fist still working at his cock, an audible moan of appreciation when he settles between Logan’s thighs.

“You look so good full of him.” It’s mumbled out against your hip, “God, I want to jerk off to this and let you use my cum as lube.”

Logan’s fingers tighten - pinching a peaked nipple as you moan, as kisses are peppered against your mound.

“Fuck us into your tight ass.”

You cry out, when his tongue flattens against your clit. Fingers teasing at your hole, dipping inside to test how full you feel. 

“Soaking wet, baby. You feeling good?” Wade croons, “Or does your greedy little pussy need more?”

“Wade,” You keen, desperate. Rocking into the slow pump of Logan’s hips, his breath harsh in your ear.

His fingers crook, and curl.

“You want us to take you there and back again to pound town?” 

“I swear to god,” You pant, desperate, “If you don’t get inside me, I’ll-, I’ll call Nate.”

His eyes gleam, “That right? Still thinking about riding the ol’ Cable car?”

It’s Logan’s added growl that finally gets him moving. A smile still pulling wide, as he slips from you. His own desperation betrayed by the wet smear against his belly.

The slick tip of his cock, as he ruts against your folds. Your breath held, as he notches himself.

His dark eyes on your blown-wide ones, as he starts to sink in. It has your thighs trembling, as you whine. Clenching down without meaning to, as Logan groans.

Feeling the way he inches into you. What little space left filled as your pussy makes room for him. The tight clutch of your walls, a moan at the way he can feel Logan through the thin layer of skin between them.

A choked-out moan punched from his chest. 

“Made to take us both. Weren’t you, gorgeous?” He murmurs, as his hips move, “Goddamn perfect fit.”

They both move inside you. Stilted thrusts, off rhythm as you squirm between them. Logan getting impatient - throwing a glare Wade’s way.

“Stop moving when I do.”

It’s met with a laugh, as Wade’s hip snap a little harder. Filling you, the force jolting you against Logan, as your nails bite into his biceps.

“I’m driving this thing.” He counters, “Call me Sandra Bullock, because I’m not about to let this bus dip below 50.”

His hand catching Logan’s wrist - resistance when he tugs, but then it’s going with him. Fitting the curve of his fingers against the base of your throat.

“You do what you do best and be the anchor. Keep her still for me, will you?” 

Logan’s fingers flex, but he grunts - the slightest pressure against your chest. 

A pat against your hip, with a wink, “Let Daddypool do all the work.”

You huff, but the sound turns strangled as the sets the pace. Hands at your hips, tugging you to meet his thrusts. Fucking you back on to Logan, when his weight presses into you.

“There we fucking go. How you feeling, baby?”

“Feels so good,”You gasp, as the movement gets familiar. The slick slide of them inside you, the back and forth as they stroke your walls, as your arousal gleams against their cocks. 

“Know it does.” Wade grins, “They don’t call me DP for nothing.”

Logan grunts beneath you. Something biting held back - distracted, as his other hand wanders. Slipping across your hip, then down.

Tracing over your mound. Feather-light against your folds, feeling how you stretch open each time Wade goes balls-deep. 

Your moan coming out ragged, when he teases your clit. Soft strokes with the pad of his finger, before two press and circle.

It makes you jolt, his laugh low in your ear.

Finding that familiar rhythm. Feeling the way your hips flex, seeking out his touch. How easily he’s able to wind you up now, from the times he’s taken you apart. 

How it’s almost overwhelming, with the stuffed-full pressure of them inside you. With the saw of Wade’s hips, as his cock nudges against the spongy spot inside you.

A rough hum when you clench down. Unable to do more than take what he gives you, with the way Logan cradles you against his chest.

It only adds to the surge of pleasure inside you. A near-divine pairing of sensations that has your fingers reaching, Wade’s name a soft cry on your lips. 

He flattens against you, to meet the way your mouth tips up. It’s messy, open-mouthed as his hips slow to a grind. Hands skating up your body, against hips and waist.

Letting him in when he deepens it. A groan as he licks against your teeth. Needy presses of his mouth, spit smeared across your lips when it breaks. Another kiss  peppered against your jaw, where Logan groans into your ear. 

A unconscious shift of his head, and then their lips are brushing.

Logan’s cock throbs inside you, as Wade goes stiff and still. It’s softer than it should be - no more than a shared breath, before Wade pulls back. 

