#i have been saving since the beginning of this version

[the-darklings]

Oh god please write the timebomb fic!!! (or several lol)

ೀ pairing: ekko/jinx

ೀ wc: 5k

ೀ summary: "Always a dance with you, huh?" Or: two years after the battle versus Noxus, Ekko receives an unexpected visitor.

ೀ author notes: ask and you shall receive!!! I wrote this in one sitting in some weird ass haze and barely edited it, but this is the most fun I had in a long while so I hope you enjoy!!!

ೀ read it on ao3 | listen to the playlist

The first few days after the battle, Ekko doesn’t rest. He barely sleeps or eats, or allows himself time to think. 

He can’t. 

There’s too much to do. The dead are in their dozens. His Firelights took a major hit, and he knows that for the next few months his fingers will be numb from painting their pictures on the mural day in and out. So many who could have lived but didn’t. So many could have had better futures. But if he just runs, if he keeps pushing on, he can outrun these regrets and his grief, too. This way, he doesn’t remember Vi’s heartbroken expression when she pulled him into a bone-crushing hug after the fight, blood and sweat still clinging to her, her words choked when she told him—

Four seconds. 

He could have saved her. He would have hauled her snarky ass out of that tunnel, ripped that bomb from her hands. He would have—

He runs from those thoughts, too. They suffocate him, and Ekko has too much to fix to be suffocated by his grief right now. 

He sure as hell didn’t fight for Piltover. He fought for Zaun, for Firelights. Because he knew Ambessa Medarda would never settle for anything other than complete subjugation. She would have destroyed Ekko’s home. She was already busy murdering and imprisoning their people, and nothing but complete eradication would have followed in her wake. 

Ekko did it for… her. The blue-haired symbol of defiance, of uprising. A loud declaration that they won’t live under Piltover’s oppression forever, that they’ll reach greater things one day and won’t be silenced. They won’t wait for permission to breathe again. It’s what she would have wanted, he convinces himself, even though part of him knows Jinx would have enjoyed the chaos of the fight more. Or maybe not. Not since that little girl. Not since he had to save her from herself over and over again, only to lose her anyway. 

Undercity mourns her. Her visage is everywhere. Jinx the Saviour. She would have hated it, he thinks wryly. She never got to see just how loved she was. 

Maybe he should have grabbed her and ran away. Maybe he should have let the world go to hell and saved her instead. The thought, born of fatigue, lingers only for a few fleeting seconds, a rare moment of selfishness amidst a day spent fixing the world around him. 

Maybe, maybe, maybe. If only he had tried harder when they were kids and saved her from Silco. If only he didn’t give up on her. 

She’s always been his biggest maybe. And now they’ll never be more. Not this version of them. Never him and her as they were. 

Aw, are you gonna mope now, boy saviour?

“You’re not here.”

It punches clean through his chest. The realisation of it. The sheer, horrible weight. He’ll never see her again. 

Constants and variables, Benzo told him once. Constants and variables, young Ekko.

A week after the battle versus Noxus, Ekko sinks to his knees inside his room, exhausted and heartbroken, and sobs. 

.

Things begin to settle. Slowly, at first, the city might have been gutted after the battle but not destroyed, the morale low but hopeful. Hexgates are gone, and Ekko is glad when he finds out. He doesn’t want to see or hear anything about the arcane for a while. No magic in the world could fix the pain festering in his chest. 

Sevika, Silco’s old second-in-command and once his sworn enemy, comes to him two weeks after the attack. 

“They’re making me a council member,” she says, grunting when she falls into the tiny wooden chair inside his room. 

She’s always been a threatening figure, power rippling from every shift of her body, but Ekko isn’t sure he wants to fight anyone right now. Nor does she seem interested in strangling him. She lights a cigarette, her scarred features set in a fearsome scowl. 

“And?” he asks for anything better to say. “How is that any of my business?”

Sevika exhales through her nose, reminding him of an angry bull, all smoke and steely resolve. “I’m the only one presenting Zaun or her interests.” 

Ekko almost rolls his eyes. Of course she is. The Council is simply falling over themselves to fix the situation. After months of harassment and oppression, false arrestments and beatings, they asked them to bleed for Piltover and its interests with nothing but the bare minimum courtesy extended towards them afterwards.

“I could use you, kid,” Sevika continues, and Ekko forces his anger away, loosening his fists. “Exactly for that reaction. You’re smart as hell, and been a pain in my ass for years. Pilties will try to walk all over us again in a few months’ time. You and I both know it. We gotta beat them in their own game. Not let them silence us again. I could use someone like you. Be my adviser. You’ll have a direct line to the Council. We’ll make an actual change. It’s better than whatever this is.”

Ekko’s expression sours at her words while Sevika’s gaze flicks around his room in contemplation. He works all day to a point of exhaustion, then passes out. It’s the only way he’s been able to continue, day in and day out. Being in a leadership position means you can’t take time off to grieve. Too many people are relying on him. It’s bad enough that he accidentally abandoned his people for months without meaning to. The guilt he still feels over everything has been nearly suffocating. 

It’s a good gig, hero! You should do it and be a thorn in her side.

Ekko blinks the flash of blue from his vision, rubbing his brow just as Sevika adds: “It’s what she would have wanted, you know.”

A jolt of electricity runs through him. Everyone, even Vi, has been avoiding mentioning Jinx in front of him.  

His jaw clenches. “You don’t know that.”

“Kid, I know what not letting go looks like,” she says, and it almost sounds compassionate, or as close to it as someone like her can get. “We had our differences in the past, I know as much—”

“You killed my people,” Ekko snaps. “Do you know how many lives you destroyed with Shimmer?”

“Sure do,” she replies listlessly, smoke billowing past her lips. “I won’t try to justify my actions to you. But y’know, when you were gone, Jinx united Zaun in a way I haven’t seen since Vander. Beats me how she did it, but people believed in her. Even your Firelights.”

It mirrors everything he’s seen and heard for weeks. Jinx freeing their people, Jinx the Saviour, the beacon for their new future. The one who set and lived by extreme examples, who made Piltover back off and take the Undercity seriously. Because they all finally realised that there can never be peace without a fight. She should be here to fight this battle with him. Ekko should be busy arguing with her that blowing up another building will not make things right. He shouldn’t be walking around with her ghost a step behind him, tormenting him with ideas of what could and should have been. 

“And now she’s dead!”

His ears ring, his chest heaves, and he clutches his thudding heart, willing it back in its cage. He didn’t mean to come undone so easily. 

“Yeah. Yeah, she is,” Sevika says, and there’s a grimness to her when she says it, an unexpected pain buried somewhere deep in her gruff voice that makes Ekko see her differently. “I get it.”

“No,” he whispers, pained. “You don’t.”

.

Seven months pass before Ekko finally picks up a brush for her. 

He sleeps better at night but not without nightmares. Not without remembering Powder from the alternative universe and how they danced. How sweet her kiss felt. Not without that memory smearing to finding Jinx with a grenade in her hand, again, ready to disappear, go somewhere he could never reach her. 

Ekko still hears the detonation in his ears, over and over, on a sickening loop. His mind likes to torture him with ideas he failed to save her. That no matter what he does, or how he mends time, she’s forever out of reach. His blue beacon, his lighthouse he can never find in the depthless ocean of reality. 

Many have drawn her, but he still thinks that no one knows the exact hue of her hair or the wicked shine in her eyes better than him. He’s spent an entire lifetime examining them, looking for them in a sea of thousands. 

Their city is rebuilding. He agreed to Sevika’s request after a few days of contemplation. Caitlyn Kiramman’s expression when he ambled into the Council room was worth the additional burden now on his shoulder. But she’s changed too, matured, and now fills her position as the Council’s leader well. 

Ekko won’t forget how she allowed his friends to be imprisoned, tortured, and, in some cases, killed, but her regret made her side with him and Sevika more often than not during voting, and maybe he could at least one day forgive her. Another maybe. For Vi, if nothing else, who clearly loves the blue-haired woman fiercely. 

The barren wall stares at him. He’s painted Powder before, but this is different. One day, his friend, his dearest friend, was simply gone. Without a goodbye, in a wake of tragedy. The life Ekko once had disintegrated beneath his feet overnight. Benzo killed. Vander dead. Mylo and Claggor too. Vi died as well. Or so he believed for years. Powder was missing until a different knife was delivered to him weeks later, when the word on the street spread about Silco being seen with a little girl with blue hair. 

Ekko sighs, hanging his head. The city is healing, but he isn’t, or at least not as quickly. 

He runs his hand over the white wall, picturing Jinx as he saw her last, those precious hours between talking her down from the abyss and their joint attack on Noxian forces. It felt so good to rely on her again, to stand with her, side by side. As natural as breathing. 

You’re the order to my chaos, hero. 

“Leave me alone,” he says quietly, head hung low. “It’s been months.”

A figment of Jinx chortles, arms crossed over her chest as she leans back against the wall. You would get bored to death without me. Ha! Get it? 

Shooting a glare at her, Ekko picks up a brush, his fingers quivering. Tears burn in his eyes when he dips the brush into the paints he painstakingly mixed. He works, and works, until his eyes are dry and his wrist hurts. Ekko doesn’t stop until he loses light and when he steps back, he is looking at Jinx. Equal parts chaos and something ethereal. 

He wipes angrily across his mouth when he tastes saltiness pooling there and goes home. 

There’s no sleep that night. 

.

Time is a strange thing. It weaves and flows. Without his Z-Drive, he has no control over it. Time simply goes on, and he’s the passenger in a vehicle he doesn’t want to move. 

He’s important these days. He’s one of the few bright minds still left, and he’s endlessly busy with something. City of Progress needs every mind that can be spared. Wounds heal, and time dulls the memory, but not everything is so easily forgotten. Piltover moves quicker, but the Undercity erects a statue for Jinx beside Vander’s. He sees Vi at the ceremony, and they exchange strained smiles. They speak sometimes, but it’s not as often as it used to be. They’re both dealing with their grief the best they can.

At least Vi has Cait. Ekko has nothing but a cold bed and purpose. 

He and Sevika make a good team. It almost makes him wonder what could have been in a universe where they were on the same side from the start. His Zaun, cracked but not broken, is resembling the bright version of the Zaun and Piltover he saw in the alternative verse. There're years of work still left, but there’s something like hope in him, fragile and misplaced as it might be. 

A year passes. Then two. He visits the graves; he lights candles for those lost. Some days Ekko sees her, other days he doesn’t. He hopes for a glimpse, even when he knows he shouldn’t. It should be easier to let go of what you never had, right? 

His mural for Jinx grows. Other faces join her, people who died believing in her, surrounding the one they placed their trust in. And, at the centre of it all, her, her, her. 

Still her. 

Always her. 

. 

He’s not sure what arouses him. He hasn’t slept well in years, perpetual exhaustion clinging to him like a shawl. Some would call it the weight of living, no doubt. 

There’s a shift in the air, a disturbance that’s not enough to make Ekko jolt awake and reach for a weapon, but enough to make his eyes flutter open. He breathes the cool air, pushing his grogginess away. 

There’s a shape at the foot of his bed. Small and round. It takes several seconds for his vision to adjust, for him to realise that a hooded figure sits perched on his bed, knees pulled to their chest.

Ekko hasn’t had to rely on his battle instincts in two years, but there’s enough left in him to attack without hesitation. His fingers tangle in the cloak, shoving the figure down, his knee pressing harshly into their abdominal, hands seeking the intruder’s throat—

“Wow, little man, you sure know how to roll out the welcoming mat,” the all too familiar voice drawls before his fingers tighten instinctively around the slender, warm throat. 

A haggard breath forces from Ekko’s parted mouth. In the wild struggle, the stranger’s hood has slipped down, revealing a familiar face with a startling crop of blue hair. His heart squeezes painfully, forcing him away from Jinx’s apparition. 

“Leave me alone,” he croaks, rubbing his eyes till his vision swims. “Just leave me alone! I don’t want to see you anymore!”

“Huh, fine. I thought after two years, the welcome would be a tad warmer. Brrr.”

Ekko pushes himself to his feet, stumbling away, watching warily as the young woman sits back up, picking at her messy hair. She looks different. A little older than Jinx from his visions or memories. Her hair is longer, though nowhere near the same length she once had braided into two twin braids. She swings her leg back and forth, another pulled up to her chest while she watches him. And… her eyes. Ekko was the last person to see her with blue eyes before their battle on the bridge. The last time he saw Jinx alive, they were a dangerous, burning violet. 

Now, even with the shade of the night, they’re a muddy mix between the blue he once knew, and the piercing violet that made her so deadly. As if that restless edge in her has calmed down and settled. 

Ekko’s chest heaves as he stumbles back a step. 

“Soooo—” she begins.

“You’re alive.”

Jinx shrugs her shoulders. “Yup. Clearly. In the flesh even,” she crows, but it’s more muted when compared to the wildness he once faced off against. 

His hand flies to his stomach, and Ekko distantly wonders if he’s about to throw up in front of a girl he’s spent his entire life loving. 

Mercifully, his stomach settles, but his heart beats so loudly he can hear the blood rushing in his skull. 

“You’re alive,” he repeats, harder this time. “It’s been two years.”

“Yeah.”

She doesn’t offer more than that, but there’s a shadow over her narrow face. She’s healthier. There’s more weight on her bones, her skin has lost some of the pallidness. As if someone took Powder and Jinx, split them clean down the middle, and fused them into one body. Stronger, more self-reassured, less teetering on the brink. 

“Would have written but mail is crappy where I was,” she jokes, her voice a familiar, drawling litany. “Besides, this is so much more mysterious—”

He closes the distance between them in two steps. His room isn’t big but he would have walked, ran, sprinted if needed to close the distance between them. His arms wrap around her and Ekko squeezes her so tightly he hears a small breath escape Jinx. She’s solid and warm. Smells faintly of sea and something metallic. Ekko buries his face in the soft crook of Jinx’s neck, gasping for breath. 

“Woah, hero, you’re gonna break my ribs,” she whispers, but her arms wind around him, more careful, unsure. “I thought you hated me?”

Even when he releases her, Ekko’s hands linger on her, go to her face, examining her through the crack of light illuminating his room. 

“I saw you,” he breathes, devastated. “I saw you everywhere. I hoped to see you everywhere.”

Something flickers over her face, an unknown thing, secretive and distant as she’s always felt to him. 

“Geez, seeing things? And they call me crazy.”

“You’re not crazy.”

There’s such vehemence in his voice it startles them both. Jinx nibbles on her inner cheek, searching his face cautiously. “I thought you’d be mad.”

Ekko laughs, a low huff of amusement. “Do you think I care for you so little, huh?”

Too late he realises he’s without a shirt, and is, in fact, mostly bare before the girl he’s harboured a crush on for years. Near boyish shyness forces Ekko back, making him clear his throat. His hands tremble when he reaches for a discarded t-shirt, hoping it doesn’t smell bad when he pulls it over his head. When he glances at her over his shoulder, Jinx is still there, still watching him, though there’s a thoughtful air around her. 

When she notices him looking, she offers him a sarcastic grin.

“No need to get shy, stud.”

“Shut up,” he grumbles.

He plops down on his unmade bed, watching her watch him. Her face is half hidden by her arms propped on her bent knee, but the silence between them isn’t awkward. They’re taking each other in, taking in the changes that have touched them both in the last two years.

“Why come back now?” he asks, eventually. 

Jinx blinks, near feline-like, dropping her head back to stare at his ceiling as if it may offer an answer. “I’m a crappy friend, but not that crappy. Happy birthday, wonder boy.”

There’s a creak in his heart, a lightness in his ribcage, a balloon of affection despite their troubled history that inflates just for her. “You remember my birthday?”

She makes a sound at the back of her throat. Glances at him from the corner of her eye. “Well, we picked it together, silly, so sure I do.” Shadows fall over her features when she angles her head away. “I… I never thought I would come back—that it was better this way.”

“I’m glad you did.”

Something close to a smile ghosts over her face at his response. Ekko can’t rip his gaze away from her. He fears that if he does, he’ll wake up and she’ll be gone again, and he’ll have to relive the agony of losing her again. 

“Does Vi—”

“No. No. And it’s better this way.”

“But—”

“Drop it, Ekko. Please.”

He does. Because this is too good to be true, and he doesn’t want this to end. Emotions mix inside him, battling for dominance, so he sits there, letting them all wash over him. 

“You’ve been busy,” she says abruptly, nodding her head in the general direction of the outside world. “Their new wonder boy. I’m not surprised. You’ve always been good at creating things. Good things.”

“And you’ve always been good at fixing them,” he says. 

Ekko thinks back on the countless times she helped him to fix up old rubbish others have discarded and sell them in Benzo’s shop as small treasures. It feels, now, like a lifetime ago. In a sense, it has been. 

She snorts; it’s an ugly, hateful sound. “Not always.”

There’s weight to how she says it. Pain lingers in each syllable, more so a whispered confession. She’s thinking of others, those lost through accidents or her own direct involvement. 

“I’m sorry about Isha,” Ekko says carefully, thumb pressing into the hollow of his bare knee. He itches to take her hand, to smooth his thumb over her knuckles instead, but he doesn’t. She’s never been his to touch. “Vi told me about her.”

Jinx shrinks, turning away and he mentally curses. A sore spot even years later. Understandably so. 

“I… shit. Sorry.”

“What’s with the long face?” she exclaims suddenly, jumping to her feet and twirling. Her hands drop to her hips and she grins at him, all mischief. “C’mon, we gotta get out of here.”

Ekko squints. “Uh, what?”

“It’s your birthday, silly,” she says, like it should be obvious. “We’re going to spend the day together.”

.

Jinx keeps her hood up, her gait steady. Any sign of blue tucked away. She’s changed her attire to draw less attention, and as they walk in the hazy dawn light towards the bridge separating the sister cities, it feels almost normal. Casual. Not at all like the last time they spoke, they were about to fight side by side in a battle for their lives. Not at all like he spent two years thinking she’s dead. That still stings, but knowing how she felt back then, the state she was in before he talked her down from the edge, the pain she’s been through, Ekko can’t bring himself to feel resentful. He only wants to hold her and tell her it’ll be okay because she’s not alone. 

“You’re not saying, are you?” he asks, hands in his pockets. 

“Nope,” she replies, popping the p. “Can’t.”

Words rush to his tongue. Insistence that she can and should stay—that there’s space here for her, not just in his life, but in the new Zaun he’s helping to shape. He almost admits it to her then. That he’s built this for her and the ones they lost along the way. 

Ekko continues walking, staring at the ground, noticing too late she’s fallen behind. He peers over his shoulder and freezes when he notices what’s caught her attention. The mural. Welcoming anyone coming into Zaun. Her face, slightly younger but now immortalised, peers back at them. 

“You drew this.”

He loosens a breath. “Yeah, I did. I, uh, just…”

Jinx reaches for her own face, fingertips ghosting over the painted wall. There’s tension on her face when she turns to look at him, something piercing and hard and thoughtful. Same pinch to her eyebrows he saw earlier in his bedroom. 

“I won’t let them take you,” he says softly. “If they came for you. I would fight for you.”

