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a-b-riddle · 1 year ago

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Part 8

You had planned to spend Sunday morning nursing a hangover with Mere and Tabitha, but after last night’s events you had decided to catch up on organizing the shop while putting your phone on do not disturb.

You had turned your location services off in hopes that for a few hours the world would just leave you the fuck alone.

A few hours was all you were given before a tapping came on the front door of your shop around noon. Peering through the glass window, you spotted him.

He was holding a huge brown paper bag looking at little worse for wear since the last time he showed up. You debated on ignoring him. He had missed the early morning shower otherwise you really would have left him outside.

Bastard.

"John-" When you opened the door, he entered immediately. No doubt guessing you planned to slam the door immediately after telling him to fuck off.

He would have been right.

"Please," you say flatly before closing the door. "Do come in." After last night, after this week, the last thing you wanted to do was see anybody. Him, Johnny, Simon, Kyle, fucking Meredith or Tabitha. Why was it so hard for a person who had very few people in her life, all of which were on the skirts with her, to leave her alone for a single day?

"Well?" You asked when he said nothing. He cleared his throat, as if preparing himself for a long, drawn out speech.

Instead he handed you the bag, the smell hitting you. Warm and welcoming. Price was the only one out of the four who could cook a damn good meal, which made him extra picky when it came to eating out. “Wanted to check in.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets, not knowing what to do with them now. “Simon said you had a rough night.”

You scoffed at the understatement. "Yeah," you hated this. You didn't want to tell John about your shitty night with your even shittier friends. "It wasn't the best night out."

"So you know that bloke who got handsy or was he just some random prick?" Your mouth fell open in shock. You didn't expect Simon to be such a fucking gossip. And how fuckin' dare John for thinking he had any right to know who was grabbing your ass and your involvement to that person.

No. Fuck that.

"We're not doing this," you said putting the bag on an empty display table. Fuck. You need to go ahead and unbox that shipment in the back.

"What?" He asked, oblivious as to what he said that was wrong. You push heel of your hands into your eyes, trying to stop the headache that was threatening to form. "Some prick took a feel of ya' and I want to see if-"

"If what?" You cut in. "If I need some comfort at being utterly fucking humiliated at Simon going all caveman in front of everyone and dragging me outside like a child? Or do you want to finish want Simon start with almost killing him!"

"From what I heard, he didn't kill him," John's audacity to correct you as if Simon's restraint was remarkable baffled you. "There's something to be said about that."

"He held him by the neck in the air like a ragdoll. He choked him out in the middle of the pub."

"But," he held up a finger. "he didn't break his neck. He knew you'd be upset."

"You're not seriously defending him right now." You could feel your blood pressure rising. Your lid ready to blow like a fucking kettle.

"From what Simon said it didn't look like the attraction was mutual." That gave you pause. Simon told John it didn't look... mutual. Could Simon tell you were uncomfortable? Did he hear everything Percy said?

Where the fuck did Simon come from anyway?

why the fuck was he at the pub in the first place???

Your mouth hung open for several beats. Any longer and a bug could fly in. But fuck if it didn't feel like cold water had been dumped on you. Why and how did Simon think it wasn't mutual? Why did he care??? Why was he acting like he didn't?

"He-" You began, trying to think of what to ask only to simply screech out "What?" John held his hands up in surrender. Your kettle whistled. You were pissed. More pissed than John had ever seen you and it was still a miracle you hadn't hurled the take out at his head.

"All I'm saying is if he grabbed you without an invitation and Simon saw, the prick is lucky to be alive, much less still walking around with hands."

"Si-" you started. "He-" You clinched your fists so tightly your nails painfully cut into the palm of your hand. "UGH!" You stomped your foot. It was childish, but you didn't care. "I don't need him rescuing me goddamit! I don't need any of you pissing on my legs like a fucking dog and-" you didn't stop. You weren't sure how long you carried on verbally lashing John nor did you give a single flying fuck.

Fuck him. Fuck Simon. Fuck all of them. They didn't get to stalk you and relay information like gossiping fucking school girls. They didn't get to break your heart and believe that you would let them piece it back together. They didn't get to neglect you only to realize you knew your worth. Only giving a shit until you walked away.

You went on and on until your throat ached. You weren't sure what thoughts had left your lips. You weren't entirely sure all what you said. All you knew is that you didn't feel any better. The look on Price's fallen face didn't give you any relief. You took it out on him and you were still hurting.

"Why?" Your voice was hoarse and pleading. "Why won't you guys just fucking leave? You were barely staying in it when we were together? Why now?"

He took a tentative step forwarding. His hands started to reach out to touch your arms before falling back down at his side. He knew he had lost the right to touch you. To comfort you.

"I miss you, Dove." He confessed it as if it would somehow make it all better. "We miss you." You try not to let it phase you, but fuck you were made of flesh, not stone. No matter how angry furious disgusted absolutely devastated you were with everything that happened, with what they did and didn't do, you still, or at least had, loved them. That love didn't vanish over the span of a week. Lord know your broken heart hadn't. "We'll do better."

"It's not that simple." You shook your head, your palms covering your eyes as they began to prickle. You hoped the motion would come across as tired frustration, but John knew. It was your tell. You were close to crying. You always rubbed your face when you were upset.

"It is." He said, finally taking the chance to touch you. Even if it was just to hold your hands in his calloused ones. "We mucked things up, let us fix it. Give us at least the change to be better."

"How?" You asked. "Stop fucking yelling at me for a couple of months until something makes you blow your fucking lid and I'm left feeling like a little kid who's in trouble?" You were surprised not to see him flinch away, but the soft look in his eyes was enough to break your heart all over again. "Or Kyle actually showing up for dates? Johnny not treating me like a fuck buddy?"

"We haven't been good to you." He admits and you still don't feel better. Leaving them hasn't made you feel any better. Only angrier. Yelling at him didn't. Fucking Johnny and breaking his heart didn't. Maybe Mer had a point. Just not with Percy. "We all wanted you and slacked off in doing right by ya."

"So what?" You press. "You want to resume where we left off? I just take you all back and work through the fact of how shitty you all were and hope that you make it up to me?

"No," he shook his head. "Not like that."

"Then what?" You asked.

"I'm fighting for me and you. No one else." You didn't know what to say. The four of them had always been a part of the deal. All or nothing. I mean, the fact that you even entertained the idea of being with all of them was the reasoning that if one of them had went down on the field, three more were there to take care of you.

"If the others can get their own shit together great." He shrugged his shoulders. "If I can't and they can, that's fine too." He stared in your eyes and for a moment, you thought about the first time John apologized for getting angry. Not at you, just in front of you. How he had gotten on his knees and told you the last thing he wanted was for you to be afraid of him. To look at him the same way recruits looked at him. "But I think where we failed was all of us was expecting another one to pick up the slack."

That much was true. Where others failed, others thrived. Simon always stayed after sex, Johnny never raised his voice, John was insistent on going on dates, and Gaz was emotionally available... when he was around at least.

"I know I wasn't the man I needed to be. I wasn't the man you deserved. I took things out on you that weren't your fault. I spoke to you in a way that if any other man did, I would knock him right the fuck out." He shook his head before giving your hands a squeeze. "I'll do what I need to do to set things right between you and me. I'll put in the work to do whatever it takes to have you trust me again."

"It wasn't about not trusting you." You counter

"But it is now." He said. "You don't trust me to respect you; to show kindness, patience. And I know I have my own shit to sort out before even thinking about us being like we were. When things were good, I mean."

You don't know what to say, but you can't say he's right. You don't trust him. Not with your heart. Not anymore.

Moments of silence pass before John lets go of your hands and takes a quick survey of the boxes around you. Your background music of Van Morrison still playing softly from the speaker near your computer.

"You seem busy, so I'll let you get to it." He takes in a deep breath. You're expecting another spiel about how he promises to work on it. Just to give him a chance. You're actually worried you'll consider it. "I picked up your usual. Figured things haven't changed that much since we last went to our spot down by the river."

"Haven't been there in a minute."

"You wouldn't." He said. "Closed the place and moved shop. It's over by the park."

"The one with the asshole geese or the one where Johnny and I were flashed by that guy strung out?" That makes him laugh. You can't remember the last time John laughed. The way his eyes crinkled and his smile shifted his whole face into something entirely joyous.

You missed it.

"Asshole geese." He answered before turning and heading to the door. You didn't speak until the chime of the bell rang.

"What if the others don't?" You ask before he had the chance to close the door. "Get their shit together, I mean."

He turned, giving you that signature closed smile that makes him look like a quokka. You told him that once and he had to googling before arguing that he didn't look like the world's happiest rodent. "That's on them. I have my own work to do." His smile dropping into something softer. Something pleading and pitiful. "But, we still want this. We all still want this. Want you."

You shook your head. The threat of tears returning as you realized how wrong he was. Maybe he did. But not all of them. "Simon doesn't." you huffed, arms crossing over your chest. "He's made that much clear."

"That I don't believe." He shook his head. "Not for a minute."

"Believe it." You sucked in air through your nose as if trying to clear it. Price knew he had to leave. He knew he couldn't see you cry. He knew you wouldn't want him to even if he wanted to stay and make up for all the times he was the reasons behind your tears.

"I didn't do what I needed to and I'll do whatever it takes to get you back." He promises. "But if it came down to it... if you want to settle down and just chose one of us to have you, to keep you," he took in a deep breath. The next words like a knife twisting in his chest. "I wouldn't truly love you if I didn't tell you that Simon is the only one of us who deserves you."

"Why?" You knew in that moment Simon hadn't told John about that night. About his cruel words and your realization that he was right. There was never a true happily ever after with them.

"Because he's the only one willing to hide in the shadows and let you live your life," his smile now gone completely. "I'm sorry that I'm too selfish to do that."

#simon ghost riley #call of duty #captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #john soap mactavish #angst #angst with a happy ending #grovel

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atzloverr · 4 months ago

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Stay with us - Wooyoung & Mingi x reader

pairings: Wooyoung’s roommate!Mingi x f!reader, boyfriend!Wooyoung x f!reader

cw: yandere behavior, stalking, kidnapping, bondage, dubious consent, drunk sex, blackmailing, biting, use of Y/n, smut, drugging, manipulation, non-idol au, female reader

You stood outside of your door with your bags in hand, flabbergasted by the thing that just happened. Tonight you came home to all of your things packed up in bags, and a note from your roommate.

Leave or I’ll kill you.

Any other night you would’ve called her and cussed her out, but you couldn’t do this anymore. Maybe it was a great idea to move out after all, leave this shitty roommate and your miserable living conditions behind.

You weren’t even shocked when you found the note, this was just like her. She was simply a mean girl, straight out of the story. You had only lived here for two months, and the first month was great. Your roommate was nice, always asking before bringing people over, respecting you and your boundaries. But after the first month, something about her changed.

She started practically bullying you, not letting you live a second in peace, and always making sure to ruin your day in some way. She made fun of you, made fun of your boyfriend, and the only thing that made you stay was the fact that you couldn’t afford anything else.

You sometimes wondered what made her change. She seemed so unsure of her own words when she first changed. She always paused before delivering a mean comment, but as time passed, she grew more confident. By now, it was as if it went against her nature to not treat you like total garbage.

”Darling? What’s up?” you heard Wooyoung’s voice in your ear. You sat down on the bench at the bus stop, sighing deeply into the phone. ”I got kicked out…” you said. ”What!?” he gasped. You just hummed a yes. You were so ashamed to ask Wooyoung to stay at his place, but you didn’t have a choice. Wooyoung lived with his roommate Mingi in a small flat, and you just hated to take up space in their home.

”Oh my god, baby,” Wooyoung gasped into the phone. ”Come to my place!” he said with excitement. You smiled with confusion and took a deep breath. ”Wooyoung, I’m so sorry for intruding, you know I hate—”, ”Baby no!” he interrupted. ”I love it when you come over, even if you’ll stay longer than usual.”

You bit your lip in thought. ”What about Mingi? Are you sure he’ll be okay with it?” you asked nervously. ”Of course he will!” Wooyoung almost laughed into the phone. ”Can you ask him?” you suggested before hearing footsteps.

”Mingi?” you heard him yell. ”Y/n can stay here for a while, right?” you heard Mingi’s faint voice in the background, but you couldn’t make out what he said. You held your breath. ”See, I knew he would agree!”

You sighed. ”Did you really give him a chance to say no? Maybe he didn’t feel like he had a choice?” you stressed, hearing Wooyoung’s airy laugh in your ear. ”Stop worrying okay? I swear he’s fine with it, hell, if I know him he’ll probably love having you over!”

You answered with a quiet ’mm�� before standing up to get on the bus. ”My bus is here, I gotta go.”, ”Alright! See you soon baby!”

————

”Promise me you’ll behave now that she’s going to live here, kay?” Wooyoung smiled, looking up at Mingi’s smug grin. It was safe to say that your boyfriend’s roommate was more than happy when you called Wooyoung. ”I’ll be good, you should probably be asking her that question, y’know?” Mingi teased. Wooyoung’s eyebrows furrowed in question. ”We’ll see how well your little baby will be able to control herself around me.”

Wooyoung laughed a hearty laugh and was about to respond with a cocky remark when the doorbell rang. ”I’ll go get that,” Mingi sang, his long legs moving towards the door, not letting your boyfriend catch up.

You watched the door open, and when you saw the tall man, your jaw dropped ever so slightly, but just enough for Mingi to notice it. ”Hey, Y/n,” he said melodically before wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug. You gasped at his unusual closeness, but smiled when you heard your boyfriend’s sweet voice.

”That’s enough,” he patted Mingi’s shoulder, making him laugh before letting you go. ”There’s my baby,” Wooyoung said with a pout before you ran into his arms. You almost started like tearing up when you felt his hands roaming your body lovingly. ”Welcome home,” he giggled, making you laugh. You let go of him, turning around to speak to Mingi.

”I’m so sorry for intruding you guys’ place like this I— I swear I’ll start looking for a new place immediately and—”

”Hush now, sweetheart,” Mingi smirked, interrupting your rambling. You had always found his vocabulary with you odd. The way he spoke to you as if you had known each other for much longer than you actually had, almost as if you were dating. ”You can stay here for as long as you need.”

⊹ ࣪ ˖

You had only stayed at Wooyoung’s place for about a week when you started noticing his and Mingi’s odd behavior. The exchanged looks, the sentences you couldn’t help but question mentally and of course, Mingi’s eyes. His eyes always seemed to be on you, no matter the situation. Hid gaze so piercing, his eyes seeming to follow you as you walked around, always dripping with what you would guess to be lust.

”Y/n? Love?” Wooyoung said, snapping his fingers to regain your attention. You snapped out of your thoughts, smiling at him. ”I asked what you wanted to get? We’re planning on eating takeout tonight!” Wooyoung winked. You smiled and thought. ”I’ll just have the same as last time, I don’t remember the name—”, ”Got it!” Mingi said from across the room, writing it down on his phone. You blinked.

Yet another thing that was odd about Mingi. He seemed to remember every small detail about you. Every little thing you said, all of your habits, what food you liked, even how long you used to shower.

”Longer than usual today,” he said as you exited the bathroom. ”Excuse me?” you smiled in confusion. ”You showered for thirty minutes today, that’s longer than usual,” Mingi stated. You didn’t know how to answer him. ”Just saying!” he put his hands in the air at your lack of an answer. ”O-okay,” you meekly answered.

”And baby,” Wooyoung said, regaining your attention once again. ”We’ve got beer, shots, wine, whatever you want!” You smiled. ”It’s been so long since we got really drunk together! I miss those nights we used to spend together, drinking until we could barely walk straight!” Wooyoung said, reminiscing about old memories.

The day went by smoothly, and suddenly, it was dinner time. You always loved nights like these with your boyfriend, ordering takeout and drinking. Only now would you be accompanied by his roommate. While you did enjoy Mingi’s company, you couldn’t ignore his creepy behavior.

Your smiled when you heard a whistle from the corridor as you tried on your long dress for the night. You turned around to greet your boyfriend, but your smile dropped when you saw the man standing in the doorway. Mingi.

”Why the long face, darling? Just because I’m not your boyfriend doesn’t mean I can’t find you hot,” he smirked. You blinked, putting on a small smile despite your discomfort. Darling. That’s what he had called you. The only person you were comfortable with calling you that was Wooyoung, your boyfriend, not his creepy (but hot) roommate.

”Food’s here by the way,” Mingi stated before leaving the room. You took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself. You weren’t comfortable with this, so why were your cheeks turning red? Why did you feel butterflies in your stomach when you saw Mingi in that tight shirt, showing his toned body?

”Baby!” Wooyoung entered the room, snaking his hands around your waist from behind. ”You look so cute,” he said into your neck, placing a small kiss where your shoulder met your neck.

”Hey Wooyoung,” you sighed, gathering the courage to say what you were about to say. ”I feel a little… I don’t know uncomfortable?” you started, making his eyebrows furrow in worry. ”With what? The dress?” he asked. Your lips pressed into a thin line. You got ready to speak again, when a knock interrupted you. ”It’s dinner time, lovebirds,” Mingi said. Your head turned to meet his gaze, and you didn’t miss the way his eyes only looked at you. Not at Wooyoung, just at you.

”Alright,” Wooyoung smiled, turning you around to walk out of the room. ”Looks like you’ll have to save what you were going to say for later.” You swallowed, hesitantly letting Wooyounglead you to the table, mentally preparing for the night you were about to spend with your lovely boyfriend and his roommate that you just couldn’t seem to read.

You gasped in excitement at the food plated out on the table. ”Yum!” you let out squeezing Wooyoung’s hand. He smiled at your reaction, pulling out a chair before sitting down on the one next to it. Your smile dropped slightly when Mingi sat down by the small and round table, feeling his knee brush against yours for a split second.

”Let’s eat!” Wooyoung clapped, keeping his wide smile on his lips. He always succeeded to cheer you up when you felt a little down. Mingi started playing some music in the loud speakers as you and Wooyoung started eating the delicious food.

Before you knew it, the three of you had had perhaps just a little too much to drink, starting to slur your words and loudly sing along to the music in the speakers. Wooyoung was clinging to you like never before, his mouth attached to your neck and hands roaming your body. ”Woo, stop it,” you whined with a grin on your face. You both knew you didn’t mean it, your arms thrown around his neck, pulling him closer.

You had almost forgotten that Mingi was there, watching everything unfold. But getting drunk was exactly what you needed. You didn’t think about Mingi’s stares, his lingering touches or the fact that your body reacted to him in a way that you couldn’t admit to yourself.

”Wanna move to the couch?” Mingi said, catching your and Wooyoung’s attention. ”Yes please!” Wooyoung sang, standing up to walk over there. You happened to sit in a corner, so it took you a minute to get out of your seat, the moment Mingi had been waiting for.

”Think I haven’t noticed?” Mingi whispered, suddenly standing right in front of you. In your drunken state, you didn’t fear him, you didn’t feel as intimidated. ”Noticed what?” you challenged, looking him right in the eye, drawing out a wide-eyed smirk from him.

”The way you feel about me,” he said, his hand meeting the back of your waist. You gasped when he pulled you towards him. ”I can see the way you react,” he whispered. ”The way your body reacts.”

You blinked, wondering if these words were really coming out of his mouth. ”I bet you’re really turned on right now, aren’t you?” he smirked, and that’s when you decided that you had had enough of this. You pushed him away from you and stormed off to the living room, where Wooyoung lay sprawled out on the couch, clearly about to fall asleep.

You sat him up and immediately took a seat next to him, basically gluing your body to his. ”Baby, I missed you,” he whined, body inching even closer to yours. You watched as Mingi entered the room, his gaze plastered on you. You shrunk slightly at the attention.

”Sorry, your girlfriend had some trouble getting out of her seat,” Mingi lied. You swallowed, wondering if you should speak up or not. ”Thank you for helping her,” Wooyoung smiled. You rolled your eyes, and before you could have a say in the matter, Mingi sunk down by your other side, maybe even sitting closer than Wooyoung was.

You held your breath, feeling Mingi’s warm skin press against yours as Wooyoung buried his face in your neck. You couldn’t stop a small whimper from escaping your lips when Wooyoung bit you lightly on your neck, and right as he did so, Mingi’s big hand landed on your thigh, giving it a firm squeeze.

You looked at Wooyoung, but your boyfriend’s eyes were closed. What would he think if he opened his eyes to see Mingi’s hands on you? If he found out that that whimper wasn’t just because of him, but also because of his roommate?

You glared at Mingi, who just smiled innocently. His hand travelled further up your thigh as he held eye contact with you, and you put your hand over his in a weak attempt to stop him, but you barely even tried. Because deep inside, you knew you were attracted to him, and he seemed to know it as well.

You hated this feeling, because you truly loved your boyfriend. He was your everything, your best friend and your one true love. And the fact that Mingi could see right through you, was enough to make you fear him.

His hand rested incredibly close to where you ached it to be, but begged for it to not be. ”You like this baby?” Mingi whispered into your ear. Your eyes widened, your head turning towards Wooyoung immediately, but he didn’t react. He must’ve not heard it. ”I know you do” Mingi’s lips touched your ear, making you squirm.

”Mingi?” Wooyoung said suddenly, making you freeze in anticipation. ”Yeah?” said man answered, tone very cool considering what he was currently doing with his friend’s girlfriend. ”Can you pass me my phone?”

You were so confused. How on earth didn’t he notice anything? Sure, he was drunk, but still!?

”I wanna go to bed honey,” Wooyoung finally said, making you sigh in relief. As Wooyoung stood up, Mingi’s hand immediately left your thigh. Your boyfriend went over to him, to give him a hug. ”Goodnight Mingi,” he said. ”Sleep tight,” said man replied, looking at you.

⊹ ࣪ ˖

”Baby, right there please,” Wooyoung moaned out as your lips closed around his length. It seemed he didn’t actually mean going to sleep when he wanted to ’go to bed’, but you weren’t complaining. ”Wait no,” he whimpered, grabbing your head to stop you. ”Don’t wanna come yet, baby,” he smiled, hands patting your head gently.

You raised your head from between his legs, meeting his lustful eyes. ”Can I fuck you? Please I’m so—”, ”Yes you can,” you nodded before he could finish his sentence. He almost ripped off your dress when he heard those words, oozing with excitement.

”I wanna taste you first though,” he smirked, not preparing you further before shoving his face between your legs. You moaned loudly when you felt his skillful tongue on you. Everything felt so good when you were drunk. You were both dripping with pleasure, not being able to hold yourselves back. ”So wet, baby,” he hummed. ”How did you manage to get like this, hm?” Wooyoung asked before continuing to pleasure you.

Your eyes widened at the question. Mingi had been right. You were turned on by him, and it made you hate yourself. You wanted to cry from how bad you felt, and decided to just hum as an answer. You felt your orgasm approaching you, but Wooyoung soon stopped, biting his lips and getting ready to fuck you.

”Ready baby?” he almost breathed out, making you nod enthusiastically. When he finally entered you, you felt as if you could come right away. You moaned his name as he thrusted into you at a rapid pace.

”Shit, I might come already, I’m sorry,” Wooyoung rambled while letting his hips slow down slightly. ”It’s okay baby, I will too,” you assured him, wrapping your arms around his neck. He fastened his pace at those words, making the two of you approach your orgasms quickly.

Wooyoung’s loud moans filled the room, and so did yours as he finally finished inside of you. You were both breathless, sweaty and absolutely exhausted. The alcohol only made you more tired.

”I might fall asleep,” he informed, making you let out a tired giggle. ”Me too, don’t worry.”

Just as you were about to close your eyes, you spotted a tall figure standing in the doorway. You rubbed your eyes, not wanting to believe what you had just seen, and when you looked again, there was no one there. Had you really begun hallucinating now too? You wanted to barf at the thought of how much power Mingi had over you. He knew your innermost desires, didn’t hesitate before breaking boundaries and made you question yourself like never before.

You fell asleep, and that night, you dreamt of Mingi. You dreamt of him touching you, him having his way with you, and even though your mind was so against the idea, your body seemed to crave it.

⊹ ࣪ ˖

You used Wooyoung’s soft shirt to wipe your tears away as you sniffled into his shoulder. He looked down at you sympathetically before looking at the TV once again. ”I can’t believe he just left her like that!” you cried, watching the end credits roll after the fourth movie of the night.

Somehow, both you, Wooyoung and Mingi had all ended up with the flu. The three of you had spent the last few days cuddled up on the couch, binge-watching movies and TV-shows while coughing and sniffling.

You hadn’t spoken to Mingi about that night yet, because honestly, you didn’t know what to say. For these few days, he had actually been nice for the most part. He had kept his distance, and reminded you why you used to enjoy his company so much.

His funny and charming demeanor was back, and everything felt just right, well, except for one little thing.

Your things were disappearing. It started with your favorite skirt. You basically turned Wooyoung’s room upside down when looking for it. You ran out of the room, hurriedly asking if any of the guys had seen it, to which they both shrugged their shoulders.

Then, it was your underwear, then your hairbrush. You searched Wooyoung’s face to see any signs of a lie, but he really looked clueless when you asked about your favorite black pair of panties. He loved to play pranks on you, but why on earth would he do this?

Aside from that little detail, everything was going great. Maybe he had stopped doing it, or maybe you had just started to get used to Mingi’s piercing gaze, you honestly didn’t know.

”It’s getting late,” Mingi stated, getting up from the couch. ”Hey,” you stopped him from leaving. ”Can I just borrow your phone for a second? I need to look up one of the actors,” you asked, reaching out your hand.

You couldn’t read Mingi’s face, and you couldn’t understand why he looked at Wooyoung in such a panicked matter. ”Hello?” you asked, keeping your hand outstretched.

”Don’t you have your own?” Mingi smirked, continuing to walk away from you. ”Don’t be a dick, it’s not here,” you yelled as he walked away. ”Just let me search it up!” you whined.

Mingi came back a second later, you phone in hand. ”Here you go, princess,” he smiled making you roll your eyes at the nickname. ”I didn’t ask you to get it,” you muttered before opening up your phone.

Later that night, when you lay in bed next to Wooyoung, you thought about that moment. Why couldn’t he just give you his phone? Was he just really private? Or was he just this secretive with you? You had seen Wooyoung use Mingi’s phone, so why was it different with you?

A few days later, you showed Wooyoung the apartments that you were thinking about moving into. You had a few alternatives, each one having their own strengths and weaknesses. ”This one’s in good condition, but it’s a bit pricey…” you said with a slight pout, furrowing your eyebrows.

”And this one’s really small, but it looks cute, right?” you looked over at Wooyoung, who looked deep in thought. ”What?” you asked, seeing his small frown.

”Do you really think that this is necessary?” he asked, making you pause. ”What do you mean?” you questioned.

”Well, you could just stay here…” he said quietly, eyes glued the floor. You tried to find words, but didn’t really know what to reply. His hands held yours, caressing them slowly. ”I feel like I love you more and more for every moment we spend together and—” Wooyoung’s voice was almost shaky, filled with emotion. ”I want you to stay with me here, okay?” he proposed.

You pressed your lips into a line, meeting Ten’s gaze as he lifted it from the floor. ”I—I don’t,” you tried to find your words. ”Listen, I would love to move in with you too,” you said, making Wooyoung’s eyes light up, a smile already starting to coat his lips. ”B—But, it feels different like this. Y’know, with Mingi and everything—”

”Oh don’t worry about him, he really won’t mind!” he tried to reassure you. You avoided his gaze. ”But what if—” you stammered. ”What if I mind?”

There was a pause, a loud silence that filled the air between you. ”What I mean is just—”, ”You don’t like him? Did he do anything to upset you? Did he hurt you baby?” Wooyoung stressed, worry lacing his tone. ”No, it’s just that he.. well we,” you sighed. ”It just feels weird for me to keep staying here, and whether you agree with me or not, I still feel like I’m intruding,” you said. Maybe that wasn’t the only reason, but there was no need for Wooyoung to know that.

He was about to protest, but you spoke first. ”I really want to find a new place, and I’ll gladly have you move with me if that’s what you want, but I know you love living here with Mingi.”

You watched his expression slowly contort into a large frown, his bottom lip starting to loll out. He took a shaky breath before finally giving you a reply. ”I get it baby,” Wooyoung sighed. ”But can you just think about it for a moment? You can pause your apartment hunting for now, and just consider staying, right?”

His eyes were glimmering with hope, making you feel like a villain for even thinking about denying him. ”…Okay,” you finally said, to which Wooyoung squealed in excitement, squeezing your hands tightly in his. ”I knew I would be able to change your mind!” he smiled. You smiled, but when he wrapped his arms around you, your smile completely dropped.

⊹ ࣪ ˖

When you had finally managed to get rid of the flu that had haunted you for two miserable weeks, you decided that you wanted to celebrate it by going out with some of your friends.

It had been way too long since you went to the club, even since you met your friend group. Your best friend squeaked in excitement when you called her and asked if she was up for a night out.

You hummed happily while applying your makeup, finally feeling really pretty again after being sick for such a long time. You heard the sound of Wooyoung and Mingi’s voices as they entered the apartment, having gone shopping for the last few hours.

With how much money Mingi seemed to have, you never really understood why he chose to live in this small flat with your boyfriend. Wooyoung always told you about how Mingi always payed for their food, how he suggested going on luxurious trips, and how the man seemed to have an unlimited supply of money.

Maybe their years-long friendship is what kept them together, even in such a small place.

”Baby? What are you doing?” Wooyoung asked with a smile on his face, but a hint of worry in his tone. ”I’m getting ready! I’m going out with the girls tonight!” you said in excitement, going up to give him a hug.

”Oh, okay,” he replied, voice void of emotion. You backed away from him, eyebrows furrowed. ”Why? What’s up?” you asked. ”No, it’s just..” he avoided your gaze. ”Can’t you stay here tonight? We were thinking of having dinner together,” he pouted. Your mouth opened slightly.

”I’m sorry, but I’ve already made plans with them,” you said, your hand meeting the back of his head. ”You know it’s been a while since i hung out with them.”