The hand at your neck flexes. Loosens, as it slips between you. Wrapping around the back of Wade’s neck as he yanks him back down.

A growled out “fuck” when they meet again, insistant this time. Vicious with the scrape of teeth, the wet swipe of tongue as Logan’s nails bite into skin.

Messy, as they pant into each other's mouths. Calloused fingers drifting down from your clit to split against your folds. Teasing where you’re filled, as Wade’s moan turns filthy.

A matching sound escaping from Logan, long held back. 

“Fucking holding out on me,” Wade mumbles, when the kiss breaks, “Haven’t been this wet since Cap’s beard reveal.”

Eyes dark, when he feels how Logan moves inside you. Forgetting himself, as he chases the pleasure that threatens to peak inside him.

“Bet you love knowing you’ve been in all of our girl’s holes. Don’t you, handsome?” Wade grins. Eyes still watchful - catching the clench of a jaw, as his lips return to yours.

The kiss is sweeter this time, even as he begins to drive into you. Each of your breaths coming in a whining gasp, pleasure once again winding inside you.

His mouth running away from him, determined to send you both over, ”Should let me into some of yours. You know I’d treat you right.”

“Shut the fuck up. C-Can’t come with you running your mouth.” It’s panted out - half-hearted at best, and Wade’s eyes gleam.

“Fucking liar.” He crows, “Bet you jerk it all the time to the thought of us screaming your name.”

Voice pitches up then, in a mimicry of yours, “Oh, Logan. Fuck me right there with your monster dick-”

Logan strings tight beneath you with a snarl, as he tries to bury himself in your ass. The hand at your neck dipping to grasp at your hip, as the practiced rhythm turns sloppy.

Wade shifts - his weight leaned into your hips. Pinning you both down as he fucks into you, stroke after stroke.  

Logan’s touch is sloppy against your clit - but with the way your boyfriend’s cock pounds against that spot inside you, it’s enough.

You don’t even realize you’re whimpering. The way their names string together, the “please, please, please-” that catches in your throat.  

“You gonna come too, baby?” He coos - thrilled, “You’re both so fucking easy, aren’t you?”

Logan moans in your ear when you squeeze around him, fingers pressing harder. A little faster, and with the next plunge of Wade’s cock - you shatter. 

It’s all white noise, the faded star stickers on the ceiling becoming swirling the sky above as you’re pulled under. 

Helpless, with the way you’re pinned between them. Coming again with the tight swirls against your clit, with them fully sheathed inside you. 

The tight pulse of your orgasm around his sends Logan over. 

Even with Wade’s weight his hips still lift as he bows off the bed. A wounded groan, as he comes with you clenching down around him. Grinding himself into your hole as his cock throbs, emptying himself into you. 

There’s a sing-songed and muted “money shot” that has you groaning. Half-exasperation, half-mindless pleasure, as Logan’s hands roam. Holding you against him, ragged breath against your neck as you milk him empty.

Keeping you stuffed full, hilting his cock deeper when you squirm. Leaving Wade to catch up.

Shameless in the way he watches now, as molten pleasure thrums in your veins. Leaning back to see how you take them both. Picturing how you’ll look after, thoroughly-fucked holes that will drip with them until morning. 

Doesn’t notice when his breath turns short, but you do. 

“Wanna feel you come, baby.” You coo, your smile soft and pleasure-drunk. 

Hands tracing over his, overlapping and squeezing. The shallow lift of your hips to meet his thrusts, purposely squeezing him when he inches out - trying to keep him in.

“Make a fucking mess, Red.” Logan growls - joining you, “Let me feel you come inside her.”

“Jesus Titty-Fucking Christ,” The rough laugh turns into a groan, “Think I’m going to blow two loads at once-”

Hands overlapping, grasping on, holding you, as his hips pump faster. Head tipping - fitting between yours and Logans - as his back bows. 

Coming inside you with a muttered out “oh fuck. fuck yes-”, cock jerking with each needy rut of his hips. The sound turns into a whine when teeth sink his neck, hard enough to bruise. 

Yours on the other side, your soft moan in his ear as you feel the way he throbs as he spills into you again, and again. 

Intense, in a way you’ve never felt before. A connection that loops through you - from the press of your mouths, down to where you fit together. 