She doesn’t break their eye contact. “I know. You shouldn’t, but I know you would.”

“Then stay.”

She saunters forward, stopping only when they’re almost chest to chest. “I’m not her, y’know? The other me. The one you love.”

He smiles, huffing a small breath, refocusing on her and her small pout. Ekko reaches forward, tucking a few stray strands back under Jinx’s hood, lingering for a beat. “I wasn’t her Ekko, either. That’s why I came back. I like this version of you just fine. But just so we’re clear, every version of you is a pain in my ass.” He tugs on a small braid, grinning when she shoots him an annoyed glare and slaps his hand away. “But I won’t have it any other way. Wait, no. It sure as hell would be simpler if you didn’t try to kill me anymore, but I guess I’ll deal with that, too.”

Jinx snorts, absently reaching for the spot he touched, her gaze softer than before. “Ha! You hit like a girl, by the way. I never got to tell you.”

“You tried to blow us up.”

“Eh,” she whines. “That was one time. You gotta let that go.”

Ekko exhales a small laugh and realises he hasn’t smiled or laughed this much in years. Joy was leeched from him with her absence, and while he did his duties, there was no security of Jinx’s usual push and pull to keep him balanced and focused. Even when they were enemies, hunted each other down and attacked each other, they existed on opposite sides of a perfectly balanced sphere. 

Her nearness, the relief of having her there, overshadows the darker recollection of that afternoon when she tried to blow them up more than once. Memories so painful Ekko wishes to scrub them from his mind forever, yet they remain seared into his psyche. 

She grabs his elbow, dragging him forward, breaking the surrounding gloom. “Come on then,. Things to do, things to see.”

And Ekko does what he’s done since they were young. He follows her. Because they might not have tomorrow.

.

The day goes by too fast. Almost a blur. A series of snapshots Ekko will lock away in his mind forever. He never expected he’d get to do this again. This is something his younger self could have only dreamt about once. When they dreamt of simpler things; flashy toys and delicious sweets, things only a young boy could fantasise about, aside from a loving home, because at least that much he had. 

They walked and talked and joked around, eating street vendor food all day. Ekko knows they’re pushing their luck, but he can’t help himself. Jinx grew up here. This is her home too, and he wants to show her the progress they’ve made. There’s something comfortable about her snarky commentary and ill-timed jibes at the Council members. She asks about Vi only once, in relation to Cait, and Ekko tells her the truth. 

They’re happy. They’re together. She nods, satisfied, and moves on.

“We should go see Jericho next.” It’s an offhand suggestion while they walk the newly paved river path. Now people from the Undercity can enjoy the same luxury of having a peaceful sidewalk to take their kids down. It’s amazing how it’s the small things that bring people happiness. 

“Can’t,” Jinx replies, glancing towards the setting sun. Her smile twists; it’s still a smile, but it’s sad, in a way. “Sorry, hero.”

He takes several seconds to speak. “So, you’re leaving anyway.”

“Yes. I told you I can’t stay.”

“It’s a pity, then.”

She tilts her head. “Why?”

Damn her for even asking. Damn her and all the shitty circumstances for keeping them apart. Damn her for picking him during that game of hide and seek years ago. Damn her for being there for him and not being there at the same time. Damn her for being his entire world for years. Even when Ekko thought he hated her, he wasn’t free of her. He never could be. His girl with blue hair. 

He’s in love with her, in every possible way, but they both know they can’t work like this. There’s too many ghosts for Jinx here, and despite the changes, Ekko can’t promise her she won’t get dragged off to Stillwater the moment authorities find out she’s alive after all. 

Ekko frowns, clenches his fists, and walks away. 

But she’s like an anchor to him. He stops several paces away, tied to her. “You’re gonna break my heart.”

They’ve been everything from friends to enemies and strangers to reluctant allies again. So much of his life has revolved around her. Continues to revolve around her. Past and present. But if Jinx sends him away now, if she walks away, Ekko will let her go. Because he can finally rest easy, knowing she is alive and well, even if they’re apart.

“In any other universe, I might have loved you,” she breathes. 

He pivots towards her, his nostrils flaring. “Love me in this one,” he insists, reaching for her. Ekko cups her cheeks, tilting her head until her hood slips back down, exposing her blue hair to the setting sun. He’s glad there’s no one in sight because he can’t think straight right now. “Choose me now. Ask me to go away with you. Ask me.”

He presses his forehead to hers. Jinx’s empty gaze appears glazed over, her thoughts far away no matter how hard he tries to grip her and hold her close. 

“I don’t deserve you, boy saviour,” she whispers emptily. “You’re good.”

“No one decides for me, Jinx. Not even you.”

She blinks owlishly, searching his wild stare, a pained expression on her face, her fingers knotting against her chest. “What if you don’t want me after a while? I’m… different and if I get bad again... What if—”

“Ask me, damnit.”

Jinx loosens a shaky breath, jumping through a hundred micro-expressions in a few seconds. A painful mix between hope and dread. 

“C…” Her eyes squeeze shut. “Come with me.”

Ekko sags in relief. “Yes.” He holds her, wraps his arms around her despite the unsure way she folds against him. As if she’s unsure where to put her hands. If she should. “Yes, I’ll come with you. I don’t care if you’re different. I want you as you are, okay? No matter where we are.”

A tremulous breath wheezes past Jinx’s lips. But with that, she melts into him, burying her face against him. Her embrace grows desperate and tight, a tremble shuddering through her body. 

“Always a dance with you, huh?” he says after a moment.

She chuckles, the sound warming his collarbone. “And you still got two left feet, boy wonder.”

Constants and variables, young Ekko, Benzo told him once. Everything bad that can happen in this universe might come to pass, but so might everything good.

----

an: ahh I know this isn't really my usual offering but I really hope you guys enjoyed, it's been a while since i've cared enough about canon/canon ship to do this.

[flokali]

What if I told you all I already have Luocha even though his banner just started like… a little less than an hour ago, then what?

[helaintoloki]

Hey I want to request something since I saw your request was open. So can you do a fic where five and y/n ( they are already married) end up in the deli with the other fives.

Basically there are only few fives that have a y/n but she's died in their timeline. So basically it's just the other fives wanting to know more about her abd the fives telling their stories of their y/n

Y/n absolutely loves the attention she almost sequeled when she saw the other fives lol.

a/n: so this actually ended up turning into a more depressing piece than i planned LOL but the original intention is there

warnings: language, angst, mentions of death, light amount of fluff

summary: your search for answers leads you to a deli with multiple versions of your husband inside

As the danger of the impending apocalypse finally begins to sink in for Five, he realizes he needs to get you somewhere safe until he figures out a way to stop the world from ending. Thus, while his siblings continued to fight off the monstrous cleanse that was Ben and Jennifer, Five quickly grabbed hold of you and jumped you both to the only place he could think of.

You stumble over your own feet as your body adjusts to being dropped into a new setting, your hand quickly raising to shield your eyes from the bright neons that hang above you as you take in your surroundings. A subway car comes to a screeching halt in front you, and before you can protest Five is quickly ushering you inside.

“Five, where are we?” You demand, completely disoriented from having been transported away from the fight without warning and preoccupied with worry at the thought of your family fighting against the Cleanse without you both present. “Where are we going?”

“I’m taking you somewhere safe where you can stay until I figure out how to undo this mess,” he instructs you hastily, his lips pulling back into an exasperated frown at your resistance to enter the subway car. He doesn’t have time for you to fight him on this, his siblings need him, and he needs you away from the fight. Though you’re skilled at combat and wickedly smart, you don’t have powers, and Five can’t risk something happening to you while he’s preoccupied with saving the world.

“You’re leaving me?!” You exclaim in distress as panic immediately begins to take over your rational mind. You push against him harder to move away from the train, but despite all your efforts the boy doesn’t budge.

“It’s only temporary, I promise you,” he assures you, and when you shove him hard in the chest once more he tightly takes hold of your hands and brings them to his lips to comfort you. “I’ll take you somewhere nice, somewhere with a beautiful house and a garden full of strawberry bushes. I found it while exploring other timelines in search of clues on how to prevent the apocalypse, I know it’s safe because I went there alone. You can stay in the house until this is all over and I’ll come back for you.”

“Five, what if…” you swallow harshly as tears begin to well in your eyes, your emotions overtaking you at the thought of this being goodbye, “…what if you don’t come back?”

Five refuses to meet your gaze when the question leaves your lips. He’d never lie to you, and he knows he can’t guarantee he’ll live long enough to join you in the peaceful timeline he’d found, but he doesn’t have the heart to voice this to you. How can he look you in your tear filled eyes and tell you that this might be the last time you’ll be together as husband and wife?

Sighing, he releases your hands in exchange for cupping your face so that he may brush away the tears that slide down your warm cheeks. He hopes that one day you’ll be able to understand that every moment leading up to this has been for you, and he would happily die a hundred times over if it meant keeping you safe. “You’re just going to have to trust me.”

You open your mouth to argue only to snap it shut when your gaze falls over his shoulder and lands on another figure in the subway. You blink away your tears to get a better view and are left speechless when you realize you’re staring back at the face of your husband.

But how can that be when he’s standing right in front of you?

Noticing your change in demeanor, Five follows your gaze and spots the lookalike that stands across the way from you both. His features contort into confusion as you both watch the second Five offer you a wave in greeting before disappearing down the stairs. Exchanging looks of uncertainty, Five and yourself immediately rush after the doppelgänger to figure out just what exactly is going on.

Your quick chase leads you both to the front doors of a deli, the dazzling sign above welcoming you warmly as you cautiously open the doors and set foot into Max’s despite Five’s protests to wait. If this other Five has the answers you need to return home safely together, then you’ll stop at nothing to get them.

Your originally confident demeanor quickly dwindles when the restaurant becomes deathly silent upon your entry. While you only expected to see one Five, you now find about twenty of them staring intently at you as you slowly walk towards the lookalike from the subway that waves you over to his table. Five is quick to rush after you and place a protective arm around your waist; you’re not the only one unsettled by their stares, and he feels uncharacteristically territorial in the presence of himself.

“Have a seat,” the subway lookalike offers with a gesture towards the empty space across from him, and you’re both quick to slide into the cushions at his command. “I’m glad you found me.”

“What is this place?” Your husband demands impatiently as another Five dressed in a waiter’s uniform approaches your table with three cups of coffee in hand.

“This is where all the Fives come after they decide to give up on figuring out a way to stop the apocalypse.”

As he speaks, a plate of pie is suddenly placed in front of you, and before you can even open your mouth to question it, the waiter offers you wink and assures you, “It’s on the house.”

Picking up the fork, your eyes widen in surprise as you realize what specific dessert has been given to you. Looking up at the Five across from you, you ask, “How did he know that-“

“Pumpkin pie is your favorite?” The lookalike finishes for you with an amused smile before leaning back to take a drink of his coffee. “We all know that, because we all know you.”

“Me?” You repeat quietly, brows drawn together in confusion as you look to your husband who seems rather displeased with all of the attention you’re getting. He never once thought to think of himself as potential competition over you, but it figures. Who better than himself to sweep you off your feet?

“Mind telling me why you all seem to have such a great interest in my wife?” Five demands with a wry smile, eyes blazing with annoyance and a subtle hint of jealousy.

“‘Your’ wife?” The Five behind the deli counter scoffs in amusement. “Take a number, pal.”

“What deli Five means to say is that each and every one of us has our own y/n in our own perspective timelines,” the boy across from you clarifies before gesturing to the the back of the shop. Your eyes widen in shock as you take in all the various pictures of yourself that line the wall from top to bottom, and it takes you a moment to process the fact that various versions of you have existed throughout time unbeknownst to you.

“My y/n was a trained assassin,” the Five at the table next to you describes with a dreamy smile before biting into his sandwich.

“Mine was sent alongside Hazel and Cha Cha to kill me,” another voices while pulling down the collar of his shirt to showcase the ghastly scar on his chest. “She gave me this along with three beautiful kids before I screwed it all up with this end of the world bullshit.”

“If you all care so much about her then why did you give up trying to save the world?” Your husband protests in agitation. Your search for answers is going absolutely nowhere, and you’re both left with more questions than solutions. If these doppelgängers were really meant to be him from different timelines, then why did they quit so easily? His sole purpose, his entire being, was doing everything in his power to ensure the safety of his family. Come hell or high water, Five would always be willing to get his hands dirty if it meant you and his siblings lived to see another day. So why weren’t they doing the same? “Why come here instead of preventing the apocalypse so she has the chance to live a safe and happy life even if it means you can’t be in it?”

A forlorn silence fills the deli at his question, and now none of the Fives can find it in themselves to look at you. Their features are almost shameful, their eyes full of guilt and their shoulders full of tension as no one dares to answer.

“When us Fives find a way to save the world, y/n is the one that pays the price,” the boy across from you discloses somberly before tilting his head to meet your gaze. Looking at you is like looking at a ghost, and he has to stop himself from reaching out to you as if you are his own. “The Handler killed my y/n after discovering my betrayal of the Commission.”

Another Five raises a woeful hand before announcing, “Viktor killed my y/n on accident with his bow after he discovered his powers.”

“My wife took a bullet for me because she thought my life was worth more than her own.”

“Dad had y/n disposed of in my timeline because he saw her as a distraction to me and my siblings.”

“Cha Cha tracked us down, found our home, and burned it to the ground with y/n still in it while I was away trying to save the world.”

You swallow harshly and ignore the knots in your stomach at hearing all the violent ways in which other versions of you had met their end. Your heart aches at learning what these men have been through and how much they’ve lost, but it also makes you begin to wonder if your fate will be worse than any story they can come up with. Sensing your discomfort, Five wraps a comforting arm around your figure and pulls you closer into his side.

“No matter how many times I traveled back to make it right, the result was the same,” the boy across from you relents in a desolate tone. “If I couldn’t even keep the most important woman in my life safe then how could I expect myself to save the world?”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” you murmur softly, taking it upon yourself to reach across for his hand and offer your comfort. “I’m sorry for all of your losses. But as a y/n myself, I don’t think she would have wanted you to give up. She would have wanted you to keep going in spite of her death because that’s what she loved about you- your strength and your resilience when it comes to saving the people you care about.”

“God, you sound just like her,” he comments with a doleful laugh before shaking his head and pulling his hand away. “Believe me, I did everything I could. But no matter what we do, there’s no escaping the apocalypse.”

“So that’s it? There’s nothing we can do?” Five retorts in disbelief. This was all a complete waste of his time. He’s nowhere near close to preventing the Cleanse, and you’re still not somewhere safe away from the impending apocalypse.

“You can enjoy the time you have left with your y/n,” the lookalike instructs firmly, the other Fives in the deli nodding along. “You got lucky, you still have your wife, so why don’t you do us all a favor and take her somewhere nice?”

“I’m not giving up on this,” your husband argues before hastily rising from his seat in the booth. “There has to be a way to save the world, and I won’t stop until I figure it out myself.”

You watch him stalk out of the deli with purpose as he slams the door open and begins to formulate his next move. The room is silent other than the bell that jingles above the door, and you take this as your cue to leave.

“I should probably go after him,” you admit with a meek smile before scooting your way out of the booth. The Five from the subway rises to meet you, and he can’t help but to carefully cup your face in his hands and admire your features for just a moment. This might be the last time he’ll ever get to see you in person, and he’d like to commit every detail of you to memory from the reflection of the light in your eye to the smell of your perfume.

“If he ever gives you any trouble, you know where to find us,” he instructs you firmly before pressing a kiss to the crown of your head and releasing you from his hold. Smiling faintly, you return the gesture by chastely pressing your lips to his cheek before rushing off after your husband.

Who would have guessed that in every timeline, in every possible version of himself to exist, Five’s love for you knows no bounds.

[winterzsurprise]

Ride me? || Miguel O'hara

Pairing: Miguel O'hara (Spider-Man 2099) x F!reader

Tags: Overstimulation, rough sex, choking, squirting, vaginal fingering, big dick Miguel, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it kids), fang kink if you squint.

Words: 1.8k

Summary: Just when you thought he's exhausted enough from chasing Miles Morales and had given you the chance to actually ride him, Miguel has other plans.

This man evokes something so feral in me that I forgot I was suffering through the worst writer's block. He got me giggling and twirling my hair yesterday at the cinema wtf. I used my very limited Mexican Spanish knowledge from watching streamers flirting in a block game for this.

cariño - honey || mi vida - my life || mi amor - my love || guapito - handsome

Miguel isn't the type to let someone control the pace, even if he did, his hands grounded on your waist would soon guide your hips into a rhythm he prefers, hard and fast.

You've been hearing the ruckus down the spider webs, something about another version rebelling against the usual stories of every Spider-Man in the multiverse to save his dad. Knowing that your husband sits at the top as their leader, you expected him to disappear for a long period of time.

Not that you mind of course, he's had plenty of times he charges in to handle an anomaly himself.

You do have to give some kudos to the kid for trying to change reality though. After Miguel's story, nobody in the headquarters, even you, dared to defy the fates laid upon every Spider-Man.

It's been three days since he left and honestly, you didn't expect him to arrive yet. A person deterring from the fates of every Spider-Man would be hard to handle, you couldn't even imagine how difficult it'd be.

So when the doors to your apartment flew open and came to him, practically drooping from exhaustion, you were surprised.

He came earlier than expected.

"How'd the chase go?"

"I don't want to talk about it. Come here." 

Drying your hands off on the towel hanging from the wall counter, you made your way to the man laid spread and heaving on the couch. His head tipped back with his usually neatly gelled hair now haggard and messy, he looked up when he sensed your presence and immediately pulled you onto his lap.

You laughed. "Don't fall asleep here, I don't want to carry your heavy ass."

His lips tugged into a weak smile, his pointy canines briefly appearing.

"Spider-Man is supposed to help the weak, are you really ignoring a civilian in need?"

You didn't get what he meant until he pulled your hips closer, dragging your core over the tent on his pants.

You hit his arm. "Go to sleep, you must've been really tired after chasing that kid around."

"Then ride me."

You paused before narrowing your eyes at him. He's baiting you with the very thing you've wanted to do since the beginning. But the dark cloud of lust in his eyes somehow convinced you of his genuineness.

His talons dug onto your flesh, hard enough to take control of your hips to grind on top of his dick sensually while keeping eye contact with yours. You couldn't ignore the pleasure and jolts of heat electrifying and burning your nerve endings alight at every drag of your heat over his.

"I want to feel you baby, I miss you so much."

Miguel pushes you down on his hardness and you moan, the feeling of his girth finding home between your legs shot electric pleasure down your spine.

"You are a convincing man."

"And you love it."

You lunged for a kiss and instantly, one of his hands threaded itself onto the back of your head, locking you in place as your lips danced against each other in a fierce battle. The raw hunger after being starved for a week now surfacing and consuming you both, mind and body. 

His other hand guided your hips up and down his clothed dick, his deep groans and growl lit fireworks in you, igniting your determination to coax more of them out of his lips.

"Get rid of the pants or I'll rip it off of you."

"Rip it then."

He didn't need to hear you twice. 