Wooyoung almost looked angry, his gaze still refusing to meet yours. ”Have I done something to upset you or something?” he asked. You almost laughed at the absurdity of the question. ”What? No, why would you think that?”

He cleared his throat. ”It’s like you don’t want to spend time with me anymore,” he spat. ”First the apartment now this…”

You huffed at his words. ”I’ve basically been with you every second of every day for this past month?” you said, letting go of him. For the first time, he looked at you, and you couldn’t help but feel bad.

”You love me, right?” he asked, hands raising to meet your shoulders. You blinked, not understanding hid thought process at all. ”Of course I do, but that doesn’t mean I can’t spend time with my friends as well,” you stated.

Wooyoung came closer to you, holding you in a tight embrace. ”I’m sorry baby,” he sniffled. ”I just don’t want to lose you, that’s all.”

You swallowed, feeling his arms almost crush you. ”Of course you won’t,” you reassured. You would’ve probably understood his motives more if you saw the satisfied smirk on his face as you uttered those words.

”Thank you baby,” he said, leaving a small kiss on your neck before letting you go. ”I’ll go help Mingi with the groceries,” he said before leaving the room, and also leaving you almsot speechless. What on earth was that?

Thirty minutes later, you found yourself in such a stressful state, trying to find the dress that you had mentally picked out for tonight. You stood on chairs to look where you couldn’t reach, searched every single corner of the room, got on all fours to search under all of the furniture, and of course, that’s how Mingi found you.

”Oh,” he said when he found you, digging under the bed to find it. You turned around in shame, immediately standing up. A thing to take into consideration, was that you were only in your underwear. ”I don’t have time for this,” you sighed before closing the door in his face.

You quickly put on a robe to cover yourself before opening the door, meeting Mingi again, who was stuck in the same spot you found him in. ”What?” you said, seeing the teasing look in his eye.

”Nothing,” he said, starting to walk away. ”It’s just not everyday that you find a prudish girl like you in such a state,” he said in the distance, making you run after him.

”Shut up, you! At least I’m not a slut like you!” you pointed at him, making him raise his eyebrows in amusement. ”You know what, you’re probably the one responsible for all of these disappearing clothes!” you said, darting towards his room. You missed the way his smile dropped before his long legs followed you.

You threw the door open, entering the dark and messy room. You had never seen Mingi’s room before. You always followed the ’DO NOT ENTER’ sign on it, but today was a different day.

You turned on the light, scanning the room for any of your things, but only saw his own huge supply of clothes coating the floor. ”Y/n,” Mingi warned when you walked towards his closet.

His legs scrambled towards you in a matter of seconds, his voice yelling your name again, but this time, in such an alarming way that you actually believed something was seriously wrong.

But it seemed he was just a second too late, because when he stood behind you, you had already opened the closet door to see what was inside.

You stared into it in silence, your jaw having dropped ever so slightly.

There they were. All of your lost things, maybe even more than you knew you had lost. Underwear, trash you threw away, makeup products, and the thing that made you feel instantly sick: pictures.

A pile of pictures, either printed or polaroids, and they were all of you. Pictures of you in your old apartment, pictures of you when you were younger, pictures of you and Wooyoung, pictures of you when you were asleep.

You flinched when Mingi harshly slammed the door closed from behind you. His arm caged you in between him and the door, and you didn’t dare to turn around. You heard his heavy breathing, you felt his hot breath against your neck, and worst of all, you could feel him against you. His erection against your body, as he inched closer. You felt your instincts take over.

”Wooyoung!—”, ”Shut up,” Mingi put his big hand over your mouth, making you squirm even more in the tight space between him and the closet door. ”Stop squirming,” Mingi warned, making you hold your breath.

His hand slowly left your mouth, causing a small whimper of fear to be heard from your now parted lips. Mingi turned you around, making you face him. He leaned down until you could feel his breath fan your face. He still wore that same smirk that he more almost all the time, but his eyes had this newfound glow, this unknown width and fire. It made you fear him even more.

”Please, I promise I won’t tell Wooyoung if you just—” you started, before Mingi hushed you, his eyes closing shut. You gasped when he crouched down, positioning himself to pick you up. ”No, please—”, ”I said shut up.”

Your breathing quickened when he walked over to the bedroom door, still with you in his arms. You watched as he shut the door carefully, twisting the lock before walking over to his bed.

He dropped you down rather harshly, positioning himself right on top of you. As if trying to make yourself small, your body scrunched up, arms caging themselves around your form.

”Don’t hide from me baby,” Mingi said in a giggle, his strong hands pinning yours above your head. ”I’ve already seen everything.”

You shivered, eyes avoiding his. You could feel yourself starting to tear up, to which Mingi’s fingers wiped your eyes. ”I might’ve even seen more than your precious Wooyoung,” he smiled menacingly. ”And you’ve had no idea this whole time.”

You clenched your eyes shut, not even wanting to adress that the situation was actually happening. ”He’ll never forgive you,” you spat, finally looking into his eyes. ”Aww, you think so, huh?” he said with faux concern. Your wide eyes following his head as he leaned down, growing wider for every inch closer he came towards you.

You squealed when his lips met your neck, your hands meeting his shoulders, slightly pushing him away. ”Mingi—”, ”Don’t lie,” he interrupted once again, making you blink in confusion.

”Don’t act like you don’t enjoy this,” he smiled, his kisses traveling further and further down your neck. His hand moved your silk robe to the side, revealing your shoulders. ”I know you do.” You gasped when his teeth sunk into the flesh of your now exposed shoulder.

”I’d bet you’re so turned on right now,” he whispered. You squirmed, a newfound energy making you fight back finally. You pushed him off, sitting up to get away from him. It wasn’t long until he wrapped his arms around you again, pulling you back down into the bed with him.

”Please, just let me go out with my friends tonight, I won’t tell him—” you stopped yourself this time, realizing how weak you sounded. How utterly pitiful and pathetic your tone rang in your ears. ”You really don’t understand, do you?” Mingi said in amusement.

He stood up, unlocking and opening the door. You watched as he pointed towards the open door with his hand. ”Why don’t you go ahead and tell Wooyoung, hm?” Mingi said, waiting for you do dart towards the door, which you did a second later.

You ran to the kitchen, looking back at Mingi, who slowly exited his room, his arms crossed and a look in his eye that you could only describe as evil.

You found Wooyoung in the kitchen, preparing dinner for him and Mingi. ”Hey babe—woah,” his eyes widened when he saw your panicked and disheveled state, the thin robe almost falling off of your body.

”What’s going on?” he asked with urgency. ”It’s Mingi, he— he—” your breath caught in your throat, the panic catching up to you. You looked back, seeing Mingi enter the kitchen with slow steps, looking deep into not your eyes, but Wooyoung’s. You looked back at Wooyoung, wrapping your arms around him as if it would keep you safe from the man behind you. Wooyoung smirked without you seeing it, his eyes still stuck on Mingi’s.

”What’s wrong baby?” he asked, rubbing your back soothingly. You sniffled into his shoulder, and finally felt your shoulders starting to relax at Wooyoung’s next words. ”Mingi, why don’t you leave us for a minute?”

You heard the tall man’s footsteps slowly fade away, making your fear dial down just a tiny bit. Wooyoung sat you down by the table, his warm hands slowly leaving your shoulders. ”I’ll get you a glass of water,” he stated. ”Tell me what happened.”

You took a deep breath. ”I was just looking for my dress for tonight, oh shoot— I almost forgot that I’m going out,” you looked around, searching for a clock somewhere. Finally finding one, you realized that you were going to be late. ”Shit, I have to—”, ”No, shh baby,” Wooyoung came back with your water. ”I’m sure they’ll be fine with you being a little late,” he reassured you, pulling out a chair to sit down next to you.

You sighed, taking a big sip of water. ”Anyway I entered Mingi’s room, and well— In his closet,” your voice was shaky, brimming with fear. Wooyoung pushed the glass towards you, to which you took another big sip. ”Woo, I found my things, and— and I found pictures and—”, ”Shh, shh,” he hushed you, inching closer to you and placing his warm hand on the backside of your neck, rubbing soothing circles into it.

”Let’s just calm down,” Wooyoung said. Your looked at him, blinking in confusion. ”You’re really worked up right now, and—”, ”Of course I’m worked up! Do you have any idea of how scared I was—”

”Calm down, please.” Wooyoung interrupted, his grip on your neck tightening ever so slightly. ”Have some more water, and then we can talk about this.”

You were about to question him, but finally obeyed his wish, finishing the glass. ”Do you want to go to my room instead?” Wooyoung asked and you immediately nodded, following him into the room with hurried steps, but as soon as you were on your feet, you felt an odd sensation. Your vision was slightly blurry, but you figured it was nothing.

When you were finally positioned on Wooyoung’s bed, you noticed how the moments you experienced seemed to blur together. You blinked, trying to gather your senses.

”Baby? You alright?” he asked, wrapping his arms around you once again. You felt your eyelids starting to close together, small whines escaping your lips in confusion. ”Let’s lie down,” you heard Wooyoung’s voice, but as if in the distance. The last thing you saw before you finally lost consciousness was the sight of Mingi standing in the doorway, just like you imagined that night you had prayed to forget.

⊹ ࣪ ˖

”I can’t believe you’re such an idiot,” Wooyoung laughed, resting his head in Mingi’s lap. Mingi’s fingers slowly ran through your boyfriend’s dark locks. ”Oh come on, we were going to do this sooner or later,” Mingi argued, eyes lingering on Wooyoung’s.

You heard the two’s voices, but it was as if you couldn’t grasp reality. You couldn’t fully reach your senses quite yet, you could just hear and feel slight sensations, but not enough to know if you were truly awake.

”Imagine her cute little face when she sees that you’re responsible for this,” Mingi said, interrupted by his own giggles. ”Turns out her sweet little boyfriend wasn’t so sweet after all.”

Right after Mingi uttered those words, Wooyoung seemed to pick up on something, his head twisting around towards you. He slowly crawled towards where you lay on the floor. ”Baby?” he smiled, hand meeting your cold cheek.

Your eyes slowly opened up, laying themselves on Wooyoung’s wide smile, his anticipating eyes. As your senses came back, you noticed something rough against your skin, slithered around your legs and arms.

You let out a small involuntary moan of discomfort, eyes searching the room. You saw the thick rope around your body, and you felt as if your heart stopped.

”She awake?” a voice said from behind Wooyoung - who was carefully examined your face. ”Mm-hmm, but still a little confused,” Wooyoung said, his smile creeping back onto his face. ”How are you feeling baby?” he said, both thumbs stroking your cheeks.

You tried to speak, but couldn’t utter a single word. ”Hmm, not quite aware yet,” he frowned, backing away from you. Who now entered your field of view made your eyes go wide instantly.

You grew more confused by the second, but also more aware. The slow realization that was happening inside your brain made your heartbeat quicken, as you started struggling in your restraints.

”None of that,” Mingi said, making your head snap towards him.

”What’s going on?” you finally managed to say, now that you were almost completely aware. The two men looked at each other for a second, before Mingi nodded towards your boyfriend.

”Don’t be scared baby, everything’s just fine, okay?” Wooyoung said, coming closer to you again. ”We just thought that you might need some safety precautions,” he said, as if that would clear anything up for you. ”Why am I tied up!?”

Wooyoung took a deep breath. ”We didn’t want you to get scared and try to run off, okay?” he said, trying to grab your face again, to which you immediately flinched from his touch.

”Baby, just listen okay?” you heard Mingi. You almost gasped at his familiarity, when you started to remember the events that occurred before this.

”You creep!” you spat out at Mingi, seeing that annoyingly amused face on him. ”How dare you? What about my poor feelings?” Mingi made fun of you, a childish pout on his lips.

”You’re a stalker!” you said, ”and you!” you directed towards Wooyoung, tears starting to seep out of your eyes. ”You don’t even care?” your volume lowered for every word you said. You couldn’t even keep his eyes opened any more, not wanting to look either of them in the face.

”Listen baby—” Wooyoung tried, but you immediately shut him down. ”Let me go.”

The silence that followed gave you the answer you had been expecting. ”You don’t have to pretend anymore, baby,” Wooyoung said lowly. ”I know you’ve been into Mingi for a while now,” you opened your mouth in disbelief.

”Oh, come on,” Wooyoung rolled his eyes playfully. ”I’ve seen the way you look at him,” he inched closer. ”The way you react when he looks at you.”

”That’s not true—” you said, voice cracking as tears continued to flow down your face. Wooyoung’s fingers wiped them away as he hummed. ”Then why haven’t you told me about how he’s been acting?”

Your eyes shot open again. ”Why haven’t you told me about that night when he touched you like that? When he looked at you like that?” Wooyoung’s breath fanned your face, his lips almost touching yours as he spoke. As much as you tried to inch away from him, his strong hand holding your head in place made it impossible.

”It’s okay to be attracted to him,” he smiled. ”But pretending that you don’t, is not.”

You gasped when Wooyoung’s lips crashed against yours, his tongue exploring your mouth without your consent. When he finally disconnected from you, his face wore an unreadable expression.

”What’s the point of lying anymore, hm? Why don’t we all share our little secrets?” Mingi proposed, standing up, making Wooyoung turn his head before also raising to stand.

You watched as Wooyoung’s arms snaked around Mingi’s waist from behind him. ”You think it’s a coincidence that you had to move? Have you ever really thought about why your roommate started acting like that out of the blue?” Mingi asked. Wooyoung laughed into Mingi’s shoulder.

You took your eyes off of the two, slowly shaking your head as you started to realize what he was implying. ”That’s right,” Wooyoung sang. ”Think it was just a coincidence that you just had to move out so suddenly?” Mingi mocked. ”If it weren’t for Mingi and his incredible blackmailing abilities, you wouldn’t be here in the first place,” Wooyoung informed.

You felt yourself starting to hyperventilate, the information crashing down on you. ”No,” you sobbed.

”Oh yes,” Mingi said, crouching down to look you in the eyes. ”We both love you, and we would never let anything get in the way of that.”

”Let me go!” you thrashed around in the rope, feeling them burn and tighten against your skin, but you didn’t care. ”Please,” you begged, feeling Mingi come closer and closer to you until he was eventually on top of you on all fours.

”Now you’re all ours baby,” Mingi said with satisfaction, tilting his head to the side before leaning in and whispering. ”And we’ll never let you go.”

a/n: I’VE HEARD YOUR PRAYERS! And yes this was originally a Ten and Johnny x reader fic, but I hope you enjoy this instead!!! Tell me if you want a part two, and thank you all for your support!! I always appreciate your asks/comments!

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meanderingwistera · 2 months ago

Text

Love, Magic and other things gone wrong

Summary - After trying multiple dating apps you give up and try to love yourself. A love potion should help with that. Nothing can go horribly wrong and drag the cute guy next door into it…right?

Pairing - Suguru Geto x Reader

Content - Fluff, smut, oral f receiving, p i v sex, mostly fluff tho, Witchy! Reader, magical accidents, love potions, artist! Geto, he has TATTOOS, pet names

Word count - 9k

A/N - This is my first full fic that I am posting on here from Ao3! If you prefer that format it is here!

Your love life is… horrendous, you are even being nice about it.

The last date you had gone on had told you that he just “wasn’t ready for anything serious”, only to turn around and change his status to in a relationship within two days after that. But he was the latest in the line of terrible dates you had gone on within the past two years.

You had tried almost everything but you had come to one conclusion-

“I am going to end up a lonely cat lady!” You whine and lay your head down on the cafe table. Utahime looks down at you over the rim of her mug. Her brown eyes look a bit amused at your horrible situation.

“I really doubt it,” She says and pats your head, “Men just suck.”

You want to argue but you remember one of your dates saying that “if you just lost some weight you would be so hot”, so you just groan instead of saying yes. Men do suck or maybe just the ones you match with on shitty dating apps are.

“What do I do?” You ask and shift your head to the side so you can look up at your friend.

“To be honest, you just need to be comfortable with yourself. Practice self love first, then good men will find you.” She explains and sips her tea.

“Maybe you are right.” You agree, still feeling defeated. “Do you have a quick fix for my self love?”

She snorts, “Are you asking for a love potion?”

“You said it, not me!” You remark with a laugh and sit up.

Utahime rolls her eyes good naturedly.

“Give me a few days and I will drop it off, but-” Her face turns serious, “only use a small amount. And I would suggest only drinking it when you are alone and infuse it into something so the effects are minimal. Otherwise you could fall in love with your reflection or someone random.”

You readily nod, how hard could that be?

After you take a little bit of that love potion for a week you see results. You feel better and as if a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. When you go out you don’t scrutinize yourself for your weight or how you look. Your deep set insecurities fade into the background as you look at yourself. It feels so good.

Today is a quiet day for you. Saturdays are one of your off days so you designated it as a chill day. No big agenda or anything to do, just basking in that fact that you don’t have to do anything, which is the best kind of day.

You wake up at nine-thirty but lay in bed for a half hour before getting up to make breakfast. The sun shines in through your sliding glass door out to the small balcony. It engulfs the morning in a warm glow as you start the coffee pot. Starting breakfast you crack a few eggs into a pan and turn on the stove.

While the coffee brews and you cook your eggs on a low heat, you pull out your tarot deck for a quick morning reading. You usually work mornings so when you have an opportunity for a morning read you feel giddy. The deck is familiar and comfortable in your hands as you shuffle the cards.

After you feel like they are sufficiently shuffled you pull out three cards and lay them face down. You flip the first card and wince. The tower glares up at you as you feel very uncomfortable at its presence.

So it looks like you will be having a crisis, delightful.

“Okay-” You say to yourself and take a deep breath, “let’s see what is going on.”

You flip over the next card to see the ace of cups. That is significantly better than the tower. A new emotional connection but is that before or after the crisis or is that the crisis? You sigh and already feel yourself overthinking.

The last card is flipped and you feel a bit better about all of this. The sun card shines like a beacon of hope in this reading. A calm after the storm, a peace after a time of crisis. It looks like the crisis will happen first, a new emotional connection will somehow be involved but happiness will come after.

You snap a picture of the reading and send it to the group chat with Utahime, Shoko and Yuki.

______

You

Guess who is going to

have a crisis?

Yuki

Don’t you have a crisis

every other week?

Shoko

Don’t be rude

Utahime

Yeah, it’s every two weeks Yuki

You

I don’t know why I am friends

with you guys

Yuki

Because you love us?

______

You roll your eyes at your friends and go back to your eggs.

The rest of your morning and early afternoon go well. You eat your breakfast, work on some personal projects and lay around watching tv. Occasionally you get a text from the group chat but it is mostly about things unrelated to your upcoming crisis.

You are sitting on your couch at about four o'clock, starting a book that you have been putting off reading, when you realize that you haven’t started on dinner yet. It is a bit early but you can feel hunger start to creep in. Putting a bookmark in your place you close the book and get up.

The cabinets are almost bear except for a lone box of spaghetti noodles. You grab it out of the cabinet and set it on the counter. Looking in the fridge you don’t see any sauce so you may have to settle for garlic butter pasta. You see some chicken that you can put in it.

“Score!”

Grabbing out the chicken you put it next to everything else and get to work on your makeshift dinner. You turn on the stove, put the pan on it and cut the chicken. You season the chicken well before put it on the pan to cook.

You are craving more coffee so you put on another pot. In addition to the water you put in a tablespoon of that love potion just for fun. You don’t plan on seeing anyone today so you want to mess with the dose a bit.

Once you have the coffee on you walk out to water your hoard of plants on your balcony. Most of them had been gifts but your favorite is the lavender plant you had been given as a housewarming gift.

You suspect you will have to replant her soon so she can grow better. She is one of the plants you use the most in your teas and recipes because of lavender’s calming qualities. Utahime also uses lavender in her witch stuff so you are technically her supplier.

The sound of another sliding door breaks you out of your thoughts. To your right the sliding door opens and a man steps out with a pack of cigarettes. Both of you look equally shocked to see each other. Then you remember that you are still in your pajamas.

He looks at you and you look back. Trying to break the awkward silence the man gives you a small wave. You quickly wave back before going back to watering your many plants.

Normally you would not care but this man is different. He and his friend had moved in about a year ago. You had immediately noticed him. Maybe it was the hair, tattoos or gauges; but no matter what it was you were hooked.

He was cleverly dubbed, “Hot neighbor guy” in your circle of friends. You kept them updated on all the small details you had picked up about him. Like that he really likes rock music and that his hands are usually stained with paint.

So now you try not to stare at his broad shoulders that are on full display in his black tank top. His side profile is accentuated by the evening sun behind him. You need to be normal, friendly but not too much-

“Why do you have so many plants?”

You immediately jump out of your skin at his sudden question, then smoothly respond,

“What?”

A blush tints your cheeks as you debate running away into the woods and never returning.

This man has the audacity to lean over the rail towards you with a cigarette between his teeth and repeat his question.

“Why do you have so many plants? I always wondered why you had so many.”

“Oh! Most of them were gifts in high school,” You say and stand up straight after you finish watering your last plant, “I had a phase and now feel obligated to keep them alive.”

He chuckles a bit and lights the cigarette, “I get that, I took in a stray once and now I am stuck living with him.”

“Your roommate?” You ask and he nods.

“He has little to no self preservation so I get to save him from himself.”

You laugh and he smiles, his snake bites becoming more prominent on his lips.

“How did you-” You start to say only to be cut off by the smoke alarm screaming at you.

Your chicken is burning.

Not wasting any time you fling open your door and turn off the burner. After you run to the smoke alarm to try to reset it. Only to find that it is too far up the wall for you to reach. Now you were not short but it is ridiculously high up on your wall.

Your quickly thought out plan B was to beat the alarm with a couch cushion. Whether it was to hopefully dislodge the thing from the wall or fan away the smoke you don’t know but what else can you do? Sadly your brilliant idea doesn’t work so you just beat your wall with a cushion and hope it stops soon.

A knock at your door makes you give up on your valiant attempt at stopping the shrieking alarm. With a sense of defeat you walk to the door. Couch cushion in hand you open the front door to see “Hot neighbor guy” at your door. This is probably his first impression of you, a woman who has too many plants and burns chicken, how great.

“Do you need help?” He asks, because of course he is still nice to you, with genuine concern on his face.

“If you don’t mind!” You say trying to be cheerful as your reputation with this guy lies tattered on the ground between you, “If not I will just wait for it to stop.”

The corners of his lips quirk up at your tone. You move aside to let him in, you are then immediately struck by the fact that you haven’t cleaned up your apartment enough for it to be prepared for someone to come over. But it is far too late as he walks to the alarm.

He reaches up, his shirt riding up, to grab the alarm. Your eyes, attracted by the movement, travel down to see a tiger tattoo on his hip. You don’t look at that and you won’t think about it later either. He pushes a button and the alarm goes blissfully silent. You sigh in relief and he chuckles.

“Well, at least you can take care of plants because your prospects of becoming a handyman are slim.” He says with a grin.

“The only thing holding me back is irritatingly high placed smoke alarms, other than that I would do great.” You say back then turn a bit shy as you continue, “Thank you though, is there anything I can do to repay you?”

“Well now that the smoke is gone I can smell coffee, can I have some?” He asks you and reaches out his hand, “And I am Suguru by the way.”

“Nice to meet you Suguru,” You respond and take his outstretched hand. His palms are bit rough as he shakes your hand and you introduce yourself.

“And I am happy to share my coffee!” You agree with a smile and turn to go back to the kitchen. He follows you and waits by your island. You grab a mug out of the cupboard for him. “Do you like cream or sugar?”

“No, black will be just fine.” He says and sits on one of the stools.

After pouring the coffee you slide the cup over and he takes it gently. His hands are larger than yours and you see faint patches of dried purple paint.

“Let me go put back the cushion.” You say and walk into the living room. With a soft hum you arrange the cushions in their proper place.

Looking back you see that your work is good and begin to make your way to the kitchen. As you enter the kitchen you come to a halt as you look at the coffee pot. You then realize that you put the love potion into the water for the coffee.

Oh no.

Subtly you glance over at Geto who sips the coffee blissfully unaware of your fuck up. He looks fine? There isn’t any change in behavior so far. So you decide to make yourself some coffee and observe instead of doing anything irrational.

You reach up and get another mug only for Suguru to hand it down to you. His chest is almost against your back as he hands it to you. Your breath hitches slightly as he doesn’t move too far from you as you pour yourself coffee. His hands ghost your waist and you are ninety-nine percent sure that it has kicked in.

What the hell do you do?!

“Your really cute like this.” He says and it’s dangerously low. You shiver at the tone of his voice.

“Suguru?” You ask, trying to act nonchalant and not like you are having a crisis.

“I like the way you say my name.” He says and you turn so you can see him. That was a bad move because he puts his hands on the counter behind you, closing you in.

Your breath is short and your heart is pounding in your chest. Suguru’s eyes trail down from your eyes to your slightly parted lips. He isn’t even discreet about it.

Before you can come up with any semblance of a plan to get out of this predicament your brain shuts off.

Suguru leans in and kisses you. It starts off slow and sweet. His mouth moves against yours softly, like he is savoring the taste of you. You wonder what you taste like to him. He tastes like black coffee, you usually don’t like black coffee but you don’t mind it if Suguru is kissing you.

You lean in, chasing his kiss and his tongue enters your mouth. Moaning a bit you feel his head tilt so he can get further. He swallows up your moans greedily.

Suguru pulls back for just a second so he can turn you both around. You are a little confused about what he is doing until he picks you up and sets you on the island. In the heat of the moment you open your legs so he can slot himself between them.

His mouth crashes back into yours quickly after. You run a hand up into his hair, trying to find purchase as he kisses you like a man possessed. Accidentally you tug and he groans into your mouth. His hands grip your hips tightly as you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him even closer.

Suguru moves from your mouth to your neck. He nibbles on your neck and you jolt at the sudden sensation. You begin to grind down as he chuckles against your skin. The cold metal of his snake bites turn you on even more as he kisses where he was biting your skin like a peace offering.

His right hand moves from your hips to your tigh and you remember that you should be pushing him away. This isn’t really him, just a signifect of that potion. Still breathing heavily you push him back. He looks a little confused but doesn’t complain about you push him off.

“I- uh- don’t want to go that far yet!” You squeak out, both your hands on his shoulders. “Not that it is bad in any way-”

Suguru blinks a bit before nodding at your words, “Sorry, I was far too forward.”

“No! Your fine, it just me that is the problem.” You inwardly groan as you use that stupid line. “Are you free tomorrow?”

He seems to think about this before nodding.

“I am free about two if you want to go out?” You suggest to him.

He obviously isn’t in his right mind and you don’t want to take advantage of that. You would feel horrible if you caused him pain. Hopefully he will have snapped out of it by the time for your date rolls around or have forgotten this entirely.

Suguru smiles at you and your legs feel weak, “See you at two then.”

With a quick peck to your lips, and him putting his phone number in your phone, Suguru excuses himself from your apartment, leaving you reeling on your kitchen counter.

You sit there for a second absorbing what happened within the last fifteen minutes of your life. Reaching a hand up you feel your lips that Suguru was kissing just a minute ago.

Hoping down off the counter you feel that your legs are still weak from all that. But that doesn’t stop you from getting to your phone and frantically pressing on Utahime’s contact. She will hopefully know how to help you.

The phone rings three times before she picks up.

“Hey!” She says more excited then you are because of your current situation.

“Hey…” You say cautiously and you can practically hear her eyes narrow in suspicion.

“What happened?” Utahime asks you

“So I might have burnt my chicken talking to ‘Hot neighbor guy’,” Utahime snorts at your opening statement, “then he fixed my smoke alarm- which was so hot by the way- anyway as repayment I gave him a cup of coffee- which may have that love potion you gave to me infused in it.”

Dead silence.

“How much did he have?” She asks you slowly.

“Enough to furiously make out with me on my counter for five minutes.” You answer quickly.

Utahime groans, “How much did you put into the coffee?”

“Oh!” You say, understanding what she meant now, “I used about a tablespoon.”

“Okay so it should wear off in about a day.” Utahime says with relief.

You check the clock and it is just a bit before five. So you just have to wait until five for it to wear off. Your heart deflates a little at the idea of not going on a real date with him but love potions are cheating in the war that is modern dating.

“That’s good.” You answer, “Also do you think my black crop top looks better with my flare jeans or that cute slit skirt with stars on it?”

You hear a hum on the other end of the line as she thinks, “Skirt would be better since it is getting warmer but I would pair it with a sweater.”

“I agree, also tell Shoko Hi for me!”

“Good luck.” She says and you hang up the call.

Now you just need to survive this date and hopefully the potion will have worn off by then. As long as you play it cool you will past this crisis.

You can totally do that.

Suguru has always been a very calm and controlled person. He prides himself on his restraint and his patience. So he doesn’t understand what just happened. Not that he didn’t want to- but where did that come from?

Suguru had noticed you as soon as they moved in. You had passed by him in the hallway when he was moving his stuff in. He had been so distracted by you and your smile and bright eyes. Satoru laughed his ass off when he almost dropped the box he was carrying in because he was staring at you.

His eyes would always search the hallway for you when he would go to his classes or the studio where he painted most of the time. You would always just be entering your apartment as he would make his way up the stairs. He would always just miss you so when he managed to see you on your balcony he had internally cheered.

And when your smoke alarm went off he practically sprinted across the apartment, out his door and to yours to help you. Satoru had laughed at his mad dash but Suguru didn’t care. He found it endearing that you even offered him a chance to help you.

But after that cup of coffee he felt more desperate for you. Like there was a burning feeling under his skin and the only thing that could help was your touch. His overwhelming need for you and your attention seemed to override all his critical thinking.

Suguru debates pulling his own hair out at the fact he was so close to fucking you on your counter and you didn’t seem confident in pushing him off of you. You probably think he is some fuck-boy trying to get into your pants and he is really ashamed of that.