It’s fortunate that Logan’s hands still fit at your hips, with how fucked-out and boneless you feel. Trading one cock for another was one thing, but this - being claimed by both of them, the phantom ache as Logan withdraws- it’s something else entirely. 

Your head dropping back to rest against his shoulder, eyes heavy-lidded as you wait for your pulse to stop galloping. Logan’s nose ghosting against your temple, an arm still thrown around your hips. 

A hiss, when Wade slips from you. You can feel the mess they’ve made, sticky against your thighs. How they drip from your fucked-out holes, when you clench around nothing. 

It must do something to him, the way Wade moans when he sits back. Fingers raising - mimicking a camera, complete with the click of his tongue as the shutter. 

“If that doesn’t win me an academy award,” He hums thoughtfully.

“Then I don’t know what the fuck will.”

Time slows down, after. The low hum of artificial rain from a device on your dresser, layering with the muted city outside. Doesn’t know if it’s minutes or hours since he last moved, and he really can’t bring himself to care.

As long as it’s still dark, then he knows they’ve still got time. 

“So are you going to bake us a sex cake?” Wade yawns, “You know, for completely rocking your shit.”

“A what?” You stir against him - an eye cracking open. 

Logan grunts, his face buried in your shoulder. A hand splayed across your belly, a tug as he pulls you closer.

“Oh my god,” Wade chuckles to himself, “There I go, mixing up timelines again. I infinitely prefer this one, by the way.”

Logan lets the two of you bicker, his eyes slipping shut again. 

Your apartment is quieter than Wade’s. The bed comparable to the one they shared last time. Can’t remember the last time he’s felt a warmth like this. 

Soft, where your back tucks against his chest. His hand shifts to your hip, curving against soft flesh. Wade’s hand rests close enough to touch, fingers just brushing. Facing you, thighs twined together as he sandwiches you between them.

The shower had been nicer, as well. Snug, when you had pulled them in with you. Taking turns under the warm spray. He had commented on it - a way to drag out the scratch of fingers through his hair. The swirl of soap against his skin, and he had been too blissed out to bother with the facade when a second set of hands grabbed his ass. 

Staying just a little longer, as their hands found their way between your thighs. Wade thumbing at your clit as his own fingers fucked the cum deeper into your cunt. Twin marks sucked into your neck, as your legs threatened to give out - still shaky from before.

You stir against him. Words heavy with sleep.

“Wade didn’t say it earlier.” You yawn - shuffling, so you can help over to face him. 

Logan’s brow rises, as you clarify.

“There’s a caveat to our earlier question.”

“Good word choice.” Wade hums, “11 points, and I bet you were a real pleasure to have in class.”

A low chuckle, when your hips press back against his in warning - as your eyes flip up to Logan’s. 

“It’s a two-for-one deal,” The corner of your lips tug up, “It’s both of us, or nothing.”

“All for one, and one for all,” Wade’s chin hooks over your shoulder, ignoring how you elbow him, “And can you really afford not to take that?”

Supposes it’s cute, that you think you have to tell him this. That his eyes haven’t equally wandered, even if it’s only half-admitted. Too caught on wondering if the only something good he had will change, if he truly allows himself to want something. 

That it’s not only the feeling of your mouths on his cock that he revisits, though he does think of that often.

There’s other moments as well. Squeezing hands and smiles and the way you both look at him. The toothbrush that you had ready tonight, just incase he forgot his. The handle blue, when he slipped it in the cup - tucked next to red and purple.

Your words still spark brightly in his chest, settling low behind his ribs. It quells an uneasy twist that’s been lingering there for the past few weeks. 

Something unsteady, finally finding purchase. 

“Don’t know why you’re clarifying though, gorgeous.” His cheek rubs against yours like a cat. Those brown eyes meet his as well, and it’s hard to bite back the low inhale of breath.

“Considering he tongue-fucked the shit out of me earlier, I think he’s good.”

He huffs in reply, but he can’t bite back the curve of his lips. Not anymore - and he finds that he doesn’t want to.

“Yeah.” Logan agrees. That something turning soft inside him, the smile pulling just a little wider. 

“I’m good.”

thanks so much for reading!! 💖 there's a couple more moments I'd love to explore with them in the future! (but in case I'm not able to, I wanted to end it on this sweet note between them all. )