In one quick motion, he tore your sweatpants into two before doing the same thing to your panties and throwing them somewhere in the room. He groaned as his head fell onto the crook of your neck, hands crawling up to cup your breasts before your top and bra suffered the same fate as your other clothing.

"The pants, only the pants! I loved that bra!"

"I'll buy you something better, from another universe even." He responded, almost breathless as your scent invaded every speck of his senses. Miguel groaned. "Fuck, I miss this scent of yours baby."

"I don't care, get rid of the suit."

His attire dissolved into thin air and retracted back to god-knows-where, revealing his ruffled shirt and grey sweatpants that did nothing but proclaim his clear desire for you.

"Let me prep you real good, huh?"

Retracting his talons, two of his fingers delved into your heat, immediately drenching itself with your arousal and he groaned.

"So wet for me, mi amor."

"Only for you, guapito."

Two of his digits rolled your clit sensually and with the dexterity of an experienced man, urging more of your arousal to coat his fingers further. Once he was satisfied with the amount of fluid now dripping into his pants, he wandered lower and lower until he plunged his index in, curling it up so deliciously you moaned and grinded your hips onto the slow plunge of his hand.

His eyes watched your heat like a ravenous man holding back, the feral look on his face only pulled you closer to the edge.

And it's only a finger in.

"So tight, mi vida. You treat me so well."

He added two fingers in and you screamed, his pace now rapidly gaining speed. Your eyes rolled back as your hips thrashed and clumsily followed his thrusts, there was nothing else that mattered more than coming for your darling in that moment.

Miguel groaned, watching your face twist into the most sinful display of pleasure he has ever seen. The pride and smugness from knowing it was all because of him made him smile.

Only he could see you in such a state and no one else.

You clenched around his digits, tempting him to finally take the dive. Although his fingers coaxed pleasure out of you with no problem, you missed the feeling of his dick carving your insides, stretching you thin and reminding your cunt who it belongs to.

But Miguel ignored the bait and instead hastened up while curling up to push on your g-spot. You almost blacked out from the euphoria he feeds you, a coil in your stomach tightened and you moaned.

"I'm cl-close… Fuck!"

"Give it to me baby, I want it all."

It didn't last long until the coil exploded and your arousal squirts out of your cunt to drench Miguel's shirt, whose gaze turned a shade darker at the scene when you peered down to meet his gaze.

A tense atmosphere rose from his mere gaze and goosebumps prickled your skin. Your heartbeat jumped through the roofs as you stared back at his dark eyes, he triggered your spidey sense.

And for some sick reason, it only ignited the simmering arousal in the pits of your abdomen.

"Fuck the ride, you're not getting up until I say so, cariño."

You barely sensed him flipping you both, with you now seated and spread on the sofa while he stood in front of you, hastily removing his remaining clothing as if it angered him.

It didn't take long until his hand cautiously wrapped around your neck and his other, pinning your hips as he plunged himself deep into your cunt. You screamed as he pushed more of him, inch by inch. He stretched you out to the point of no return, the burn of his cock carving you open once more made you light-headed.

And he loves nothing more but seeing the cock-drunk look on your face.

Miguel grinned, his fangs protruding so attractively. "God, I love how fucked you look for me, cariño. Give me more."

He pulls and plunged himself back in, shooting hot white pleasure in your body. Miguel didn't wait long before his usual hard and rough pace started. The hand around your throat tightened and your mind turned woozy from the lack of oxygen, his thrust taking your breath away only evoking the feeling of nirvana within you.

He drove in you hard and quick enough you can distantly hear the couch legs wincing as it gets pushed back with every plunge of his dick.

"Fuck…!"

"That's right darling, I'm fucking my sweet cariño open and wide for me."

The electric shocks the head of his cock briefly grazing the head of your uterus sent your legs flailing on his sides. Growing bothered by them, he halts to rest them on his wide shoulders and wraps his arm around your thigh before entering somehow deeper into you.

Your hands found his meaty thigh and dug itself onto it and it encouraged him to go even faster, pushing you closer to the edge and you swore you could see the pearly gates of the heavens.

"I'm co-coming…! Miguel!"

"Give it to me baby, you know how much I love seeing you convulse so helplessly around me."

The hand on your throat left to find purchase on your clit, rubbing you as fast his cock plunges into you.

With a scream, you came. 

Your legs trembled violently on his shoulder as more of your arousal spurts out of your heat, white hot pleasure burned and stirred every nerve ending awake as your eyes rolled back.

But this doesn't seem to be enough for Miguel who only took a break to see your thighs convulse before continuing his thrusts.

You hit his thighs as he kickstarted another orgasm now bubbling in the pit of your stomach but he paid no heed. 

Not that you minded of course, if anything, it only pleases the sick bastard in your head, wishing to be used and fucked so well by your husband like it's your sole purpose.

"I'm so close, baby. Can you give me another one? Surely you can, right?"

His fingers rubbed your clit to the point of pain yet it somehow enhanced the pleasure growing larger in your chest and you screamed. Miguel bent down to rest his sweaty forehead on your shoulder, in the clouded state you were in, you could make out the sharp points of his canines pushing down your skin.

The threat of his bite shot jolts down to your heavily beaten cunt, once again tightening its coil. The frequent groans and low growls escaping his lips alone told you he's near to climax.

And with that, he's dragging you down with him.

"Please please please, give it to me…!"

"Yes, cariño. Anything, Anything for you."

With a couple of thrust, scorching hot explodes inside of you and Miguel slows down, almost into a halt as he rides down his high. The face of pure unadulterated ecstasy painting his face, along with his fingers, you came with another shout.

When he's calmer, he lets his sweaty body fall into your arms before reaching around to do the same. 

As your breathing returns to normal and the fog in your head clears, Miguel places a gentle kiss on your temple and cheeks.

"I love you so much, cariño."

"I love you more, guapito."

[fleuraliasave]

❤ Version 7.0 Fleuralia Save File ❤

Download link down below (please read entire post before installing)

This save file uses all EP’s, GP’s (not Journey to Batuu), SP’s and most of the kits (Country Kitchen, Blooming Rooms, Incheon Arrivals, Retro Fit, Industrial loft, Moonlight Chic, Little Campers, Pastel Pop, Everyday Clutter, Bathroom Clutter, Simtimates Collection, First Fits, Desert Luxe, Modern Luxe, Poolside Splash, Book Nook, Basement treasures, Greenhouse Haven, Pastel Pop and Bust the Dust).

What’s new in this update?:

Chestnut Ridge and Tomarang have been completely redone, added multiple new lots, updated other lots and provided make-overs for the households.

Added new households (when living in world; with jobs, friends, preferences etc).

Added rental lots in multiple other worlds outside of Tomarang (Brindleton Bay, Henford-on-Bagley, Britechester and more).

Spooky Fall Festival has been moved to Chestnut Ridge (bigger with haunted house ride). The old lot in Brindleton Bay has been changed into a cemetery.

Current Status of Worlds:

Finished worlds: Willow Creek, Oasis Springs, Newcrest, Magnolia Promenade, Windenburg, San Myshuno, Forgotten Hollow, Brindleton Bay, Del Sol Valley, StrangerVille, Glimmerbrook, Sulani, Britechester , Evergreen Harbor, Mt. Komorebi, Henford-on-Bagley, Tartosa, Moonwood Mill, Copperdale, San Sequoia, Chestnut Ridge (NEW!) and Tomarang (NEW!).

Finished vacation worlds: Granite Falls and Selvadorada.

Finihed other lots: Hospital, Science Lab and the Police Station.

To be updated: the Magic Realm, will either be included in a future update or on the gallery (OriginID: fleuralia)

What do you get with this save?:

For my save file all lots are either completely new builds (almost all) or renovations, ofcourse created by me. Exceptions: I have added the official builds for the releases of the Paranormal SP by Dr Ashley and the Dream Home Decorator GP by Deligracy to this save, since I thought they deserved a spot. These two are therefore not my own creations, credits are given in the description to Dr Ashley and Deligracy. Mt. Komorebi, Henford-on-Bagley, Tartosa, Moonwood Mill, Copperdale, San Sequoia and Chestnut Ridge lots are largely created by GameChangers. Most lots have gotten smaller updates, others are completely new builds by me.

All the townies had make-overs plus I added new families to spice it up a bit. Some of the townies are made by other creators, who are given credits in the description of the household. All the townies in the different worlds have a story, some include sentiments and adjusted relationships to the story.

Added plenty of community lots to give your Sims something to do (YAY!). Almost every world has one restaurant, but it also includes festivals that represent the four seasons (park lots) and a fully functional shopping street in Magnolia Promenade (toy store, bridal store and more).

I have added rental lots so you can go on vacation in more worlds. For example in Sulani, Willow Creek and Windenburg.

Other details:

As mentioned at the beginning, this save uses almost all packs (except Journey to Batuu and some kits). This means that if you download it without owning or installing most of the packs a lot of objects will disappear from the save, but if you are not bothered by this you can still download and play in it.  

I disabled the autonomous fame gain and neigborhood action plan voting/environmental changes, you enable them again in the pack settings menu.

I would love to add some households in this save created by all of you! Add your household under the hashtag #fleuraliatownies in The Sims 4 Gallery, you can add a storyline and world in the description but thats not obligatory. If I respond on your creation it means that I have incorporated it in the save for the next update.

Sadly every game update comes with a lot of bugs. I suggest before reporting problems in the save to me, to check on forums if its related to a general bug/glitch or to mods (if you use them).

Questions and supportive feedback are always welcome, you can reach me here via a comment on this post, an ask or through a DM 😁

How to make it work in your game:

Download the save file from the link below.

Drag it in your saves folder under: PC/Documents/Electronic Arts/The Sims 4/saves.

Change the numbers if you already have a save with the same name.

It should now show up in your game as: Fleuralia Save Version 7.0.

DOWNLOAD (SFS) / Alternate (GD)

!!Don’t re-upload or claim as your own!!

Future updates will follow after each pack release (if it includes a world). The time the update will be uploaded after each release depends on how much I have to change and on my work schedule around that time.

Last but not least, enjoy and till next time! XX

Fleuralia

Feel free to support me ❤️: Ko-fi account

[mikeystrawberry]

Today is Dungeons & Daddies’s 5th Anniversary!

I haven’t been listening for nearly that long but the podcast and all its characters means a lot to me. Happy Anniversary!!!

Throwing the cropped sections under the cut because there’s a lot of stuff going on and I know Tumblr likes to throw half the pixel quality out the window. And also so I can ramble a bit about this piece!!!

This piece has been months in the making, possibly an entire year. And by that I mean I’ve had a sketch of the comp scribbled on my whiteboard for ages because I wanted to save this specifically for 5th anni art. Now onto design stuff!

(First off a random thought: I really love how the garlic knot came out, I kind of want it as an enamel pin.)

I knew I wanted to make this a stained glass piece since the beginning, but I was also going to add flowers at one point but quickly dropped the idea. It felt like too much and I also didn’t want to fuss over flower language assignments for everyone. I was also going to add Doodler tentacles, but also dropped that idea pretty early. Kind of on accident, right at the end, I figured out how to make it even more stained glass-like but taking a duplicated lineart underneath the regular layer and turning the brightness all the way down, then setting it to overlay and adding a guassian blur. It’s very subtle but it adds that tiny bit of depth that makes it look more real. As for shading on the lineart/gold, I tried adding more highlight on the characters who died but once I evened everything out it wasn’t as noticeable anymore so I’m throwing that thought here so the attempt at least known lol.

The order of characters only changed a little bit from my original comp, I flipped the Wilsons and the Oaks so the rainbow could work. As for the anchors, specifically in season 2, I lined them up to the teens since the season 1 anchors lined up with each dad:

Tony —> Scary: his death was the beginning of Scary’s betrayal arc and also Willy killed him.

Guitar Pick —> Taylor: it’s not really aligned with Taylor at all, but the anchor was with Glenn so I put it next to his blunt.

Scroll —> Normal: was only because it was the last left to give him, but there’s the whole scene of him and Hermie in the Green Room so it still works!

Garlic Knot —> Link: one of two that he broke, but the more significant of the two with him telling Grant he never wants to see him again.

Small notes on the season 1 anchors: I put the layer of mold in the overnight oats but you can’t really tell with the overlay. And to make the supper bowl more interesting I added the fantasy sodas mix they dumped into it. The lure of actually drawn before so I just traced my own art lol.

As for the other smaller triangles, it took me a bit to figure out what I wanted to put there. I didn’t even think of adding the vehicles until two days ago but I’m so glad I did. I don’t really have my own take on the mascot version of the Doodler (yet?) so I borrowed the design from one of the stickers in their merch shop. Teeny was terrifying as just a front facing head so I made him cute again.

In the outer circles, I put what I felt was the most significant quotes for each family. I really wanted to use “It’s okay to be angry, it’s not okay to be cruel” but it was just a little too long.

That’s all I can think of! If you read all the way through, thank you for indulging me in my excitement to gush over this piece.

[slowcinnamon]

let me love you

bangchan x f reader

words counted: 9927

warnings: alcohol use, public tension?, oral sex (f rec), fingering (f rec), unprotected sex (dont!!!), daddy kink (soft), praise kink, a bit of emotional manipulation?? softdom!chris - let me know if i forgot smthing plsss

genre: romance, angst n smut

summary: chris and you have been best friends for many years, slowly beginning to have feelings for each other but you two had never confessed it for fear of rejection, although you know how you both felt about each other. his birthday was almost there and you wanted it to buy a nice and original gift, so with all your savings, you ordered a silver necklace that you had completely designed.

author's note: hiiiiii!!! this is my first fic, hehe. constructive comments are accepted :P hope you like it !!! :3

ฅ/ᐠ˶> ﻌ<˶ᐟ\ฅ

At this point in your life, it was no longer a secret that you and Chris liked each other.

You two had been best friends for years, each slowly developing feelings for the other and, although you never confessed it because of each other's fears and problems, everyone knew it, even you both.

Neither of you had ever said anything to the boys, but they themselves quickly realized when your looks and moments together went from being sweet and innocent to having deep meanings; those intimate and intense looks, the too long touches or the way you had to be close to each other in all situations, even unconsciously.

You yourselves began to realize each other's feelings due to the constant teasing of the boys, the way you missed each other or the deeply sincere conversations that you always shared about your life or emotions although you was never completely honest with him because of your own fears and issues; fears based on not being enough for him and lacking everything he was. He was an idol and you were just an ordinary person. The issues of the constant comparison with the people around him, always telling yourself that he needed someone like him, someone from his world so that he wouldn't lower himself. You loved him, deeply, that's why you pushed him away every time you could.

Therefore, being his best friend and keeping things platonical already seemed enough to you and your feelings.

It had been a few hours since Chris's birthday had started and you were with Changbin and Hyunjin, the three of you waiting for the bartender to finish preparing your fourth mojito of the night. For the occasion, and after having Hyunjin, Felix and Jeongin at your house for two hours discussing what you were going to wear, you decide to be totally faithful to your style.

"I don't know why I listen to you, honestly. I feel out of place with what I'm wearing" you murmur while once again, letting out a sigh while you continue resting your back on the bar counter and take another quick look at the huge room that Chris had reserved for his birthday, which was completely full with famous people in their expensive clothes.

"You're always exaggerating, there are plenty of people more dressed down than you," Changbin says as he takes a sip of his drink, also looking around the room. Changbin’s dresses in a black suit and Hyunjin has a white suit on, with a few buttons of his white dress shirt unbuttoned.

Hyunjin nods with a small mischievous smile, "Oh, yes. Look at that one..." while discreetly pointing his head at a girl who’s dressed in a red dress and yellow heels, he murmurs, then suppresses a giggle as he takes a quick sip of his drink, "She's the female version of the McDonald's clown." you nudge him gently, trying to suppress a laugh as you listen how Changbin can't contain himself and bursts into laughter along with Hyunjin.

Hyunjin's laugh begins to grow louder and he covers his mouth with his hand, almost choking on his drink as he watches the girl from afar. Changbin also laughs at Hyunjin laughing and pats his back, "S-stop it, bro. You're going to die from laughing." Hyunjin holds his chest before breathing a bit, "Oh God, I can't stand it. And she looks so happy in that dress."

You can't help but make a comment too, “Maybe she thought it was a costume party,” still suppressing a giggle and Changbin laughs again, this time, covering his mouth to avoid spitting out his drink.

Hyunjin nods and takes a big sip of his drink, trying to calm himself down, "The only thing that's missing is that she starts distributing hamburgers to everyone. That would be the cherry on top." he laughs after saying it and you two burst out laughing at Hyunjin's comment.

Changbin then pats Hyunjin's back again and lets out a sigh, "God, you're going to make me pee myself from laughing as hard as we are right now."

"I didn't know Chris had friends who cosplayed," you say again, unable to stop making comments while turning your back on the girl to start laughing.

Hyunjin and Changbin burst into laughter again, the tall one puts his drink down on the counter to keep himself from choking on it. When the two finally stop laughing, Hyunjin stands straight and leans against the bar counter again, taking a big sip of his drink before he speaks again, "At least we're not the only ones laughing, I saw Felix and Jeongin dying of laughter a few minutes ago."

Changbin chuckles and takes another sip of his drink, leaning casually against the bar counter as well, "I'd be concerned about Chris but he seems to be having the time of his life," he motions to glance over at Chris, who can be seen chatting and laughing with multiple people around the room.

You and Hyunjin follow Changbin's gaze, watching Chris seem to be enjoying himself. Your gaze stops to observe how he laughs, showing his dimples before you lower your gaze to his clothes, beginning to drool internally at seeing him once again in that black suit with a couple of buttons undone. But before you start to eat him with your eyes, the voice of the bar waiter tells you that your drink is ready, breaking you out of your trance and taking your gaze away from Chris to direct it to the waiter, thanking him before picking it up and carrying the straw to your lips to sip the mojito.

As you take a sip of your drink, you notice Hyunjin and Changbin sharing a knowing glance between the two of them before Hyunjin speaks once again, "So..." he begins, raising his eyebrow as he glances at you, "Have you given Chris his birthday gift yet?"

Changbin raises his eyebrows a bit and takes another sip of his drink, his eyes also on you as he silently listens to the conversation while Hyunjin waits for your response.

"No, not yet," you answer as you look at them a little excited, making both raise their eyebrows, then you gently bite your lower lip, leaving the drink on the countertop and looking back to where Chan is, "I wanted to give it to him earlier but it seems like he doesn't get tired of talking and talking and I don't want to cut him off." you look back at the boys to shrug, downplaying it, "I'll give it to him later." Hyunjin and Changbin's curiosity only grows more as they continue to look at you.

"You seem excited," Hyunjin teases with a smirk and Changbin nods as he smiles.

"Yeah, a little too excited.” he narrows his eyes, “What did you get him?"

“Uhm... I asked a jeweler to make a necklace I had designed for Chris a reality.” you murmur a little shyly, feeling your cheeks take on a slight pink tone and then pick up your drink and take a small sip, “So a personalized and... unique necklace in the world?”

Hyunjin and Changbin exchange a glance between themselves, both of them impressed at the amount of effort you put into Chris' present. In front of the intrigued looks of the boys, you decide to show them the gift before they start asking. You set the drink on the countertop and open your bag, pulling out a small black satin box, which you open to reveal its contents.