Slowly he opens the apartment door to an expectant Satoru. He sits on the couch with an amused expression. Debating whether or not to avoid this conversation altogether Suguru walks over to the coffee table where his pack of cigarettes are.

“Sooo” Satoru says with a grin, “when is the wedding?”

Suguru glares at him hard.

Satoru puts his hands up in a placating gesture, “Just asking! She did let you help her right?”

“Yep.” Suguru says, hoping that he doesn’t delve deeper.

But it is never that easy with Satoru.

“And?” He pushes leaning forward in his seat like he is watching a drama.

“I made out with her on her kitchen counter.”

There is a long pause as they stare at each other.

“And you came back, why?”

“I didn’t want her to think that I just want to fuck her.” Suguru says and puts his cigarettes in his pocket, “Most of us give the people we are pursuing a bit more space then you do.”

Satoru scoffs at his comment.

“I give Nanamin space! He seems to even be enjoying my company right now.” He defends himself.

“If that helps you sleep better at night.” Suguru says with a shrug.

“Don’t change the subject!” Satoru squawks.

Suguru sighes and sits down. His best friend’s interrogation will not end soon so he might as well make himself comfortable.

The morning of the date you can’t really settle down.

During the hours of six through nine you wake up five times. Eventually you give up and check your phone. Then for a while you check your phone obsessively for a text saying that the date is off or he is “sick��. But one never comes. Which might be more concerning now that you think about it.

You clean your whole apartment and do all the laundry you have put off for a week. The only thing you haven’t done is wash your windows, which you might do in a minute. Looking at the time you throw the washing the windows idea out the metaphorical window.

The clock reads one and you need to get ready.

Normally when you get ready for a date you feel like you are dressing for a wake. But as you get showered and dressed you feel an underlying giddiness. You listen to more upbeat music as you do your hair and makeup. It is such a 180 turn from usual.

It is probably because it’s Suguru. He seems to be a good person from what you know so far, plus he is an excellent kisser. You try to remind yourself that it might not really be him but you can let yourself just enjoy today and wear it takes you can’t you?

Humming to the random pop song you have on in the background you admire the outfit Utahime suggested and you like it. You are not fully covered up but still warm because of the tights and sweater. It is a tasteful mix of the two and perfect for a first date.

You leave your bathroom and make your way to the living room to put on a pair of small heels. Since he didn’t cancel you decided to take him to a cat cafe downtown, since you don’t have a car you will have to walk so you want to not have your feet hurt. The kitten heels complement both the black and silver of your skirt nicely.

Right on time at exactly two a knock comes at your front door. All the nervous energy hits you as you walk to the door. You take a deep breath before opening your door to see Suguru standing there.

He looks good. A loose band tee hangs off his frame along with an oversized jacket. But the thing that draws your attention is the skinniest skinny jeans known to man that he is wearing. You have seen men wear skinny jeans but not that tight. And you might be very into that.

His long black hair is tied up and away from his face and you can see an undercut. You really want to run your hand over it.

“Hi.” He greets you with a small smile.

“Hi.” You respond but it comes out a bit shyer than you want it too.

“Are you ready?” He asks you and leans an arm on the frame of your door.

“Yes, I just need to grab my purse.” You say a giddiness to your voice.

For a second you leave him there and disappear into your apartment to get your purse. When you return he has moved away from your door and is rocking back and forth on his feet. He immediately stops as you lock and close your door behind you.

“So where are we going?” Suguru asks you as you walk away from your door.

“It is a surprise!” You say and press the down button to summon the elevator.

“How mysterious.” He says with a grin as you enter the elevator.

“I have to keep you interested somehow.” You match his grin as you hit the ground floor button.

“My interest is peaked.”

In the few short minutes that you are leading him downtown Suguru decides he really likes walking behind you. There is something about how you carry yourself that makes him think that he would follow you anywhere. You could lead him into hell and he probably wouldn’t notice it.

Satoru would call him a dog on a leash but he doesn’t mind if it is you.

As the crowd gets more dense as you enter Shinjuku you reach back and grab his hand, “I don’t want to lose you in the crowd.”

“I think I could be easily found because of my height, you on the other hand are more at risk.” Suguru teases you and squeezes your hand.

“I could just leave you.” You grumble as he walks faster to catch up with you. And the faint blush on your cheeks doesn’t escape his vision.

The two of you walk hand in hand for a while before you pull him into a cafe. It is smaller than the other stores and restaurants on the streets of Shinjuku. The light brown and cream colored walls give the cafe a cozy feel. But the main attraction is the hoard of cats that are walking around.

He can feel your eyes looking at him, trying to see if he likes it.

“This is a cute place,” Suguru says and looks down at you, “I have never been here before.”

Your eyes light up and his heart stutters in his chest. Suguru feels like he could live on just that expression of yours. He has never been a romantic before, despite his inclination towards art, but you bring out a new side to him.

Suguru wants to paint this expression so he can look at it forever.

His trance is broken as a woman walks up to you. Her blonde hair is tied up and her eyes look at the both of you as if she is trying to decipher what is going on with the both of you. He sees you get nervous as she walks closer.

“Hi Yuki…” You say as if you are about to be scolded.

The woman, Yuki, raises an eyebrow, “Who is this?”

“This is Suguru,” You pause before continuing, “he lives next door.”

Yuki’s eyes light up with understanding and a smile spreads on her face.

“Suguru- I have heard a lot about you.” She says and reaches out a hand for him to shake.

Suguru, now self conscious, takes her hand and shakes it. What have you told her? Does she not approve of him? Is he making a good first impression?

“All good I hope.” He replies and tries to calm his nerves.

“Very good.” Yuki assures him, “You have the pick of any table and can I get you any drinks?”

“The strawberry boba sounds good, I haven’t gotten a chance to try it.” You say with a smile and squeeze his hand.

“I will just have a coffee.” Suguru says.

“Okay, I will have that out shortly.” She says and walks off.

As she leaves you relax and he looks at you in concern as you sigh.

“I forgot to tell her about our date,” You admit as you pull him by the hand to a corner table, “there will most likely be anarchy in our group chat soon.”

He snorts and sits down in the chair near the window. Suguru mourns the loss of not being able to hold your hand. You sit down across from him and a loud ping comes from your phone. The first ping is followed by many more before you eventually put your phone on vibrate.

“Good luck with your friend group, my best friend already interrogated me yesterday.” Suguru says with a grin.

“I will need it, Shoko will have my head for this.” You admit with a sigh.

“Shoko Ieri?” Suguru asks in disbelief.

“Yeah! Do you know her?” You ask.

“We went to high school together and we are in some of the same English classes now.” He says.

“Wow! I never knew how close we were to each other without ever meeting.” You hum as a small tabby waltzes up to you. Suguru watches you scoop the cat up into your arms and pet its head. It purrs at your touch and he feels a little jealous of the cat.

Conversation flows effortlessly between you two as you play with the cats and drink your drinks. The tabby stays close to you, it demands your attention and will flick its tail when you are trying to do other things. You indulge the little thing every time.

At one point you finish your drink and get up, “I am going to get another tea, do you want more coffee?”

“That would be great.” He says and you take the cups off the table and walk over to the counter where Yuki is standing looking bored.

He watches you talk to her when a set of claws enter his calf. Looking down the small tabby cat has it’s claws in his leg with narrowed eyes.

“She may indulge you but I won’t.” He says defiantly.

The cat sinks its claws in deeper.

“I don’t negotiate with terrorists.”

Suguru feels the claws puncture his skin.

“Fine!” He says picks up the tabby and scratches its little head.

It begins to purr and Suguru just sighs, resigned to being a servant for this cat until you both leave.

You come back to see Suguru holding the little tabby cat. It is the cutest thing you have ever seen. You set his coffee down on the table in front of him as he pets the cat’s head.

“It looks like Obi likes you.” You say and sit down in your seat.

“Obi is a small terror.” Suguru grumbles but continues to pet the cat.

“He takes after his mother,” You say and scratch under Obi’s chin. “Queenie fits her namesake.”

“Obi is a cute name for him,” Suguru says, “it doesn’t fit his personality.”

You laugh and take a sip of your drink, “His full name is Obadiah.”

“Obadiah?” Suguru asks in disbelief, “that’s his full name?”

“Yuki named him.” You smile at him as he tries to think of how Yuki thought that the name Obadiah would be a good name.

“I think I would be a terror if I was named Obadiah.” Suguru says and scratches the cat behind the ears, “I have misjudged you, I am sorry.”

More time passes and the two of you trade off so Suguru can drink his now lukewarm coffee. Obi is pleased to be in your arms and you hold him like a baby as he purrs. You had always wanted to adopt him since you saw him but raising him by yourself seemed like a daunting task so you talked yourself out of it.

A camera flash brings you out of your thoughts. Suguru has his phone up and is taking a picture of you and Obi. You blink in confusion at him.

“Why did you take a picture?” You ask him curiously.

He puts his phone down and clears his throat nervously, “I wanted to paint the two of you.”

Your jaw drops as he rubs the back of his neck, looking away from you. Your heart is in overdrive as you try to process that he wants to paint a picture of you. Taking a picture is one thing but painting someone takes a lot of work and time.

“I don’t have to if it makes you uncomfortable!” He says quickly trying to make it better.

“No!” You say but it comes out a bit high pitched as you blush, “I- I don’t mind.”

Suguru relaxes and a grin spreads on his face, “I am happy that you are willing to be my muse.”

God help your poor heart.

After two hours you leave the cafe. Yuki waves as you leave and you know that you are in for it later. But you feel so love struck that you don’t care.

The walk back to your apartment building is filled with laughter and smiles. Suguru holds your hand all the way there and you let him lead you to the elevators. He runs a thumb over your knuckles and you feel like a dumb teenager on her first date.

When you make it to your door you hesitate. You don’t want this to end. Even if this is temporary and he may not want you later you want to bask in it now. You try to think of how to articulate it. And Suguru frowns as he looks at his phone.

“My roommate kicked me out for the night,” Suguru starts, “could I crash at your place? I will buy us dinner as payment.”

Fate seems to be in your favor today.

“Yeah, I don’t mind.” You say and let go of his hand to open the door. The door swings open and you lead him inside.

You settle on the couch as the two of you continue to talk. Suguru orders Chinese takeout and you talk about anything and everything. He tells you about his art classes and you tell him about your classes in kind.

“-I actually have a big project coming up soon so I will have to focus on that since it is a major portion of the grade.” He explains his hands moving around as he does.

“What do you have to do?” You ask him.

“So what the professor is asking for is a watercolor piece. I prefer oil based paints but it will be good to step out of my comfort zone for it.” Suguru tells you and you can tell that he is passionate about this by the way his eyes look as he talks.

“You seem really passionate about this.” You observe and he stops briefly.

“Sorry- I was rambling-” He starts to apologize but you grab his hand.

“Don’t apologize,” You smile at him reassuringly, “I like hearing you talk.”

It is quiet as the two of you stare at each other. The tension thick in the room as you trace his face with your eyes. His hair falls into his face from the beat bun it was in. You lean closer and-

The doorbell rings, breaking up the moment.

Internally groaning you get up from the couch, “I will get the food.”

“Thanks.” He responds a little heavy as you walk to the door.

The poor delivery man doesn’t deserve the irritated expression you give him but he looks too high to care. You take the food from his outstretched hands and thank him. He just tips his hat at you and teeters off down the hall. Hopefully he gets home safely.

You set the bag on the coffee table and grab some chopsticks from the kitchen. Suguru is dividing the food on the table. You hand him a set of chopsticks and sit down to eat.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” You ask him as you open your container of food.

“Yeah,” He says, “What are you in the mood for?”

“A romcom would be good but I am okay with anything.” You admit and grab the last dumpling.

“Okay- what would you recommend?” Suguru asks you with a smile.

“So if you want a high school setting I would suggest 10 things I hate about you, if not how to lose a guy in ten days is a classic.” You explain and hand him the remote.

He sets down his food and takes it with a hum of amusement, “Which one do you recommend?”

You take a minute to weigh it out. 10 things I hate about you was always a favorite when you were younger, and Heath Ledger isn’t too bad looking. How to lose a guy in ten days is the funnier of the two but you think your heart is swaying towards 10 things I hate about you.

“I would recommend 10 things I hate about you.” You say and He turns on the TV.

The movie starts and you feel content to watch Suguru’s reactions to the movie. Before he had put it on he had told you that he had never seen the movie. Which was a crime. So now he gets to be subjected to this movie for the next hour and a half.

“And I thought I had restrictive parents.” He says with a cringe.

“It really makes you think huh?” You ask with a laugh.

“I mean, if I had daughters I would be protective but not like that.” Suguru explains to you and puts his empty take out container on the table.

“I could see you with daughters,” You admit, “You would make a good dad.”

Suguru blinks down at you in surprise. You realize what you said and go to fix the situation but he beats you to speaking.

“You think so?”

“Yeah.”

Over the course of the movie your legs end up slung over Suguru’s lap. He runs his hand over your right leg, but only to your knee then stops. It is driving you a little insane at this point. If it wasn’t too forward you would grab his hand and put it under your skirt.

“He so deserved that.” Suguru says with approval as Joey gets punched in the face.

“He is such an asshole.” You agree with him, trying to not sound like you are worked up about his hand.

The main characters get together, the credits roll and the movie ends.

His hand is still there and you can’t stand it anymore. You reach your hand over to his and grab it. He startles but lets you guide his hand up your leg to your mid thigh. Suguru looks at you, his eyes darker than before. You give him a challenging look, daring him to touch you like he means it.

“Are you sure about this angel?” He asks you, his voice rough and breathy.

“More than any of the decisions I have made for the past month.” You respond.

Suguru chuckles and moves so his right knee is in between your legs, he hovers over you on the couch. You look up at him as he scans your face with his eyes as if he is trying to memorize what your face looks like in this exact moment. His lilac eyes lock on yours and you feel your heart rate pick up.

When he kisses you it is so slow, he takes his time as his hands move up your thighs. It is such a switch from yesterday where he did waste anytime and kissed you so hard you almost couldn’t breathe. You are sure that he wants to turn it around on, to make you need him just as bad. And he is definitely succeeding.

Your body feels so hot and he is barely touching you. It is maddening. His snake bites are cold against your lips and that only makes you want more. You run a hand up into his hair, pulling him down to kiss you deeper. His fingers ghost under your skirt and you gasp into his mouth.

“So needy angel.” He purrs as he pulls back to look down at you.

“I-” You begin and clench your thighs, “I need you so bad baby.”

That seems to be Suguru’s breaking point because he picks you up bridal style. You yelp in surprise at his sudden silence and him picking you up. Most of the men you have slept with hadn’t even tried to pick you when you hooked up. You can’t help the heat that curls in your core as he makes his way to your bedroom.

He lays you down gently with your head on your pillow. Suguru climbs onto the bed and parts your thighs. His rough hands pull down your skirt and tights, leaving you in only your underwear. He practically moans at the lacey lilac pair of panties you have on.

You grin at him and pull up your shirt to reveal a matching bra. It was pure coincidence that you had a set that was the color of his eyes. Even though you had not expected to hook up with Suguru, you thought that you would wear them just in case.

He matches your grin and hooks a finger under the elastic band, “All of this just for me?”

“Who else would it be for?” You ask him with an eyebrow raised, “I am not easy-”

You are cut off as he lowers himself between your thighs and licks your pussy through your panties.

“You were saying?” He says innocently as if he doesn’t have his head resting on your inner thighs.

“I am not- mhh!” You try again but he bites your inner thigh causing you to shiver.

“Hmmm?” Suguru hums in question as he pulls down your panties so he can see how wet you are already. “You seem to be having a hard time speaking angel, why don’t we let your pussy speak instead?”

You barely nod before two fingers are pumping in and out of your hole. It feels so good, his fingers are long enough to reach the spots you never can when you do this. He is knuckle deep in your pussy and you feel like you might cum soon.

“Fuck- mhh- I’m gonna cum-” You moan out as his fingers find your g-spot.

“I want you to come on my tongue first before I make you come again on my dick.” He says and removes his fingers.

A long drawn out whine comes out of your throat at the loss of something filling you. You try to rub your thighs together to make some friction but his hands hold your thighs apart. He wastes no time in eating you out.

Suguru knows what he is doing, you can tell because you can barely think straight. His tongue swirls around your clit and his fingers re-enter your hole. You have lost almost all control and are just a moaning mess.

“Your so beautiful like this- hah- so desperate for me.”

You grind down on his face as you get closer to the edge. Suguru hums happily as he gets you so close to an orgasm, the sound sends a shiver down your body. The heat that was rising in your core reaches a fever pitch as you cum.

As you bask in the afterglow of your orgasm he takes off his shirt and you see the tiger tattoo. He sees you eyeing it and smirks.

“See something you like pretty?” He asks as he continues to get undressed.

You nod, still high on your orgasm. If you didn’t have some restraint you might put your lips to it. He shivers under your touch,

“Fuck-” Suguru curses and you realize you said that out loud.

His voice breaks you out of the trance you are in and you get up to touch him. You run your hands over toned muscle and ink. The tiger tattoo isn’t his only one, he has a dragon on his back and a few smaller ones scattered along his forearms.

You push him back so he is laying down on the bed. He doesn’t stop you when you take all his clothes off. You marvel at his dick. It is thick and already dripping precum as you stare. But you don’t want to rush this, you have been thinking of this for two months so you want to savour this.

The kiss you press to his lips is soft and quick. You move on to his neck. A small possessive part of you wants you to give him very visible hickies. You want the woman three doors down who looks at him in the hall ways to see the bites you leave know that he is taken.

She can go back to her boring husband because this man is yours.

You try to push the thought out of your mind but you are already biting his neck. It brings you glee to know that these will last. Even if he doesn’t want you in the morning, you will have proof that you were there for a while. He groans as you lick and nibble the spot where you bit him.

It was hot, the push and pull of this new dynamic. You had never taken a chance on being more dominant or possessive with your past partners because you didn’t want to scare them off. But Suguru was different, he let you have free rein until he felt like taking over.

You can get on top of him and his hands rest on your hips. It takes a minute for you to adjust your position and sink down on his cock. You hiss slightly at the stretch as his rough hands guide you down.

“You're bigger than I imagined!” You say as you take all of him in.

This seems to pique his interest, “You thought about this?”

“Yeah-” You admit as he runs his hands over your torso. “Since I saw you for the first time I wondered-”

You are cut off as Suguru switches the position so you are under him.

“What are you-?”

What you were going to say is cut off by a whine as he begins to move. His thrusts are a bit wilder than you had expected. His dick hits all those spots inside you that make your legs feel like jelly. You wrap your arms around his shoulders to find something to ground you.

“I- hah- I have wanted this for so long.” Suguru admits in your ear, “Do you know how hard it was to not fuck you on your counter yesterday? How hard it was to not throw you over my shoulder and drag you to your bed earlier when I saw you?”

His words go straight to your core. You moan as he sucks on your neck. His confession makes your brain short circuit. It seems so out of the question that he would be into you. For a year you had talked yourself out of talking to him because you thought he didn’t want you.

“I would have let you-!” You answer his rhetorical questions.

That makes him pick up his pace and groan into your neck. You have a grip on his back as his dick hits your g-spot over and over and over again. You know that there are scratches left by your nails on his back.Your legs are trembling as your impending orgasm is about to hit.

“Can- fuck- can I cum inside?” Suguru asks you.

“Please-!” You whine out as you bury your face in his neck.

“Don’t hide from me angel- I want to see you.” He says and stares at you with nothing short of awe as you pull your head back to look him in the eyes. “Just like that, good girl-”

You can’t tell what makes you cum, his words or his repeated hitting of your g-spot but the coil in your stomach snaps and you feel so good. Suguru keeps going, fucking you through your orgasm as your legs tremble around him. You are on cloud nine as his hips stutter and he cums in you.

For a minute you two just breathe. The only sound in the room is your heart beat and laboured breathing. Suguru recovers first. He gets off you to get a towel to clean up and some water. You are sitting up when he gets back and you clean up.

“Stealing my clothes already?” He asks with a laugh as you pull on his band t-shirt.

“It smells like you.” You say with a shrug and crawl into bed with him.

“Do I smell good?” He asks with an eyebrow raised.

“Yeah,” You cuddle up to him. “Like smoke with hints of lavender.”

“I guess I can’t change my shampoo then.” He says and rests his head on top of yours.

“Otherwise we might have a problem.” You say with a sleepy giggle.

“How scary angel.”

You don’t respond because you feel your eyes shut and sleep drags you under its waves.

When you wake up Suguru isn’t beside you. You look over at the side of bed he was sleeping on to see it empty. Sitting up abruptly you look around the room for any sign of him but his jeans aren’t on your floor anymore.

You scramble out of bed.

Did the potion somehow last longer than intended and it is just now wearing off?

The door to your room is open as you rush out of it. But you relax as you see Suguru standing on your balcony. He is visibly arguing with someone and has a cigarette in his hands which he is pointing at the person in question.

You walk to the sliding glass door.

“-you should have given me prior warning asshole!” Suguru says and lights up the cigarette.

Opening the door he blinks over at you.

“Suguru?” You ask and slip out onto the balcony.

“‘morning angel.” He says and wraps an arm around your waist pulling you closer to him.

You relax into his side and look over at the man on the balcony next to yours. He is tall with wild white hair and blue eyes. His eyes are bright and his smile is wide as he looks at you.

“Oh!” You say as you remember who this is, “You must be Suguru’s roommate!”

“The one and only!” He responds cheerfully.

“Satoru Gojo.” He introduces himself and stretches out a hand for you to shake.

You introduce yourself and shake his hand with a smile, “Nice to meet you Gojo.”

“Well-” Gojo says with a mischievous glint in his eyes, “I have to go check on my study buddy, have fun!”

Suguru just rolls his eyes as Gojo walks back into his apartment. You give him a little wave as he disappears. After he is gone you turn to Suguru who shakes his head at his friend.

“That poor TA, he will never hear the end of this.” Suguru says more to the air than you.

He catches your confused look and explains, “Satoru has been trying to get into the pants of our English classes TA for months now, poor guy must have finally agreed so Satoru kicked me out.”

“At least it was good for you that I let you stay over.” You say with a grin.

“You are very generous.” He responds, matching your grin.

“I do expect some repayment,” You tease, “people can’t think that I am a pushover.”

Suguru puts out his cigarette.

“Oh?” He asks and turns toward you, “and what may that be?”

You hum, pretending to think about it.

“Breakfast would be nice…” You suggest trailing off as you turn to walk back into your apartment, his hand in yours. “Unless you have a better idea?”

“I have many ideas.”

#blue’s fics <3 #geto suguru x reader #geto x reader #geto suguru #jjk x reader #jujustsu kaisen x reader #chubby reader

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kaiserposting · 3 months ago

Text

My Worries Come in Phallic, Freudian Shapes

PAIRING: Michael Kaiser/Reader WORD COUNT: 2k TYPE: Established Relationship, It's basically just Kaiser tweaking for no reason 🤦‍♂️🤦‍♂️🤦‍♂️ (I find it funny but interpretations may vary) WARNING(S): Kaiser's overactive imagination?

Kaiser would like to say he’s quite numb to being separated from you. Sometimes you come along with him at away games, if possible, but in other instances you have to be apart sometimes even for months, and Kaiser likes to think he manages it well.

You’re not on his mind much when he’s training or during a game. Mostly his times of weakness happen outside of that, though Kaiser doesn’t let it get to him. For example, he does this fun exercise where if his mind strays towards you too often or when he can sense the void in his chest is beginning to take on a suspicious shape, he holds out on texting or calling you for as long as possible. To test his will — which is something normal people do like all the time, of course — and because wanting to distract himself gives him extra neurotic energy to burn when he’s doing his exercises.

Not that Kaiser becomes neurotic over you or anything. It’s not even a big deal to him.

He’s sure you miss him more than he misses you. He’s confident you do. After all, to him, it’s no big deal, as previously stated. It’s true.

He doesn’t worry about small and nonsensical things like how you’d probably prefer a more present and available boyfriend, and how you’re free to do whatever you want with remarkable ease when you’re seas and oceans away from him.

Kaiser’s eye twitches while he continues shoving the last of his belongings back into his luggage, since he needs to pack for his flight back home. This train of thought isn’t going anywhere good — he needs to abandon it. Besides, a second with Michael Kaiser is worth way more than a month with some stupid, worthless commoner. Your shitty replacement for him will never rival the real deal.

No, this is stupid. You love him, you don’t have a replacement for him. Right? You wouldn’t betray him while he’s away. You’re his first and only love, you can’t do that to him, can you? You know he’d kill you if you did it and he found out, don’t you?

This is stupid. He wouldn’t kill you! Kaiser doesn’t want to kill you. He should stop thinking about this… You wouldn’t do it to him either anyway, you love him back. Kaiser knows you do, so why does it not feel real most of the time?

What if you’ve fallen out of love with him, though? Maybe you look forward to when he has to go away for long. Forget all about him the moment he’s out of your sight, don’t spare him a single thought, have fun with your little friends while he’s gone, all that.

You probably get together and you start shit-talking him with them the way people do about their good for nothing boyfriends sometimes. They call his haircut stupid and you cackle along with them, then you tell them how insecure and unlovable he really is, and actually his dad beat him as a child so now he’s barely human, how it makes him an arrogant and pretentious piece of trash pretender, and then you’re like ‘I wish I had a normal boyfriend instead of Michael’, and they’re all like ‘you deserve a normal boyfriend, this is fucked up’, and you’re empowered to free yourself of your burden. So he comes back home and you pick him up from the flight and you break the news to him that you’re leaving him and he has to move his belongings back to his place.

Maybe you have a new fling already, but it’s nothing serious because you still need to dump Kaiser and all. And he’s like in finances or something, an accountant maybe, who works normal hours (not the overachieving workaholic type who stays behind to do extra), and he probably doesn’t have footage of him having meltdowns on live TV for everyone to see. There are no interviews where he’s acting bitchy, no compilations of him acting cruel or ‘crashing out’ or whatever else. And he probably grew up in an average household — they weren’t rich or anything, but his parents made time for him. They were loving and nurtured him to be a rightful member of society, raising him to be someone worth your affection…

Holy shit does Kaiser feel unhinged. Literally why is he making up this entire story in his head? It never happened.

It didn’t, right? You wouldn’t do it to him, would you? You love him. You really, really, really love him, like from the bottom of your heart, somehow you love him and you don’t want to hurt him, even if you’re probably sick of him being away and of his problems and his attitude and his everything. If you had a magic wand, he wagers you’d wave it and change him on a neurochemical level, keep his looks and his successes, but get rid of the unnecessary baggage.

Or would you keep him as he is and love that ugly thing? Can you? Do you have it in you? Are you just tolerating him for some monetary benefits or out of pity with your knowledge of his past? Do you still love him? Will you love him a few hours from now or are you going to get bored? Are you bored and antsy waiting for him and is it affecting your feelings, suffocating your love to zero each moment he’s not by your side, each reunion only serving to put off the inevitable? Is the novelty wearing off? Do you need novelty?

Kaiser fights off the impulse to write you a text message threatening suicide and then turning off his phone until the end of the flight to keep you on your toes. A flashy move in attention seeking for sure, but for one you don’t even know he’s in a mind war with you, so you’re more likely to be confused than begging for him not to do it and for his forgiveness, though maybe it could earn him a reassurance of love and care. Regardless, Kaiser is not taking the chance because if you ignore him or don’t see the message it’ll just devastate him.

And also he kind of doesn’t want to act like that. Well, he does, but the rational part of him is also still awake and holding him back. You won’t appreciate that. Right now the strife he’s going through is completely imaginary, but if he goes and acts crazy outside the confines of his mind, he really might fuck everything up.

If he makes too many mistakes, you might fall out of love with him, and if you fall out of love with him, you’ll leave him. Kaiser thinks about what he’d do in that case. Without you he is nothing besides an unwanted waste of breath — you’re the sole person who got close enough to see beneath his nonsense and decide to tolerate it, attracted beyond frivolity for an enigmatic reason.

Maybe the perpetrator behind this strange limbo of weird hysteria is Kaiser’s low self-esteem. It always circles back to that and he is sick of it. He doesn’t understand why you subject yourself to him and here, a whole ordeal.

Whatever anymore. Kaiser doesn’t even care. It’s a pointless matter to lose his mind over. He knows you cherish him, and even if you didn’t, he’d get over it. Life moves on. There are other fish in the sea…

Actually, if you tried to leave him, Kaiser has so many things he would do, they’d earn him a restraining order. First he’d resort to begging and ugly crying, but he doubts it’d sway you. He’d need to be more extreme.

No, that’s silly. If you separated, he’d react to it like a normal person, right? He wouldn’t do a thing. He’d let you leave without any theatrics and move on. Right? It’s what he would do, Kaiser decides.

Or maybe he can get a leg up on you and catch you out when you begin losing interest in him and he can work to win you back over. You won’t even know what hit you. Yea, Kaiser will scheme to sweep you off your feet.

Not that he cares that much to put so much effort in… It’s just his strength and natural calling as an unbothered male manipulator.

___

After the packing and the waiting at the airport and all that, Kaiser survives a restless flight. He tried to read a book during it, but he turned out not to enjoy it whatsoever (catastrophe). Then he turned to Gesner, who was sitting next to him and seemed like he wanted to kill himself, and told him in detail about all the plot problems and why this was what made nonfiction superior.

To Gesner’s relief Kaiser also spent a good chunk of it trying to sleep, though the endeavor was useless. He closed his eyes and his pattern of anxious cyclical thinking continued and he failed to doze off. What do you think about accountants? Maybe your side piece wouldn’t have any tattoos because you secretly find his corny and you’ve sworn off tattooed men. ‘I mean, seriously, just put the eyeliner on like a real man.’ Kaiser would bet this is what you’re saying to your friends.

Anyway, again, his flight was spent stirring in ridiculous thoughts in that vein. If nothing else, actually, if you knew what was running through his head, that would be what would put you off of him. But you don’t. He needs to just… keep it to himself and it’ll be fine.

So you find each other after some stumbling and chaos and some vague text exchanges like ‘where are you?’, ‘At the airport obviously’, ‘you think you’re so funny’, and so on, and when you spot each other, you grin upon the sight of him (hard to fake such immediate happiness, Kaiser concludes) and spread your arms out for a hug.

Kaiser rolls his eyes. You’re so cute, he wants to squeeze you to death, but regardless he puts on a big show of what an inconvenience this is and gives you a stiff, nonchalant embrace. The way you hold him is a small reassurance. You’re still in public though, so he needs to play it cool for a bit longer, and he reluctantly peels himself away from you.

You interrogate him about his time away while he’s your passenger princess on the way home. Kaiser takes it as a good sign you’re still interested in his life at least enough to ask, as if there was a possibility he was going to come back and you just… wouldn’t give a fuck about him or what he’s been up to. He keeps his answers vague, trying not to let on the almost daily mental torment he’s been subjecting himself to just because his brain can’t stop making up stupid narratives.

Once you two arrive, and only when you’re inside, does Kaiser give into his desire for your affection. He wraps you up in a way tighter embrace without intention of letting go and peppers your face in kisses.

The first time he acted like that with you upon coming back, you were rightfully weirded out, but now you’re used to this whole routine and let him have his moment of rare forwardness.

“You know,” he says, “I missed you like, a little bit.”

“It’s hard to tell,” you say, sarcastic.

Kaiser ignores it. He bites your cheek. Not hard enough to hurt at all, but it’s a strange sensation.

“So gross.”

“I hope you weren’t doing anything stupid without me. I wouldn't want to miss out on any fun.”

“I wasn’t.”

“What do you think about accountants?”

You raise an eyebrow at the random question, but humor him anyway. “Can’t say I think anything in particular about them.”

“Is that so…”

For some reason, you find his tone to sound suspicious? There is a harder bite — your skin might be a bit irritated around there for a few minutes. You wonder if Kaiser was arguing with management or something somewhere abroad.

___

I just wrote this because I thought Kaiser having emotional impermanence (which is likely) would be hilarious I promise I'll write a more plot-oriented one shot soon again

#kaiser x reader #michael kaiser x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #michael kaiser x you #blue lock x you

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mykaelaaa · 3 months ago

Text

detour that lingered

✰ helly r x fem!reader // 4k

✰helly's fed up with lumon and needs a distraction. that makes the two of you.

clicks.

so. many. clicks.

thousands of them made in the past five minutes. maybe more.

you're not really sure. all done by your work colleagues while your hands rested on the desk. cold and almost lifeless. work-wise speaking, anyway.

wide, luminous square of light above you started producing annoying buzz-like hum three weeks ago, exactly on tuesday at 10:03 a.m.

it's drilling in your head but somehow, no one else seems to be bothered. you did report the issue. and in return got million-dollar response from the multimillion-dollar company saying:

"thank you for reporting the malfunction. we will do our very best to make sure your surroundings are as comfortable and enjoyable as we can. but remember, be grateful for what you have, because Lumon has your back."

milchick's refined words, of course.

delivered with his wide smile that fools concerningly big amount of people. well, minus the one if you think more thorough.

time passes agonizingly slow here.

staring at the screen and scattered numbers that still, after months in here, don't really seem to make sense.

you glance down at the bracelet on your wrist. you don't know anything about it. nor the clothes you bought, or where. or how come you picked just this color of the shirt but not a different one. why does your pen holder keep moving even though you swear you put it somewhere else. who in the right mind decided forest and football field green was the office aesthetic?

it's trapping.

sometimes, when you are bored out of your mind, which happens way too often, the green of the desks and flooring all morph into one big green blob, obscuring your vision and you don't know how it happens except blink a few times until it disappears. but lately it stopped.

and you know who's to blame, partially that is. for snatching a few seconds of so rare and precious serenity away.

ever since helly replaced petey, red came into the picture and it was no longer monotonous green.

it's always peeking in the corner of your eyes. one minute it looks like she just left the photoshoot for whatever fancy office magazine out there. the next, it's ruffled by her hands and she's two numbers away from losing her sanity.

but you like her. as a coworker, obviously. well, okay. a bit more than that. but that's debatable and confined deep inside of you for now.

it's just extremely refreshing another person recognizes the deranged, whatever the fuck this is, going on in the building. and they don't only nod along and go chase numbers on autopilot.

she's funny, terribly sarcastic, talented at giving you side eye when something stands out—most importantly, biggest Lumon hater next to you.

others are okay. to put it plainly.

dylan is funny on occasions but too hooked about reaching 100% for some reason. at times it makes you feel bad. to each their own.

irv is undeniably a wise, old guy outside the work. the one that knows a little bit of everything about, well everything. and he loves art.

mark is mark. sometimes there, sometimes lost in thought. carrying that specific and awkward type of humor that makes you feel like you should laugh but also unsure if it was a joke or just a remark that sounded like one. but you're more than welcome for anything that stands out in these four walls.

but helly? she actually asks things.

your first interaction with her was a disaster. which is amazing, by the way. she reminded you of yourself on the first day. a shitty attempt at escaping you did, running in circles and stuck in a loop of doors and hallways. each leading to nowhere hopeful.

you sat back and waited, watching it unfold. feeling slight remorse of how good it felt, knowing she will realize there's no way out. that will make the two of you.

that was helly's first warm welcome here and you couldn't relate more.

by the time milchick caught up with her, you were sure you still hold a record of how many times you saw mr. milchick in one shift. about twenty three.

you should ask helly how many times she ran into him that day.

a day after, you saw her hand pulling the divider down, scooching forwards a bit. a sweet, covert whisper reached you.

"do you know what the fuck is going on here?" heavy emphasis on 'what the fuck'.

you had to just stare at her frozen, caught between "oh my god finally" and "wait, will it be worth it?" and then, since it was the best thing that has happened since you got here, you grinned like an idiot. thanking kier internally.

but also, you felt pity for her. you tried, you complained, oh so many times but met a dead end street. you know milchick hates to see your head tilted and eyes narrowed. forming an actual smart question that throws the unusual work conditions in the spotlight. milchick being milchick, just gives you his programmed response.

if she keeps this up, you owe her a drink.

somehow. if lumon introduces alcohol.

"what you thinking about?"

her voice dragged you back to reality. you blink, shifting your focus off the screen where number 6 is floating like it's waiting for you to do something about it.

helly's watching you, head propped on one hand, looking amused. her eyes—lumon's os standard shade of whatever blue—should blend perfectly into the dullness of this place.

but they don't. somehow they don't.

you grew fond of it. maybe.

you shift in your seat. recalling what have you been truly been dozing off about. but it's a failed attempt.

"just your usual, loyal mdr employee stuff. thriving to reach 100."

she snorts, quietly. and your chest feels weirdly warm. it's been happening a lot lately. since you cracked the code of her sarcasm.

god. you're really starting to pick up mark's jokes.

"hmmm." she draws it out like she's considering something. "shame. i thought you had some mastermind prison break plan in the making."

you smirk, letting your eyes glaze over her features just a little. "maybe i do?"

helly raises a brow. "that so?"

"you know, almost a year here does wonders to your imagination. maybe my outtie is married to a drug lord with, like, fifteen escape routes if we get ambushed. therefore my talent."

you sigh and add, "but instead i'm stuck here. like a bird in a cage, forgetting what flying is like."

she narrows her eyes like she's analyzing you. but it feels different than when milchick does it. better. "oh, wow. that's the most poetic thing you ever said."

"you haven't been here long enough then."

she clicked her tongue smoothly, "gotta make sure to use most of my time on that then."

irving's head peeks out from the green barrier. "ladies. more work, less talk."

helly throws you the 'how the hell did he even hear?' look. you just shrug.

"breaks soon anyway, irv." mark chimes in, though he sounds disinterested about the idea of break. you get him. not much opportunities to get your mind to shut off besides the vending machine.

"yes i know, mark. that doesn't mean we can all chit-chat."

"are you trying to be the good guy here just because she's new?" dylan said, leaning back in his chair that made a screeching sound. he turned his attention to helly, dead serious. "don't listen to him. his bathroom breaks? he's been sneaking off to see some guy from—"

"dylan, that's irrelevant—"

"no it's not, irving." dylan keeps going but you were too busy being overwhelmed with helly jabbing you in the ribs.

you flinch. "what?"

helly, still pressed lightly your side, doesn't even look guilty about it. she's close. close enough her knee is barely brushing against yours. enough that the space left is borderline nonexistent but you can feel it anyway. and it feels like there's a heavy boulder on your back.

it's new. but it feels nice.

when and why did she get so close without you noticing?

she tilts her head a bit and you can feel her hair enveloping your shoulder. it sounds ridiculous but it feels like it's burning straight to your shirt.

"come with me to the supply room."

it's not a question but more of a silent order. your throat dries up and it feels burning. you shift and your hands, like they got a mind on their own, latched onto the nearest thing it landed which was your shirt. you smooth it out for no apparent reason.

"for what?"

"i don't know. office supplies?" she deadpans like it should've been obvious. it is obvious. you just couldn't focus.

you quickly dissect the desk. there are more than enough pens in the holder. sticky notes are untouched and started to collect dust. two hundred and thirty eight of yellow notes last time you counted. judging the way helly's desk is the same, you catch on it.

yeah. this is not about the damn supplies.

helly wheels back out of the way, making room. still waiting on you get along with the idea.

so you push your chair like it's an announcement. irving gave you a quick, iffy look like he saw this as an opportunity to get dylan off his back and shift the topic on you two. but before he could, you stretch your arms out like you're letting out the negative energy of intense, office labor.

"gonna grab some stuff," you claim, standing. "ms. helly, you coming?"

she's already up, rolling her eyes. "obviously."

dylan just snickers, mark doesn't even bother giving a second glance.

the pair footsteps barely make a sound against the tedious green carpet. competing with the noise of the ever buzzing lights.

you wonder if the redhead next to you, who's on a very serious mission to reach the supply closet, ever noticed those little things. and it's not like you're in a rush to get back to the desk either.

when you reach the room she wastes no time. helly briefly stepped aside to let you enter first before following behind. the second you stepped in, discerning same smell of paper and metal hit you.

helly swings the door shut behind you with more force than needed.

she exhales. loudly. did it echo that much or helly r. just pulls you into different realm by doing frankly anything?

you catch her breath hitch for a split second. it looks like she craved this. this getaway or whatever you name it. her shoulders relax against the wall and you feel weirdly happy for her. you would like to be the reason she feels at ease, but you can't just self proclaim the title "i made helly feel good" without her approval.

that sounds wrong the more you repeat it in your head.

"finally," she mutters under her breath, sinking in the surface deeper before pushing off.

"one more minute there and i'd throw myself in the printer or something and hoped for the best."

you huff a quiet laugh, adding, "tried and it didn't work."

helly smiles, one corner of her lips tugging up. and you should probably not stare for too long. it's inappropriate. that's what they say. i mean, it's logical. so you look around the room and—wow.

nothing changed. dry and uninspiring as always—stacks of papers fanatically sorted by colors, and too many cardboard boxes with useless serial numbers.

"so," you start, not knowing what is it that you're about to say. or why does your mouth run faster than the brain. and why does the room feel smaller, like someone turned the heat up.

and why is helly, now on the opposite side of the room, suddenly so engrossed in a shelf of supplies she's seen a thousand times—so engaged it feels like she's not here for a moment.

you sigh, slow and even. "what do we need?"

helly smirks like she was waiting for you to ask. "nothing really."

"i figured."

helly watched you for a second more before grabbing a pack of staplers off the shelf. not really doing anything worthwhile with it—just to keep her hands busy. her fingers tap against the box restlessly, spinning it around, shaking it, repeating the cycle. like she desperately wants to be occupied, and it made you anxious.

"needed an excuse," she admits, voice just a bit hushed but not unheard.

"for?"

she shrugs, giving the box one last twirl before setting it down. her mouth twitches like she's holding a grin from escaping, eyes tracing from the shelves to the floor, to the lonely chair in the corner meant for short employees, and then you.

her lower lip disappears between her teeth, careful not to ruin the lipstick. she leans back against the closet, hands slipping and intertwining behind her. the distance between is only a few steps away but it felt like she's a scorching furnace right in front of you.

"maybe to get the fuck away from that desk and pretending like any of this shit is normal," she dips in the closet even further, voice laced with a raw honesty. "i mean, who the fuck hunts scary looking numbers for a job?" helly snorts, openly fed up with it all.

she expects you to understand. and you do. of course you do.

"and, like… you're pretty much the only one that gets it." helly adds softly and again, the thing in your stomach twists, turns and before you know it, she had you smiling.

you shift your weight, mirroring her stance without meaning to. it's the most natural thing you've done since carving out fruit in shape of kier's face and putting an x sign over it of for some useless lumon anniversary thing.

"alright then, miss helly r. tell me everything."

her eyes flicker with curiosity, and maybe slight suspicion—but she grins anyway. "everything?"

"yeah. i can't team up with someone who's also really keen on burning this shithole down without knowing them."

helly scoffs, crossing her arms but there's amusement behind that. "we are severed, you know. think we're kinda missing 90% of the lore here."

"no, not like that." you explain, taking a break to think. "tell me…tell me who do you think is the worst dressed here? or who's outtie has a dungeon in their basement?"

her lips quirk and it feels like a veil of something unspoken just fell over your figures—the realization, maybe a relief, a shimmer of whatever the third option may be.

helly tilts her head and considers, "worst dressed? gotta be milchick."

you raise a brow playfully, "milchick? really?"

"yes, like a hundred percent." she lazily slumps forward and shakes her head, "that man looks like he lost a bet and has to walk around like that. and the moustache?"

you let out a laugh, staring down at the floor. clutching your shirt with one hand dramatically. "you don't like a moustache? helly r?"

helly rolls her eyes, giving you a look before pointing at you. "okay, your turn. dungeon."

"mark."

"no fucking way."

"it's always the quiet and normal ones you least expect."

she clicks her tongue in denial, "he's too stuck up for that. but hear me out," she leans as if she's about to reveal mindblowing rumour, "dylan."

there's not much you can disagree with to be honest. "well—fine, i can see it." you take in a deep breath, same smell of stale paper hanging in the air.

"who's the best looking around here?"

"wow, i met like less than ten people."

"that's more than plenty."

helly exhaled sharply, eyes wandering everywhere but at your direction. "well," she dragged out, "definitely not cobel. unless you're into having affair with your boss that's thirty years older than you."

now, that made you dwell on it in silence more than helly would like. to the point her expression started to transform into a concerning one.

you found it amusing, although it's better to start explaining yourself.

"i can look past that if it means i can get out of here." nice save. holds bit truth to it.

redhead was still worried, wheels turning in her head and she nodded in flimsy approval. "you know what? i like how determined you are to the point you'd get with our boss."

helly laughed. and for the first time in ages she felt okay.

okay. safe. distracted. something she thought was impossible ever since she got here. it wouldn't be a stretch for her to say it's addicting. you're addicting and this impromptu trip to get away. she'd rather stay here and count papers one by one with you than be in the office, divided by desks.

she scratches her head in thought and clears her throat. "milchick can look charming but he would just turn out to be an ass."

"and the moustache."

"dealbreaker. immediate."

"and mdr candidates?"

the silence eats her alive and she wonders if you can see it. she supposes you wait for her to continue. but it feels like someone drove nails in her shoes and wrapped chains around her. she fixes her posture. paces in place for a moment, aware there's nothing more comfortable to lean on in here anyway. but she knows better than not to speak what's on her mind.

"i guess it's you." man. straight to the point.

not mark? isn't that a delight. "me? really?"

you watch her furrow her brows and swear she looks offended. "yeah, what? who do you think i was gonna say? irv—"

"—i don't know." helly watched your short lived and secretly nervous detour, dragging your shoulder against the closets that stopped once you faced her. arm length of distance. "maybe mark. you hesitated." your finger pointing at her made her feel like a kid sent into a corner.

"i was thinking."

"about mark?"

she glares at you, but it lacks any real malice. helly stays there. she doesn't move or back away. and you start to notice things that you have noticed before, but it feels almost privileged and paralyzing.

yes, she always smelled memorable—you realized that on the very first day she arrived because it was new and not industrial-made air freshener. her perfume lingered in the elevator at the beginning and end of every shift, right now it's seizing every sense you have. and you let it, like it's a matter of life or death.

before you can be smarter about this—not that you want to—your eyes dart over her face. the maroon of her hair catches the white glow of the room like copper. there's a faint scar near her temple, scarcely hidden under the strands. familiar dips of her smile lines are harder to make out, replaced by lips set firm—but not too firm. like they want to say something. but they never do.

no voices, no music, no window that casts wind and traffic, yet it feels like your breaths would suppress all of it if given.

on paper, this looks like a terrible idea. but in practice? it's rare and tempting. especially for a lumon employee.

you reach out to put one hand on the nape of her neck, hesitating halfway. helly took it as a implied question of yes or no. she could tell that much. instead of saying it with fear her voice might fail her, she decided to suck it up and take your hand and guide it where you wished. fingers nearly intertwining like you've both done this hundred of times before, creating a habit.

helly was never this close to someone. physically and mentally.

she doesn't know what her outtie does, with who, how or when. does she have a spouse? kids? is she widowed or divorced? will her outtie ever run into you and remember? any of this?

a brisk worry that you should be getting back to the office dashed through your mind. but it was discarded as quickly as it came.

"listen—i," helly whispered. there was everything and nothing in her head at the same time. exhausted of this job and every day being the same as the one before.

she swallowed harshly, "i know we can't be doing this by—by some dumb company rules but it…"

"it's okay if—"

"no. i mean, it feels right," she nods carefully, like she's convincing both of you. "it feels nice."

neither of you know how to do this properly. or if there's a way to do so. there's a general idea of it. kissing, sex, intimacy and all that comes along.

after all, lumon didn't pass a rule forbidding such profane acts for no reason.

helly smiles faintly, delicately putting her hands on your waist and tugging you closer. fingers dancing on your hips. it was all done in a tender manner, making you wonder she pulled out this sudden confidence out of her pocket while you were daydreaming.

perhaps she was always like this. just another thing to uncover about helly r. amongst many.

it was mutual, bound to happen and next to world ending.

your heads tilted in sync, felt her hands froze on your waist and yours were trapped under her hair upon contact. helly's nose bumped against your cheek along with her bangs tickling your forehead. her lips were lightly chapped, inviting you in. deeper and deeper for more without knowing what that 'more' signifies.

helly backed away and it took her absurd amount of willpower to do so. she rested her forehead against yours. breaths combining together, fast paced like you've both been running down the hallway from entirety of lumon.

"i don't know how to do this," you barely made it sound coherent.

she chuckled, and for this newfound proximity, it ringed in your ears differently. "me neither but it's good."

with no effort helly reeled you back in, fingers brought back in life—now gripping at your clothes. it was more eager and natural. her lips chased yours and she let low groans sneak past her. it was a new sound to you, that caused you to lose control over your own hands too. tangled in her hair that was unsurprisingly soft. you tried to pull her even closer but it was nearing the impossible.

do you even have the right to do all of these things right now?

your back hit the closet. making the irrelevant boxes shake, threatening to fall down. helly's hot breath was all that you could feel as it slid down your cheek, to the jaw and up to your ear. making you shudder. she didn't give one single shit about the cameras and mics.

"how—how far can i-we go?"

seriously? she slightly winced when you tugged her by the roots just to see her better. she looked down at you with some feral look you haven't seen before. panting and gasping. hair disheveled by your fault.

"i don't know helly. all the way."

she doesn't know either. she has faint idea that will involve bunch of improvising but she doesn't care. if needed, she can survive off doing just this.

before you could react, she grasped your jaw gently. forcing you to tear your eyes away from her and be taken care of.

helly settled between your neck, leaving kisses on your collarbone and what's exposed. you smell of something so sweet and distinctive it's like a drug to her. waiting on your reactions because she can't be too greedy. even if she wants to.

"fuck—helly," it was overwhelming. and hearing you, all torn apart, made her weak of all sorts. making her moan near your ear, which was like a last straw of the day.

"helly…i-just…"

"i know," helly breathed out. she feels it too, if not twice as intense than you. but she can't compete right now.

her hands travelled down, lower and lower and you bucked your hips into nothing. she let you guide her lips back, cupping her face. she registers no one in the whole fucking department ever handled her with such care. she allows herself to sink in your touch.

and before you reconnected, your noses bump again. uneven breaths and surrendering knees and—

"so, uh—break is like, almost finished. hope you're all good in there."

mark.

helly hoped she will never hear any of them again.

"is he fucking with us right now?" she speaks with eyes still closed. either in disbelief and let-down or to get back together.

"yeah-yeah, some stuff kinda—fell off the shelves so we had to clean up." you yell out. holding onto helly's shoulders for support.

"oh. yeah, happened to me month ago or so. just uh, try to get it cleaned up in five minutes."

you looked back at the redhead that stared like she had received a letter from lumon saying they approved of her quitting the job.

"what?"

"this is not finished. it's not over, we ain't done, we—"

"—okay, okay. you had your chances to get me in the supply room before and now you want to make up for all of them. i don't think so." you teased like you don't wanna stay here forever. hoping the handle broke or something so you're caged in.

"yes and no. i didn't know what i was missing out."

if someone was to tell helly you have some magnetic superpower in you, she would have believed it. she doesn't want to remove her hands off you, or let the heat you two created go back to usual lumon's cold, or see you in the office hunting numbers rather than her lips.

but she has to adapt and get her way somehow. and she will. win both you and that 'leave' letter.

#helly r x reader #helena eagan x reader #helly r #severance imagines #shes sooo i cant #why do they make all the bad guys hot like #helena pls change this is not you come home kids miss u

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rhaenyratargcryen · 9 months ago

Text

i want to hold you close, skin pressed against me tight | logan howlett/wolverine

masterlist ❈

summary: drifting from town to town and never lingering in one place for too long has served you well since you began to realize something might be...different, about you. you've never been able to put a finger on what exactly that difference is, until you end up at the same bar as a mysterious, albeit deeply captivating, stranger. author's note: this literally came from an idea of a reader that could share their own feelings through touch, which then snowballed into an arguably too long one shot (if i'm not careful, that's what i'm going to become known for hahaha) i recently rewatched x-men (2000) after seeing dp&w (twice) and haven't had time to rewatch the others. i know at the end of the first movie, logan leaves the school - so i feel like this would take place, hypothetically, either after he returns/before x2, or between x2 and x-men 3. idk it's not that deep seriously just imagine early 30-something year old hugh jackman's wolverine while you read this <3 kind of still a shithead, not yet entirely traumatized lol!!!

pairing: logan howlett/wolverine x f!reader word count: 10,353 (uhhhh hahaha next question) warnings/tags: pWp (with, y'all!), sloooow burn, user rhaenyratargcryen had to google everyone's powers multiple times just. be warned

18+/mdni i am sooooo serious and please don't repost with or without asking for permission. i'm not into that kind of thing, if you want to share pls reblog!!!!

title is from she wants revenge's "tear you apart"

It’s a Sunday, when Logan finds you. Or, you’d soon come to find, perhaps it was you who had been the one to find him.

You’ve grown accustomed to becoming a familiar face at every shitty bar in every small town your drifter lifestyle drags you to, and this hole-in-the-wall in the Hudson Valley that smells slightly of piss and even more of cigarettes is no different.

The motel down the street that you’d unpacked your menial possessions into is the perfect distance from the dive — you could walk home at the end of the night, and not worry you’d find yourself in trouble with a stranger. Well, the wrong kind of stranger.

Sitting at the end of the bar, you’re nursing your third drink in the fading light of the afternoon as it comes through the row of windows to your right when the light blinks out, abruptly, and you look up to find yourself face to face with a very ruggedly-handsome man with…mutton chops, you think? You snort. They haven’t been in style for centuries.

Your gaze drags across his face, down to his torso, then rests for a beat too long to be appropriate on the way his jeans sit low on his hips, a bit too tight on his thighs if he was to ask you. He stiffens under your wandering eye, watching you carefully as your attention returns to his — begrudgingly, considering he’s disturbing your peace — beautiful face.

He’s hot, you’ll give him that, but you try your best to glare and look unapproachable; it’s a Sunday and you’re drunk on bottom-shelf whiskey, trying desperately to communicate that you’re not quite in the mood for conversation with a stranger at the moment.

This man will not take a fucking hint.

He gestures to the seat directly to your right. “Mind if I sit here?”

You glance pointedly at the rest of the seats at the bar, which are all notably empty, but you say nothing and grunt your indifference. This guy doesn’t look the talkative type, but you really hope he isn’t looking for a chat. Luckily, he sits down silently and gestures to the bartender, who seems to recognize him and pours him a finger of whatever you’ve also been drinking.

From the corner of your eye, you can see that he’s picked up the glass and swirled the liquor around in it, but before he can take a swig, he opens his mouth with the glass practically pressed to it and mutters, “You know what you are?”

“That’s an odd fucking thing to say,” you remark, pulling your glass closer to you and closing both fists around it, turning to look directly at him. Your heart stutters as you watch the left side of his mouth curl slightly into a smirk. “Wanna explain to me what the fuck you mean by that, dude?”

The man grunts and throws back his whiskey, swallowing it in one go. Before you can get another word in, he lifts his left hand up, flexing his forearm, and you watch as three shiny, silver pieces of metal pierce through the skin between his knuckles with a sharp snikt sound.

“What the fuck,” you rasp, pressing a hand flat down on the bartop to push yourself up and away from him in the seat next to you, knocking your own drink over in the process. No one else in the bar seems fazed, like he comes in here and does this — whatever this is — often. He doesn’t move, doesn’t make an attempt to come closer to you than he is, and eventually your heartbeat calms down, and your flight response becomes a fight response. You bristle, a bit pissed off at what you read as an attempt to scare the shit out of you for fun.

“What’s your problem?”

“Ain’t got a problem, bub,” the man murmurs, leaning against the bar and grinning, the claws retracting. He wipes the backs on his knuckles off onto the thighs of his jeans, blood staining the denim red. “Was just trying to get you to do whatever it is you can do.”

You thank the bartender, who has dropped a rag in front of you to clean your spilled liquor and replaced your empty glass with a full one.

“Sweetheart, I could smell you the second I stepped foot through that door. I haven’t seen you around here before, you new in town?”

Smell you? You’re about one more strange statement from him away from losing your goddamn mind. “I’m gonna need you to elaborate on what you mean by smell. Please.”

He leans closer to you, that smirk on his mouth a provocation, so close that you can practically taste the whiskey on his breath. “You ever heard of mutants, dollface?”

—————

Now, seeing as that wasn’t the kind of conversation you wanted to have in public, you had tried to push him — Logan, his name is, you learn — back by his chest, but the man was an immovable object. Probably a good thing you’d ultimately decided it wasn’t worth trying to hit him.

“Excuse me,” you’d uttered, slapping a twenty dollar bill down on the bar top and slipping out of your seat carefully, quickly realizing how drunk you really are. When you right yourself, you turn to him and angle your head to the door behind you.

“We can have this talk somewhere else, yeah?”

Logan had looked up at the bartender, muttered, “Add hers to my tab?” and palmed your money to give back to you, following you across the room. When you’d tried to object, Logan had held his hand up and told you your money wasn’t good here anymore.

Now, you lead him through the door to your room, stripping yourself of your jacket and kicking at the dirty laundry on the floor at the end of the bed at the same time.

“Want to tell me what the fuck that was all about? Do I know you or something?”

“No, sweetheart,” Logan says, unzipping his moto jacket and slipping his arms from the sleeves, revealing a crisp white t-shirt and biceps thicker than your neck. You subtly try to shake your head, snap your attention away from them, but he smirks, catching your eye. “You don’t know me. But I think you’re like me. We’re drawn to each other, you know. It’s like some sort of…beacon, a homing device. I was coming to the bar anyway. I knew what you were, second I saw you.”

“And you think I’m…also a, what, a mutant?”

“Not think. Know. You seriously can’t think of a single thing recently that might have felt a little, I don’t know, off? Can you see things you couldn’t before? Have you been hungrier? Felt more on edge?”

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying and failing to think of any big change, but you come up short. Shaking your head, you glance back up at him. “No. No, everything’s been the same. I’ve been on the road a bit, moving from place to place, but that isn’t unusual for me.”

“Any particular reason you chose Westchester County to land on?”

“I don’t know…I just,” you blanch, realizing he’s right, except it hasn’t been one big change – it’s been little by little. “I felt drawn east.”

Logan considers this for a moment; you can see the ditch between his eyebrows deepen with thought, before he seems to come to some sort of conclusion.

“I think you been in fight or flight for a long time, trying to survive on scraps and strangers’ generosity. Let me guess. No family left? Nowhere to call home? Somethin’ big and bad happen to you?”

You say nothing and he watches a scowl slip across your face, humming when he realizes he’s cut deep, to the bone.

“C’mere,” Logan murmurs, and you take steps backward as he comes toward you, the backs of your calves meeting the bed. He holds his hands up, palms facing you. “Hey, okay. I won’t hurt you, I promise. I’m not in the business of scaring little girls.”

“I’m not a little girl,” you scoff, staring at him out of the corner of your eye as he advances, albeit a little more slowly, on you.

Logan shakes his head. “You’re still much younger than me, sweetheart.”

“What? You don’t look older than 31, maybe 32.”

“Yeah, well. Looks aren’t everything, okay? I’m just — I’m not in the business of scaring girls. I wouldn’t’a let you bring me back here if I was going to hurt you; that’s not who I am.”

You suppose you don’t have much choice but to trust him.

“I wanted you to come here,” Logan breathes, hands returning to his sides. He gives you a look, asking permission to move closer to you, to touch you, and you tip your head forward in a slight nod. “So I can do this.”

He grasps your forearm in his hand, places your palm on his bicep, and immediately winces. White flashes in front of your eyes, and a sharp pain nearly splits your head in half. You gasp his name, beg him to stop. When he pulls your hand from him, it almost looks like the print of it has been burned into his skin.