The necklace was made of silver with eight small stars, representing SKZ, on the sides and a cross similar to the Chrome Hearts' design in the middle but with the difference that in the middle of it, was a small black diamond.

You let Hyunjin's hands take the small box so the two of them could inspect the contents as they both stare down at the necklace, speechless and both impressed with how good the necklace looked.

"Damn, that's... beautiful. I didn't know you were putting so much effort into this."

Hyunjin nods in agreement, his eyebrows raised in curiosity, "Let me guess... was it expensive?"

“Kinda.”

"God, I knew you were going to do that." Changbin says as he shakes his head, "Of course you were going to spend all your savings on him.”

You roll your eyes as you gently shake your head and Hyunjin hands you back the box, which returns to your bag before you close it, "It's the first time I've bought something expensive from Chris. I'm a bit uneasy in case he gets all 'I don't want you to spend money on me' mood."

Hyunjin and Changbin both agree with you at the same time, "He's definitely going to do that," they both say, and you can't do anything but snort a bit as Changbin continues speaking, "That idiot doesn't like people spending a lot of money on him but he’ll put it on as soon as you give it to him," they both keep their eyes on you for a few more seconds before Changbin glances back at Chan and murmurs, “You’re never going to ask each other out, are you?"

You feel heat start to burn in your face as you hear Changbin's words, a small smile settling on your lips. Even though you had never confessed anything and both of you continued to silently suffer, you were well aware that the two boys knew about it. And that makes you feel a little embarrassed, because honestly, you hated having to talk about it and having to repeat the same answer over and over again. You hated their speeches about your emotions and the attempts to 'make you open your eyes'.

Deep down inside you knew that your actions only caused immense pain to Chan, who wanted to shower you in all his love and make you see that you were more than enough for him, but your fears had always controlled your life.

“Never,” you murmur in response while shaking your head and they both sigh as you leave the glass empty and you call the bartender's attention, "A vodka with lemon, please."

After your second glass of vodka with lemon, your senses began to become blurred. You had continued talking to Changbin and Hyunjin but you didn't remember a single thing that had come out of their mouths, just the way you kept giggling as you continued ordering drinks.

At some point, Chris stopped talking to the group and approached you, laughing at your jokes and enjoying the company and due to your state, you couldn’t help but begin to navigate towards the territory that you had forbidden yourself. The party was at its peak, with most people drinking and dancing while enjoying themselves, but you still hadn't given your gift to Chan.

Hyunjin was trying to explain a joke but between how he slurred his words and how he laughed while explaining it, no one understood him, you were just laughing at the scene. Changbin, who was the most sober of the group, watched the scene with a raised eyebrow while laughing until he saw how you and Chris were looking at each other while laughing and spoke when a comfortable silence fell among the group after the laughter, "Are you going to give him the gift or what?"

"Oh, yes, yes..." you murmur with your pinky cheeks due to alcohol. With slightly shaky hands, you open your bag for the second time that night, pulling out the small box and reaching your hand towards him so Chan could grab it.

"I hope you like it," you murmur excited and nervous, taking a quick look at his hands before focusing on his face.

His hand slowly reaches out, taking the box from your grasp as his eyes continue to stay focused on you, "You didn't have to-"

Changbin huffs from behind and interrupts his sentence, "Just open it, Chan."

He can feel your gaze staring at him which only causes his own body to become tense and his heart to palpitate a bit more than it already was and you chew on your lower lip nervously as your eyes watch him open the black box, his eyes almost widening a bit surprised as he processes the contents of said box.

"Holy shit..." he murmurs as he stares down at the silver necklace in complete awe, his eyes tracing every single little detail that was on the jewelry.

He delicately takes the necklace out of the box, almost handling it with the same care he would handle a newborn baby, examining it closely and you start to grow even more nervous. As he turns the necklace around, you feel even more anxious at the idea of him hating your gift and your breath gets stuck in your throat when he finally looks back at you with his doe eyes.

"You don't like it?" you speak quickly, making your words slur a little as you look at him totally embarrassed and take another step to take the necklace from his hands, "I-I can change it, you know? I can tell him th-"

"No, what? No" Chan's immediate response, quickly as yours, interrupts your thoughts and he tightens his grip on the necklace, not giving you the chance to take it from his grasp, “I do like it. I actually love it.”

Your body relaxes when you see how a small smile begins to widen on his mouth, perfectly showing his dimples as he once again stares down at the silver necklace in his grasp, making you let out a small sigh of relief. You know he's not lying when he says he loves it; his ears begin to turn crimson.

"I just..." he starts again as that smile he has on his face never falters, "I just wasn’t expecting this... How much did it cost you?”

"It doesn't matter" your response is immediate, noticing how a small frown creases Chris’ forehead as he begins to open his mouth again to probably start a monologue, but so before he can say anything, not wanting to hear him say the same thing over and over again, Hyunjin chimes in.

"Can I see it?" Hyunjin cuts him off before a word comes out of his mouth, leaning in to get a better view as he puts a hand on your shoulder, a silent and discreet way of saying 'I've got you' and Chan nodds. “Damn,” Hyunjin says, feigning surprise and looking at the small jewelry on Chan's grisp as if he hadn't seen it before, “I always knew you had a good taste. It looks cool.”

You smile a bit when you see him helping in the situation, but your attention then goes back to Chris, who continues to stare at the piece of jewelry in his hands with a frown on his mouth.

“I…" Chan starts again as he tightens his hold on the necklace a bit, almost as if someone could take it from him, "I really do love it... But you shouldn’t have-"

Again, Changbin steps between the interaction, “Yeah, yeah. Can’t people do anything without you lecturing them all the time, goddamnit?” his tone is a bit annoyed as he rolls his eyes at his friend, "She just wanted to pamper you for your birthday. Just accept the damn gift, Chris,” he lets out as he lightly slaps at the leader's shoulder and Chan lets out a sigh. You have to suppress a chuckle at the scene before you, knowing that Changbin was speaking for everyone with his words. Chris's grip relaxes on the jewel and his gaze returns to you, searching for words to appreciate the gift, he knows he should just be thankful but that feeling in his chest prevents him.

"Don't worry Chris, it's okay," you try to reassure with a small smile and your shoulder receives a squeeze from Hyunjin before he returns to his previous position, leaning on the bar. Chris raises his hand, his eyes flickering between it and your face, offering you the necklace as he asks, "Can you… can you help me put it on?" you nod.

Your heart fluttered in your chest at his request as you took a step closer to him, and Chan’s heart practically leaped into his throat. Your hands carefully take the necklace from him and with slightly shaky fingers, you place the necklace around Chris’ neck; the cold metal of the necklace coming in contact with his skin and making him shiver slightly, making him hyper-aware of every movement, touch or breath. He can’t help but lean into your touch just a little bit, relishing in the feeling of the proximity of you and your face.

You fastened it and made sure it was sitting properly before moving it around his neck, making the necklace clasp stay at the back of his neck. But even though you have just closed the clasp, you stay where you were while you lower your hands to your sides; not separating yourself even a centimeter from him and he doesn’t dare to move or speak either.

Chris's cologne come directly in with every breath you took, along with that look in his eyes; that look that beggs you to let go for once and finally give in to your desires repressed for years made your mind go back to the fine line you have been avoiding all night when he returned to your side.

But as quickly as the moment came, as quickly it leaves when you hear Hyunjin’s whisper to Changbin, which has come out louder than he wanted.

You finally look away from his eyes, and Chris does the same, avoiding eye contact to try and hide how red his face and ears have become, causing an awkward silence to hang in the air. You turn to look at the guys, who look at you both with a clumsiness look in their eyes and Changbin glances at Hyunjin before grabbing his arm and pulling him away from the bar.

"I... I think we’re going to go find Han," Changbin quickly says, not wanting Hyunjin to disturb any longer between you and Chan and begins to move away from you, dragging the highest, "See you... later?" both you and Chris murmur a soft "yeah, see you later" as you watch the two boys leave, hearing a “good job, dumbass” from Changbin.

After the two boys leave, an uncomfortable silence fills the atmosphere around you and Chris. You can feel a lump in your chest, probably the alcohol mixed with your own emotions; your breath falters a small bit, and your heart pounds with a force you didn’t know you could feel, you feel your skin burn with desire.

With your eyes focusing on the floor in front of you, you bite your lower lips, the taste of vodka on your tongue. You know that you shouldn’t look up. You know that if you look up, you won’t be able to look away.

As if your head was on autopilot, you slowly lift your gaze, letting your eyes travel up to his face. The necklace was perfect on him, the silver contrasting perfectly with his skin and the black of his clothes. His eyes immediately turn to yours, as if he was already waiting, as if his focus had never left you. You feel your heartbeat get faster, your breathing labored as the alcohol running through your body makes everything more intense.

"Uhm... It looks good on you," is the first thing you think of saying to try to reduce the awkwardness. You try to look back at the necklace, at something other than his eyes, but you can't, feeling the alcohol take over every one of your senses, the sound of the people having fun in the background muffling, everything feeling distant, like if you were trapped in a bubble only the two of you can see. His own eyes are roaming all over your face too, the desire and hunger in them making your legs feel like jelly, as if he could take you right there.

"Yeah?” he murmurs in response, his voice slightly low, almost a soft caress that makes your senses go even crazier. He takes a small step towards you, invading your personal space without even caring, reducing the space between you almost completely, "You like how it looks on me?"

He is trying to be cheeky, and you can see it in his eyes. You bite your lower lip, your brain screaming to look away, to not get carried away by the intense gaze of the man in front of you. You know you’re a couple of seconds away from starting something, but you still don’t look away from him, chewing your lower lip again and a lucid idea comes to your mind; it was as if he...

"You've been waiting for us to be alone."

“Maybe.”

"How drunk are you?," you ask carefully, knowing that you two are starting to not think rationally.

"Honestly? Pretty drunk" he confesses, his words coming out slightly slurred, but even then, you can clearly hear the desire in his voice, “You?”

“Same. Enough to regret tomorrow”

Both of you stare at each other, analyzing, feeling that same tension coursing through the air. You didn’t need to say much, you didn’t need to speak with words, each of you knows what the other is thinking, each of you are aware of the fine line of the situation and the alcohol is making everything more intense. The look in his eyes, the way he keeps staring at you without blinking an eye,his cologne flooding your senses in the best and worst way possible. It’s all too much, and yet, it's still not enough.

"Chris, no- we're not thinking rationally," you mutter, slurring your words a little because of how quickly they come out of your mouth, "We're supposed to have a line, remember? And we're about to cross it-”

“Then push me away,” he almost dares you as he cutt you off, his hands slowly slide next to your arms as grabs the edge of the countertop, pinning you against the counter of the bar, “Tell me you don't wanna and I swear I won't do it again.”

“I…” you murmur under your breath, trying to think of anything to stop both of your brains from fading into the drunken lust.

“You what? You’re scared?” he asks rhetorically, raising an eyebrow and then letting out a quiet sigh, “Don't you realize that we can't continue like this? I like you, you like me. Why don't you let me love you?”

You both looked into each other's eyes with an intensity that revealed all the feelings that you did not let come to the surface and tried to bury. You look into his chocolate brown eyes as if you’re bewitched by them and the way his eyes seem to almost stare into your soul. The closeness creates as if the world around you were a simple blur that makes you feel even dizzier.

His mind is clouded with all the things he wants to say and do, but the words are stuck in his throat for the way you were looking at him, making him feel like he’s the only person in the world. Chan's eyes darts downwards to your lips for a brief moment before quickly flicking back up to your eyes and he swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly, when he found himself leaning just a millimeter closer to you, lips almost brushing yours.

“Let me love you, please…” he whispers in a low tone, making the words sound like a breathless prayer on his tongue.

You know it's wrong, you'll regret it the moment your mind becomes fully conscious again but your body simply can't keep up with the self-imposed prohibition nor even the same beg look in his eyes, so you just lock your lips with his.

With your soft, sweet permission as you close your eyes, Chan allows himself to move the hand he has on the edge of the countertop to place it on the side of your neck, cupping it and immediately closing his eyes at the contact.

The party, the people, the loud music, everything, disappear as a lost train that never returns. It feels like every nerve in your bodies is ignited as you both savor the taste of the other; every bit of non-talked emotions replaced by an overwhelming wave.

Chan kisses you with a sweet intensity as if he’s trying to make up for the years of suppressed feelings. He pulls you closer to him, his other hand finding your hip and resting on it as he deepened the kiss, his tongue gently requesting entrance between your lips, which you gave it to him with delight as your hands travel to his shoulders.

You open your mouth slightly and Chris doesn’t waste a second entering it, causing your right hand to slide to the back of his head, grabbing his hair between your fingers as if your life depen on it. Chris lets a guttural sound escape his throat and buries his fingers hard into your hip, which you respond with a soft gasp.

His tongue explores your mouth eagerly, tasting and claiming every inch, leaving the two of you in a moment of undeniable connection and raw emotion and with a shudder; he gently pushes you against the countertop, tilting your head a bit to give him better access to your mouth, making you moan quietly in response.

Chris swallows the sound of your moan, feeling a wave of desire wash over him as he pushes you harder against it and his body against yours, pinning you between himself and the cold surface behind you.

He pulls back, both of you breathless, just enough to trail kisses down your jaw and throat, his nose pressing into the soft skin of your neck as he drank in the scent of you and taste of your skin, leaving hot kisses along your neck as he slowly makes his way to your lips, also leaving a quick there before separating his face from you.

Chris rests his forehead against yours as he, despite the desire coursing through him, can’t help but admire the sight of you; eyes shining while looking at him, lips parted and in a reddish color.

His eyes linger over your messy figure for a few seconds, his tongue moistening his lips as if he could still taste you in them, as if you could still melt in his mouth, "Let’s get out of here.”

“But your birthday party-”

“Fuck it."

He took a step back, reluctantly releasing his grip on your hip, but his other hand grabbed yours, lacing his fingers through yours and started to lead you inside the club and towards the exit.

"And the boys?"

"I’ll text them later."

Not even your mind responded clearly anymore, so clouded by the taste of his mouth and the desire for his hands to run over your body that you couldn't articulate any denial.

Chris hailed a cab and in the blink of an eye, you two were at your apartment, your lips locking againg once he closed the door. Everything happened so quickly as you walked blindly to your room, leaving your pieces of clothes and shoes along the way.

You realize you were both only wearing underwear when your back hits the soft sheets of your bed and your head the pillows, with Chris on top of you.

Chan breaks the kiss briefly to trail his mouth around your throat for a few seconds, trying to contain the desire that was coursing through his entire being as he tastes your skin and hear your gasps in response, and he move his mouth down to your collarbone, leaving open-mouthed kisses over your chest and then going down to your stomach, his hot tongue leaving a hot stripe of saliva as he continues to go down until he reaches your hip bone, suddenly felt your fingers tugging the strands of his hair.

Chris stops immediately to raise his head a little, looking at you with doe eyes, captivated by the image in front of him. His hands travel from your hips to the edge of your panties, slowly lowering them as you raise your hips a little to help him and throwing them somewhere in the moonlit room.

He lets out a gasp as he looks at your exposed wet pussy, and you see his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows in an almost greedy way. His eyes seem as if he's admiring some kind of rare diamond, and even if you want to hide and feel self-conscious about your body, the look in his eyes makes you shiver, the intensity with which he looks at you makes you feel like the most beautiful girl to step on earth.

"Tell me how bad you want it" he whispers, almost in a daze, as his hands travel again to your thighs, feeling your skin like a delicate fabric, tracing patterns over your inner legs, to which you respond by lowering a bit his head until his nose and lips brush against your folds, “Use your words, princess.” his breath directly against your cunt causes a cold shiver to run down your spine, anticipating the pleasure and you let out a quiet gasp.

“Please…” you whisper in a tremulous tone, feeling your cheeks burn with desire and perhaps a little bit of embarrassment for the intense look of the man in front of you and you bite your lower lip as he brushes his nose over your folds again, enjoying the way you squirm under his touch; your response to his pleas makes him feel a wave of satisfaction and heat in his stomach, “I-I want it so bad, please Chris”

"There we go" Chris praises you quietly, a satisfied smile on his lips, "You're doing such a good job for me, princess, I know you can do better." He gives your aching pussy a quick lick, making you whine, as if he was analyzing your reaction, and then wets his lips to speak again, "Tell me how you want me to touch you, I need to know, yeah?,” you eagerly nod and he slowly, gently pushes your legs a little more apart and he leans in a little more between them, his breath warming your core before he buries himself on your pussy.

Chris starts soft, even gentle; moving his tongue up and down and sucking your bundle of nerves with his gaze fixed on you and your reactions to know if you’re liking his work, but with every whimper or moan that comes out of your mouth, he increases the intensity, reaching to the point that he’s eating you as if it was his first meal in years. The obscene sounds his mouth makes while sucking your clit and the way you squirm under him fills your room, together with the light of the moon coming in through the slightly open window and shining a light on Chris, making his eyes shine, are the only things your head can focus on right now. Every nerve of your body is connected to his mouth and there’s nothing more delicious, making you clench your fists in his soft hair.

“Fuckfuck, Chris, Chris-” is all you can manage to murmur in a soft moan, not feeling yourself in control of your own words as his chocolate glossy gaze’s still fixed on you, “Fingers, fingers please.” The sweet, impatient plea makes him feel proud; proud to have you moan and shiver like that, to have you writhing under him so nicely and a sound that’s between a satisfied moan and a soft, low laugh comes from his mouth as soon the word ‘fingers’ leaves your mouth. Chris immediately obeys, “Yeah, baby, I got you” purrs against your wetness, leaving a wet kiss before pulling himself away as he takes his right hand from your right thigh and bringing his middle and ring fingers to your folds; rubbing them to catch your juices mixed with their saliva and bring them to your lips. Chris doesn't have to say anything for you to open your mouth and start sucking his fingers as if it was the most important mission of your life.

“Such a good girl, mh?” he praises you again, watching intently with his pupils dilated the way you seem to enjoy savouring the mix, “I would never have guessed you were that nasty.” he teased, tilting his head slightly before slowly removing his fingers, now wet with your saliva, from your mouth and bringing them to you core. He moves them down your entrance, mocking you as you can feel how you clench around nothing and without any notice, slides them in a smooth motion, feeling how tight and warm you are.

Your eyebrows furrow at the sudden intrusion and you look at him with your mouth open, unable to say a word when he begins to move them inside you, curving them to easily hit your sweet spot, “Did I make you that excited?” he asks in a teasing tone while leans towards to place his lips on the crook of your neck, biting softly without looking away from you. A whiny “Chris- fuck yes” comes from your throat, one of your hands grips his wrist tightly; feeling in your grip how his muscles tense and relax as he moves his fingers and you close your eyes, still with your brows furrowed. "Keep… Saying my name, you sound… So pretty," he mutters between bites, his eyes fixed on your expressions as he picks up the speed of his fingers, "Will you keep being a good girl for daddy?”