“I have a friend who’s an empath,” Logan murmurs, pupils blown, once his heartbeat has recovered to its resting rate. “She has to touch someone, to affect the way they feel. It’s good for, you know, calming people down in situations where they might be worked up. You, on the other hand…”

Logan trails off and you shake your head, bringing your arms up to fold across your torso, shivering gently. “What? I’m what?”

“I think, when you touched me, you made me feel what you were feeling. You were scared of me, huh? I could feel it, immediately. I could taste copper in my mouth, I started sweating.” Logan laughs softly, running his fingers across the skin of his right hand. “My palms are still sweaty.”

He’s still staring down at his hands, at the stretch of skin on his arm that still stings with the feeling of you. Your eyes rove over his handsome profile, at his strong nose. His jaw ticks when he looks back over to you, one eyebrow curled.

”Sorry,” he adds. “I didn’t know it would hurt you.”

Already walking past you, Logan gestures toward the bed. “Sit,” he orders, and you blanch and do as he says. He digs a cellular phone out of the front pocket of his jeans and ducks his head, disappearing wordlessly into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

Groaning, you fall back onto the bedspread. Fuck, this whole ordeal has sobered you up, and quick. Why is there a strange man in your bathroom? You could make people feel what you’re feeling? What was going to happen now?

You run through every possibility — you could leave before he comes back, abandon your stuff, take your car and run — but by the time you come to any sort of conclusion, Logan emerges from the bathroom.

“C’mon,” he says, sliding his jacket back over his arms, zipping it up and gesturing toward the door with his head. “Got somebody who wants to meet you.”

You sit up straight and look around at your belongings. Logan seems to take this hint and starts gathering the articles of clothing strewn across the room, along with those still somehow neatly folded in the motel dresser, ignoring your protests and stuffing them in the suitcase open on the floor against the wall. After a few moments of watching Logan pull together your worldly belongings, you fumble with the drawer on the bedside table, open the bible, and pull out your passport and an indeterminate, but large, amount of cash. Logan eyes it but says nothing, and when you zip your suitcase closed, he picks it up for you without a word.

“You won’t need to come back here,” Logan mutters as you slam the tailgate on your truck closed. He points to the room you’d just left, then rounds to the driver’s side of your truck and starts walking across the parking lot, looking over his shoulder to shout, “You can leave your key in the room. There’s plenty of empty beds where we’re headed.”

“And if I don’t want to go?”

Logan stops and turns back to face you, his jaw set. “Pretty soon, people’ll figure out what you are, sweetheart. And they won’t take to you as nicely as I have.”

You snort. Nicely. But you know he’s right. It seems like things are a little different around here, for people like you. But you know that now you know what you are, that will change. As you’re trying to figure out what to say to him, Logan starts backing up.

You’re still unsure of how to talk to this man you’d only recently met, who’d already had a hand in changing your life fundamentally, but you hold a hand up, asking him to stop. He does. He watches you carefully, probably trying to decide whether or not you’re going to run away. You’re still not sure yourself.

“How did you know that you needed me to touch you?”

“Call it gut instinct.”

“It didn’t hurt, by the way,” you murmur, turning to look at him. A few paces away from you, one of Logan’s eyebrows arches, and you wring your hands together.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. It felt good.”

—————

The place you’re headed — plenty of empty beds, he’d said — is less than a ten minute drive from the motel you’d been staying at, it turns out. Logan had told you to wait by your truck while he went back to the bar to pick up his bike, then drove ahead of you all the way there, your headlights illuminating the back of his body. Wrought iron gates await you, and they ease open as you pull up the long gravel drive.

Logan drops his kickstand and leaves his motorcycle directly in front of a large set of wooden doors, and you slow nearly to a stop, trying to decide where’s best for your truck. Logan’s one step ahead of you and dismounts the bike, pointing you toward a line of cars on the other side of the little lot, following you on foot as you shift into park and turn the vehicle off.

“What is this place?”

Logan is popping your tailgate open when you open your door and he pulls your suitcase from the bed — the act takes him little effort, you notice. You thank him and try to take the case from him, but he shakes you off and leads you to the building.

“It’s a school,” Logan says, pushing through the front door. Immediately you’re greeted with the sound of children’s laughter, of feet running on wooden floors, of voices echoing off walls in the distance. You catch the door as it closes behind Logan, trying your best not to be distracted by the subtle opulence of just the foyer.

Logan drops your suitcase by the front window, then unzips his coat, removes it, and hangs it on the coatrack to his right. “We’ll figure out your room situation soon, but I wanna take you down to meet Charles first.”

“Charles?”

“He owns the place,” Logan mutters, crooking a finger to indicate for you to follow him. “He’ll want to see what you can do.”

Pursing your lips, you decide to press your luck with Logan. “What about what you can do? Is it just the claws?”

Logan smirks, coming to an abrupt stop in the dark hallway. He turns to face you, and you can see his teeth shine as he smiles. “What? You hoping for somethin’ else, a bigger show than I gave you earlier?”

You stand your ground with him, but your heart is racing, and he cocks an eyebrow like he can tell. He relents, shrugging.

“I heal pretty fast, too.”

Charles’ office is behind the last door on the left, at the end of the hall, and you’re shocked when Logan knocks, rather than entering the room like he belongs there.

“Come in,” you hear, then realize you hadn’t actually heard it. It’s more like you’d felt it knocking around the inside of your skull. Your heartbeat picks up again.

“It’s okay,” Logan says out of the corner of his mouth. “He does that sometimes.”

The door opens, and you’re met with an almost-empty office — only a bald man sat behind a large wooden desk.

“So,” the man says, folding his hands upon the tabletop. No hello. No, it’s lovely to meet you. “You’re an empath, are you?”

“I — I guess?”

“Hm,” he murmurs, glancing at Logan, who stands behind you and to the left, slightly.

“She is, Chuck,” Logan assures Charles. “I felt it myself. She can show others her emotions, make them feel what she feels. She was scared when she met me — had my heart racin’. I could see myself through her eyes.”

He hadn’t told you that part, and you worry he’d noticed that your heart hadn’t only been racing because you were afraid. Charles clicks his tongue, and surveys you, your dirty shoes, the wild look in your eye, and clears his throat.

“If you wouldn’t mind, young lady, I’d quite like to feel for myself, as well.”

A blush heats up your face and you step forward, throwing a tentative look at Logan over your shoulder. He nods, dispelling any fears, and you step forward until you’re standing at the edge of Charles’s desk. You reach across, shaking, and take the man’s hand in yours.

“Oh,” Charles murmurs, his pupils dilated. “That’s certainly new. You’ve no need to be afraid, dear, we only want to help you. As I’m sure Logan told you, it’s a dangerous world out there, for our kind.”

“And we’re safe here?”

“Yes.”

Logan brushes past you and rounds Charles’s desk, leaning down to murmur something in the man’s ear. You can hear their hushed, hurried voices, but can’t make out what they’re saying, and the longer you stand there as an onlooker, the more out of place you feel. You shift your weight from your left foot to your right foot and look out the window as they talk.

The sun is setting outside — the late summer glow illuminating the office, warming your face — and you decide to clear your throat, drawing the men’s attention back to you.

“If it’s alright, I’d like to be alone for the night. I think.”

“That’s alright, yes,” Charles smiles, raising a hand and curling his fingers inward. The door opens behind you, and you jump. “This is a lot for one day, I understand. Logan, if you would show our guest to a spare room? One in your wing, perhaps, in case she is in need of anything.”

You glance at Logan and watch him nod, then turn and wink at you. You roll your eyes at him. He doesn’t know you, and the familiarity with which he interacts with you is unnerving, but at the same time, you find him intriguing.

It’s almost like the man you met at the bar and the man guiding you out of this room are two entirely separate people. The man from the dive was overeager, compensating for being the one thing there that was out of place. This man is relaxed. This is his home.

You wonder as you watch him if this is who he really is.

“Charles is telepathic,” Logan murmurs, almost as if he can also hear your thoughts racing. He glances over at you, holding your eye a beat too long. “He’s also telekinetic.”

“Hence the door opening on its own.” You pause. “And the creepy voice inside my head.”

Logan chuckles, shrugging and bending down to retrieve your suitcase from where it now sits at the bottom of the staircase. You watch the muscles in his biceps flex, your mouth suddenly going very dry. “You get used to it. People say he can read every mind within a two-hundred-and-fifty-mile radius of wherever he sits. Can’t imagine all that noise all the time.”

Humming your consensus, you follow him, gaze trapped between his broad shoulders. Even the back of his neck is enticing. “If he could read my mind, why wouldn’t that have been enough for him to know?”

“There’s something different about what you do,” he says, guiding you up the stairs to the second floor and down a long, carpeted hall. “It requires touch. Charles can read your mind, sure, but there’s more to your influence than just your thoughts. It’s baser, more animalistic.”

Finally, the two of you come to a dead end, and Logan opens the nondescript wooden door to your left. He walks inside without waiting to see if you’ll follow and places your suitcase down on the end of the twin-sized bed against the farthest wall.

“You need anything, I’m two doors down across the hall, okay? Seriously. Anything.”

You haven’t moved from where you stopped in the doorway to watch him, one fist pressed against the frame you’re leant up against. He brushes past you, so close you can smell his cheap aftershave, the whiskey on his breath still lingering, though he hasn’t once seemed drunk. The hint of something more pungent. You open your mouth — before he gets too far, you want to ask him the question you haven’t yet had the courage to voice.

“Logan?”

The man pauses, his face inches from yours. Your gaze flicks between his eyes, then down across mouth, to where his throat moves as he swallows. “Hm?”

“Why are you helping me?”

What you mean is, You don’t seem like a generous man. What you mean is, I’m not afraid of you, but I haven’t yet decided if I can trust you. What you mean is, Why me?

He pauses, considering your question, then places one hand on your bicep and squeezes. His eyes are wet, like someone who remembers too much and not enough. Before you can catch your breath, he’s moved on, that same hand now wrapped around the doorknob of his own room. A small smile graces the lower half of his face. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I got a habit a’ pickin’ up strays.”

—————

The days pass by quickly, and they’re exhausting. There’s a war brewing, they all say. A war none of you had ever asked to be a part of, but have no choice in joining. You wake daily before the sun rises, called downstairs to do endless exercises to strengthen your control over your ability, you’ve come to think of it as. The problem is that you’re not sure you’re capable of the things they need you to be capable of.

“Can we stop, for today?”

You’re bent at the waist, arms dangling, both hands clutching the opposite elbow. It helps you decompress. This isn’t physically tiring work, necessarily, but the mental strain is undeniable. You’re avoiding Charles’s gaze, which you know will have a disappointed glean to them.

“What, can’t handle it already?”

You perk up at the sound of Logan’s voice, and when you turn your head towards it, you see him walking towards you across the yard, light wash jeans slung low on his hips once again. The sleeves of his white tee are rolled up, straining against the corded muscle of his biceps, the collar cut into a V at the front.

Since you first met him, you’ve learned a few things about Logan: one, he’s Canadian. Two, he can drink you under the table, and he will absolutely let you drink yourself to sleep, but he always makes sure you end up in your own bed at the end of every night. And three, his powers are more than just the claws: he has a regenerative healing power, alongside superhuman strength, and superhuman stamina. The thought of that last one makes you blush.

You spend most evenings with him on the floor of your room, drinking cheap whiskey while he chain smokes and deals you in after every round of cards he kicks your ass at.

“Need to work on your poker face, darlin’,” he always says, smirking and shuffling the cards again with his lithe, thick fingers.

And on the nights when you can’t find sleep, he sits up with you in your room, reading Hemingway and Steinbeck and Fitzgerald, even some Stephen King, while you curl up on your side and let the even sound of his breathing lull you unconscious.

You get used to each other’s presence. You don’t talk much while you sit together – is there really anything more to say? He’d clocked you that very first day. You were alone in the world, before, but not anymore.

He doesn’t do this with anyone else, you notice. Allow them into his small circle of trust, or whatever this is. You’re friends, you think. He hasn’t let himself have many of those.

You’ve also learned a few things about yourself, the most important being that with some practice you no longer get a splitting headache using your ability; that you can control when and how you use it; and that you’ve been meditating on some other, perhaps more enjoyable and creative ways, to make use of it.

Although you’d tried to deny it from the start, unfortunately — mostly for yourself — the attraction you feel toward Logan is unshakable. He’s rough, and sharp, and impermeable, but he seems to have a soft spot for you. You can’t tell if it’s the circumstances under which the two of you met that have him feeling that way, but you’ve developed a fun back and forth over the last few weeks.

“What, sweet cheeks,” Logan pokes at you, left hand on his cocked hip. “Is it that hard for you, still?”

Shaking your head, you grin at him, one hand cupped over your eyes to block the sun behind him. You turn to glance at the back of Charles’s chair, already heading away from the two of you. Your attention falls back on Logan.

“C’mere, then,” you murmur, standing up straight and mirroring his body language. One of his eyebrows arches and his canine teeth appear as his smile widens. “I’ll show you how easy I can get it goin’.”

As he crosses the remaining bit of yard between you, that smug look on his face, you channel fury. You push every ounce of attraction and good will you feel toward Logan out of your mind, and you think: anger. I’m angry. At my circumstances. At what the world does to people like me. At how much I’m underestimated — at how much I underestimate myself.

By the time Logan has made it to your side, hand already outstretched, you’ve made up your mind. And you place one hand on the side of his face.

Immediately, you feel heat, but the cracking headache from that first day you’d met never comes. Instead, you feel an ache deep in your gut, a wave of want, of assurance that you’re where you need to be, with exactly the right person. You hold your palm against him for another minute and his face falls forward, towards your chin, before he wraps his hand around your wrist and pulls it away, gasping with relief when you let him go.

Logan’s cheeks are flushed, and when he looks back up at you, chest heaving, you realize he hadn’t felt your anger. You didn’t have much to be angry about — sad, sure; scared, yes — so anger must have been the wrong emotion to pull from. You’d wanted to get him worked up, but not like this.

Instead, you worry you’ve just ruined any ounce of trust the two of you had built between you. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans and leans away from you, his eyes running from the top of your head, down to where your own hands now sit at your sides.

“I’ll talk to you later, kid, okay?”

Logan doesn’t let you respond, instead turning to leave you standing, heart falling, lost in your head in the middle of the yard, while all around you birds chirp and children play.

—————

“Well, well.”

You jump, the back of your head snapping against the top of the inside of the fridge, and you groan, pressing the heel of your hand to the now-tender spot, pulling it away to see if you’ve made yourself bleed.

“Burning the midnight oil?” Logan laughs, padding across the kitchen and rubbing a hand against the top of your head where you knocked it. “Sorry, bub. You okay?”

“I don’t know. Ask me in a few minutes when my eyes uncross.”

You’re too focused on the feeling of his fingers against your scalp to think about anything else. You glance down at Logan’s flannel pajama pants and his bare feet. He grabs you by the shoulders and steers you against the kitchen island behind you.

“Lemme get you some ice.”

You watch, back pressed to the edge of the counter, as Logan pulls a tea towel from one of the kitchen drawers and a tray of ice from the freezer, popping them out onto the towel and folding it into itself, wrapping the tail to give you something to hold onto. You prop it against your skull — instant relief. You eye him warily, accusatory.

“What are you down here for anyway?”

“Same thing as you, I think.”

Logan refills the tray with water and places it back into the freezer, and this thoughtfulness surprises you, you’re embarrassed to admit. You wouldn’t have thought him to be so considerate. Then again, he had just handmade an ice pack for you. Your eyes glaze over and your mouth goes dry just watching his fingers work.

You haven’t seen him for days, not since you’d accidentally let him feel…whatever it is you feel for him. Every day when you’d gotten out of bed, even when that was before the sun rose, he would always already be gone from his room, the door open and his duvet cover tucked neatly underneath his mattress. He hadn’t taken any of his meals in the dining room with the rest of your peers, hadn’t joined in on any sparring sessions like he usually loved to do. His bike had stayed parked outside — you’d kept an eye out for it every day. You’d begun to worry that something had happened to him.

The silence starts to dig into you. You can’t help it; you have to break it.

“Thought you died, I didn’t see you for so long.”

“Yeah, well. I had some shit to take care of.”

You scoff at that. “I saw your bike outside, Logan, you never left the school. What kind of shit did you have to take care of?”

Another beat of awkward silence, and you can’t stand whatever wall has come up between you. You want to knock it down.

“You remember what you said to me in that bar?”

“What’s that?” Logan looks up at you, a sharp look in his eye. A warning, almost, but unfortunately, you’re feeling a little bolder than usual. Perhaps you’re concussed.

“You said that we were drawn to each other because of our abilities. I think maybe that wasn’t the only reason we found each other.”

He leans back against the freezer and stands quiet for a moment, his chest rising and falling with each steady breath. His dark eyes regard you in the dim light of the kitchen.

You step forward into his space, one hand coming up to press against his chest, through his shirt. The other, the one holding his makeshift ice pack, lands at your side.

Logan’s breath catches in his throat at your touch and he swallows around it, his heart stuttering under your palm. He’s waiting for the feeling to rush into and overwhelm him. It never comes.

Logan exhales, then reaches up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. Your cheeks flush a furious red and he chuckles at the feeling of it against his fingers. You’re tempted to shift your hand over to touch his skin, to fill him with this rush of unexpected desire you feel, but you can’t quell your thoughts that that would be a bad idea. Even though the position you’re in right now might be regarded as a bad idea, too.

Since you met, he’s made it abundantly clear he doesn’t see you as anything more than a friend — if that. But you’ve been replaying the other day in the training yard in your mind, and you can’t shake the feeling that maybe he’s got the same desire you do.

“You know, you’re right,” Logan murmurs, and you cock your head, looking to his face for an explanation. He takes the towel full of ice from your hand by your side and holds it against your head for you. “What you think about me, it’s all true. I’m not a nice man.”

“I don’t know. You say that, but you seem pretty nice to me. You took me in. You’re helping me understand what I am, what I can do. Logan, fuck’s sake, you tuck me into bed when I drink too much.”

Logan laughs softly, tilting his chin to take you in from a different angle. Your heart squeezes in your chest.

“I just can’t figure you out. You act all mean and tough and scary, but I see the way you look at me, and I’ve only known you, what, a handful of weeks? I see how you are with some of the students. I see how you are with Charles. You got some deep, dark past you don’t want anyone knowin’ about, sure, but you’re a nice man, Logan. You’re soft on me. I can tell.”

Considering you for a moment, Logan’s lips parts to respond, then he thinks better of it. His eyes fall from yours to the way your chest expands with every breath. You’ve wondered about you and him, and that one look gives you all the courage you need to say it.

“Since I got here I’ve had this feeling, that with you and me, there’s something bigger. Tell me you feel it too, that I’m not goin’ crazy. And if you don’t, Logan, tell me that, then. Anything to stop this awful, sick feeling I get whenever you walk into the room.”

You wait to see if he’ll tell you to fuck off, that he doesn’t see you that way. That he’s soft on you, sure, but this is as far as it can go. Instead of saying anything at all, he surges forward to claim your mouth with his.

The kiss is hesitant, at first, before Logan can figure out whether you’re going to push him away or not, but when you open your mouth to deepen it, it turns furious. It’s all teeth, tongue, Logan’s hips caging you in and driving you back against the counter behind you. He’s got one hand wrapped around your waist, the other gripping the countertop, and when you carelessly bring a hand up to rest a hand against his cheek, Logan gasps against your mouth. The towel full of ice finds its way into the sink.

Shocked, he peels himself from you, panting. You hadn’t thought about whether you’d project or not when you’d touched him — and if his blown-out pupils are any indication, he’d felt it. All of it. The ache deep in your gut and the clench of your thighs. The flare of your nostrils as his scent hits you, heavy and earthy and masculine. The undeniable way you fit against him, your chest pressed to his, the shock of his hips aligned with yours, like you were made for one another. You want him to have you, have all of you, and with your palm still pressed to his skin, he knows.

“Is that really what you want?”

It’s practically a growl, and you pull your hand from him, allowing him to recover, but only slightly. He’s got himself worked up all on his own.

You can see in his face that he wants you, too. You nod, bring one hand down to clutch the waistband of his pants and tug him forward against you again. He groans, gathering some of your hair in one hand and gripping it tight.

“Sweetheart, I’m not exactly a — a gentle guy.”

“Somehow I don’t believe you.”

Logan laughs, breathy, and tilts his head back to take you in. He throws a glance down at your hand tucked into his pants, the backs of your knuckles pressed against the swell of his stomach. “I didn’t have you pegged for the fuck-me-in-the-kitchen type.”

“I’ll let you take me back to your bedroom, if you want.”

Whistling lowly, Logan leans his face in close to yours, the tip of his nose nudging against your cheekbone. “And if I told you I wanted to take you right here?”

“I’d tell you that’s fine, too,” you swallow, angling your face up to try to press your lips to his, but his grip on your hair stops you. He grunts, tugging a little harder, so you have to look into his eyes. They’re soft, wary. For all the talk he talks, he’s a man of few words when it matters, and you can tell he can’t believe you’d want a guy like him. You’re not exactly a gentle girl, either, but he sees how much more the world has gotten to him than it has to you. You’ve still got the potential to be someone who wouldn’t want him.

“You really want me?” You hear the unspoken emphasis. You could have anyone else, and I can’t see why you’d pick me.

“Since the day we met,” you mutter, his breath against your mouth driving you insane. “Logan, please kiss me.”

He brings his other hand, the one that’s been holding your hips in place this whole time, up to press against your cheek, and he closes the distance between you once again. The hand still gripping his pants tugs them forward, and you can feel his insistent cock where it’s now pressing against you. You moan into Logan’s mouth and this seems to drive him mad, holding your head in his hands like you’ll float away and driving his tongue against yours, languid and fluid but at the same time persistent.

“C’mon, doll,” he says when you break away to gulp down a breath, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I got a queen bed in my room.”

As Logan drags you out of the kitchen and to the wing of the mansion where the two of you live, practically a world of your own, you trace your fingers down his back over the top of his shirt. His body shivers under your touch and he laughs, turning to look at you as he pushes through into his bedroom.

“Hey, yeah,” you murmur, watching him drag his shirt up and over his head, exposing his bare chest and the patches of short, wiry hair growing there, the vein on his lower stomach that leads your gaze down to wonder at the bulge in his pajama pants. You tear your eyes away and meet his smug stare. “How come I gotta sleep in a twin?”

He laughs at you, reaching out to curl his fingers around the bottom of your sweater and lead you closer to him. He hums, muttering, “Don’t worry about it.��

Then he’s kissing you again, your eyes closing at the sensation of his mouth against yours. His hands are underneath your shirt, skirting across your bare back and now you’re the one shivering under his touch. His fingernails scratch gently against your skin and you moan again, sighing into his open mouth. He smiles before pulling away, only slightly.

“Feels good?”

You nod, flexing your fingers at your sides. You can’t remember the last time someone touched you so sweetly. He catches sight of your hands and runs the tips of his own fingers down your arms.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he says, mouth close to the shell of your ear. He tucks his teeth around it, too, gently, but you cry out at the surprising sensation. “You can touch me.”

You nod and place an open palm against his sternum, his bare skin heating beneath your hand. You want him to feel the way your mouth has dried at the thought of being beneath him in his bed. You want him to know just how far you’ll let him go. When you open your eyes to look at him, a different beast entirely has crossed his face. His mouth curls into a self-satisfied smile.

“Hm,” Logan grunts, nostrils flaring, teeth baring further. “I can smell how bad you want me, baby. Could down in the kitchen, too. I can feel how tense I make you. Do I still scare you? Huh?”

You shake your head, whisper, “No,” your voice hoarse. “You don’t scare me, Logan.”

“No, I didn’t think so. I don’t even think it scares you, how much you want this. I think it excites you. Think you been wonderin’ what it’d be like for a while, huh?”

Logan’s arm tightens around your waist and pulls you flush against him, your hand trapped between your chests. You gasp, the warmth of his body flooding yours, filling you with heat, with want, which then rushes into Logan, his eyes rolling back at the sensation.

“I wasn’t sure about you when I first met you,” he bites out, tilting his head to meet your eye again. “But fuck if I wouldn’t move heaven and earth for you now.”

Your heart stutters at the admission, the reassurance that you’re not alone in the way you feel about him. You peel your palm from his skin and sigh in relief when his gaze softens. Logan pushes his face into your neck, lips pressing tenderly to your pulse point, forcing a soft groan from your mouth. You feel him smile against you and when his teeth graze that same spot, your knees buckle beneath you.

Tucking your hands back between your chests, you push Logan gently away from you and he goes willingly, a sharp contrast to the man who was rooted to his barstool the first time you’d tried to touch him. The look on his face would frighten you if he hadn’t spent so much time convincing you he wouldn’t hurt you. His expression is dark, contemplative.

Logan’s eyes watch, hooded with desire, as you back away from him, your knees buckling when the backs of them hit the edge of his bed. As soon as you sit, he begins stalking toward you, your heart racing against your sternum, and you meet his eye just as he reaches you. Taking your cheek in his hand, he angles your face up and watches as your eyelids flutter closed. His hand travels down, fingers running over the side of your neck and cupping the warm flesh where it meets your shoulder.

“I can feel your pulse,” he murmurs into the warm air between you. “It’s racing.”

You gasp when you feel his hand search out your heartbeat through your chest. Opening your eyes to meet his again, you see that the desire in his face has been replaced with something that looks frighteningly close to affection.

He grasps your wrist, thumb rubbing against the soft, sensitive skin above your pulse there, and guides your hand to press against his own heartbeat, a mirror to yours, thundering in his chest, too.

“You do this to me. Not because you want me to know what you’re feeling, sweetheart, because this is how I feel.” He swallows, voice thick in his throat. “I want you so bad.”

The confession comes out rasping, like the words had been ripped from his chest. Your hand trails down his bare stomach, the backs of your knuckles dancing along the planed ridges there. The skin beneath your fingers jumps when you skirt across it. Pushing your fingers into the waistband of the flannel pants, you groan at the sensation of the heat coming off of his skin. “This okay?”

“Fuck, baby, you’re askin’ me if this is okay?” Logan’s hand comes up to cup your cheek once again, and you glance up at the grin on his face. It lights up his eyes. It’s like Logan’s fighting two different parts of himself: the very human desire to be gentle, to be careful, and the beast inside of him that wants to tear you apart.

Laughing, you tug down on the elastic, cheeks heating when you don’t feel another waistband. He’s bare beneath, and as you’re eye-level with his hips, you come face-to-face with his flushed, heavy cock as you strip the fabric from him. The tip of it weeps as you palm him, stroking him gently so his foreskin pulls back and reveals the crimson tint of it. You can’t say you’re shocked by the size of him, considering how large a man he actually is.

“Fuck, Logan,” you breathe, mouth watering, and you know the way you’re looking at him would be a bit embarrassing if he wasn’t looking at you the exact same way, his lashes fluttering as you push the adrenaline coursing through your veins into him. He wraps one big hand around yours and squeezes, groaning at the sensation.

“Here, baby,” he says, pulling your hand from his cock and placing it into your lap. He laughs when you whine in protest, stepping out of his pajama pants entirely and leaving himself naked. You’re still fully clothed and it almost pains you. “Plenty a’ time for me to stuff myself down your throat later.”

The way he says it has a low, fuzzy warmth rushing into your gut, but you quit your protesting when Logan kneels on the floor at your feet. “Lean back.”

You do as he says and inch yourself further up the bed, knees still hanging over the side of the mattress, anchoring yourself to his bedspread with your elbows. Logan crooks his fingers into your own pants, kissing the skin he exposes as he pulls them down, down, leaving you in only your tee shirt and soaked-through panties. He eyes them as you unconsciously angle your knees outward, but ignores your desire completely, instead leaning up to bite the hem of your shirt and drag it up and over your stomach.

Gasping, you rush to pull the fabric from the grip of his teeth and pull it over your head, tossing it to the floor beside the bed and cupping the back of his head in one hand, fingers tangling themselves in the hair at the base of his neck. You ease him upward, his palms pressed into the bed next to your waist, and pull him into a searing kiss, hoping to communicate how you feel without saying a word. Logan pants into your mouth and squirms out of your grip, pupils once again blown wide. He leans down to press his lips to the base of your throat, your elbow falling back to the bed to hold yourself up.

Your gaze follows his descent down your torso, watching as Logan drops a kiss to your breastbone, to the areola of your right breast, then to the one of your left. His lips engulf your nipple and you moan softly, biting your bottom lip when he flicks his tongue across it. He drags his lips down your stomach, settling against the knot of one soft peak of your hip bone. He bites gently and your stomach clenches at the feeling. When you place a hand against his cheek, his eyes flutter shut, his nostrils flaring at the feeling flooding his body. The pleased, humming warmth he’s making you feel.

“Logan,” you whisper, watching him continue down, mouthing at the skin on the inside of your thighs, kneading the soft flesh there. “Please.”

“Please what, honey?” You can feel him smirk against you. “Gotta use your words.”

“Please put your mouth on me.”

“Am putting my mouth on you,” he says, smug, and you gasp, tossing your head back when he bites you again, this time enough to make your delicate skin bruise. “Whaddaya want?”

“Want you to fuck me.”

“With my mouth?” Logan tuts, bringing one hand up to pull your panties to the side and expose your warm, wet flesh to the cool air of his bedroom. Your hips twitch. “You sure?”

You angle yourself up, trying desperately to find his mouth and claim it yourself. He laughs at the desperate want plastered across your face. “Oh, fuck off, you god damn tease, just fuck me.”

Logan shakes his head, leaning in to lick along your wet cunt and a sharp, bright cry rips itself from your chest. Your thighs try to close around his head as he presses his thumb into your pubic bone and holds you open, laps at your clit, but he growls and grips one in his hand, wrenching it away from him. His eyes shine up at you from between your legs.

“Why’d’ya wanna do that, huh, baby? You want me to fuck you so bad, don’t make it hard on me,” he murmurs, wrapping his lips around your clit and suckling gently while you cry out. He carries on like that for quite a bit – just his mouth against the most sensitive part of you, fingers pressing into your thighs. Your legs shake and you cover your mouth with your hand; you worry about coming too quickly until he eases up, pushing one finger inside of you to fuck you with.

Your hand grips the hair at the top of his head, and Logan groans at the pressure. Hissing, he presses his palms flat against the insides of your thighs to wrench them further open, encouraging you wordlessly to hook your feet across his back. When he’s satisfied, he crooks a finger around your panties and pulls until they tear, the shreds of fabric no longer an obstacle in the way of seeking out your pleasure.

“Want me to make you come?” The question is asked with his mouth pressed against your cunt, and you gasp, back arching, at the feeling of his words. “You wanna come on my tongue?”

You nod furiously, writhing as a second finger works itself inside of you, curling upward to meet head-on that spot inside of you that sends sparks behind your eyes. Your heels dig into the skin of his back and you reach down, blindly fumbling for Logan’s hand. He smiles wide and takes it, tangling his fingers with yours as your hips rut against his face.

He talks you through it between strokes of his tongue against your clit, his fingers pumping in and out as he tells you how good you are for him, how good you feel for him, how he can’t wait to feel you around his cock. You throw an arm across your eyes and whimper, hips twitching as you come down, pulling his hair and crying out for him to let up. He places one last kiss above your cunt, smiling as you gasp, and leans back to admire you.

Logan places your feet on the floor and plants his hands beside you, using the mattress as leverage to hoist himself up above you. He grins down at you and for however fucked out he already looks, you know you must look a thousand times worse.

“Hi, gorgeous,” he murmurs, leaning in for a kiss, giving you a taste of yourself by easing his tongue into your mouth. You can feel his cock, weeping and solid and insistent against your hip. Fuck.

You groan against him, your lips stretching into a smile as he kisses you languidly and reaches out to help you wrap your arms around his neck. “Here.”

Standing, Logan holds your body close to him. Your head notches into his neck and suckles there while he pulls you up the bed, settling you against the pillows underneath him. He props himself up on one hand as his knees push against the insides of your thighs, opening you up for him.

One hand on your flushed cheek, Logan fists his cock, smiling down at you. “Y’alright there, sweet cheeks?”

“Head’s fuzzy,” you murmur, reaching out to grip his hips with your hands. “Want you.”

Logan smirks, leaning back on his heels and running a hand through his hair, scalp sweaty. Your own fans out behind your head. He gawps down at you. “Look like a goddess like this, you know.”

Your blush deepens and you push a hand against his stomach. “Stop.”

“You do,” he smirks, leaning down to plant kisses across your face, down your jaw, to your neck. “Mm, so fucking pretty when I’ve just made you come. Smell so good.”

You gasp when he presses his mouth right behind your ear, gripping your hips. His cock drags across your stomach, a heavy reminder of his own neglected desire. You reach down to fist a hand around him and tug, pulling a groan from him.

“My girl want me to fuck her proper? Hm?”

Open-mouthed and with a heavy gaze, you watch as Logan sits back and fucks himself up into your fist, hips stuttering when you tighten your grip. His chest glistens with sweat, heaving as you push the burning feeling in your veins through to him. He gasps, stretching a hand down and holding your wrist still.

“Hey,” he growls, head thrown back. “Play fair.”

“Why should I?” He’s glaring down at you now, which only eggs you on. You shrug. “S’fun to watch you come apart like this, big strong man.”

Logan groans, pulling his hips back, and his cock falls from your grasp. “I’ll show you comin’ apart, baby.”

Sitting back on his heels, Logan wraps his hands around your hips and jerks them forward until your cunt is close enough to him that he would barely have to move his own hips to fuck his cock into you.

“You got a condom?”

“It’s okay,” you whimper, shaking your head. “Don’t need one. On the pill. I’m clean.”

Logan looks down at you, trying to gauge what headspace you’re in, if he should grab one anyway – and you shake your head. “Don’t need it, please.”

“It’s okay, it’s fine,” you repeat. He smiles, squeezes your hips tight. He nods, bringing one hand down to grip himself and ease toward you. Runs the head of his cock down your cunt, getting himself nice and slick, up and down and up again until you’re a panting mess, wiggling your hips. It’s torture. “Please, Logan.”

“Oh, now you’re askin’ nice?”

You groan, wild-eyed, and he wants to laugh at the look on your face but he chokes it back. You need him – bad – and he can’t say no to you.

“Alright, baby,” he says, hushed, gripping your thigh with the hand not currently around his cock. Guiding himself to your entrance, Logan pushes his hips forward, groaning as the head of his cock disappears inside of you. Despite how wet you are, the stretch burns, your body unattuned to his size. He presses forward, bit by bit, licking the tip of his thumb and pushing it against your clit to ease your discomfort, and you gasp at the feeling, eyes rolling back. “Shh, shh, it’s okay.”

Once he’s fully seated inside of you, he pulls your hips flush to his, leaning down to press himself to you completely. Hand still pressed to your clit between you, Logan circles his hips, watching your face, how you react. He watches your eyelids flutter, watches you pull your bottom lip between your teeth. He gives a shallow thrust to gauge your readiness, and you moan, low, in the back of your throat.

“S’okay,” you grunt out, hands braced against the outsides of his thighs, eyes trained on his lips. “Fuck, please. I’m so wet, Logan, please, please fuck me.”

Logan groans, your words going straight to his cock, twitching inside of you. He grips your waist in his hands and gives another exploratory rut, this time short, puncturing. Your breath is pushed out of your lungs. He rocks his hips back once again, pressing forward slow before punctuating the thrust with a sharp jolt, shocking the air from you once again.

Your nails dig into his thighs and he nods, his forehead rubbing against yours. “Okay baby, okay. I’ll fuck you, yeah. This what you want?”

His hips ease back, pulling his cock from your warmth almost all the way, before thrusting back in, deep, to the point. Then again, and again, and again. Your head has fallen back, Logan having to hook an arm around the back of your neck as you’re forced up the bed.

“You’re so warm, pulling me back in, sweetheart, so fucking wet for me. I’m gonna fuck you so good, you’re so tight, god, like you were made for me.”

“Fuck,” you whisper, mouth pressed to the side of his face. Your cunt tightens around him and you whine. “Already fuckin’ me so good.”

“You gonna come for me, baby? Yeah?”

“Yeah.” And you are. Again. You’re gonna come for him again. His cock is driving into you so fast you can’t escape the warm sensation in your gut – and you don’t want to. It feels so good, it’s like your whole body has turned to goo beneath him. You press a kiss to the underside of his chin, his beard scratching at your lips, but you don’t care.

“Yeah, baby? Can feel your cunt tight around me, can feel you ‘bout to come.”

“Gonna come, Logan,” you gasp, reaching one hand up and gripping the headboard as tight as you can, but your elbow still folds, your arm putty with the pleasure. He brings his other hand up from your hips to hold you by the top of your head, to keep you from slipping further up the bed, and your hands instinctively come around to clutch his shoulders.

Immediately the pleasure coursing through you lights every nerve ending in his body fucking alive. You feel him tense beneath your fingers, pulse quickening.

His hips snap down onto yours, his cock dragging up against that rough spot inside your cunt, as your orgasm floods through you. You hardly register the deep rumbling coming from his chest as you cling to him. Logan’s breath comes gasping as the feeling of your orgasm floods through him, too, hands gripping the flesh of your ass to hold you in place while he fucks down into you.

His eyes are closed tight, stomach clenching, and when you drag one hand down to rub circles on your clit, he buries his cock deep inside of you and holds himself there.

You scratch your nails gently down Logan’s back as he basically whimpers into the air between you, leaning up to catch his lips with yours as he rocks his hips, stuffing himself deeper, until you feel him come. He groans and spills himself into you, hips glued to yours, occasionally quavering with the aftershocks of his own orgasm.

“Fuck,” he huffs once he’s back in his body, one hand against your cheek, brushing your hair away from your mouth so he can press a kiss to them. His eyes search for yours, bright and enlivened. “You okay? Huh?”

You nod, your head loose on your neck, and he laughs. “Fuck,” he repeats. “That was fucking crazy. Is that how it feels every time?”

At that you sheepishly shake your head, eyes coming up to meet his. No, that’s not at all how it feels every time. You can tell by the look on his face he’s trying not to seem smug about that.

“That was good, though,” he murmurs, his face softening, “fuck, that was so good.”

He seems more relaxed than you’ve ever seen him. You cry out when he pulls his cock from you, still holding your face and whispering sorry, baby, sorry. He presses a kiss to your mouth between apologies.

He unfolds himself from you and stands, running a hand through his hair. Pulling his pajamas back up over his legs and his shirt over his bare torso, he tells you he’ll be right back, and you must fall asleep after that because the next thing you know you’re curled up on your side while Logan runs a warm, wet washcloth across the inside of your thighs. You hiss at the sensation and he nudges a hand against your hip until you roll over onto your back.

“You sure you’re okay? I didn’t hurt you or nothin’?”

“Mhm,” you murmur, reaching for him and he obliges, dropping the cloth to the floor and crawling up the bed to wrap himself around you, slinging your leg over top of his. “You just wiped me out, s’all. And who thought you’d be so fuckin’ talkative in bed.”

He laughs and presses his lips to the end of your nose, his nose grazing your forehead.

You pull at his shirt and kiss him square on the mouth, a thank you for making you feel so good. So safe with him. Your bare chest is pressed to his, and you know he can probably feel how fast your pulse is racing, arms wrapped around your back. You still in his grip when you feel something pressing against your bare stomach.

He’s hard again. A fire reignites somewhere low in your belly, your mouth watering, and when you catch his eye, he grins, like he can read your thoughts.

“You wanna put that mouth to use now, sweetheart?”

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sweetyyhippyy · 8 months ago

Text

Secret. Steve Harrington x plus size fem! reader. *Angst/Fluff*

Summary: Steve and his girlfriend have a secret relationship. She wants that to change, but she fears he cares more about his reputation.

Word Count: 2.8k

TW: Allusion to car sex, mentions of body shaming, Steve caring too much about his reputation and being clueless, a bit of cheese.

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

“You okay, honey?” Steve nudges his nose against hers softly, his body laying on top of hers in the backseat of his car. His hairy chest presses up against her bare chest.

The air in the car was heavy, the smell of her perfume and his cologne mixed with the scent of sex.

“Yeah, I’m good Stevie.” She smiles, pushing his hair back out of his face. “Just trying to come back to life a little bit.”

“You did so good, baby.” Steve kisses her lips sweetly, his hand holding her round cheek lovingly. “Always do.” He smiles before kissing her again.

Steve and her had been seeing each other for 6 months, but nobody at school knew about it other than her sister and her best friend Robin.

They both thought it was for the best that they keep their relationship quiet because of Steve’s friends and how cruel they could be.

She was brainy, beyond pretty, and super sweet to everyone.

Steve’s biggest worry was that his friends would make fun of her appearance.

She was one of the more curvaceous girls at school, and people already made snarky comments about her body, and somehow the comments always got back to her. She never let the comments bother her, she felt confident in her looks.

She wasn’t his normal type physically, but he loved and cared about her more than he had anyone else in his dating history. He always did little things to show her how much she meant to him: telling her how beautiful she was, spending his weekends with her whether it was at his house or hers, giving her a necklace with a heart charm.

At first she was all on board with the secret relationship, only giving each other small glances in the cafeteria and friendly smiles in the hallway. She appreciated the fact that Steve wanted to keep her away from the offensive remarks of his shitty friends.

Within the last few months, she started to regret their arrangement. She wanted to walk the halls with Steve holding hands while they go to class together, sit with him at lunch while he stole kisses from her, to go on dates in town and not in the next town over to avoid someone from school seeing them.

She couldn't help but feel like maybe he was embarrassed of her.

Prom was two weeks away, and she really wanted to go with Steve. There was multiple girls around school who were brave enough to ask Steve to go with them, but he turned them down, saying prom was lame and wasn’t his scene.

She pulls back from the kiss first, regretfully so. “I gotta be home in 20 minutes, Steve.”

Steve looks at the watch on his wrist. “Shit, lost track of time.” He kisses her forehead before sitting back up and rummaging through the discarded clothes in the front seat, handing her the stuff that belonged to her.

“Stevie… can I ask you something?” She breaks the silence as she tries to slip her skirt on.

“Of course babe. What’s on your mind?” He asks, throwing his shirt on.

She chews on the inside of her cheek, trying to figure out the best way of going about her question. “Do you ever think about, you know… maybe changing our arrangement?”

Steve raises his eyebrow, his mind already running through the possible scenarios she’s talking about. “What do you mean?”

“I mean us being a secret. Do you ever think about us not being a secret couple anymore?”

Steve leans back in the back seat, looking at his girlfriend and the quizzical look on her face. “I have, yeah. I just…” He sighs, his voice trailing at the end of the sentence.

“Just what?” The pit in her stomach growing harder. “Steve, I can’t be a secret anymore.”

“I know baby, I know. I’m just afraid of wh-,”

“You’re just afraid of what your stupid friends are going to say.” She interrupts. “Are you ashamed of what I look like?”

“What? Honey, no, no. I love the way you look, you know that.” He slides closer to her, softly taking her cheek and turning her to look at him. “I think you’re so beautiful, baby. I just don’t want my friends to say something about you and it hurt your feelings.”

“Wouldn’t you stick up for me? Tell them to leave me alone?”

“O-of course I would.” He shrugs his shoulders.

She pulls back from his hand, a knot in her throat forming. “You hesitated.”

“I didn’t mean to! Baby, please can we talk about this?”

She shakes her head, sighing to herself. “I gotta get home, Steve. My dad will flip if I’m late again.” She grabs her shoes from the floor, avoiding eye contact with him.

Steve sighs, getting out of the back of the car and heading to the driver's side to take her home. He watches her in the rear view mirror as she gets redressed and waits for her to join him up front, hoping to continue the conversation.

She slides back in the backseat, grabbing the seatbelt and fastening it across her chest, her gaze looking out the window.

He sighs again, turning the key and driving out of the empty lot.

***

The entire ride back to her house was silent, Steve was too distracted to even put the radio on.

He felt like the worst boyfriend, if she even wanted to consider him that anymore.

Of course he would have defended her against anyone at school who dared said anything negative about her, he was too hung up on what his friends would say to him.

He knew it was low and it was shallow and that it made him a piece of shit, but his image meant a lot to him, but so did she. He felt guilty even admitting in his head that.

The car rolls into her driveway, getting her home 5 minutes early.

Steve parks the car and turns to the backseat, hoping to talk more with his girlfriend before she went in for the night.

He watched her grab her bag and jacket, not once looking up at him nor speaking to him, and shove the door open. “Honey, just wait a second.”

Steve opens his door, following her up to her front door. “Can you give me just 30 seconds?”

She looks up at him for the first time since their conversation in the backseat, her eyes glossy and slightly puffy from tears that she had wiped away silently on the ride home. “Just give me some space, Steve.” She shakes her head as she turns away from him to unlock her door and walk in, slamming the door in his face.

“Fuck.” Steve sighs, a pit in his stomach forming. He wanted to ring the doorbell and beg her to answer the door, but he knew she hated his guts right now.

Steve hated his own guts.

***

The weekend came and went, Steve had called all weekend wanting to talk to her but she gave her sister the job of telling him to stop calling- which he didn’t do.

She pulls into the parking lot of school, the parking lot always busier than normal on Mondays. She finds an empty spot in the middle of the busy parking lot and pulls in.

“Are you going to talk to hair boy?” Her sister, Lyla asks as she collects her bag from the backseat.

She shoots her sister a disapproving look, rolling her eyes. “Don’t call him that. And probably not. We never talk at school anyway so.” She shrugs her shoulders.

“Are you guys going to break up?”

She sighs, looking out the windshield. “I don’t know, Lyla. I love him a lot, but I also want to be able to love him in public, not in secret anymore.”

“If my opinion means anything, I think you deserve to be shown off by the person you love. Definitely not hidden.”

She looks over at her sister, giving her a warm smile. “Look at us having grown up conversations. Thanks Lyla.”

As she heads into the building, she looks around the halls for Steve, wondering if he would show up to school today.

She stops at her locker to grab a book she needed for her English class. From behind her she could hear the unmistakable goose like honk come from Tommy as he laughed about something funny.

She looks at the mirror that hung on the inside of her locker door, seeing all of Steve’s friends over by Carol’s locker talking and laughing. Her eyes land on Steve, meeting his eyes in the reflection.

He stared at her from afar, wanting to walk up to her and hug her, tell her how sorry he was for being a dickhead. Steve also wanted to tell her that she looked pretty in the baby blue skirt she was wearing, he loved the color blue on her.

“Steve!” Becca snaps in his face to wake him from his daydream.

He blinks quickly, looking down and glaring at Becca. “What?” He quips at her.

“I asked if you were skipping first period. The bell just rang.”

“Oh, uh… no. I gotta get going.” He pushes past Tommy and Carol, hoping to meet his girlfriend at her locker as he passed by, but as he looked down the hall he could see the back of her head halfway to her class.

***

The morning flew by and the cafeteria was loud and buzzing.

Her friend Robin waved her down from the corner of the cafeteria with a big smile on her face.

She moves through the room of people over to their usual lunch table, putting the plastic tray down next to Robin’s. “Hey.” She smiles at her, sitting next to her.

“Hey. So remember how I told you my mom was going on a baking frenzy this weekend? I told her how big a fan you are of her brownies and I brought you some.” She slides a bag over to her.

“Thanks Robin. I actually really needed something to make me smile today.”

“Uh-oh. Something happen with Mr. Perfect this weekend?”

She gives Robin a flat face, nodding her head.

“Does that mean I’m coming over after school for hot chocolate and girl talk?”

She can’t help but snort out a laugh. “Hot chocolate? Robin, it’s May.”

“But girl talk always has hot chocolate.” The tone of her voice sounding offended that she was denying her of hot chocolate.

Before she can banter back with Robin the chair across from them screeches as it gets pulled back and someone sits down in it.

“Ladies.” Steve smiles his best “million dollar smile” at them, his gaze lingering on hers.

A few of the other people sitting at the table look at Steve with raised brows and confused faces.

Was he lost?

“What are you doing?” She asks, furrowing her eyebrows at him.

“I want to talk to you. I’m hoping you want to talk to me too.”

She chews on the inside of her bottom lip, looking down at her lunch tray.

“If you don’t want to talk to me, that’s fine. But at least hear me out?”

Her eyes flick up to stare at him, motioning at him with her hand for him to speak.

“I’m a jerk, I know that and I need to work on that. But I want you to know more importantly, I love you so much, I love everything about you and I hope you can forgive me for what happened on Friday night.”

“Wow.” Robin pipes up from next to her, shoving a chip in her mouth. “That was good. It took you all weekend to come up with that?”

Steve can’t help but shoot her a confused look.

“Robs.” She sighs, digging into her backpack to retrieve a crumpled up dollar. “How about you go get yourself a soda and walk back real slow?”

Robin snatches the money from her friend and stands up. “Okay but I want a word for word conversation break down tonight… with hot chocolate.” She whispers in her ear as she walks away.

She shakes her head at her friend before focusing back on Steve.

His face looked hopeful as he stared at her, waiting for her to speak to him.

“Steve, my problem was never you not loving me. My problem is I asked if you wanted to change our arrangement and you showing me off as your girlfriend. My problem is I feel like you’re embarrassed to do any of that because of how I look. That’s my problem.”

Steve sighs, fidgeting with his hands on the table. “I’m not embarrassed. I’ll admit that I was a little nervous of what people would say to me about dating you and I thought people would talk shit. But I realized that I would rather have that, than to not have you.”

She drops her gaze from him, going silent for a while, racking her brain for the best way to say what was on her mind.

“Talk to me, honey.”

“I feel like… I feel like it shouldn’t have taken us getting into it for you to realize that you would rather have me in your life than to deal with people whispering about you and your girlfriend in the halls, Steve.”

Steve was speechless, this was not how he expected things to go at all.

“Maybe us dating wasn’t such a good idea after all, Steve. I don’t think you’re ready for a relationship with someone that you aren’t comfortable with being public with.” She grabs her backpack and gets up out of the chair, starting to walk away from the table.

“Wait! Wait, honey no, don’t walk away please?” He pleads as he flies out of his chair and grabs her hand.

She stops mid step, getting pulled back toward Steve’s body.

“I don’t care about my reputation, I don’t care what anyone has to say about our relationship. Yes I should have realized that sooner, but after not talking to you all weekend and not having you by my side, I know that i can’t handle not having you in my corner again. I can’t handle losing you.” He says softly to her. “Please, let me show you I can do all the things you want me to do. Let me prove I’m ready.”

Tears looked like they could fall from Steve’s big chestnut eyes any second, the palm of his hand felt clammy as he held her.

“Okay.” She says, barely audible enough for Steve to hear.

“Yeah?” Steve smiles at her. “Yeah? Okay, just wait right here, right there for two seconds. Don’t move.” He lets go of her hand and walks away and behind her.

She awkwardly stands in the middle of the cafeteria, earning a few glances from other students who were sitting in the surrounding tables.

Her eyes catch Robin on the other side of the cafeteria as she scans the room for any sign of Steve.

“What’s he doing?” She mouths.

“I don’t know.” She shrugs.

For a split second she sees Robin’s attention turn to behind her friend, a small pout forming on her face before a bouquet of flowers comes into her vision.

She follows the flowers up toward Steve, a warm smile on her face as she takes the bouquet from him.

Steve clears his throat loudly, lifting his foot up and jumping up onto the top of the table, making a few of the girls there gasp loudly.

“Excuse me!” Steve bellows, earning looks from more than half the room. “Hey! Shut up.”

She’s frozen in her spot, her heart beating out of her chest as she watches Steve.

What was he doing?

“I wanted to ask my girlfriend, yes my beautiful girlfriend of six months, if she would do me the honor of going to prom with her idiot boyfriend.”

Quiet whispers scatter throughout, more than likely wondering if Steve really referred to her as his girlfriend, and if he really asked her to prom.

“Steven!” She says through her teeth, feeling hot in her face at the attention she was getting.

“What do you say, honey? You want to go to prom together?”

All eyes were on her, waiting for her to answer.

“Yeah I’ll go to prom with you. Please get down.” She looks at him with pleading eyes, feeling embarrassed that everyone was looking at them.

Steve jumps down from the table top, grabbing her cheeks and kissing her lips.

The normal commotion of the cafeteria goes back after Steve puts his feet on the floor, everyone already losing interest in the new to them, old to her and Steve’s relationship.

“You’re nuts, Steve.”

“Yeah, nuts about you.”

She can’t help but laugh loudly, “Eww you cheeseball.” She fake gags. “All jokes aside, thank you for doing that.” She says as she presses a kiss to his cheek. “No matter how embarrassing that was.” She jokes.

Steve looks over to the table his friends usually sits at, Carol, Tommy, Becca, and Lucas all giving them glaring stares. He sighs, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. “You want to officially introduce me to Robin?”

“You don’t know what you’re in for.” She quips.

#Steve Harrington #Steve Harrington angst #Steve Harrington fluff #Steve Harrington x fem reader #Steve Harrington x fem! reader #Steve Harrington x plus size reader #Steve Harrington x plus size! reader #Steve Harrington fic #Steve Harrington fluff fic #Steve Harrington x angst fic

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harmless-variety-of-garden-snake · 3 months ago

Note

Tommy's introduced as a bigot in season 2 and often shown taking initiative in starting the bullying of Hen and Chim vs. waiting for Gerrard to do something and just not standing up for them. There's even a scene in "Chimney Begins" where no one else is even in the room to overhear and Tommy still chooses to be nasty to Chimney instead of a bare minimum of civil. Even after the "resolution" of the episode and his 'apology' (not for racism, but for making Chim prove himself at work), he's still shown to have spent years not learning his lesson, becuase he goes back to the same behaviors with Hen and Chimnney even mentions that "the Asian guy" still isn't invited out by the team for drinks or BBQ.

Then when it's "addressed" in season 7, we see remarkably little growth from Tommy, where he's blaming "the environment" and Gerrard for his choices and actions as a grown man. And in season 8, we get a healthy dose of misogyny in ageism with how he speaks of Abby, while casually acknowledging he also screwed up her life.

It's not just that he was afraid to stand up against bigotry in the face of an evil boss. He could've taken Eli's route, and just be silent. But no, Tommy is someone who chose to actively participate in workplace bigotry and bullying, and then almost 20 years removed, shrugs it off as everyone else's fault.

let’s not forget his very recent comments about Abby that were reeking of misogyny. Talking about her dating some “himbo” younger than her (as if he wasn’t actively doing the same thing) and admitting he was lying the whole relationship (not just about his sexuality).

Word for word that man said, “Heard she went a little nuts after that” as if her entire world wasn’t flipped upside down with her engagement ending and having to take care of her sick mother. The only tiny bit of understanding he showed was him saying she deserved better, which duh.

One time when I was five I put a bead in my nose and it went all the way up to the bridge and I had to push down on it from the top until I could get it out because I was scared it would go to my brain and kill me.

That has nothing to do with any of what you said, but I just thought I'd put that out there because you're doing some dumb shit and I wanted you to know we've all done dumb shit. This is a safe space.

Anyway, I don't think you've ever been a closeted queer person who's said and done some at times questionable or outright fucked up things to keep yourself safe from scrutiny.* I grew up seeing people like me getting murdered and heard people explain why it would've been avoidable if they hadn't been so obvious or if they'd just chosen to be normal. I also grew up with a lot of bullies who were only bullying me because it put them in the protected group. It kept them from having people look at whether or not they were actually a good target for bullying. I'm actually friends with a couple of those people now. Not close, but we're cordial and we'll talk when we bump into each other at the store. That has more to do with us being in our thirties and living our own lives. There's a couple who had no excuse whatsoever other than being actual homophobes, I don't talk to them.

I dated in high school, I was engaged but I was 18 so I don't know how much that counts, but then I came out when I was in my early twenties. I knew I wasn't actually interested the entire time I was with those people, either. At first I just thought the relationship wasn't right for me, then I started to realize what was actually going on. I still dated, I still asked someone to marry me because I thought I could be happy with them. I did love and care about them, just not the way you should if you're going to marry them. I also didn't tell anyone I was non-binary until two months ago, even though I figured it out about fifteen years ago. A trans person hiding their identity to protect themselves from danger or rejection is nothing new, but it's kind of a shitty feeling to know you've been lying to every ex you've ever had about something like that. I don't like that feeling, and it's going to take a while for me to shake that. I don't know that I ever will.

So all of that is to say that a character like Tommy is actually kind of important to those of us who also weren't perfect at being queer, especially those of us who grew up during a specific time. I was actually pleasantly surprised that a basic network show would have someone like that, but times they are a-changing. So onto your last point:

Abby Clark is played by a now 57 year old Connie Britton (drop the skincare routine, girl), Lou Ferrigno Jr is 40, and Oliver Stark is 33. When you're an actual grown person, a seven or eight year age difference is kind of nothing. One of you might be a little more ready for things like kids or marriage, but that's not a guarantee. But hearing that your ex started dating a 26 year old when she's about 50, whether or not he knows that she actually pulled Buck's info in a very questionable way (I love that no one going after Tommy ever seems to care about the massive ethical breach from Abby), is kind of...wild. And he presumably heard about this from a mutual friend of some kind, who likely gave him this information colored by their own perception of the situation. This is where critical thinking skills become important. Based on context clues, I can safely guess that Tommy asked someone how Abby was doing or ran into someone who knows her, too, and they said "Hey, did you hear about Abby's new guy?" Otherwise he would've said "I saw that she was dating...." or "She told me she was dating..." So this could've been secondhand bitchiness, it could've been that her behavior was being framed as extremely not okay by someone they knew. We'll never know, the show doesn't have the strongest writing all the time. I'm not touching the thing about her mother, because a very close family member of mine has Alzheimer's, a good friend just lost a parent to it, and I do not want to examine the behavior of a person who's dealing with that or that of the people in their lives.

Could he have said "But I get it, she would've been going through a lot because of her mom and then our breakup"? Yeah. Would it have been nice if they wrote any scenes between Tommy, Hen, and Chimney that bridged the gap between when they weren't close and when they actually celebrated him and his accomplishments when he left the 118 to show why he would be someone Chimney would call on in two major emergencies? Yeah. I think I would've liked to see them talk things out onscreen and to show any apologies. Mostly because it would keep people from dropping an essay in my ask box when I feel like my sinuses and temples are filled with hot needles. I don't actually need to see it other than liking the three of them together, because I figured that they would've shown some hesitation before Chimney would reach out to him or he would've pulled Buck aside to warn him to be careful with Tommy. Or Hen and Karen wouldn't have been so thrilled when they realized what had gone down before Buck and Tommy came into the hospital room. There's a lot of stuff they don't show on this show, but they'd at least make a point to do or not do certain things if a character hated or disliked a character.

*I believe a certain dispatcher even did a whole big speech about this on the very show you apparently watch. I didn't like the Glee part, because I don't like Glee after season one. But the rest of it was good.

#bucktommy #omg am i part of the disc horse now??#I've never had that happen before and I've been in fandoms for ~26 years #oh god a baby born the year i got into fandom can now rent a car and get kicked off their parents' insurance #ahhhh why did i think about that #ed does a rant #ed is also Having A Week #maybe don't bug Ed with this shit idk man I just write fanfic and play board games

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thatsmzbitchtoyou · 5 months ago

Text

Blood and...Balsam? -Oneshot

Word count: 4634

Part 2

“Are you doing anything fun tonight?” Yelena asked nonchalantly as they did the clean up for the night.

“Nah,” Y/N shook her head, getting the coffee machine prepped for the next day. “Just going to enjoy my once in a lifetime weekend off.”