Daddy. Daddy. Daddy. It echoes through your mind and you involuntarily cum around his fingers, making you both moan at the action at the same time that your fluids ran down Chris's wrist. Chris stops his work on your neck to raise his head and look at you carefully, a teasing smile on his face, "Did you just cum on my fingers because I called myself ‘daddy’?” his fingers lower the intensity, riding your orgasm and bringing you out breathless gasps.

Your eyes flutter, face completely flushed as you catch your breath from your sudden orgasm, not being able to articulate many words. When your eyes finally lock with his, his satisfied and teasing smile pronounces, “Don’t look at me like that,” you murmur as he brings his wet fingers to his mouth for a quick taste before licking them clean with one of his eyebrows raised. “You look cute,” Chris responds once he removes his fingers and slides his hand down your throat until he brings it to the side of your neck, cradling it while his mouth approaches your jaw to begin a route of kisses to your mouth, "But answer me."

“Yeah, yeah, I did,” he continues his path of kisses up to your mouth, gently biting your lower lip, “I thought so… Does it make you feel good to have daddy taking care of you?” he asks in a sweet tone, completely contrary to the weight of the phrase, before leaving a small kiss on your lips. You can’t help but purr softly a “Yes… Daddy,” that makes him kiss you again, smiling against your lips. Chris sits on his knees between your legs, still with his face close to yours and he takes your wrist in his free hand, bringing it to his black design boxers, letting you feel his thick hard cock under them, “You think your tight little pussy can handle me?,” you swallow, already imagining how it looks, but the moment he lets out your wrist and pulls his boxers down, leaning up straight for you to see him, your mouth and pussy wets again; a big red tip monster. You look at him with slightly widened eyes and he chuckles, “Small packages have big surprises, babe.”

The view in front of you is magnificent, to say the least; broad shoulders, muscular arms with some veins popping, delicious and big pecs that make the necklace you gift him look simple, abs where his hard cock collides with and that teasing look as he bites his lip, capturing all your reactions. Your skin crawls while you entrance clenchs again around nothing and you unconsciously open your legs more, to which he responds by pulling down his boxers completely and throwing them away.

Chris looks at your dripping pussy for a few seconds, swallowing the lump in his throat, “Liking what you see, princess?” asks with an arrogant smile, “You look delicious while mouth-watering yourself”. He leans over you again, slowly approaching the warmth of your body, lowering his head to press his lips to the sensitive skin of your neck and leaving a trail of small kisses until he reaches your ear. “Let’s see if daddy can make you mindless, shall we?” he whispers as his fingertips ghosts the skin of your thighs until he reaches your knees and grips them to lift your legs, placing them on his shoulders.

His grip loosens and his left hand lowers to his throbbing dick, pumping himself before lining himself up to your wet entrance as he rubbs his tip on your juices, "Tell me if it hurts, okay?" he whispers again against your ear, grabbing your waist and slowly pulling his hips towards you, entering his tip. He continues to bring his hips closer to yours until he fully enters and feels the way your walls receive him; squeezing him and in turn, soaking him. Both of you moan due to the new sensation and Chris lets his forehead rest on your shoulder, taking the opportunity to leave a love bite on the skin of your collarbone.

“You’re so tight… Fuck,” he says through his teeth while he feels your body adjusting to him and he lifts his head from your shoulder to lock his gaze with yours. His hair is disheveled and his eyes are slightly glossy, making him look more beautiful than usual. Your hands wander up his arms, going up to his shoulders and digging softly your nails, “Y-you can move,” you say in a plea and he didn’t need further instructions to start moving his hips at a slow pace, although it didn't last long.

The sticky sounds and skin crashing filling your ears as his dick goes in and out of your pussy at a speed your mind couldn't handle. He leans back to take a better look of you, his ego boosting at the way you’re under him letting out loud sounds. The moonlight seep throught the window, bathing his toned body, making the sweat on his skin almost shine as you look at him as if he was a god to worship. His hair falls over his forehead and eyes, which are still staring deep into yours when you arch your back by the new position. “C-chris- daddy? Fuckfuckfuck,” you mutter under your breath while he brings his right hand to you, putting his index and middle finger in your mouth, “Suck. I know you like to play with your mouth,” he commands to let a guttural sound out of his throat when your warm tongue embraces them and you start sucking.

He hums in satisfaction before taking his fingers out of your mouth and running them over your skin to your neck, leaving a trail of drool that makes you gasp at the sensation. Chris leans towards you again, his lips brushing yours, as he grips on your neck thightly, “Your little pussy needed my cock that bad?” he groans breathlessy, almost sounding like a growl, picking up his pace and starting hitting your sweet spot directly, that's where you can swear he's eyeing at you like you're his prey.

His breath hits your face while he bites his lip and you try to let out a word but he’s feral while his tip bullies your sensitive spot, so only moans come out of your lips that are getting louder and louder. Your grip on his shoulders begins to shake as you dig your nails harder into him and he brings the hand on your waist to your lower stomach, gently pressing down and making sure you feel everything as you squirm more under him. “You like that, mmh?” he groans again and you begin to feel how the overstimulation of sensations gathers in you, legs beginning to tremble, lips already open and walls that squeeze him with more force, you’re so close. Chris seems to feel it and picks up the pace again, bringing his face to the crook of your neck to start licking the hot sweaty skin, “Daddy, I- gonna c-” you try to say but he cuts you off with a soft “Cum, yeah? Cum on daddy’s cock, baby, I know you can- That’s it, good job. Good job, princess” he praises in a sweet tone as you reach the edge with the last loud moan, closing your eyes tightly and releasing your nails from his shoulders to let your arms fall to the mattress while gasping slightly.

Chris's grip on your neck loosens as he continues to crash on your body, quickly reaching his orgasm as well with a guttural moan. For a few seconds, everything else disappeared, and all that existed were you two and the feeling of the world exploding around you.

Then, slowly, reality began to creep back in, and with his tremblous touch he takes your legs off his shoulders to gently place them on the mattress before collapsing on top of you, burying further his face in your neck and wrapping his arms around you. The room was almost silent, save the soft noise of your breathings mixing together. It isn’t until Chris speaks that you could notice the faint sound of the cars and the traffic from the streets outside the building.

“Have I been too hard?” he mutters against your skin, his voice a little winded as both of you try to get yours heartbeats back under control. Your hands move to the back of his head, slowly stroking his hair as your bodies sank in sweat and heat that slowly ceased to exist, “Mh, no, everything was fine, Chris”, you assure with a tired smile, your own voice breathy and soft. He slowly moves from you just enough to raise his upper body and look at you, his chin gently resting on your chest as he does. Chan’s eyes run over your eyes, from your messy hair to your rosy cheeks and your shoulders where he can see the marks from his bites.

He moves one of his hands to push his hair back as his lips pull into a lazy smile before he separates himself from you, getting up from your bed to look for his boxers and put them on quickly, “Don’t move, I’m gonna clean you up… The towels are in the bathroom, right?” you nod while you watch him move in the dark towards the bathroom and return with a small towel in his hands. He picks up your panties from the floor before getting on the bed and start gently cleaning you, “You treat me like a baby,” you murmur to him between giggles as he puts your underwear back on and throws away the towel, looking at you with a smile before lying down next to you and covering both with the sheets, “That’s because I like babying you”.

Chan’s now lying on one side, his head resting on one of his forearms and the other hand absently drawing patterns on your bare belly as you lie on your back, “I’m sleepy” you complain as you move sligthy to lie on your side and face Chris. He moves closer to you, moving one arm under your neck to put you closer to him, pressing your chests while nuzzling your face in the crook of his neck. His right arm envelops your waist tight as a small yawn leaves his lips and he lets out a sigh, “Mmmh, I could get used to this,” he muses with a sleepy voice before leaving a small kiss on your head, and you feel how a wave of reality hits you, hard.

His words make your stomach stir, the realitzation of what has just happened between the two of you being too big to be real. You swallow with some difficulty and you close your eyes, suddenly too aware of his touch, his body around yours as he continues to run his hand affectionately up and down your back while your heart aches at his words; not because you didn’t feel the same, but because he loved you and you were going to break his. You can't help but feel guilty after everything that has happened; yet you can’t stop yourself from snuggling closer into his chest, as if hoping that by doing so you could bury it all to the back of your mind. Chan's hand moves to gently card through your hair, "You know I love you, right?" he mutters against your head, still in an almost sleepy tone, "I've been in love with you forever" he whispers as his lips nuzzle into the crown of your hair while his other arm hugs you tighter to his body, as if he also didn't want to let go.

You bite your lower lip hard and try to be as strong as possible so as not to start crying right there, in his arms, "I know... I've always been in love with you too." your voice is sincere, feelings transparent like a mountain river that has not yet been contaminated but still trembles a little. “Good... Because I’m not planning to give you up,” Chris murmurs, and even if you can’t see his face, you can feel the soft smile through the tone of his voice, still with his head burrowed on your hair. It’s impossible not to feel guilty and undeserving when he cuddles you so affectionately and whispers so lovingly into your hair.

In a short time, you began to feel Chan's soft breathing in your hair, indicating that he had fallen asleep and had left you alone with your internal storm, likewise, it did not take you that long to follow him and fall asleep in his arms, with your body heat.

The faint ray of light coming through the window together with the snoring of the body by your side woke you up, feeling groggy and slightly cold. You opened your eyes, finding yourself glued to Chris’ back, your nose burying in the back of his nape and your hand on his belly. He was like a little furnace that still irradiated heat while being sound asleep, and you could feel the muscles in his abdomen move when he breathed heavily; even under your hand. You carefully left his side, getting out of bed to open the closet and grab the first pajamas you found, feeling how your body gradually began to warm up in the cold morning.

You made your way to the bathroom to remove your completely ruined makeup and wash your face, noticing the marks on your neck and shoulders that had been completely ignored by you at night. You left there starting to feel disappointed again and totally guilty of yourself as you went to the kitchen to prepare breakfast, your head felt like it was going to explode, your heart hurt like never before, and you couldn't walk very well. While the coffee maker fills your cup, with your head in your hands while your elbows are on the counter staring at the cup, you feel Chris’ arms around your waist from behind, burrying his face in your neck, murmuring a groggy “G’morning,” voice thick from sleep, to which you reply with a soft, "Morning".

His embrace around your waist is warm and comfortable, but you can't help but tense against him. In his still foggy mind, he doesn't seem to notice that something is wrong, "You smell nice," he mutters in your ear, before leaving a sleepy kiss on the crook of your neck, and that action only made you feel worse, as if the world was crushing you. Chan leaves another small kiss behind your ear before asking, "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, yes, everything’s good, Chris, and you?" you say quickly, stopping the coffee maker to remove your cup and separate yourself from him. You sat on one of the chairs at the dining room table with your cup, completely ignoring the look of confusion that was beginning to form on his face, resting your elbows on the table again to put your head in your hands, "Make yourself a coffee if you want".

Chan walks over to the coffee machine and starts preparing himself a cup, but you can feel his gaze on you from time to time; even if you keep ignoring him. He then goes and sits across from you, in complete silence, his eyes studying the way you were avoiding his gaze to the point of not even looking at him, and then you can hear him take a deep breath before asking, “Is this the part where you tell me 'What happened yesterday shouldn't have happened and that it was a mistake’?”

Your heart clenches at how low and hurt his voice sounds, as if he’s already prepared for the worst, and it makes you feel more than terrible but unable to explain to him at the same time. You can’t see his face, but you’re sure his eyes are beginning to look at you with that dejected expression and it makes it very hard for you to hold your own facade even a second longer, “I�� I can’t do this, I’m sorry. I told you I would regret it in the morning, and I am. I've been doing it since after we went to bed”.

The silence that follows your words feels like an eternal torture in which you can’t help but think of what Chris’ feeling, what he thinks of you. After a long minute, he finally speaks, and you can hear in his voice that he is holding back every emotion that runs through him to say something more, “You know… You were the one that took the first step last night. If you told me you would regret it after it, why... Why did you do it?,” but before you can answer, he continues, a dissappointed tone in his voice, "I know you think you’re not enough for me… But this is going too far, don’t you think? I’ve been chasing you for forever and when I finally get you, you do this to me? I- I just don’t understand you!" your stomach twists hearing the way his words start to crack at the end as he speaks, the frustration he feels towards you seeping through every syllable.

Chan stands up in a rush, almost knocking over his chair in the process, running one of his hands through his hair as he walks with short quick steps around the kitchen while the other rests on his hip, “God… I don’t even know what I expected after I saw you avoiding me the first thing,” he mutters, and you’re sure it wasn’t for you to hear, but you did anyway and it makes you feel like you’re shattering, and then he stops in front of you, “Look at me.” You know you have to face the consequences of your own actions, so you slowly raise your head, meeting his eyes for the first time since you woke up. His facial expression was a mixture of frustration and hopelessness, with a gaze you’ve never seen in him before. He takes a few seconds to just look at you as if trying to get some answer to the dozens of questions circling in his mind right now, and then he speaks again, “Why, after everything that happened last night… why are you pushing me away like this? Is it that hard to accept that I love you?” his question makes your heart drop to the pit of your stomach because it’s hard, excruciatingly hard to accept that the guy in front of you is hopelessly in love with you.

His words make you bite your lip to hold back a wave of tears as you finally let out a trembolous sigh, “I want to hear it from your own mouth. Why?” he murmurs with a stern but pained tone. You’ve never hated yourself as much as you do in this moment, seeing his beautiful eyes pleading for an answer, a reason, a damn explanation. It feels like a nightmare, like a cruel punishment, and the only thing you can do is keep staring at him silently as he continues, frustration growing in his voice, “You were the one who initiated everything; the first to move, the first to open up and let me in, and now you’re pushing me back again because you’re insecure?-” “You don't understand anything!” you cut him off, raising your voice and feeling a big ball form in your throat.

“You don't know how much it hurts to constantly compare yourself with all the women next to you, knowing that each and every one of them is better than me in every aspect. I don't want you to be with me! Can it get into your head?” the words come out of your mouth so fast that you don't know if Chris’ understanding you, “I already know that you don't love others, I know that you think that I am enough but can't you understand that I don't see myself like that? I already know it's my problem. That I’m the problem but I can't help but think like that.” At this point you’re standing up, both of your coffees going cold as you look into each other's eyes, sharing a different pain but same intensity.

Chan stares at you with a mix of hurt and confusion, his heart breaking with every word that falls from your lips. He has seen your doubts and fears before, but he didn't think they ran this deep, "I… I don’t understand why you would think this way…" he stutters, his voice quivering, "I've told you countless times how much you mean to me-". “It’s not about what you say, Chris. You can tell me I’m the most important thing in the world every day and I would still believe that I’m not!” you snap, your voice rising again as frustration, guilt and pain bubble over inside you, “I don’t know how many times I have to say I’m not good enough for you to get it” you continue before looking away from him, “So please… Leave.”

Chris falls silent at your words, a pang went through his chest like a dagger, the air in his lungs ceasing to exist and his entire being felt as if it was imploding. Your words echoed loudly in his mind and his eyes widening slightly, "What?" he mutters in an almost disbelieving tone. You avoid his gaze, your mind and heart in turmoil. You know you’re making a mistake, pushing him away like this, but yet, the crippling fear and doubt gnaws at your insides, “Leave,” you beg, in a pleading whisper, still refusing to look at him, “Just go.”

Chan’s completely and utterly stunned as realization sinks in. His eyes widen even more, and his entire body tenses as if hit by electricity. You’ve never seen this expression before, and it makes your heart sink into your stomach. For several seconds, he stays frozen in place, with a completely bewildered expression on his face, his mind trying to process your words, to believe what you just said. And then, softly, he whispers, “Are you seriously asking me to leave?” his voice is so low that it’s a contrast to the loud beat of your own heart. Your stomach twists painfully hearing his pained, disbelieving tone. You know you’re hurting him. That you just made the biggest mistake of your life. Still, you can’t find it in yourself to take it all back and apologize, your fear and insecurity still making you believe that this is the best for him, best to keep him at a safe distance away from your mess. So, you keep looking away from him, fighting to keep your voice steady as you answer hoarsely, “Yes, I want you to leave.”

There’s another second of complete silence. Even your own breaths sound too loud in the quiet of the kitchen, and you swear you can hear the sound of your own heart breaking along with his. Then, his voice, still low, said, "Why are you doing this to me?” his voice sounds broken as he steps closer to you, “I’ve done everything I can to show you how I feel, to prove you wrong… and it's never enough, is it?" he stops right in front of you, but he doesn't try to touch you, just staring at the top of your head.

“I’m sorry, Chris, really.”

Chan keeps staring at you for several more seconds, the silence growing heavier with every moment passing. He closes his eyes and takes a deep, shuddering breath, and you can almost feel the turmoil of emotions in him; his heart bleeding with each passing beat, the pain of your words stabbing through him like a knife. After what feels like an eternity, he opens his eyes, and speaks again, his voice quivering, “Will you look at me?” you can hear the raw pain in his voice, the way it’s cracking, and it makes you want to run your fingers through his hair, hold him tight to your chest. But you don’t do any of those things. You raise your gaze slowly, almost unwillingly, and almost regret it the moment you look into his face, seeing his beautiful face twisted with an expression of pure suffering, his eyes glittering with restrained tears that break your heart even more, and you almost have to bite your tongue to hold back the tears rising in your own eyes as you see the way he’s looking at you.

He’s trying, with all his might, to keep it together. To hold back tears, to keep his own emotions inside him. But he can’t. He can’t stop the corners of his eyes from dampening, the way his bottom lip quivers, or the way his voice breaks when he speaks again,

“I love you. Please, don’t forget it...”

You saw in his eyes how he hesitated whether to kiss you or simply hold your face with his hands but he didn't do any of that. He looked at you, giving you the best smile he could give you at that moment before leaving you alone in the kitchen.

You heard him getting dressed in your room but everything was like a distant noise and muffled by the way you began to cry silently.

The sound of the front door closing was the trigger for you to start sobbing, realizing that you were now totally alone.

In your apartment and in your life.

[moonlight-prose]

RIGHT WHERE YOU LEFT ME

➛ 03. BRIDGE OVER TROUBLED WATER

a/n: we are getting down to the nitty and gritty of this man's pain. and he's finally starting to the accept the fact that he has to talk about what happened to him. honestly out of all the chapters this one might be my favorite. solely for the soft vibes i tried to shove into what is already a very angsty story. also somehow wade weaseled his way further into this chapter than i intended him to. so enjoy the humor i've tried to add throughout. (i am reposting this since it didn't show up in the tags yesterday.)

summary: to open up was like taking a knife to a steel door. he never saw the use in letting someone in. but dinner spent in your company and conversations over wine and whiskey is where things begin to take a turn.

word count: 8.3k+ (i don't even know how tf that happened.)

pairing: logan howlett x f!reader

warnings: partially explicit scene, angst by the bucket load, vulnerable and emotional logan, grief, trauma, heartache, fluff, domestic vibes, alcohol consumption, wade breaking the fourth wall, wade being a shit wingman, the beginnings of something more.

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Blood poured over his hands and soaked into the ground below. The warmth of it coated his senses, dug into the grooves and lines of his palms. He swore he felt it down to his bones. Now permanently mixed with a version of him long forgotten—the man who used to smile.