Yelena chuckled. It was pretty rare to get a whole weekend off while working at the diner. “Maybe you can find a cute Alpha to take the edge off?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, making Yelena laugh harder. “Oh please,” she groaned. “Don’t start that again.”

“Oh come on, Y/N,” Yelena smirked. “I can tell your heat is coming soon. And you haven’t had a partner to help you out for a long time. You’re gonna need something a little stronger than Mr. Boombastic in your side table drawer.”

Y/N laughed loudly at Yelena referencing her vibrator. “Ugh, remind me to never let you into my apartment again,” she said.

“I’ve seen how tall, dark and mysterious has been looking at you,” Yelena continued, not letting Y/N distract from the conversation. “All he ever gets is a cup of coffee and then an eyeful of you before he tips you way too much for just a cup of shitty coffee then leaves. Why not try flirting with him more?”

Y/N blushed but glared at Yelena for mentioning her regular. They didn’t know his name, and therefore he became “tall, dark and mysterious” because he was just that. He came in every morning at 7:00 a.m. sharp for one cup of straight black coffee. He wouldn’t let anyone serve him but Y/N. She didn’t know why, but he insisted on it, and she didn’t feel like asking questions. He was obviously an Alpha, she didn’t have to scent him to see it clear as day. Broody, moody, and quiet, but he made her day every time she’d greet him and he’d give her his signature smirk that he saved only for her and order the same thing, then say “Thanks, doll.”

“Leave him alone, Yelena,” Y/N said, feeling weirdly protective over him. “He obviously doesn’t want to be bothered.”

“Oh he’d love you to bother him,” Yelena raised her eyebrows suggestively. “The way he looks at you? Like he’d devour every inch of you if you’d let him? He’d let you bother him in every way possible. He wants some of that ass you’ve been lugging around!”

Y/N’s blush deepened at Yelena’s innuendos and referring to her being plus sized, but she rolled her eyes again and went back to closing out the register then gathering her things. “Just drop it, babes,” she sighed, shrugging on her coat and scarf and swinging her purse over her shoulder. She approached Yelena and hugged her, kissing her cheek before turning toward the door. “Lock up behind me, and be safe.”

“You first!” Yelena said as she came up and locked the door then waved to her through the glass.

Y/N waved then walked quickly down the street. The Autumn wind had set in over the last few days, making her cheeks already sting from the cold whipping against her face. She pondered on what Yelena said. Yes, it had been a long time since she’d had a partner, and if she were honest with herself, she felt romantically lonely. But every time she tried dating again she just had the most unfortunate luck with finding Alphas that were worth her time. They would make crude or disrespectful remarks about her size or her role as an Omega. She’d love a good fucking, but not by some hormone raging, misogynistic Alpha with his head up his own ass.

She was about to pass by an alleyway when she looked down and saw spots of blood. She stopped in her tracks, lightly gasping as she stared at the spots with wide eyes. The blood created a trail down the alleyway and beyond what she could see in the dark. She narrowed her eyes, trying to see, then heard a soft groan behind what looked like a dumpster a good twenty feet in. Her senses dialed up in anticipation and fear, and she could smell the tangy mix of iron from the blood and…was that balsam?

Against her better judgment, she walked into the alleyway, pulling out her phone for the flashlight. She slowly approached the dumpster, and heard scuffling as her flashlight shone on two feet moving away from the offending light. “I’m not here to hurt you,” she said loudly. “Just to make sure you’re okay!”

The scuffling stopped, then a deep, heavy sigh made a cloud in the air. “I’m fine,” a man’s voice replied.

Y/N scoffed and walked around the dumpster, then froze. It was tall, dark and mysterious, huddled against the dumpster and holding a hand against the side of his head by his temple. Dried blood was caked in his hair and he peered up at her for a moment before closing his eyes and frowning. “Fuck,” he grunted.

“Oh my god, what happened?” Y/N asked, quickly kneeling down in front of him and putting her phone flashlight side up on the ground so she could still see. Her hands moved to touch him, but at the last second stopped, just hovering over him and unsure of what to do.

“Nothing, doll, I’m fine,” he said, shaking his head and trying to move away from her. “Just had a rough night.”

Y/N looked him over to see if there were any other injuries before tentatively holding her hand up towards his head. “Can I see?” she asked gently. He looked at her suspiciously, narrowing his eyes for a moment before sighing again and nodding. He moved his hand away from his head, turning it to the side to let her see. Y/N raised her hand and moved some of his hair away to see a cut on his scalp near his hairline. It wasn’t too deep, the blood was already congealing to stop the flow, but the skin around it was bruised. “You should really get this checked out,” she said quietly.

“No doctors,” he huffed. “No hospitals.”

“Okay,” Y/N agreed quickly. “Fine. Then let me help you. I don’t live far from here, I can get you cleaned up at least.”

He stared at her, his eyes wide in surprise and his brow upturned. She held her hand out to him and his gaze flicked back and forth between her face and her hand for a moment before he reluctantly nodded. Y/N smiled at him as he took her hand, then she grabbed her phone and stepped back to help pull him off the ground. When he stood he let go of her hand and tried to walk, but stumbled after a few steps.

“Woah, hold on,” Y/N said, stepping forward and taking his arm, pulling it around her shoulders and winding one of her arms around his back. He looked like he was about to protest, but then he winced and his head leaned on top of hers. “Alright, this way,” she said, walking him out of the alley. There weren’t too many people out and about at that time, so they only got a couple of strange looks, and Y/N was grateful for living on the bottom floor when they reached her apartment building another block down. She guided him into the building and down to the left hallway, then dug her keys out of her coat pocket and unlocked her door and led him in and towards the couch nearby. He sat down with a huff and she turned to close and lock the door, then took off her coat and purse before walking down another hallway toward her bedroom and grabbing the first aid kit out of the linen closet. When she returned he was looking around her apartment intently.

“Alright,” she said, walking over to him and kneeling down in front of him, opening the first aid kit next to him on the couch. “Can you lean forward for me?”

His eyes were wide again at where she sat between his legs, but he inhaled slowly and moved himself to sit up. Y/N took out some disinfectant wipes and started wiping at the skin on his forehead and into his hair where the blood had dried, moving his hair in different directions to make sure she cleaned it well. She then grabbed a solution for cuts and then a small bandage and put them on the part of the wound that was near his hairline since she was unable to do more than that with his hair in the way. She desperately ignored his eyes on her, trying to focus on the task at hand. When she finished she double checked to make sure there wasn’t anything else to treat before meeting his gaze.

“All done,” she whispered.

He didn’t look away. “Thank you,” he murmured.

“Did you get hurt anywhere else?” she asked, once again attempting to ignore the way her blood raged in her ears from the way he was looking at her.

“No,” he shook his head. “Just my pride.”

Y/N chuckled, a wide smile breaking across her face. He seemed proud of the fact that he got her to laugh, his own smile lighting up his face.

“At least it’s just that,” she said. She didn’t really want him to leave. Normally being alone with an Alpha in the same room as her, an unmated Omega, would have sent her running, but she didn’t smell or sense any kind of weird shifts in his behavior toward her. “Um, are you hungry?” she asked, quickly standing and grabbing the first aid kit. “I can whip something up real quick. You still seem a little wobbly on your feet, it might help to steady you.”

“That sounds great, doll,” he said. “Thank you.”

Y/N got busy in the small kitchen just off the front room, pulling together random things she had in her fridge and pantry until she had a pseudo spaghetti dish prepped. She set it on the table with some water then walked over to the couch. He had gotten comfortable on her couch, his head leaning back against the couch cushion and his eyes closed. He was breathing heavily and she bit her lip, feeling bad about waking him up.

“Hey,” she said, nudging his knee with her hand. “Food’s ready.”

His eyes fluttered open and he looked at her tiredly. He nodded then tried to lift himself up, but grimaced again once he was standing. Y/N quickly wrapped an arm around his back again, leading him through the kitchen to the breakfast nook-dining room attached. She sat him down on one of the chairs and made sure he was set before sitting in the opposite one. “I hope a Frankenstein spaghetti dinner is okay,” she said, spooning the noodles into a bowl for him and sliding it across the table. “I need to go grocery shopping again.”

“Looks great,” he smirked at her. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” she smiled, then took a bite.

They ate in silence. Y/N couldn’t decide if it was comfortable or not, so she just kept eating. She glanced out the window by the table and frowned when she realized that year’s first winter storm was setting in. “Ah shit,” she whispered to herself.

He looked up from the food and followed her eye line, then groaned at the large snowflakes whizzing by the window. “You don’t have to worry about me,” he said. “I can get home.”

“Not in this,” Y/N gestured, looking at him incredulously. “You can sleep on the couch if you want.”

He shook his head. “I’ve already taken up too much of your time and hospitality. And how do you know I’m not some rut-drunk Alpha trying to have his way with you?”

Y/N frowned. “Are you?” She challenged him.

He stared at her again, an amused smile on his face. “No.”

He said it with such finality that she believed him. “Then stay,” she shrugged, standing up and taking her bowl to the sink before coming back to clean up the rest. “Though if you’re going to stay, I think that I should at least get your name?”

He swallowed his last bite and she grabbed his bowl. “James, but friends call me Bucky.”

“Are we friends?” Y/N asked, her own amused smile on her face this time.

“We must be,” Bucky said teasingly. “Cleaning me up, feeding me, giving me a place to stay? I’d say you’re a better friend than most of my actual friends are.”

Y/N laughed, walking back into the kitchen and starting to clean the dishes and put away the food. When she was finished she went back to the linen closet and pulled out some sheets, a pillow, an extra toothbrush and toothpaste, a towel, and then went into her room and grabbed some blankets she had stacked in a basket in the corner that she would use for her nests during her heats. They had been well cleaned, so she didn’t think much of it as she brought it all out and set up the pillow, sheets and blankets on the couch, then set the towel and the toiletries on the coffee table.

“Alright, well, it’s not some luxurious hotel, but I hope it’ll do,” she said, walking back into the dining room and helping him walk back out to the front room. He smiled at the bed she made for him, and she stepped off to the side. “Down the hall is the bathroom. If you need to shower you’re welcome to use my hair stuff, and I got you a toothbrush and toothpaste to use. If these aren’t warm enough just knock on my door and I can get you some more blankets,” she said quickly. “Uh…is there anything else I can help you with?”

Bucky smiled softly at her. “Yeah, you can tell me how it felt.”

“How what felt?” Y/N asked.

“When you fell from heaven,” he said, arching his eyebrow at her. Y/N’s eyes widened at the pickup line, then she burst out laughing. Bucky laughed with her, hanging his head into his hand and rubbing his face harshly. “That was terrible, I’m sorry,” he said. “Can we just blame the possible concussion I have and forget I said anything?”

Y/N wiped away at her eyes, covering her mouth as she tried to quiet down her laugh. “Sure,” she said while still giggling. “Well, goodnight Bucky.”

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he said. She smiled again at him and how he remembered her name from the diner, then turned down the hallway to get ready for bed.

***

Y/N woke up in the middle of the night in a panic. She was sweaty and hot, her hair sticking to her forehead and neck. She wasn’t sure what it was that woke her up so suddenly, but then she felt a cramp wrack through her nether regions, and she gasped at the pain. For fuck’s sake, she thought. It was her heat. She reached toward her bedside table for Mr. Boombastic, but then tensed when the night’s events all rushed back in her memory. Bucky.

She had a slightly concussed Alpha sleeping in her living room. She sighed through gritted teeth. It would just be her luck that she would have the hottest Alpha she’d ever come across in her home right as her heat hit. Curse her bleeding heart in helping him. Y/N didn’t dare take out the vibrator, and instead tried to rock back and forth on her bed, breathing deeply and practicing the yoga she’d been working on for anxiety. Every time she felt like maybe she had a hold on it another cramp would broil in the pit of her stomach, her pussy absolutely throbbing and producing slick that coated her inner thighs uncomfortably.

Her throat dried up with how much she was trying to breathe through the cramps, and she was suddenly hit with a coughing fit. “No, please,” she wheezed. She didn’t want to go out of her room for a drink of water. She didn’t know Bucky. What if he woke up? What if he tried to do something? And then the errant thought, Wouldn’t you want him to do something? NO. No, that was the heat talking.

She couldn’t stop coughing, her eyes watering and her throat burning, so she gave up and tip-toed out of her room and down the hallway towards the kitchen. She glanced at Bucky, who still laid perfectly still on the couch, soft snores echoing in the living room. Y/N choked back another cough as she went to the fridge and opened it, grabbing a few water bottles. She opened one and chugged it, the cold water helping calm her aching throat. The cold tiled floor made her shiver and she turned to close the fridge door, then gasped. Bucky was looming over her. His breath was heavy, his nose flaring as he scented her, and he shut his eyes tight. His jaw ticked, and Y/N felt another pulse of slick ooze from between her legs.

“Dammit, doll,” Bucky whispered. “Seriously, your heat? Now?”

Her frustration boiled over at his tone. “It’s not like I can schedule it,” she sneered. “I’m sorry for waking you up, just let me—mmh,” she moaned. Her body was recognizing the Alpha nearby, and she shuddered in front of him. “Fuck!”

Bucky inhaled sharply, leaning his head back as his mouth dropped open and he licked his lips. “Holy shit,” he groaned. “You smell—”

“Don’t,” Y/N pleaded, embarrassment making her shrink away from him. “Just let me by, Bucky. I’ll take care of it.”

They stayed put, waiting for the other to react. Y/N wanted him, really bad, but she didn’t know him, and he didn’t know her. She had just barely learned his first name tonight, and had only ever helped him get a cup of coffee on every other encounter they had. Of course her body didn’t care about that. All it knew was that she was in heat, there was an Alpha nearby, and that the only thing that could help quell the pain was a thick, fat, juicy–

“You took such good care of me tonight, Y/N,” Bucky said, taking a small step toward her. She backed up into the counter behind her, dropping the water bottles in her arms that bounced and rolled away from them as they hit the floor. He leaned down and caged her against the counter with his arms, his face dipping to be eye level with her. His eyes focused on her lips for a moment before he met her gaze. “I wanted to do this right. Talk to you more at the diner, get your number, take you out on a few dates, get to know each other better. Then I got rocked at an enhanced fighters match and you found me and now…” he paused, nuzzling his nose along her cheek. “Let me take care of you.”

Y/N was being overwhelmed by his presence. The sheer size of him, his low voice, the yearning in his bright, blue eyes as he ogled her up and down, and his scent, the perfect mix of balsam and something a little spicy, was making her voice of reason fly out the proverbial window. Bucky leaned down a little further, ghosting his lips over her jaw and down her neck until he sniffed out her scent gland. He lightly kissed it, rubbing his nose along it and inhaling deeply as his teasing the gland produced a fresh wave of her scent. “Please, Omega,” he begged, his voice coming out more hoarse and wanton. “Let me have you.”

Y/N whimpered, then grabbed his face and brought him back up to kiss him. The second their lips met Bucky moaned, his arms enveloping her and bringing her as close to him as possible. She craned her neck up to keep kissing him, moaning with him as his hands began to explore over her body, his fingers squeezing every dip and curve in her flesh that he could find. Her body and mind were at war with each other, battling between what she wanted and what she needed. But when he broke the kiss so he could suck at her scent gland, all reasonable thought left the room.

Bucky leaned down and picked her up, surprising her with how easily he lifted her and started walking toward her bedroom. He kicked her door open and dumped them both on her bed, adjusting them into the middle of the mattress before he began stripping her of her sleep dress and then ripping her underwear off, making her yelp. “Look at you,” he murmured, his eyes raking over her hungrily. “God, this body. Do you know why I only wanted you to serve me at the diner?” Y/N shook her head, her hands pulling at his shirt that he quickly shrugged off. Her eyes vaguely registered his metal arm before he continued to speak. “Because I just had to get a look at the way that uniform fits you,” he smirked. “Every time I’d get home I’d have to fuck my own fist just to get rid of the hard on you gave me.”

Y/N whined at his filthy words. “Bucky…”

“Yes, doll, say my name just like that,” he moaned, his eyes rolling back. His hands were everywhere, massaging and caressing her all over as her fingers fumbled with his pants, trying to push them down. He helped kick them and his underwear off, then gripped his cock in his metal hand and rubbed it through her slick. “Is this all for me?” he mumbled, looking like he was getting lost in the pleasure of just looking at her.

“All yours, Bucky,” Y/N breathed, her hips trembling at the feeling of his tip nudging between her pussy lips. “Please, Alpha, I can’t–”

Bucky violently shivered above her. “Fuck!” he nearly barked, then thrust into her in one roll of his hips. Y/N’s back arched, her mouth agape in a silent scream with the feeling of him completely filling her sopping pussy almost undoing her. She hadn’t had an Alpha to help her through a heat in a long time, but even when she had they had never been able to stretch and fill her like Bucky did. “Oh my god!” he whispered, gritting his teeth and shutting his eyes tight. Every muscle in his body looked tense, like he was afraid that if he moved he would lose it. “How? How do you have the most perfect cunt? Gonna make me pop my knot too early, doll.”

Y/N couldn’t answer him. Her mind was blinded by pleasure, her pussy already pulsing around him and creating mini orgasms fluttering through the lower half of her body. Bucky’s hands let go of her hips and moved to grasp her wrists and push them above her head. “Keep your hands up for me,” he instructed. She barely nodded as his flesh arm dug under her neck and his metal hand dug under her lower back, keeping her body flush with his. “Let me hear you, Omega,” he said lowly, then he started to thrust his hips into her.

Y/N’s hands gripped the pillows above her head, her ankles hooking behind his ass as he bounced her on his cock repeatedly. She wasn’t sure what noises she was making anymore, but they seemed to drive Bucky on. He would minutely change position every time he would find something new that would make her whimper and moan or get louder, like he was searching for the perfect combination to pull her apart. Not that he needed to, she was already at his mercy with how he completely covered her, his cock making her eyes continually roll and her head loll at the perfect drag and fill he gave her.

His knot was beginning to swell, catching inside her and making his thrusts lose their pace. “I’m gonna fuck you full of me, Omega,” he huffed in her ear.

“Please,” Y/N begged, her hands moving to his head, scratching through his hair except for the part she had cleaned up earlier.

“Make this pussy mine,” he said, kissing all over her face and swallowing her responding moan.

“Yours,” Y/N mumbled against his lips.

“My Omega,” he said, staking his claim as he lightly bit her bottom lip.

“Yes! My Alpha!” Y/N cried out at the sting from his teeth.

“Yeah I’m yours, all yours Omega,” Bucky chuckled. “Can I claim you, doll? Can I bite this pretty neck and make you mine? All…mine.” His words were punctuated with his thrusts, and Y/N could feel herself almost falling off the ledge of her pleasure.

She moved her head to the right, exposing her neck to him. “Mark me,” she rasped, her voice starting to give out from how much she had been babbling. “Take me. Fill me with your pups, Bucky. Alpha please, I need it!”

“That’s fucking right,” Bucky said. His lips mouthed at her scent gland, licking and sucking at it. Her scent burst forth again, surrounding them both and permeating the room, and Bucky rubbed his wrist scent gland against her neck to make them both mix, creating a perfect combination of balsam, spice, citrus and berry. “Mine,” he growled, then he bit into her neck.

Y/N screamed, the pain making the pleasure that much stronger so her pussy spasmed on his cock, cumming hard against him. Bucky whimpered against her neck, his knot fully inflating inside her as he came, filling her up so much that she could feel their blended cum oozing from between them and down her ass. Her vision went white, and she fell limp against the bed from the overstimulation of all things purely Bucky.

A short time later Bucky unlatched his teeth from her neck, licking at the wound he created and kissing gently. He carefully moved them both to lay on their sides to be comfortable until his knot deflated. She was tucked under his right flesh arm that was rubbing her back soothingly while his metal hand continued to feel over her curves, like he was committing her to memory, randomly prolonging her pleasure by kneading her breasts and playing with her nipples. His kisses never stopped, starting with soft pecks and then sucking on her skin, leaving love marks and bruises across her neck, chest, and breasts as far down as he could reach. Y/N’s arm was slung around his waist, her other arm tucked underneath herself. She could barely respond to his more passionate kisses, lazily opening her mouth and letting him taste her, suckling on his tongue before he would move down or across her face again.

“You did so well, Omega,” he praised her, his low voice and sweet words making her preen. “Took me so well. Do you feel that, doll?” His metal hand flattened against the pit of her plushy stomach, where it was slightly more chubby than usual. “You’re gonna be dripping me for days. You look so pretty stuffed full of me.”

Y/N hummed, her pussy pulsing around him at the thought of it. “Alpha,” she breathed, her voice shot from how loud she screamed.

“Such a good girl. Such a perfect Omega,” he said, kissing her lewdly again. “And you’re all mine.”

#marvel #bucky barnes #smut #bucky barnes x reader #ask #request #anon ask #oneshot #bucky barnes oneshot #abo #alpha!bucky barnes #omega!reader #alpha!bucky barnes x omega!reader

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pupkashi · 11 months ago

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Idk if your taking requests but I may or may not be in need of a gojo comfort fic when your boss is shitty and work is stressful👉👈

hi anon i hope this brings you a little comfort <3 wishing you all the best you amazing hard worker !!! i didn’t expect this to get this long

everything seems off the second satoru enters your shared home. there’s no sound from the kitchen or tv, there’s no music playing and there’s no lights on.

his first instinct is to panic, his mind racing as he wonders if something bad had happened to you, ready to burn down the world to ensure your safety and make anyone responsible pay for hurting his lover.

then he takes a deep breath, calms his racing heart and calls out your name. when he gets no response he frowns, heart rate spiking again as he searches the living room, kitchen and restroom before heading upstairs.

a wave of relief washes over him when he sees warm light peaking out from the cracked bedroom door. he’s about to open the door to loudly greet you when he stops in his tracks, heart dropping when he hears your muffled sniffles.

the second you see the door opening your face pales, trying your best to wipe any stray tears away before satoru can see you.

“angel! didn’t expect you back so soon” you laugh nervously, wiping your nose with the sleeve of his your sweatshirt as you stand up from the floor. you know your eyes are puffy and red, you know you’ve been caught but a part of you hopes satoru will let it slide just this once.

the other part of you knows he won’t let it go, he’s going to do everything in his power to help you and make you feel better about it all.

“what happened? are you hurt? who hurt you?” his words come out with a flurry of emotions; anger, sadness, and worry all wrapped up with a bow of concern as he walks up to you quickly. he’s gently resting his hands on your shoulders, looking you over and around the room to try and figure out what had happened.

“I’m okay it’s nothing” you say, trying your best to force a small smile, but your bottom lip quivers. it hurts satoru too much for him to stand around doing nothing.

“sweetheart please,” he whispers, brows drawn together in concern, “I just wanna help you.” his gentle words are enough to make you break down into tears again, knees weak as you let yourself sit on the edge of the bed, holding your head in tour hands as you cried.

“work is just so shitty” you say as best you can, calming yourself down as satoru holds you against his chest tightly. “my boss treats me like I’m an idiot who can’t do anything” you mumble against his chest.

“i do everything i can and prove myself over and over again- I’ve taken on so many things lately and it’s so stressful and for what?” you question, pushing yourself off your lover and looking him in the eyes, “all so they can tell me i need to do better? i hate it there, they never acknowledge me and- i hate it” you cry, tears welling in your eyes once more.

the last weeks had been too overwhelming to handle, but you’d set your emotions aside, wanting to perform at your best at work. your boss’ shitty remarks were the tipping point for you as you clocked out.

satoru holds you tightly against him, trying his best to calm you down. he’s rubbing your back with one hand and holding your head against his chest with the other. it’s not until he feels you only hiccuping as you calm down that he loosens his grip on you.

when you pull away from him you cringe at how soaked you’ve left his t shirt, biting back an apology as you know the state of his shirt isn’t even on his mind at the moment.

“did you want to just vent or did you want me to give input?” he asks softly, acknowledging that sometimes he doesn’t need to give you any advice, you can handle yourself when you need to.

“just wanted to vent i guess” you mumble, thanking him when he hands you tissues to blow your nose.

“i can always kill your boss” he smiles. you smack his chest softly, chuckling as you shake your head. you know he’s not joking about it, fully prepared to end anyone that makes you cry. “okay then how about buying out the company?” he thinks, a finger on his chin as you shove him.

“stop throwing your money around for nothing” you tell him, making him pout as he looks at you.

“it’s not nothing though, it’s for you” he says, pressing a feathery kiss to one of your cheeks, “I’d spend every penny i have to see you smile, sweetheart.” the words have your face growing hotter by the second, and you don’t care to admit the way your heart thumps against your ribcage at his confession.

“but for now how about i just spend however much you want on some takeout and snacks, yeah?” his words make you smile, letting yourself lean against him, letting your eyes flutter shut. they burned slightly from how hard you’d cried, for a second you worry about how swollen they’ll be tomorrow, but it quickly fades when you feel satoru’s lips on the top of your head.

“here, pick whatever you want while i go start the shower” he smiles, handing you his phone before he’s kissing your forehead and heading to the restroom.

time seems like it stops for a second, as you scroll on satoru’s phone and pick your favorite takeout, you leave it unlocked so he can ass his meal on there too. like clockwork he’s stepping out of the restroom, motioning for you to join him in the restroom.

it’s one of the most intamiye moments you’ve shared with him, letting him gently take the clothes you were wearing off. you step out of the pants and underwear pooled around your ankles a he ushers you into the shower. satoru takes his clothes off afterwards, following you in and grabbing the shower head.

he lets the warm water run over you, making sure to get your hair soaked before he’s getting shampoo in his hands and massaging it in. then he does the same with the conditioner and body wash. it’s relatively quiet, save for the water running and satoru’s occasional humming.

once he’s done he’s giving you a warm towel, wrapping it around you and telling you he’d be right out. satoru shampoos his own hair with much less gentleness and care than he had yours, quickly rinsing his hair and drying himself off before joining you on the bed.

“you wanna wear my sweatshirt? I’ll spray my cologne on it for you” he grins, heart leaping when your eyes sparkle at his words. satoru doesn’t waste a moment, handing you the sweater and a fresh pair of underwear.

he’s putting in boxers and grey sweats, messily towel drying his hair when the doorbell rings. “you wanna eat up here or downstairs?” he asks you, slipping a black t shirt on before opening the bedroom door.

“let’s do downstairs” you smile, watching as he walks down the hall and disappears down the stairs. you close your eyes and let out a sigh of relief, feeling like the pressure of the world had been washed down the drain thanks to your lover.

life feels okay again as you eat takeout on the couch, a shitty romcom on the tv as you two poke fun at the main characters of the movie, betting on what cliche they’ll do next. there’s a pint of your favorite ice cream flavor waiting for you in the fridge and a bouquet of flowers in a beautiful vase now adorning the dinner table.

satoru keeps you at his side the whole night, pampering and assuring you how amazing you were. he makes sure to tell you that he could easily support you if you wanted to quit, he could have you moved to another location if you just say the word.

but you shake your head, “i just had it piled up for too long, I’ll be okay” you assure him. “plus i have a really great boyfriend to help me when things he hard” you add on, making him smile and hold you tighter.

“sweets you don’t need me at all, you’re much stronger than i am” he chuckles, “i would’ve killed them by now; you’re so resilient.” his words make you smile, letting a comfortable silence fall over the two of you.

work sucks, your boss is an asshole. but satoru is always there to help you when things get too much. and you have a sneaking suspicion that a blue eyed man is behind your boss getting fired in two days time.

taglist (send an ask to be added!): @chilichopsticks @anime-for-the-sleepless @safaia-47 @nanamikentoseyebags @fushironi @nineooooo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @gojoshooter @beautiful-is-boring @sweetheart-satoru @luna0713hunter @torusmochi @kentocalls @sadmonke

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gremlinshatephilosophers · 4 months ago

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Finally talking about the dream I had about Dan and Phil before tour started (I am aware it sounds insane which is why I haven't told this for months):

In fan photos from the European leg of the tour, Dan's knuckles were constantly bloody. He never mentioned it or anything, but it was long enough that it wasn't just a one-off thing. The phandom decided this was the one time for not speculating and having boundaries, and remarkably said nothing. The vibe was very much "eh, his hands got fucked up and we're focused on the tour content." The mainstream news, though, was OBSESSED. Like, CNN was regularly running stories asking why Dan's hands were always bloody, trying to get the inside info on these touring youtubers.

I was a reporter at the time, and I was assigned to follow Dan and Phil and figure out what was up. Which at first was sort of fine, then I felt really shitty about it because I was basically spying on them and getting weird paparazzi shots. And it was clear that my job required me to be spying on them and basically harassing them. The media (including me) were so invasive that they had to cancel the tour bus in america, and decided to do the entire tour by boat (how they were going to reach cities that didn't have a coast or river idk). But on the phyacht, no one could follow them the way they could with a bus.

Except for me, because I snuck onto the fucking boat.

Then I see Dan, crawling up the stairs from the inside of the boat to the deck on his hands and knees, knuckles down on the metal stairs. He does this every single time and refuses to walk up the stairs normally, and clearly this is why his hands are always bloody. Great news for my job, except it's the worst answer to know because Dan doing this constantly and not telling anyone means he's either having a mental break or it's a really weird kink, neither of which I want to be publicly reported on.

Of course, it's not that big of a boat and Dan and Phil find out I've stowed away on it and they're fucking pissed, which is understandable. I try from then on to leave them the fuck alone, I keep my distance on the boat now that I have an answer. (They also can't kick me off the boat, because of some obscure journalism law?)

So I keep following them into every venue, and they look like they want to murder me 24/7, meanwhile I'm scoping out the back of the theaters to check for other photographers because I don't want someone else to find out and write something worse than whatever I'll inevitably have to report. One time I see there's a room full of people they don't know about and I try to whisper at them to go the other way, but they don't listen and do it anyway. And I'm just there like ugh, please just listen to me, I swear I'm trying to help you.

And I'm stalling and stalling trying to give them time to fix it or say something and not have to leak this info, because clearly they don't want this to be public and it's going to be mega-viral the moment I say something.

Anyway, the dream sort of faded out there but for whatever fucking reason this is what my subconscious generated.

#i have strange dreams a lot but this is the only one ive had about dnp #like why was i having anxiety dreams on their behalf #dan and phil #dnp #phan

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lovingksuki · 2 years ago

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✰ SECRET ADMIRER

— highschoolers bakugo x fem!reader

synopsis: an anonymous love letter appears in your locker on valentine's day. surprised, you and your best friend start an investigation to uncover who was that person observing you from afar. meanwhile, a flushed bakugo tries to ruin your plans on the undercover alongside his shitty-haired buddy

cw: sfw; mostly fluff; lil angst; very insecure bakugo; romantic comedy; puberty; silly jokes; little swearing.

a/n: this is part one of three. let me know if you want this mini series to be continued :) and pls be patient since english is not my first language hehe ;;

word count: 1k

"oh c'mon! what if there's a heart shaped letter in your locker? you never know..."

"there's not."

"you can't be so certain about it. my girl is never looking her surroundings, who knows if someone got their heart pierced by an arrow?" mina pointed.

"shut up, every year the same thing..." you rushed and right after turning the corridor you captured by distance. "ok. maybe you were right." you said finding the metal compartment half closed.

then you grabbed the red paper in your hands, paying attention to the almost dry daisy taped lazily on the front; glanced around not spotting anything or anyone suspicious about it, then turned to your best friend.

"i got a feeling you're part of this." spurred.

"whoa, i was joking just now! even i am shocked. who's the sender?" the pink colored girl held her hands up in protest.

"i don't know, there's only my name." you stated carefully sticking the little flower out.

"let me search for a hint." mina took the letter from your hands suddenly, mumbling while quickly skimming through the words looking for something useful. she gasped before smirking at the content and then continued mumbling.

"enjoying yourself!?" you sighed waiting.

"mkay, done." handed the letter. "nothing between the lines. who wrote this sure is smart enough to not leak their identity."

"that's for me to decide. you ain't the smartest kind." you chuckled.

"hey!"

"more like the pretty girl type."

"you sly thing! you received a love letter, who's the pretty girl again?" both laughed at the statement and headed out to the cafeteria. "not reading it?"

"can't think when i am this hungry. we should hurry."

at the lunchtime the subject was the same. you two were discussing with your mouths full, sitting by yourselves on a table far enough from eavesdropping.

"hear me out. there's this line that seems to be rewritten over and over, it's a bit tattered." you mentioned. "it says: 'i'm still hesitant about what you think about me' and thanks to the pressure they put on paper seems to be 'afraid of who i am' underneath."

"adds a lot of nothing to our investigation. that's what everybody would say in a confession, i mean, nobody likes being dumped." pinky pointed out unfazed.

"yeah but, i don't think it's meaningless, what if this person is truly insecure about themselves." you pondered.

"or they're just ugly." mina chewed on her meal.

"i don't think that's the case... remember when you told me that thing you read about pretty boys' handwriting?" you brought up.

"did you actually believe that!? was just a discussion in a girl's meme forum." the pink one remarked.

"but there's some truth behind it. if you consider that people with a smaller hand can grip on a pen better when writing, also means the ones with big hands tend to have a sloppier handwriting!" you stated confident about your theory.

"girl, you're tripping... does this mean we're going across the school measuring boys' hands?" mina smirked unconvinced.

"precisely."

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦

"what a fucking waste of time..." said raging.

"dude, calm down. at least you poured your feelings out..." eijiro reassured his bestfriend trying to point out the bright side of things.

but while he's the bright side, katsuki was the dark side. they say a good relationship is based in balance, in this case it makes total sense.

"you even checked if she read it?" asked the red haired.

"when she and mina walked by me at the corridor they were whispering and giggling like little lambs. probably laughing at that letter though." pouted.

"you're being paranoid, they're always like that."

"they're up to something..." bakugo murmured.

whilst the two struggled to put up with the 'plan cupid', the other two were constructing the 'plan pretty boy's handwriting'.

"as i was saying, a pencil has six inches approximately, we're looking for a hand as big at least. if we measure our hands we can compare with theirs without them noticing." stated grabbing a pen off her case.

"you're truly a genius. i refuse to accept you failed strategic test last week." mina complimented.

"i was in a really bad mood that day... anyway!" justified while traced her own hand in a empty page of mina's notebook. "fifteen centimeters. do yours and we're good to go!" demanded agitated.

when looking for friends of theirs, the girls pretended to just have a walk around the school.

"what if it was a girl?" mina asked suddenly.

"i doubt. how many girls with large hands do we know?" claimed.

"mmm... asui-san?"

"you've got to be kidding...!" pulled her phone and dialed quickly a number. "hey!" you smiled. "no, nothing really urgent, i just wanted to ask... are you perhaps in love with me?" questioned without any filter.

"girl you gone mad?" mina whispered holding back a laughter.

"uh, ok. anyways, thank you. we talk later, kisses!" you hung up. "see? that's not her."

"woah you're so straightforward! it scares me sometimes..."

the boys exited the restroom still discussing, but when the blondie heard a certain voice he stepped back. pulled eijiro's tie to hide behind a pillar with him. "shut it!" mouthed.

"i just wanted to ask... are you perhaps in love with me?"

"uh, ok."

his face started to burn as he became more anxious. could only hear a few words, enough to bring the boy into complete state of panic.

after the girls left he released his breath.

"stop overthinking! she just received a love letter, of course she's curious!" kirishima said.

"i didn't say anything, shitty-hair!"

"your face shows!" sighed. "seriously, how can she be so oblivious? just look at you! you're terrible at hiding."

"i- i... she doesn't even talk to me that often..." katsuki pitied.

"bro, you're not the friendliest around here. but she doesn't seem to be afraid of you." kiri pondered. "have you ever tried to smile?"

he looked at the red spiked guy and opened a shy smile.

"a bit more."

every time bakugo tried to put on smiling face it looked creepy. "be more genuine." said eijiro.

trying his best, but even with so much effort... his buddy analyzed. "ok. it looks absolutely terrifying."

"shit."

#mha fanfiction #mha bakugou #mha fluff #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x fem!reader #bakugo x reader #self insert #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bakugou x you #bakugou fluff #bnha bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x y/n

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aperrywilliams · 1 year ago

Text

It Was Horrible Until It Wasn't (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

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Author Masterlist

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Part 1: If Anything I Find It Educative

Part 2: It Was Horrible Until It Wasn’t

Part 3: Douchebag Falls Short in This Case

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader.

Summary: Reader comes up to her apartment after Spencer walks her home from the diner, where they spend the last couple of hours. She is still processing the night and wonders if they will meet again. Another fortuitous event makes that happen. In which terms they will part ways again?

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: Mention of guns (tests to carry a gun). Mention to Reader's ex. Some strong words? IDK what else. If I forgot something, let me know.

A/N: I got very excited after your reactions and comments to "If Anything, I Find it Educative." So this is kind of part two, from Reader's perspective. I'm not convinced about a series yet, even if I have some ideas. What would you like to see if it happens?

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Reader's POV

-----

As I open the door, a bunch of cardboard boxes scattered on the floor greets me. That reminds me that I haven't unpacked all my things yet.

I've only been living here for two weeks, and I'm still getting used to the idea that this is my new home.

It doesn't feel like it yet.

But the boxes will be a problem for tomorrow. Now, I only want to take off these high heels and this fancy dress and call it a night - a pretty eventful night.

Not only did I have to confront my ex with his new girlfriend, but I also had to pretend I was okay with it. But how did I expect to do that? Did I genuinely think two months would be enough to be outside again to prove I got myself up?

How naive of me.

I make a beeline to my bedroom, not even bothering to look at the rest of the apartment.

Again, it's tomorrow's problem.

Retreating my phone from my purse, I plug it to charge over my bedside table as I strip from my clothes and go to the bathroom to do my nightly routine.

The entire time, my mind doesn't stop wandering. At some point, it settles on the girl I helped from choking. It was a total coincidence for me to be there. I only approached the bar for another drink when I heard that man rambling. I don't know why my ear perked up, but it did. When I look to find the voice's source, my eyes land on the man and the girl by his side.

He was talking as if the world would end if he didn't, and the girl only eyed him from head to toe, clearly not giving a damn what he was saying. I kept subtly listening to them while sipping my drink. The guy's voice had something enchanting. I would have heard him talk for hours if it were from me. It was a bad thing his interlocutor wasn't so receptive, and when she occasionally said something, it was a flirting remark that only made him uncomfortable.

What a shame.

When I noticed her fighting to breathe, swatting her hands in desperation, and the poor guy froze on the spot, I knew I needed to do something.

I didn't think much of it and wrapped my arms around her torso to help her. It worked. The oyster she choked with flew into the air, and she could breathe again.

But the next thing I knew, her palm connected to the man's cheek.

The poor guy seemed so confused, and the people talking around didn't help either. What a shitty situation. And as the good citizen I am, I tried to do something about it, only to get lashed out by the same woman I just saved from choking.

Fuck it.

Seeing the people's attention returned to them, I walked away. That wasn't my fight in the first place.

Returning from the bathroom, I hear my phone ding. It's a text from my friend Andie.

Andie: How did the gala turn out? Did you see him? He was with her, right?

Andie had insisted on me not going to the gala, although I repeated to her several times that it was okay, that nothing would happen, and that I couldn't hide forever.

Me: You were right. I wasn't ready.

It's a defeat I must recognize. I wasn't prepared to see them.

Andie: My girl, I'm so sorry. It must have been awful for you.

It was, but it doesn't mean the night was a disaster.

Me: It was horrible until it wasn't. I can tell you more tomorrow. Now, I only want to go to bed.

Andie: You have me a bit confused here, but okay. I'll call you tomorrow. Sleep tight; I love you.

I return my phone to the charger and slip under the covers.

It was horrible until it wasn't.

I keep thinking about that. And a smile tugs the corner of my lips. Since Spencer - the guy who got slapped by the oyster-choked girl - approached me at the terrace, the night wasn't that awful anymore.

Who would have thought I would end my night in a diner, dressed to the nines and spouting details of my messy life to a stranger?

Monday morning comes faster than I wanted.

I spent my Sunday mostly unpacking boxes and tidying my apartment, and now, with a coffee in hand, I cross the hall to my office on the third floor of the FBI building in Quantico.

Some colleagues greet me as I pass by. I return them with a polite smile. I saw a couple of them at the gala on Saturday. I only hope they didn't notice the wreck I was that night.

On my desk, a pile of hundreds of manila folders are waiting for me.

This Monday will be a blast.

Dutifully, I reach for the first folder to start my work, as my ear perks up to two colleagues' conversation about the gala.

"Did you see them? Those hot chicks from Counterterrorism?" a male colleague says to another.

"Yeah. I heard one of them was hitting on Reid from the BAU. What a waste!" The other adds.

"And the lucky bastard wasn't able to take her home. His nerdy charm didn't even help him with that."

The mention of the BAU brings Spencer to my mind again. And I realize I don't even know his last name.

I don't think I need to know, but I can't stop my fingers from typing 'Spencer FBI BAU' on my computer.

My findings make the conversation between my colleagues intriguing. They were precisely talking about Spencer, Spencer Reid, and the girl with him at the gala. Clearly, the incident did not go unnoticed.

I don't like the tone they refer to him, either. I do not know the guy well, but I'm sure he's way better than any of the men at the venue that night.

Are you hearing yourself (Y/N)? That kind of blind trust put you in this situation with your ex in the first place.

I shouldn't grant credibility so fast, but honestly? Spencer seems to be everything but a threat. The things he said, the way he spoke. Anyway, I should stop thinking about that if I want to finish some work. Yeah, that's what I need to do.

Drowning out the noise, I return to the opened folder and continue working.

Some would ask how a task as monotonous as the one I'm doing now could be appealing to someone. The appeal for me comes from how everything fits in the right places and serves a purpose. That's enough for me, even if some people don't understand it.

My ex didn't. And as him, many others.

I'm still fighting to ease the effects their judgments had on me.

Around lunchtime, stopping the papers review, I pick up my phone to check my messages. Yesterday, I promised Andie I would have lunch with her today, so I'm checking for her confirmation and a place to meet.

Just in time, a text comes. She is free right now and suggests a restaurant just outside the building.

"Hey, girl! I'm glad you made it," she greets me as I spot her on one of the tables.

"Of course. I promised I would."

Lunchtime is only one hour, so we order quickly and go straight to the matter.

"I can't believe the son of the bitch decided to go and show off his new conquest," Andie huffs.

"Not that new, considering she has been sleeping with him in what used to be my bed at least a month before I discovered it," I correct with an annoyed look.

It's good to say these things without crying my eyes out anymore.

I tell Andie more details about how it went to share a space packed with mutuals around us and try to stay composed.

"But at some point, I just couldn't. So I retracted to the bar. I only wanted to grab a drink and be alone."

Andie nods in understanding.

"I don't blame you. So you were at the bar when you crossed to the girl to whom you did Heimlich?"

Yesterday, by phone, I told Andie the main facts regarding that, and after laughing for a solid five minutes about the whole ordeal, she made me promise to reveal more details in our lunch meeting.

That's why I'm describing what happened piece by piece.

"She slapped the guy? And she yelled at you? What a bitch! But I don't understand why he apologized on her behalf."

"Honestly? I didn't understand it, but it made sense after talking with him. The guy felt responsible, even if it wasn't related to him. It was the fact that someone had to do the right thing," I explain, with my eyes fixed on my water glass, recalling Spencer's words from that night.

I can't help but feel some fondness for his genuine worry. Andie raises an eyebrow and hums.

"The guy made a good impression on you, I see."

Andie's tone is teasing, and I know exactly where she is heading.

"Come on, don't start with that," I warn her. I'm not thoroughly annoyed, but I'm not in the mood for teasing. Andie scoffs.

"I'm just saying it's good to know there are men out there that give hopes up. That's all!"

"Sure," I mumble, not very convinced by her explanation.

The rest of our lunch follows a similar tone. When I finish telling Andie about Spencer walking me home, I know she is biting her tongue to say something to taunt me, but she holds back and opts for a question.

"Do you think you'll see him again?"

I ponder my answer. I don't know, although I remember Spencer asking, 'See you around?'

That doesn't mean we agreed to see each other again, even if I said, 'Sure, why not?'

Did Spencer mean that? Did he want to see me again?

"I don't know. Maybe. We both work in this building, so there are chances, I guess," I shrug. Andie narrows her eyes.

"But do you want to?"

That's a question I don't know how to answer, so I take some seconds to think about it.

"Let's say I'm not opposed to the idea."

A reply that could be an understatement. But not I'm telling Andie that.

She doesn't press on the matter, though. And I'm grateful she doesn't.

Now it's time to go back to work. We walk out of the restaurant to our building and separate ways at the elevator. Andie continues to the eighth floor when I hop off on the third.

Returning to my desk, I continue checking the folders piled on my desk, and my mind only focuses on that, knowing if I don't, there is no chance of getting this stack finished.

----

A good thing about the week progressing is nobody talking anymore about the damn gala. It's been a nightmare since Monday when everyone had to mention something about it. That included comments about me facing my ex there.

Of course, it was public knowledge I was dating an agent of the Criminal Investigative Division. Also, it became public knowledge he cheated on me with his current girlfriend from Counterterrorism.

But finally, it is Thursday, and everything seems to have returned to normal, so much so that the amount of work has increased exponentially. That's why I'm still at the office at seven pm.

I only assume it's time to go home when my boss pokes out of his office and calls for Andrew, one of our coworkers who distributes files and memos to the other departments.

I turn around, and it's only me at this hour. My boss notices the vacant office and is now talking to me.

"I guess I have to ask you to do this. Can you go to the sixth and drop this to Aaron Hotchner's office? I would have waited until tomorrow for Andrew, but this must be at his desk today."

I don't think I have a choice, so I pick the folder, promising to drop it before going home.

With my coat and purse, I grab the folder and stroll to the elevator.

I have been working here for four years and know every financial detail of each Quantico department, but I still need to recognize all department locations in this facility. So, floors are just floors, except the eight where Andie works.

Arriving at my destination, I walk into a bullpen, where I can see a lot of desks and offices. And just like my floor, it is almost empty. Anyway, I see one of the offices with lights on. My instinct tells me that's the place I'm looking for, and the plaque at the door confirms my suspicions: SSA Aaron Hotchner.

"Come in," a voice comes from the office when I knock.

Peeking inside, a stern-looking man is glancing in my direction. "Can I help you?" he asks with a slight frown.

"Yes, sir. I'm with the Finance Division, and my boss asked me to bring this to you," I explain as I reach out to hand him the folder. When he grabs it, realization washes over the man.

"Of course. Thank you very much-" Agent Hotchner trails off.

"(Y/L/N)," I supply, knowing he wants my last name.

"Thank you very much, Agent (Y/L/N)."

Weird.

Everyone in the finance and administrative department refers to each other only by last name. We use the 'agent' thing mainly with those who do the fieldwork, and we are used to that.

"You're welcome, Agent Hotchner," I smile politely, ready to leave the man's office. He nods approvingly.

"Hotch, sorry for interrupting you, but I'm ready with my report. I thought you wanted it-"

A man talks, entering abruptly at the office. He stops in his tracks when he sees Agent Hotchner isn't alone.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know you were with someone. I can come back later," he apologizes.

Wait. I know that voice.

I turn, and I see Spencer standing there. His eyes meet mine, and I feel my cheeks burn. He doesn't say anything but doesn't tear his eyes from mine.

I don't know how many seconds pass, but it's enough for Agent Hotchner to intervene.

"Reid?" he calls Spencer's attention.

"Uh?"

"The report. It's okay; you can give it to me," he tells Spencer, not without subtly bouncing his gaze between us.

"Oh. Okay." Spencer approaches Hotchner's desk, but he still directs glances at me. I want to say hi to him properly, but it doesn't feel okay knowing the man in front of us is undoubtedly his boss. I don't want him to feel uncomfortable. So, I take that as my cue to leave.

"If you excuse me," I tell Agent Hotchner, signaling my departure. Spencer looks at me, and I give him a subtle smile.

"Of course. Thank you again, Agent (Y/L/N)."

"To you, sir. Have a good evening."

I walk down the stairs to the open bullpen and toward the elevator.

Before I can push the go-down button, a voice calls my name. It's Spencer's.

"(Y/N), wait!"

I turn and see him trotting towards me.

"Hi!" he says once we are face to face.

Now I feel bad. Spencer comes here to say hi, and I didn't greet him properly just two minutes ago.

"Spencer, hi. I'm sorry, I should have said something there, but I didn't know if you wanted him to know- I mean, I supposed he was your boss, and I-"

What's wrong with me?

Why can't I explain myself without stumbling with my words?

"No. No. Don't apologize. It's okay. I should have told you something, too. But I didn't expect to see you here."

"Me neither. My boss sent me here instead of one of my coworkers, who left early. I didn't know this was the BAU floor. What a coincidence, uh?" I play cool, shifting my weight from one foot to another. Spencer nods in agreement.

"Totally. It's good to see you, though. I hoped we could cross paths again."

Isn't it weird that his words have produced a funny tingle in my stomach right now?

"Is that so?" I half-breath, noticing his cheeks turn a shade of pink.

"Yes. I mean, I truly enjoyed talking to you that night," he sheepishly admits.

I more than enjoyed it, Spencer.

"Yeah, me too."

Silence sets between us. And it's time to make a decision. I could say I go home and leave him with a lukewarm 'See you around,' or say I'm leaving, but before doing so, give Spencer my number so we can talk soon. Or...

"Are you busy right now? I'm heading home now, but if you can and want, we can go for a coffee."

Wow (Y/N). Very smooth. I like you smooth.

Spencer's eyes widened, and I wondered for a second if my offer was too straightforward.

"If you have plans, it's okay. We don't have to," I relent.

"Oh, no. I don't. And I would love to go for a coffee with you," Spencer hastens to say. I release a breath I didn't know I was holding.

"Yeah?"

"Sure! If you wait for me just a second, I'll pick my things from my desk, and we can go."

----

This time, it's my turn to pick the place.

It's a small coffee shop in the middle of Virginia, just mid-way between Quantico and my apartment.

As we get on the train, I ask Spencer about Agent Hotchner.

"Hotch? Well, he has been at the unit for twelve years now. Gideon, a former agent, told me once he didn't expect Hotch to last long in the BAU. But he proved him wrong. Indeed, Gideon left, and Hotch stayed. Honestly, I can't picture the BAU with another unit chief."

There is a fondness when Spencer talks about Hotchner. I can tell he sees him more than as a superior.

"What about yours?"

Now is my turn to talk about my boss.

"Agent Williams? He is a bureaucrat from head to toe. He had just transferred from another administrative department when I joined the financial division four years ago. At that time, he had ten years working with the FBI. The guy is a genius but lacks social skills. I'm not judging him; I'm a bit like him. But in his position, he needs to make politics, which involves talking and convincing people."

The conversation with Spencer flows so well and easily that I'm as impressed as I was the night of the gala.

When we reach the coffee shop, we sit facing each other. After ordering our coffee, we start talking about our coworkers.

"So Garcia is our technical analyst. I have to say she is like the team's heart. Besides her outstanding skills, her compassion and care are something out of this world," Spencer admits, and again, I feel the fondness in his voice.

"She seems very special," I add. Spencer nods.

"Very. I don't know what it's like to have a sister, but if I had one, I would have liked someone like her.

So he doesn't have a sister. Does he have brothers, though? We have yet to talk about our families, so this is the first piece of information I get about it.

"What about the guy who came to check what was happening with your girl at the gala?" I ask, and Spencer scoff.

"First of all, Ashley isn't my girl. I think she made it pretty clear that night. And secondly, the guy in question is Morgan, the culprit of why I was with Ashley in the first place."

That's interesting. I want to know more about that.

"How is that?" I ask, sipping my coffee.

Spencer tells me how Morgan insisted they talk to the girls - Ashley and her friends - and how he reluctantly followed him.

I'm about to make a not-so-kind remark when Spencer gets ahead of me.

"I know it may seem like he is a thoughtless person, but he truly means well. I can't entirely agree with his tactics most of the time, but he's right when he tells me I should enjoy more and work less."

"It's safe to say you weren't 'enjoying' that much there," I quip, air-quoting the word 'enjoying.' Spencer chuckles.

"Yeah. Honestly? I have more fun when Morgan kicks doors down in our field chases than when he tries to play wingman for me."

What? Kick doors down?

"Wait a minute. Are you telling me that the FBI had to spend thousands of dollars in repairs for third parties last year because of him?"

I know I'm being dramatic. It's impossible that just one agent destroyed that amount of dollars by kicking doors. But still.

Spencer's eyes widen.

"What? No! I mean, yes. He does that, but thousands of dollars? Last time I checked, doors are not that expensive."

I roll my eyes. That's not the point.

"Okay. I know it's not only Agent Morgan's doing, but did you know the buro's budget had increased by 4% last year due to refunds for field operations? And did you know 70% of that increase refers to agents shattering private property?"

Now, I sound like my boss. Great. I became what I swore to destroy.

Spencer looks at me with amusement. I narrow my eyes to him. "What?"

He clears his throat. "Oh. No, nothing. It's just - well, it's fascinating to hear you talking about - uh - numbers."

I can't help but snort. "Come on, how fascinating that can be?"

Spencer grins. "If anything, I find it educative," he parrots my words from that night, and we fall into a fit of laughs.

"Yeah?" I muse after the laughter subsides. Spencer nods, still a smile gracing his face.

Gosh, that smile.

"Well, I can talk about numbers all day. But I'm sure you don't want me to 'fascinate' you that much."

Spencer hums, faking be pondering his options.

"Don't tempt me. I like to know and talk about everything. But before returning to numbers, I want to ask about your coworkers. I already talked much about mine."

Even if there is not much to say, indulging him with an answer is only fair.

"What can I say? In my area, there are three: Anthony, Leah, and me. We were four then, but Andie was promoted to the eighth floor a year ago. Anthony is a good guy, a little inexperienced, but very eager to learn. We don't have a very close relationship, but he's my protegee at work. Leah is very clever and has enough experience, but sometimes she is not present, making things a little tense between us. Andie is rightfully my friend. We got to the bureau simultaneously, and although she doesn't work with us anymore, we are very close."

Spencer is looking at me with full attention. It's odd to talk about this kind of thing with someone. I don't like to talk about my bonds in general. It makes me feel vulnerable. But for a reason that I still don't get, with Spencer, it feels right.

It's night already, and we are in our third coffee.

"Do you usually drink this amount of coffee daily at this hour? I try to cut off my dosis after lunch, but sometimes I just can't," I point as I stir the spoon on my coffee. Spencer hums.

"I drink a lot of it at any time of the day, every day. It's worse when we are on cases because that shitty coffee at the precincts should not even be called coffee," he scoffs, pouring half of the sugar pot into his cup.

I have already noticed the amount of sugar Spencer has used in his two previous coffees; this third is not the exception.

"I'm sorry, but I have to ask," I say as my eyes dart to his sweet liquid. He follows my line of sight and chuckles.

"I love coffee, but I don't like its bitterness. I know it doesn't make sense, but for me it does."

"Fair enough."

After that, our conversation stumbles to lousy sleep habits.

"Ray hated it. Even once, he told me I purposely got up in the middle of the night to annoy him."

Spencer's brow furrows.

"Ray is your ex?"

Shit. I don't realize I'm talking about him.

Why do I have to mention him? I hate how ingrained he is still in my life.

"Yeah, Raymond. No wonder why things didn't work out between us," I try to joke because I don't want to cry about it anymore.

"An example of a man," Spencer follows my lead, and I'm grateful he doesn't look at me like people usually do when I talk about it. There is no pity. There is no that look saying, 'Oh, poor girl who got cheated on.' It's like a whole understanding. It doesn't make me feel like a failure. And that's a change—a good one.

I chuckle. "Hell, he is."

It's getting late, and it's time to part ways, even if I don't want it. Hours pass quickly with such good company.

"We should get going. It's late," I point as I glance at my phone. Spencer nods in acknowledgment, signaling the waitress to get the check. He is about to fish his wallet when I stop him.

"No. Don't do that. I invited you."

Spencer scoffs, opening his wallet nonetheless.

"No way. You invited me the other night. You can do it next time."

Next time, uh? I want to say something teasing, but the waitress returns with our check.

We are outside the coffee shop now. I adjust my coat as Spencer does the same with his suit jacket. The night is chilly, and the contrast with the warmth of the coffee shop is evident.

"Can I walk you home?" He offers. I have my doubts about that. It's not that I don't like the idea; I just don't want to use more of his time.

"You don't have to. Really," I shake my head.

"Please? You already said it. It's pretty late," he insists, looking at me with dog puppy eyes.

Why is he doing that? He is testing my resolve.

"You know I can take care of myself, right? I'm a certificated FBI agent. I can't carry a gun, but sure I could manage," I argue in a teasing tone. Spencer chuckles.

"I know you are. And I'm sure you could. Even though, why no to prolong our evening for fifteen minutes long?" I raise an eyebrow.

"So you really like my company, uh?"

I'm sure I see a blush creeping his cheeks, and it's endearing.

"I like your company. I thought I made it pretty clear the other night?" he probes. And I don't know how to respond to that.

The truth is quite curious. Teasing Spencer seems so natural sometimes, but now I don't know what to say.

I decide not to say anything and nod, motioning for us to start walking.

Spencer follows me, and we walk in silence for the first block. Then, I feel the need to continue our conversation. I want these fifteen minutes to be as good as the previous two hours.

"Did you know that I used to carry a gun? Although it took me three failed tests to do so."

Spencer looks at me, surprised. I take that as my cue to tell that story.

Once I tell him how I finally managed to pass my shooting test, he starts telling me how he also failed his test a couple of times.

"So you saved your boss life shooting an unsub?" Spencer nods.

"But I really aimed to his leg, not his head," he adds, and we burst into a fit of laughter.

Without realizing it, we are already in front of my building. The laughter subsides when we notice where we are.

I clear my throat. "Well. Uh-thank you. Again," I say, referring to him walking me home.

"No need," Spencer says. "I had a good time today," he adds, smiling.

I can't help but feel my cheeks burn. Spencer casts his eyes to the ground.

"Me too," I admit, biting my bottom lip. "I - uh."

Why am I so nervous right now? Just say what you want to say!

"I - uh. I'd really like to do this again. I mean, you know, maybe next time could be something planned?"

Spencer's eyes flick to mine. I would say he didn't expect me to say that.

"I would love that," he says, keeping eye contact. And for a moment, I think the breath leaves my lungs. Those eyes are something I didn't see in my life before. I can't describe it, but it's enough to make me speechless.

"I guess it's here when I ask for your number?" Spencer's voice is the one that brings me out of the trance.

I chuckle, mid-embarrassed by my absorption moment. I gesture for him to give me the phone. Spencer does it, and I advert his piercing gaze to focus on typing my number. Once done, I return the device with a playful smile. Jeez, I feel like a damn teenager.

A snort leaves Spencer's lips when he sees the name I used for my contact.

"Really?" He asks. I nod, chuckling.

"It's safe to say you won't forget who I am," I confirm.

"Bet I won't."

"Good. Now I'm going to come up," I gesture to the building. "Good night, Spencer."

"Good night, (Y/N)."

I turn to enter the building, and although I can't see him, I feel him standing there in the cold night until I disappear into the elevator.

Once I cross the threshold of my apartment, a ding comes from my phone. Frowning, I pick it up.

Unknown number: Are you free on Saturday at midday? We could go to lunch. Let me know. Good night. SR.

I bit my lower lip. And after typing a reply, I start my night routine before bed.

Oh, boy. What are you getting into (Y/N)?

Whatever it is, it feels so good.

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Next -> Part 3: Douchebag Falls Short in This Case

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A/N 2: As always, I'm excited to know your thoughts about this one!

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