Their shouts of pain rendered him immobile. Useless to help them, useless to save their lives. Useless. Useless. Useless. He fought against the restraints, the invisible shackles put there by his own hands. Whether to stop him from going or to keep him from harm—he'd never know—but he battled regardless. With a snarl, he felt them snap, his claws sliding free in all their familiarity. A weapon of destruction unable to be used for salvation.

When he began to run he felt it. The piercing echo of her. The power she emanated as they took her life, brought her to the brink of death. He felt her voice punch through his chest—puncturing him in his heart. She screamed his name with her final breath. Called out for his help; for him to save them all.

He could almost see her in his mind, the horror that befell a school of such powerful people. And he loathed himself for breathing. For living after they were taken so quickly from him.

His family. His home.

What once existed would no longer return. That alone broke him further than their deaths. The knowledge that his world—his universe—would be without their heroes. So much of their worth had been given to humanity. Only to be stripped of their lives within the blink of an eye.

And he couldn't save them. He could barely stand on his own two feet without stumbling.

"Logan!" The scream split along his skull, rupturing veins that healed far too quickly for his liking.

What the fuck was the point of his abilities if he couldn't put them to use? If he couldn't do the one thing they counted on him for.

Their blood stuck to him, burrowing into skin that would never scar. He'd never have proof of the wounds that rested along his heart. Forever damned to carry the weight of his own failure—the guilt that ate him alive. For what? To tell the story he could barely stomach himself? What was his life to the lives of those who meant so much more?

Why did he have to fucking live?

He stood on the doorstep. Death stained the walls, pierced the air with its pungent copper tang. He keeled over at the bushes, all the alcohol he'd consumed expelling itself from his body at the sight. His family was dead. His family was dead and he couldn't join them. He couldn't fucking die.

What once felt like a gift—eternity to find these people who loved him—now rang true with the only word that could make sense. Curse. His curse.

"No," he gasped, eyes bleary with tears as he scrambled to his feet and sprinted through the broken down door.

His claws came free, expecting a fight. Only to be met with silence. An eerie echo of nothing.

No laughter, no life, no chatter of students.

Nothing.

The breath ripped from his lungs as a blaring horn spilled in through the apartment's open window. In an attempt to get some cool air, he pushed the couch closer to what airflow there was. The only downside was hearing everything as he slept. Each little noise and loud mouthed fucker as they wandered the rather empty street. He wanted to leave—move to a better spot where humanity was sparse—but the pull of you across the street kept him there.

"Fuck," he grunted, eyes blinking away the nightmare that tore at his psyche.

The bottle of whiskey underneath the kitchen cabinet called his name. Offering a respite against the horrors he couldn't run from. And with a pained groan, he stumbled towards it—grabbing his coffee mug from the counter. The amber liquid felt bitter against the back of his throat. A familiar burn he welcomed.

He may not be able to stay injured, but this he could have. The darkness at the end of the bottle. The silence he found in collapsing drunk against the couch.

The streetlight outside lit the area filled with trash and the few people sleeping in darkened alleys. If he listened hard enough he could hear their heartbeats. Smell the pungent scent of the city as it seeped through the window. He could feel the thrum of New York beneath his feet—unfamiliar in its nature but home nonetheless.

The sight of a light flicking on grasped his attention—a glimpse of you staggering to the kitchen for a glass of water clear through your window. You should really get curtains, or blinds. He'd help install them for you. But then he'd never get this again. A small insight into your life, a peek into what he left behind a day ago.

Your lips against his still seared through his body—your moans and want for more left him breathless. And he had to go and fuck it up. Just as he did with everything in his life. He ruined the good. Corrupted the innocent.

Doing the same to you felt unfathomable—painful.

But how could he stop?

When you were catching his gaze in the window. Your glass of water was forgotten and the blanket dropped to the leather chair behind you. He left the bottle on the floor by the couch, his empty mug beside it as you grabbed for something. Logan yearned to hear your voice. To apologize for how he left things. But saying sorry never came easy and he found that keeping you at a distance was much safer than what he actually wanted.

The ringing on his phone broke his penetrating gaze. He reached for it quickly, pressing it to his ear as you brought your phone to yours. A breath was all that echoed through the small speaker—soft and warm. He swore he could feel it against his cheek. Hear the echo of your heart pounding beneath his.

"Can't sleep?" you uttered, finally putting his mind at ease. He exhaled a deep breath—hearing it fill your ears as warmth trailed down your spine.

"Nightmares."

You watched him stand still as stone. His fingers gripped the phone for assurance. A sense of stability from a past that had already cracked him in half. The sorrow in his eyes practically bled through the streets. Lapping at your feet like the waves on a shore. And in an act so unlike yourself, you took a step forward. You stood in his grief and offered to drag him to the sand—gave him hope that this world might treat him differently.

Logan wouldn't save himself because he believed he deserved it.

He'd save himself because he knew you deserved a better man.

"Do they happen often?"

The soft echo of your voice tinged with sleep set his mind at ease. For the first time that night he felt himself breathe properly. He could taste the sweetness in the air, the heat that clung to his skin held traces of you when you started to open your window.

Leaving you at your door suddenly felt like the stupidest decision he'd ever made. But the fear is what kept him at a safe distance. He couldn't hurt you here in this shitty apartment. He couldn't destroy what good you held in your heart standing here at an open window.

"Every night," he rasped. His hand clenched, the bones of his knuckles shifting as silver began to peek through the pierced skin.

He knew you could see it. He heard your heart speed up through the phone. And with a ragged sigh, he retracted them forcefully—hiding the beast within to present you with the man beyond.

"You don't have to hide them from me." If you turned, you'd see the punctures in your door you tried to hide with duct tape. The claws that came free because of your touch—your kiss.

They should have scared you.

Logan almost wished they had.

"You don't want to see that part of me honey," he muttered, watching as you stood closer to the ledge—your hand pressed to the chipped wood. "It's not all sunshine and rainbows."

You laughed and he felt it down his spine. "No. I think that's only in Wade's mind."

"Don't say that fucker's name please," he groaned. "Not while I have you here."

"Did I touch a nerve? Wolverine?"

Your smile deepened, mischief practically dripping from your words. Yet Logan couldn't help fixating on the way his title sounded off your tongue. The hero name he loathed for so long suddenly made his heart flip. He gripped the phone tight enough until he heard a faint crackling sound—his body going taut at the thought of you saying it under different circumstances.

Moving past the subject was all he could do. All he wanted to do.

"Why are you up bub?"

You sighed, leaning against the window frame. "Restless. Too much energy from the day."

"Not too much moving in the archives huh?"

"I'll have you know I walk constantly. It's a very demanding job."

He snorted. "Down to the end of the bookshelves and back?"

"Shut up." Your laughter echoed across the street and it nearly startled him how normal he felt. How human. "I can guarantee my job is a lot more work than yours."

"You're right. Saving the universe is nothin' when it comes to books."

"I'm going to hang up."

"Don't. I'll stop." Despite his serious tone, he didn't try to stop the chuckle you felt strike against your heart. The husk of its deep nature.

The memory of his touch still rang clear in your mind. How his lips molded against yours, his body firm and hot beneath your touch. You weren't restless because of work. In fact you felt the pain in your feet begin to spread up your calves the longer you stood there. You couldn't sleep because of him. Too busy replaying that moment to find time in your schedule to sleep.

"Logan." His gaze fell serious at the soft murmur of his name. "Tell me about your dream."

He bit back the urge to push you away, to claim he was fine. That nothing happened and acknowledging it wouldn't save him from himself. But that's not what you were trying to accomplish, and he knew that. He could see it clearly in front of his face. But he was a man hardened by the nature of silence—of ignoring his pain until it eventually withered and died inside him.

Changing that wasn't a battle he'd win tonight. Nor tomorrow.

He sighed, seeing how you fought back a yawn. "Not tonight honey."

"Why–"

"I will." Your breath echoed loudly in his head. He wished he could feel it. "I'll tell you everything. Just not tonight."

Your finger traced the silhouette of him against the glass. "When?"

"I don't know." He imagined your touch was against his skin, pictured how you'd trace the lines of his muscles. How you'd lick along his veins for a taste of him on your tongue. "Tell me about your day."

"That's boring," you groaned.

"Not to me bub. I like history." He smiled. "I used to teach it."

"Fuck off. Did you really?" You perked up within seconds, eyes alight as they were the other night. And Logan felt himself get dragged in a bit deeper. He knew he was fucked the second he saw you, but now...there was no stopping the inevitability of you. "I guess I learn something new every day. James."

He growled, low and hungry—pleasure filling his stomach. "Don't start somethin' you can't finish honey."

Silence filled the air and Logan felt the doubt pull at his nerves. He watched you lean into the glass, your scent filtering through the warm air. Sharp and heady. Darker than your usual honeyed sweetness; the taste of it spread along his tongue—shivers rolling down his back. You wanted him. No fuck that.

You needed him.

"And if I want to," you breathed, trepidation and hope overlapping in your words. "Finish this."

He bared his teeth in a grin that felt feral—as if he could taste your flesh. "We will," he stated with such severity. A promise lined in truth for once. "Now go on. Tell me about your day."

He awoke to the sounds of clashing pots and pans being tossed on the stove—the incessant beep of the coffee machine blaring off every thin wall. And Wade singing loudly—and horribly—to some fucking pop song from the eighties Logan would learn the name of against his will. He groaned, slamming his head back against the couch in the hopes that this was all a dream.

If he wished hard enough maybe he'd wake up to silence.

Or to you.

"Good morning peanut!" Wade's voice shouted, another bang sounding off behind him. "I've got coffee, Canadian bacon, and the final answer for what came first—the chicken or the egg."

Logan longed to stab himself in the skull. This quick healing factor became a fucking pain in the ass at the worst of times. He staggered into the kitchen, immediately wishing he'd drank the entire bottle of whiskey last night at the sight of Wade in a pair of white underwear and nothing else.

"What the fuck." He shut his eyes, reaching blindly for a mug and the coffee pot.

"Yeah..." Wade slammed the pan on the stove, a now broken yolk spilling over the edge. "Laundry day and Al called dibs on the top load. Just call me Risky Business."

Logan's sigh was ragged, beyond exhausted as he gulped down the first dose of searing coffee. "He wore a shirt in that fucking movie."

"Lookie here! Someone is up to date on their Tom Cruise movies. Don't tell me you're a Top Gun fan honey badger because I have some fucking news for you. We topped them for highest grossing movie of all time." Wade smiled as the destroyed egg slid onto a chipped plate. "Financially topped. Personally, I don't think scientology allows Tom Cruise to fuck anymore."

"I'm not listenin' to your fuckin' bullshit," he grunted, pouring another cup.

The charred egg was slid his way. "Aren't you gonna ask me?"

"Ask you what?"

Talking this early in the morning made the veins in his throat strain—his grip on the mug nearly cracking the porcelain. In times like this Logan felt the overwhelming need to throw his roommate out the fucking window.

If only to get thirty seconds of hearing him scream on the way down.

"What came first."

He moved to make another pot of coffee, ignoring the chatter that fell from Wade's mouth. In order to even feel coherent enough to make sense of it, he'd need four more cups. Or enough to bathe in if the morning didn't calm down. The sun blinded him as he turned to glance out the window; the air stale and hot choked his senses. He'd never felt this overstimulated before—this out of place.

"You look like you've seen better days in a horror movie. Up having late night phone sex?" Wade grinned and leaned across the counter—his head in his hand and love in his eyes. "Tell me about it, stud? Tell me more, tell me more. Did you get very far?"

"Oh god," Logan groaned, slamming the coffee pot back into place. "Can you shut the fuck up for once? I'm begging you."

"Did you beg her?"

His claws pressed to Wade's smug face—blood spilling against his cheek. "I will cut your fuckin' mouth off."

"I just wanna know why you're waiting so long to give her the Hugh Jackman."

"The what?" he growled, heat blistering against his face.

"Ya know." The crude gesture to his groin had him digging his claws directly into Wade's cheek. But even then he mumbled around the metal piercing his skin. "The package. The full shebang. Rock her like a hurricane—or whatever the fuck that German band was talking about. Cause I sure know she's aching for it."

"Don't fucking talk about her like that."

Wade smiled until his cheek sliced down to his mouth. The sight was disgusting enough for Logan to forgo wanting breakfast. And lunch. And dinner at that.

"You don't believe me! HA! Let me tell you, you're pretty but there's nothing going on up there." A tap on Logan's forehead forced the claws to sink just a bit deeper. "That sweet angel across the street is ready to save that horse and ride you instead cowboy. All. Night. Long."

"You don't know what you're talking about." Yet even as he said the words he felt the lie stick to the back of his throat.

Last night's conversation was proof enough that Wade was telling the truth. Even Logan could fucking see what was right in front of him. Someone beautiful, someone smart. Someone...he wasn't worthy of. If he combined all those factors he only came up with one conclusion. The longer he stayed away from you, the better you'd wind up being.

The safer you'd stay if he wasn't constantly shoving his way into your life.

The loud sigh from Wade's healing mouth shoved another wave of guilt into Logan's stomach. "Look. Ignore it all you want, but sooner or later you're gonna wind up with only your hand for some company and she'll find someone who actually wants to be with her."

Wade was right. For once.

What Logan didn't expect was the anger he felt at the visual of you finding someone else. The rage that nearly overwhelmed him. That's how it should be. You with someone better, a man who actually gave you a chance at a relationship. One that wasn't doomed from the very start. He let the thought simmer, chewed on it for as long as he could.

And not a minute later came to the answer he'd been looking for.

Logan would rip apart any other man without hesitation if they came into your life.

This wasn't a fling. He'd known that on his Earth and knew it now. He clawed his way out of a grave once to get back to you. And he would do it again and again and again. As many times as it took to make sure he got a glimpse of your smile, felt the love in your touch.

"Grab your shit we've got somewhere to be," he grumbled, shoving the burned egg in his mouth and washing it down with fresh black coffee to kill the taste.

"Yes! Now there's the Wolverine I know." Wade shouted, pumping his fist in the air. Logan couldn't tell if he was being vulgar or not. 

"Let's go bang your girl!" A snarl ripped through his throat, blood splattering on his bare chest as he pinned Wade to the wall—his claws embedded in the man's heart. "Or you bang her and I quietly stay at home with the window open to serenade you two with the sensual sounds of Marvin Gaye."

He grinned, eyes flashing over Logan's shoulder. "Directly from Sam Wilson's playlist if you know what I'm getting at Marvel fuckers."

On days where people were stuck at work and students infiltrated the library above, you found the solace of the archives to be everything you needed. For an hour you'd been placing books in their correct spots, labeling boxes to be housed somewhere new, and theorizing where you went wrong the other night when Logan left.

You didn't want to let the disappointment get to you. Nor should you. The phone conversation last night clarified enough for you to know him leaving wasn't your fault. It wasn't due to your kiss or even because he didn't want to be there. He simply hadn't healed from what his world did to him. Whatever Wade mentioned to you in a ramble of semi-seriousness gave you enough of a picture to know what that might have been.

No matter how much you wanted to help him; to make him see that you weren't scared of what he had to give. This wasn't your war.

Logan made sure you understood that.

That still didn't stop the swell of dismay at his actions. The belief that you weren't good enough to hear his story began to eat you alive the longer he pushed it off. Each comment came tinged with pain you'd never be privy to. Agony he wanted to endure alone.

You would give him the space he needed—the time that was required in order to heal from wounds you couldn't see. They were there. Dug into the shape of his heart—carved into the metal of his bones—but Logan wouldn't allow you to bear witness to that. To a broken side of a man who wanted to be better. If only he knew he didn't have to be for you to ache for him.

The thought of him alone left your heart twisting in your chest and stomach fluttering.

You slid another book into the correct spot, silence echoing like a void that went on for miles. Only for the ring of your phone to shatter it like glass. You scrambled for the device in your purse, breath filling your lungs at the sight of his name as it flashed across your screen. 

Maybe this made you seem desperate—a type of clingy that would make any other man run. You couldn't find it in yourself to give a shit.

"Logan," you said—his name leaving your mouth in a breathy manner you regret within moments.

"Oh shit girl you've got it bad."

The pounding of your heart jumped at the loud echo of Wade's voice blasting through the small speaker. "Wade?"

"The one and holy." To say you were perplexed felt like an understatement. But before you could spill the millions of questions on your tongue, Wade kept going. "Hey! What kind of wood do you prefer?"

A loud rumble of an engine blared in the background—killing your ears. "What?"

"Oh right fuck me. Silly question. There's twelve thousand words already written about what type of wood you prefer." He laughed as the sound came again. "I'm talking the tree kind. Got a preference for scents?"

"She's not gonna be able to smell it you dumb fuck!" Logan shouted. You heard an audible screech before a loud rustle had you pulling the phone from your ear with a groan. "Honey?"

You smiled, walking towards the part of the room that didn't echo with your voice. "I'm scared to ask what you guys are doing today."

"Oh," he chuckled. You wished he'd bought a better phone, longing to see each expression that crossed his face. "I owe you a door."

That kiss reemerged in your memory once more. Burning through your body in quick rapid strokes. As if Logan was fanning the flames of something stronger—a fire that you wouldn't be able to control. You imagined what he looked like at this moment, if he still wore the exhausted look of grief from last night. Or if he'd covered it with a mask of annoyance due to Wade.

"I can just call the building manager to fix it." You put it on your list of things to do today already, but the idea of seeing Logan again was too tempting to pass up.

He huffed, falling silent. Wade's voice shouting about the Lorax became all you heard for a brief moment—Logan no doubt figuring out what he could say to fix this. The glimpse of him last night had set your teeth on edge in a way you'd never experienced before. You felt you could sink your canines into the tension and rip it to shreds with ease.

"Where I come from it's only right to fix what I broke."

What he broke.

This wasn't about the door. You could see it clearly in the pained way he spoke his words—each one more clear than the last. Leaving you in a rush with no fucking explanation left him worried that you weren't going to be around if he kept pushing you away. You were something good—a light he sought in the darkness he found himself in—and messing up this chance wasn't going to happen twice.

He'd done this before. He pushed those he loved away.

Doing the same with you only made his chest echo with the hollow emptiness that he'd grown tired of feeling.

"You can fix my door under one condition," you said, effectively breaking the silence.

"Anythin'."

The flutter in your chest felt lethal when he spoke to you like this; open and willing to bend where you wanted him to go. A man had never given you this before. The attention, the knowledge that he wanted all of you. Not just sex, or meaningless conversations. He wanted every piece you were open to sharing—every dark crevice and thought you felt embarrassed about.

You only wished he'd understand you wanted the exact same thing from him.

"Dinner. My place. Seven p.m."

Fuck what you wouldn't give to see his smile as he let out a sigh of relief. "I won't be late."

You smiled, worrying your lip between your teeth—that familiar gooey warmth now back in your chest. "You better not be."

"I've got great timing honey. Got nothin' to worry about."

Bullshit. You nearly said it, but a loud shuffle and a few bitten off curse words—mainly growled on Logan's end—cut your conversation short. A triumphant laugh you could only figure to be Wade's pierced your eardrum as the phone was unwillingly handed off once again.

"I just want to let you know I've got money on whether or not he nails you tonight. So don't let me down cupcake."

"You're betting on this?" you exclaimed, loud enough to hear your voice bounce off the walls and echo back to where your supervisor was no doubt sitting.

"Of course. I'm not one to turn down the sleazy art of gambling." He sighed wistfully. You'd never wanted to punch someone more in this moment; suddenly aware that this is how Logan must feel every day of his life. "Besides if you heard the sounds that came out of our shower this afternoon. Oh ho ho. Something tells me that he was letting off some Steam Boat Willy to the thought of his late night phone buddy."

Disgust at Wade's words was rapidly overshadowed by the thought of Logan in the shower. Naked and desperate to find some release after your conversation last night. To say you hadn't pictured what he'd look like hard and aching from your touch would be a lie. But actually knowing that's what happened left you winded.

Your chest heaved as your body grew warm—the image of him with his hand around his cock, his head thrown back in pleasure, almost made your knees give out.

"Your thinkin' about it huh?" The overconfidence in Wade's voice snapped you back to reality within seconds.

"Shut up."

"Got ya red handed angel."

With a roll of your eyes, you made to head back to your work—Wade's words only served to fluster you more than you wanted. "Don't piss him off too much okay Wilson?"

His laughter nearly appeased you as the piercing sound of a saw went off again. The both of them must have ventured to a warehouse to find materials. You wanted to confirm your thoughts when Wade did it for you. As if he could hear you loud and clear.

"Who knew our man had lumberjack experience?" He sighed dreamily, a shout of what you guessed was Logan saying fuck off filtering through. "God it's like watching X-Men Origins Wolverine. Back when his hair screamed Staying Alive and I went by the name Billy Butcherson."

A cough from behind you gave enough notice that you had in fact been caught by your boss—her glare burning through the back of your skull. The short break you were allotted passed five minutes ago. Normally you'd be fighting your way to the end of the day. Today though...you felt that delicious bite of excitement at knowing you'd be spending tonight with Logan.

"I've got to go. But Wade..."

"Yeah?"

"Take a picture for me will you?"

"Already done. Got my phone set to burst. Which is what Logan's gonna do tonight instead of tainting our shower walls–" Logan's roar of I'll fuckin' kill you came seconds before you heard a thwack overlapped with Wade's high shriek. 

The line went dead instantly.

The elevator wasn't moving fast enough for your liking—each flash of a floor passed sent another wave of nerves through your body. Work dragged on longer than you expected. And the groceries you picked up on the way didn't feel like enough to make a meal grand enough for a night like tonight. You tried to destress by saying he wasn't expecting much. This wasn't even a date.

That is until you realized...that's exactly what this was.

A date that felt long overdue.

You hadn't known Logan long enough to pursue a relationship as deep as this, but that's where things got fuzzy. He knew you. Or a version of you that felt entirely different to the person you were now. And maybe that's where the security that this would last came through. The knowledge that no matter what happened, Logan was in this for the long haul.

This wasn't temporary.

A creak of the doors opening didn't deter you from digging through your mountain of thoughts. Each one more worrisome than the last. You should be terrified that this was it. The future had already been written and Logan was at the end of the road. That alone would be reason enough to turn tail and run.

Then you turned the corner leading directly down your hallway.

Logan stood leaning against the wall, a lit cigar in his mouth, smoke trailing past his lips, and a heavy wooden door placed directly beside him. A toolbox that looked to have seen better days sat by his feet. A bouquet of honeysuckle and peonies placed directly on top—wrapped in brown paper with a yellow and blue bow.

Whatever fear might have lingered in your body dissipated when his gaze found yours and his lips pulled into a smile.

"You're early," you said—desperate to catch your breath. The scent of his cigar lingered on your senses, mixing with the leather of his jacket.

Suddenly Wade's words from earlier felt a lot more real than you expected. He showed up dressed casually. Jeans, flannel, the familiar dog tags strung around his neck. Yet whatever transpired the night before came rushing back with the promise of more.

This was a date. But whether it would lead to something else you'd leave entirely up to him.

"I told ya I had great timing honey."

Heat trailed down your body where his eyes followed. "I didn't believe you."

"I know."

The claw marks on your door brought a flustered smile to your face. As if to say you were okay with them staying. You wanted them to stay. Logan's eyes darkened at the sight, a flash of something worse taking hold of his mind as you pushed it open.

You longed for him to tell you the truth. He wouldn't either way. But the hope still remained—lingering on the edges of your heart.

"Easy enough to fix," he muttered, reaching for his tools—the bouquet of flowers gripped tightly in his large palm.

"I didn't know what exactly to get." He stood in your living room, eyes trained on the window. Finally he was on the other side—in your home—and yet he found he didn't belong here. "Do you have a preference?"

He sucked in another drag from the cigar before pulling it free—stamping it out on his palm as you watched. A heady wanton look crossed your features. You doused it quickly in favor of unpacking the groceries. He made sure to store it away for a later time. One that didn't feel dragged by the weight of his own thoughts.

"I'm not picky."

You nodded. "Feel free to use whatever's useful. I don't have tools though."

"I came prepared bub." He lifted the box with a smile and suddenly recalled that he bought you flowers. Much to Wade's annoying comments about this being a first date. Logan wouldn't push you in any direction you felt uncomfortable going towards. But in an irritating turn of events, Wade was right. Twice. "These are for you."

The smile on your face was worth every dollar and excruciating minute spent picking out what went with what. He reminded himself to thank Wade. Even if it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"They're beautiful." The delicate white lay atop pink flowers that filled your senses. An aroma you'd never known could work so well together. "Why these?"

A touch of crimson began to tint the tops of his ears as he let out a breath. "They're uh..." He coughed. "The day we met I said somethin' kinda awkward."

"I smelled different."

"Yeah." Logan wanted to bury himself six feet under at the teasing glint in your eyes. "That's how you smell. To me. Like honey and flowers."

There had to be an explanation for the way your heart split down the center—as if to offer him one half. To give him a part of yourself that once didn't belong to him. But that's where you were wrong. Even in a different universe, he would find you. You were once everything to him; the person he'd go through hell for. That fact never changed. Even if you did.

You wanted to spill every emotion, every truth about how your heart already longed for him in ways that left you reeling. But Logan wasn't a man to speak longer than he had to. And before you finally gained the courage to open your mouth, he was stepping back into the hallway. His hands busy with a project and mind eons away.

Dinner was simple to cook knowing he'd eat whatever you made. Pasta, some wine, and an old bottle of whiskey a friend of yours bought sat on the table as he put the final touches on the door. You'd spent the time at the stove combing over every word spoken. Every minute touch and fleeting look. As he worked effortlessly on setting your new door in place.

A dark honeyed wood with grooves throughout that almost resembled the small panes of a window. The quality was stunning. Beyond anything you'd seen before.

You wanted to prod and ask where he learned to do this. But the sight of him slightly sweaty, flannel tossed into his toolbox, and arms on display when he carried the door to its spot, left you dazed. Each movement caused the muscles beneath his skin to ripple—face screwed in a look of concentration while the sound of the drill echoed off the hallway walls.

For a moment you forgot dinner was cooking as you practically ogled his form. That familiar flame burned through your body when his gaze met yours and a smile crossed his lips.

Logan could feel your eyes on him—the aching burn of your gaze now seared into the bare skin of his arms and shoulders. And he fought himself to keep going. To ignore your now heady scent—the way your heart sped up with each shift of his body—and finish what he started. If he was being honest, which he rarely was with himself, he put on a show for you.

You liked him.

He just wanted to reaffirm that fact once in a while.

The smell of slightly burnt garlic had him biting back a smile as you rushed to fix what his distraction caused. His ego swelled. Heart pumping with a sense of pride the second he caught you flustered with your head bowed in the kitchen.

"Smells delicious honey," he said, testing the lock on the door a few times until he felt satisfied with his work.

"It's not much." You popped open the two types of alcohol, pouring a generous helping of wine in your glass. He fixed himself his own whiskey. "Something my sister taught me when I was in college. She believed if there was nothing else to cook, pasta was always the correct answer."

"Smart woman."

You pushed the plate his way and caught the grin he hid at the small act of domesticity. What began as a nerve-wracking date became an insight into what your future with him might look like. Dinner at a tiny kitchen table, his jacket draped over one chair, the scent of flowers twining together with the faint traces of his cigar.

A life that felt perfect enough to keep forever.

"I hope you know Wade's betting on tonight," you said, pouring another glass of wine.

You were settled next to him on the couch, dinner resting full and warm in your stomachs. The alcohol tasted sweeter on your tongue compared to an hour ago. He lounged with his legs spread, glass balanced in one hand. A lazy look of satisfaction in his hazel eyes.

Logan had never felt this comfortable. Soothed by the scent of you beside him, the whiskey on his tongue, and the sight of you with your legs curled beneath you. The red wine made you smile more, laugh easier. He noticed how you bloomed before him, light shimmering between small jokes and half assed teases.

All his life he wondered what home would truly feel like. What would having a place be? And this...you beside him with an endless night stretched before you, gave him the answer.

Home felt like you.

He groaned, head falling against the back of your couch. "He's a lucky fucker with that can't die bullshit. What's the bet?"

Your eyes dragged to the door—tracing the carved marks as his hand hesitated to settle on your thigh. "That you'd and I quote nail me."

"What?" he spit.

The laugh that bubbled to the surface echoed with the heady effects of too much wine. "I hate to break it to Wade. But I don't have sex on the first date."

Logan's lips turned up, hand finally against the bare skin of your leg. Your skirt fanned around your lap, covering your soft skin that lay beneath. "So this is a date huh?"

"Yeah." He tugged you closer. "At least I think it is."

"I think so too."

Unconsciously, you toyed with the chain of his dog tags, catching a glimpse of the worn letters of his name. Any other time you'd push the questions away. You would claim that tonight wasn't the right time. After all this felt good, right in ways nothing had before. But the wine made you loose lipped. Braver than the other times you pushed past the line he drew deep in the sand.

Except this time...he started the conversation.

"You asked about my nightmares last night."

Your eyes caught his, fingers stilling against his chest. "I know you don't want to talk about it."

He shook his head with a deep exhale he felt down to his stomach. "If this is what I think it is. What we're startin' here. Then you should know what you're getting into honey."

"I know what I'm getting into–"

"No. You don't." He sat up straighter, tugging you close until your legs lay over his lap. "You don't know what happened to me. What I did..." He sucked in air as his heart began to twist. The cold wash of anxiety suddenly brighter than a few minutes earlier. "What I couldn't do."

The pain in his eyes chipped off a piece of your heart. Oh how you longed to give it to him.

Cupping his cheek, you felt the scratch of his beard against your skin. "Logan. You're not a bad man."

"Yeah bub. I am," he barked in a half laugh meant to discourage you from seeing his grief.

That's what this was. The full spectrum of his emotions scared the shit out of him more than any villain he fought. More than the thought of dying alone one day. The moment you saw them for yourself, he knew you'd run. He almost expected it. Which is why he'd taken so long—put it off each time the curiosity lingered in your gaze longer than he liked.

He told himself you didn't need to know.

It was better this way.

Tonight proved that all those reasons—all those excuses—stood no chance when it came to you.

"I don't believe that," you whispered, your other hand curling around his dog tags.

"Gotta remember I'm not him. I'm not the hero and never have been." When you looked at him like that—eyes wide and lips turned down—he felt the full weight of the words he was about to say out loud. Words he hadn't spoken since Laura met him by the fire way back in the Void.

Somehow saying it to the other Logan's daughter felt easier. As if he couldn't disappoint her anymore than he had. She'd been there at his death, watched him struggle to protect her, and loved him in spite of all that. She called him Dad and spoke over his grave with a smile. Knowing full well he'd never come back to life, he'd never find his way back to her.

Laura wasn't his kid and yet...he knew she'd understand.

But saying it all to you…

He wasn't sure he'd survive it if you never understood.

"The X-Men in my world weren't as respected as the ones in yours. We were heroes, but the humans. God they fuckin' hated us." His eyes burned with each memory that came rushing back. A river that threatened to drown him. "And I always had to be an asshole. I didn't know what home felt like—what...family felt like. So when I got it, I pushed it away."

"Oh, Logan–"

"No, let me...let me finish honey." He gripped the glass until he heard a crack—his eyes dazed and mind lost to a different time. The night that would later become his ghost. "So I left and did the only thing I was fuckin' good at. I drank until I couldn't feel anythin' anymore. And the humans decided they'd had enough of the X-Men."

Grief struck your heart straight down the center. Tears spilled down your cheeks at the sight of him so broken—so raw from a time that would never leave him. You finally knew why Wade never explained it to you.

This wasn't his story to tell. Not his past to share.

"I came home and they were–" His fingers dug into the skin of your thigh in an attempt to ground himself. Claws slipping free as he struggled to get the final words out—the truth of why he pushed you away. Why he should keep pushing you away. "They were dead."

You pressed yourself against his side, lips against his temple as he silently bit back the emotions he refused to set free. What would become of him once they were finally out? He couldn't risk hurting you because of it.

"They called for me." His breath was ragged, voice thick with tears that never fell. "Jean. Charles. I heard them die in my head. But I was too fuckin' drunk to save them. I got home and all of them were...Jesus. The humans called us mutants vicious, but I'd never seen anythin' like this."

The worst part crawled up his spine with a chill that had his claws coming free. "And you. You survived due to your gifts. Apparently you hid in the future—snapped there without even realizing it. But by the time you returned they were dead and no matter how many times you tried to go back, you couldn't." He raised his head, eyes red and glassy. "You tried to kill me that night. I couldn't blame you for it cause I wanted to die."

"That's not me."

He shook his head. "I know, but you have to know why it happened. I couldn't protect you honey. I couldn't protect any of them."

"The humans did this. Not you." You dragged his face to yours, forcing him to see the sincerity in your eyes—the fire that burned no matter the variant. "You did not kill your family Logan. Don't take their shame."

"It's easy for you to say that bub. You weren't there." He felt your touch mark against his skin and fuck how he wished it would leave a scar. "I'm not the fuckin' hero. I'm the man who fucked it all up because he was too proud for his own good. I need you to see that."

Your gaze hardened. "Why?"

"So you know what you're gettin–"

"Bullshit," you demanded. "I know exactly what I'm getting into Logan. I knew the second I met you. So don't do that. Don't push me away." The press of his forehead to yours leveled the pain and allowed him to breathe. "I'm here to stay. Whether you want me or not."

He grinned, tears finally falling as your lips found his. You breathed life back into his chest, made his heart worth beating again. For all that time he damned himself, loathed the reflection in the mirror, he never thought he'd get this. The soft press of your kiss, the bitter tang of wine on your tongue as his hand gripped your hip—his claws retreating back into his body.

"Trust me. I want you," he mumbled against salt stained lips and broken smiles. "I'll always want you."

"Then it's a good thing I want you too."

That familiar flicker of sparks still existed in the air, begging for more. But you were content to stay here. Kissing him over and over again in order to embed the sensation in your mind.

"Thank you for telling me," you sighed, fingers curling into his hair to drag his lips back to yours.

The thud of his heart ran through his whole body. "Can I show you somethin'?"

You nodded, pulling away as he dug into his pocket. As much as he longed to keep kissing you, to spend all night right there on that couch. He knew there'd be time for that. A night where you were both unburdened by the weight of a past that defined who you were. Tonight was not that night.

The picture was old, burned slightly at the edges and crinkled, but he handed it over with a grin. A group photo like the one stored in the archives at your job. Only this time you recognized two faces among the small team of people in yellow suits. You were smiling with an arm around Logan's waist, your face pressed against his chest.

The sight of his smile—wide and unfiltered—made your heart leap. But the blue aura that seemed to wrap around your body is what gave you pause.

"The blue..."

"Your powers." He pointed to the way it ended at your hands, seeming to stem directly from your chest. "Turning them off wasn't really a thing you could do. Somethin' about time being a constant flow of energy. Charles always explained it better."

Thousands of questions came to mind. All of them pertaining to the powers and the team and more specifically him. He sunk into the couch with a sigh, his eyes hazy with a different kind of need. An ache that no doubt begged him each night. Sleep. Rest without any nightmares, free of the shackles he'd placed on himself.

So you stood, nearly startling him when you did. Nothing had to be said about your intentions, or why you held out your hand for him to take. He simply followed. Each step heavier than the last. The kitchen could be cleaned tomorrow, the bottles put away later. You couldn't find it in yourself to care when his hand was in yours and he smiled at you as if you'd hung the moon in the sky.

"Thought you said Wade was losin' tonight honey?"

You laughed, pushing the flannel from his shoulders as you led him to your bed. "He is. We're just sleeping."

There was no mistaking the doubt in his eyes, the trepidation of his nightmares. "I might hurt you."

"No you won't." Drawing his hand up to your mouth, you lay a kiss along his knuckles. "I trust you Logan."

"You shouldn't." His breath was a shuddered exhale at the sight of you pulling your dress up and over your body.

"Well too bad," you replied, tugging the covers back while he pulled off his shirt—leaving his boots by the door. "You don't scare me Wolverine."

"Wolverine huh?" Crawling into bed with you was easy. Though the mattress sunk under the weight of his bones, you still let him tug you closer—his arms wrapped around your bare waist. "It was James the other night."

"Careful," you said. "Or I'll start calling you Howlett."

A growl rumbled in his chest, his teeth nipping at the bare skin of your shoulder as you laughed. And suddenly he remembered what it was like to live. To want more than just the bottom of a bottle and a peaceful night's sleep. He could recall nights like this in the past. A different you curled up against his body—the love resonating in how you clung to him.

It all slammed into him at once.

Although tonight he didn't push it away. He kept you close, his nose burrowed in your hair, and welcomed the gentle tug of a few hours rest.

Tonight—for the first time—he slept.

Without nightmares.

[miss-oranje-disco-dancer]

daddy all along

pairing: leon x reader

cw: smut, daddy kink, age-gap, hurt/comfort, alcoholism, daddy issues, morally dubious behavior, virgin reader, reader is 21 during all sexual/suggestive scenes but there is a non-sexual scene at the beginning where reader is a child.

word count: 7k

summary: leon is reader's dad's best friend. he has known you since you were very little and has acted as a secondary father figure at different times in your life because your father is an alcoholic/workaholic. but leon's not your dad, he's actually there for you (and he's very sexy). your dad misses your 21st birthday and leaves you with leon, and you convince him to take your virginity.

a/n: no, you should not do this in real life. this is purely for fiction. yes, it is weird to write reader as a child and then as an adult. if you don't want to see this type of content, then don't read it.

part 2

You remember the first time you called Leon 'Daddy.' It was the first time you slept with him, on your 21st birthday. That's your version of the truth but not the truth. Leon remembers the first time you called him 'Daddy.' You were three years old. 

"Leon," a tiny voice whispered, and with it came even tinier footsteps down the stairs.

Leon paused the TV and turned towards you.

"What is it, princess?" he said, matching your tone.

"I can't sleep," you pouted.

He motioned for you to come closer, and you did. 

"Why is that?" he asked, lifting you into his lap.

Sitting on his knee, you said, "I'm scared of monsters". 

"But there aren't monsters, sweet pea."

"But what if there are, and we can't see them?" 

He looked into your big eyes and saw the genuine worry behind them. He pulled you closer, towards one hip, so that he could safely stand with you in his arms. 

"How about we check one more time, and I'll show you that there are no monsters?"

You nodded, head pressed to his chest, relaxing into the comfort of his arms. 

He put you down in your bed and looked through every corner of your room - the back of your closet, under the bed, every drawer in your dresser - to prove there were no monsters. 

"And even if a monster came in here, I'll be right downstairs, so they'll have to go through me before they can come get you."

"What if the monster gets you?"

"The monsters never win against me."

And that was true. You were too young to understand what he meant, though. 

"Can you sleep in here?"

"I can't fit in your bed, princess."

"When I get scared, sometimes Dad sleeps on the floor."

Leon had been substituting for Dad more and more frequently. It made him upset, not at you, but for you. He couldn't believe that, especially after your mother had abandoned you both, your father would choose work, women, and alcohol over you. Someone had to choose you, and that someone was going to be Leon. He always wanted to save people and to be a good man. Heck, he even imagined himself as a father before Raccoon City flipped his life upside down. Since then, he'd resigned to the idea that he'd never get the stereotypical wife and two kids living in a house with a white picket fence. The closest Leon would get to being a family man was when he slept in your father's guest room. He'd made peace with that. 

So, that night, he slept poorly on your bedroom floor, even after you bargained with you to give him a pillow. You gave him one of your stuffed animals, too, thinking it might help him in the way that it helped you. He nearly cried at how thoughtful you were as a little kid.

"Thank you, sweet pea," he said, accepting your thoughtful gift. 

You smiled, rubbed your sleepy eyes, and said, "Goodnight, Daddy."

Leon heard what you called him, but he never acknowledged it to you. He had a good poker face. 

"Goodnight," he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

You slept, thank god, and as he suspected, no monsters appeared. 

This went on periodically throughout your childhood, your father being gone, and Leon stepping in. At some point, you got old enough that Leon didn't have to sleep on your bedroom floor as you no longer believed in monsters. Ironic, he thought, considering what he'd seen, but he'd never share the horrors of his job with you, even if the government would let him. No one deserved to bear that kind of hurt, not even he did. 

Leon was around less once you were old enough to take care of yourself. According to your father, he'd been going through some things - those things remained unspecified, but you put together the pieces once you saw him. 

Alcohol. That's what your father meant. It took your father away from you, and you feared Leon would be next. Leon drank a little too much, too often, and when he did, you distanced yourself from him. He never told you that he'd noticed the way you shied away from him, how you always retreated to the safe space of your bedroom when he was over. On the surface, you handled it all quite well. You didn't yell at Leon and tell him to get sober, you didn't cry yourself to sleep, you bypassed the first four stages of grief when you felt like you were losing him. Too used to being disappointed, you preemptively resigned yourself to the fact that he would end up like your father: gone, in one way or another. 

Leon got better, though, unlike your father. Neither of you ever talked about it, but your rift mended itself. Leon watched your face light up in hope and gratitude when he refused the drink your father offered him for the first time in a long time. Your hello and goodbye hugs returned, and you made noticeable efforts to linger in his presence; most notably, you went back to derailing the conversation whenever it came to bedtime, something you'd done since you were a kid. 

You became a debate champion and a master manipulator when it came to convincing Leon to let you stay up later. Every argument was futile, and he knew it; he continued to play your games for fun, but you had the key to his heart whether you knew it or not, and he would always give in to you. 

Leon didn't need to babysit you anymore as you got older, and his work life got increasingly busy. Plus, he had to spend time on therapy and self-care now that he'd decided to get sober. Thus, he saw you less often. It was okay, though; you had secretly and very loosely planned to visit him in D.C. once you graduated college, got a big girl job, and were no longer governed by your father's rule. 

Adulthood couldn't come sooner.

For your 21st birthday, you were hoping you could go out with a friend - or go to a party, though you wouldn't tell your dad the second part. However, you had been grounded for partying the weekend before - indefinitely, so your 21st would be spent at home with your dad. It could be a blessing in disguise, you thought initially, since your dad was rarely around. Now, you'd finally get to spend some quality time together. But alas, you were so very wrong about that. At the very last minute, your father was called out on an urgent work mission. 

When you were a child, this was his standard excuse for anything from a date to a night out on the town with friends. Sometimes, though, he really was needed at work. You'd allow yourself to believe it this time as a birthday gift. You'd spend the night crying otherwise. 

The nail in the coffin was that your dad got you a 'babysitter.' A babysitter on your 21st birthday?! It seemed like there should be a way to legally refuse that kind of thing. You expected the babysitter to be the mean old woman who lived next door; maybe if you were lucky, her daughter, who was slightly less of a bitch, would be in town, and your dad could pay her to take care of you instead. 

You were in your room, beginning your pity party, when the doorbell rang. 

"Honey, your babysitter is here. How about you come down and say hi," your dad called. 

"Tell my babysitter to fuck off," you fired back.

"How about you come tell him yourself?"

Him? You thought. A male babysitter? 

You walked downstairs to give this man a piece of your mind, making sure your resting bitch face was securely in place, but when you made it halfway down the stairs, you met the man's eyes and realized, "Leon?!" 

You ran into his arms, which were already outstretched for you. 

"Hey, Princess," he chuckled into your hair, "did you have something you wanted to say to me?"

"I missed you?"

"No, I thought you were coming down to tell me to 'fuck off.'"

"I didn't know it was you. I would never tell you that."

Your dad was already halfway out the door when he said, "Happy Birthday," with a wink, like they'd planned this night all along. There was no way in your mind that your father was a wingman and not a tyrannical dictator, at least not until that night. 

You were a simple woman and could be satisfied with pizza, a movie, and your favorite middle-aged man sitting next to you on the couch. 

Leon called the pizza place and ordered the usual for the both of you: half of your favorite toppings and half of his. The estimated delivery time was 30 minutes, according to the person on the phone. 

"What's your bet?" Leon asked, hanging up. 

"45 minutes," you said. 

"Wow, you're pessimistic today," he said. 

"No, I'm realistic, and I'm accounting for traffic," you said, "What's your guess?"

"One dollar," he said. 

You played by The Price is Right rules - whoever is the closest without going over wins. The prize? The loser has to answer the door when the doorbell rings. It was a low-stakes game.

40 minutes later, Leon was crowned the winner, but you still made him get the door because it was your birthday. 

There was another tradition your family shared surrounding pizza; it was an ancient memory but so well-preserved. When you were much younger, having lost the little guessing game, your father answered the door, and Leon remarked off-handedly that the woman was beautiful - she was out of earshot, of course. Your dad jokingly offered to ask for her number on his behalf. 

So, when Leon returned with a mischievous smile, you should've known what he was going to say.  

"Here, princess," he said, handing you the receipt, "got his number for you. It's right on the back."

"You did not!" you took the receipt in your hands and searched for a phone number on the back, falling for Leon's tricks. 

"I did not, you're right." Leon stuck his tongue out at you, as you used to do to him when you were a little girl. 

You returned the gesture, and he served you up a slice of pizza, serving himself second like a gentleman would. 

Unlike old times, you were allowed to eat in the living room since you'd reached an age where you could be trusted not to ruin the furniture.

On his way to the couch, he made a detour to ruffle your hair. "Movie?" he asked, holding the remote.

"Sure." You sat down beside him, a respectful distance away.

Leon wanted to watch something new, but you wanted to watch Jerry Maguire for the umpteenth time. So, naturally, you compromised by watching Jerry Maguire.  

At some point during the movie, you turned to him and said, "I just realized I don't know anything about you." 

That was the truth. The only things that you'd gathered from the many years you'd spent around Leon was that he wore a leather jacket, he rode a motorcycle, which you were not allowed to touch, and whatever cologne he wore smelled delightful. You couldn't pinpoint the particular scent, couldn't tell cedar from pine. If you had to describe it, you'd say it smelled familiar and good. You'd never seen him with a woman, and you weren't allowed to know anything about his job, similar to your father's. 

"What do you wanna know?" Leon asked.

You hadn't really thought that far. You didn't expect him to be so receptive to your questioning. 

"Have you ever been in love?" you blurted out.

He tilted his head to the side, confused about why you'd ask about his love life. 

"What?" he asked with a mouthful of pizza.

"I asked -"

"- I heard what you said; I was just wondering why you asked."

"I don't know, really."

"Okay, uh, yeah, I've been in love before," he said, looking towards the ceiling like he was trying to find a memory, "It was a long time ago, though."

"Okay."

"Is that sufficient?"

"I doubt I'll get anything else out of you, so it'll have to do, I guess."

"Smart girl. You say you don't know much about me, but you know me better than you think."

Leon went on to ask you questions about school, your friends, and the like, trying to shift the spotlight from his life onto yours. Getting information from him was like pulling teeth. It made you wonder if he'd learned to keep his secrets due to his line of work or if he was always a private guy. 

"Leon?"

"Yes, princess?"

"Can I ask you another question?"

"Based on your last question, I should probably say no, but because it's your birthday, I'll let you continue your interrogation."

"It's not an interrogation. You're not in handcuffs or anything."

"Uh-huh," he said with an eye-roll, "Ask away before I change my mind."

"When did you lose your virginity?" you blurted out.

He choked on his water, spitting it onto his shirt. 

"Wow, okay, that's - you're really going there, aren't you?"

"Just answer the question."

"I can't plead the fifth?"

"It's a normal question; you're making it weird." You couldn't meet his eyes and opted to look down at your feet. 

Maybe he pitied you because he answered after a deep breath. "I was, uh, 16."

"Was it any good?"

He sighed. "It was okay… for me, at least. I don't know how much she enjoyed it. Didn't really know what I was doing back then."

You hummed in response, nodding and briefly looking up to see his face. 

"How 'bout you?" he asked in an unexpected turn of events.

"What?" 

"Didn't think you could get away without answering the question, too, did you?"

"Oh," you started, "I'm, uh, I haven't yet."

"Nothing to be ashamed of; it's normal at your age. Not that I'd know, of course."

He was always the one to try to lighten the mood, and it pretty much always worked. You laughed and playfully smacked him before saying, "I'm gonna go get in my pj's, I think." 

"Good idea. Gimme your plate, and I'll clean up."

You handed him your plate on the way out of the room, quickly making your way upstairs. You had a plan. 

Every man had a sex drive; every man had something that made them tick, but what was that special thing for Leon? How could you entice him if you'd never seen him with a woman? You had no idea what he liked, so all you could do was guess. 

You had a cute pink nightgown ready for this occasion. It was all silky with lace trim and all too revealing of your decolletage, peeking through the top, as well as the tiniest pair of panties you owned. A lace thong that matched the trim of the nightgown perfectly.

You waltzed downstairs to find Leon in the kitchen doing the dishes by hand. You decided that you should get a glass of water to put on a little show for Leon. You reached up to the top shelf to grab a glass, which made your nightgown ride up, showing your entire ass, subsequently bending down to reach the filtered water in the fridge, giving Leon a similar view. You couldn't tell if he was looking, but you lingered, teasing him, begging him to take a look. When you turned around, you caught him turning his head in the opposite direction. He knew he'd been caught, too. 

You took your glass of water to the couch and sat down, knowing that unless he wanted to walk out the back door, Leon would have to face you in the living room. You could see him trying to fix his pants in a way that would hide his hard-on, but you could still see the bulge when he came into the living room and sat down next to you. He didn't dare look below your neck. You scooted closer to him, and he pretended to look at the clock before saying, "You know what? I'm going to change into something more comfortable as well," and promptly headed upstairs. 

When he came back, he was wearing a white t-shirt and gray sweatpants, which did a piss-poor job of hiding his erection. You sat there all pretty, smiling at him, watching him shift his weight from foot to foot. 

"It's pretty late. I think it's getting close to bedtime," he said, acting like you were still a child.

"Okay," you said, pouting, pretending to be reluctant to walk towards him. 

You sauntered over, and he made a deliberate effort not to look at you. 

"Will you tuck me in?" you asked, using your cute little pouty face on him - the one that always worked. 

"Don't you think you're a little old for that, princess?"

Princess? He must be messing with you. He must know he's making you want him even more, right?

"Please, Leon. It's my birthday."

"Fine. Since it's your birthday, I guess I have to tuck you in, don't I?"

He gestured for you to walk upstairs first. Maybe he did want to get a peek at your ass. 

You sat on the edge of the bed, hands in your lap, back straight, with a smile. A good girl.

Leon's figure loomed in the doorway. "I'm gonna level with you here," he started, "I don't know what you're trying to do, but you and I both know this is an act."

"What's an act?" you continued to feign innocence. 

"The naive little girl thing. The tiny nightgown, the pouty face, bending over in the kitchen."

"It's your problem if you're turned on by it."

"Who said anything about being turned on by it?"

You looked him in the eyes, then down at his sweatpants, which did nothing to hide his arousal, and then back at his eyes. 

He was red in the face. "Fine. You win. Happy?"

"What do I win?"

"Getting to see me embarrassed. That's what you wanted, isn't it?"

"No."

"Then what is it that you want?" He crossed his arms, waiting for you to say it. 

"You."

He shook his head. "Mm-mm. Nope."

"Why not? You want me too."

"It's not right. That's why."

But he didn't deny it. 

"I'm 21. I'm an adult."

"But I'm still too old for you. And I've known you since you were a baby."

"And that's exactly why we should feel comfortable around each other."

"I have no problem being comfortable with you in a non-sexual context."

"But it's my birthday."

"You already played that card, princess."

"Please?"

"Please, what?"

"Just one kiss?"

He closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose, contemplating. 

"I won't tell anyone," you promised preemptively. 

"One." He walked towards you. "But that's it." 

"Deal, but it better be a real kiss. Not like a friendly peck on the lips."

You'd probably given him one of those when you were a toddler. This was different.

"I should've known you'd negotiate further." He pretended to be exasperated, but his smile betrayed him. He had a soft spot for you. "What are the terms?"

"It has to last at least 30 seconds."

"10."

"20 is the lowest I'll go."

"20 for the birthday girl."

He closed his eyes and leaned in. His lips were soft, and his mouth tasted minty. You weren't counting the seconds and hoping he wasn't, either. You knew you were pushing it when you brought your tongue into the equation, but he'd already given in to you. He allowed the tip of his tongue to meet yours.  

He pulled away first. Quickly, so you couldn't catch him and pull him back in. 

"You happy now?" he asked, much more amused than annoyed.

You stared at him, seeing stars already. 

"I think that was only 10 seconds." The edges of lips curved upwards slowly. 

"Oh really? I think it was at least a minute."

"I was counting."

"No, you were not."

Despite protesting, he was still sitting in your bed, laughing with you. 

"But Leon-"

"But what, princess?" He cocked his head to the side, taunting you. 

You were out of bargaining chips. You'd played every card that wasn't flat-out begging him. 

"Did you at least think it was good?" you asked, needing his approval more than anything.

"It was great." He sounded sincere, and you hoped that he meant it more than anything. 

"Really? You promise you'd never lie to me?" you held out your pinky and he took it in his. 

"Promise," he said.

When he was about to stand up, you said, "But if it was good, then why don't you want more?"

He flopped back on your bed and sighed in exasperation. "Because it's not appropriate."

"But that doesn't mean you don't want it."

"No, but it doesn't matter. I'm the adult in the situation, and I'm telling you it's a bad idea."

"I'm the adult, too, and I think it's a great idea."

"Well, I have more experience than you, and I know it's a bad idea."

"If you have more experience, then you can help me."

"How many more arguments do you have? Just hit me with all of them so I can give you a collective 'no,' and then we can both go to bed."

You could see his frustrations dueling in his mind. He was tired of your arguing, but the more frustrated he got at you, still sitting next to him in a tiny pink nightgown, the more he wanted you. His gentle, sweet sexual fantasies about you were being replaced by rougher ones. He knew that if he told you to turn around and get on all fours, you'd do it. He could spank you as punishment for your naughty behavior, and you'd like it. 

"I was going to resort to begging next."

"And you think that would break me?"

"It always does."

"Because I have a weak spot for you," he paused, "and because you usually aren't asking me for sex."

"Who said I was asking for sex?"

He glared at you, knowing that was exactly what you wanted.

"You said that you lost your virginity at my age," you said, hoping your reasoning would make sense to him.

"And?" He understood, but that didn't mean he agreed. 

"I don't want to be a virgin anymore. I wanna be cool like you, Leon."

You'd told him that before, wearing his leather jacket that was too big for you, waddling around the house as a kindergartner. 

"Well, then find a nice guy - or girl - your age and do that on your own time."

"But I want you."

He closed his eyes, resigning himself to the fact that he might have to give into you while he still wanted you gently. Otherwise, with your track record, you'd get him to concede to your wishes, but only after losing self-control, which was the only thing holding him back from tying you to the headboard. 

"You don't know this yet because you haven't had this experience yet, but it's hard not to get attached to the first person you're with."

"And? We're already close."

"Not like that, though. We're not dating, not married, and we never will be. I'm trying to protect you."

"I'm not proposing marriage."

"Thank god."

"You've protected me from everything my whole life. Now I'm an adult, and I want to choose. Remember when I was little, you used to say, 'I'll tell you when you're older' or 'When you're an adult, you can make your own choices'? I'm not your responsibility anymore, Leon."

"You never were." He took your hand because he still loved you despite it all. "I care about you, so I can't let you get hurt, but I also can't be with you. And things aren't going to be the same if we do this."

"I promise I'll be okay. I can handle it."

He sat silently for a moment before finally saying, "You're not going to tell your dad, right?"

"No, god no, never."

"You're not going to brag to your friends?"

"Are you saying I'd want to brag? That you're worthy of such high praise?"

"I'd like to think I'm decent at it."

"Is this you agreeing?" Your eyes lit up the way they did whenever you got your way. 

"I'm exhausted, you're in a tiny nightgown, and you're begging. I'm powerless against you."

"And I thought that Leon Kennedy could have me pinned down in under a second."

"Is that what you'd like?"

"Maybe." At this point, you were hovering over him, one leg outside each of his. You sat down, straddling him, and he struggled to keep a straight face. 

"Have you done anything before?" He asked. 

You made a lewd gesture, indicating that you'd performed oral sex on a guy before.

"You're gonna have to be more mature than that if we're gonna do this." 

"Fine. I sucked a guy's dick once." You didn't want to be so vulgar, but how else were you supposed to say it? 

"Good for you." Leon pretended to be unimpressed, but in truth, he was thinking about the view that guy must've gotten. How perfect you'd look on your knees. 

"No, good for him."

"He didn't reciprocate?"

Leon's hands were gripping your hips. You couldn't tell if he wanted you to move or if he was trying to keep you still. 

"That's too bad. You're a good girl. You deserve it."

"A good girl?" Your voice faltered, and your eyes said it all. 

"Yes, a very good girl." He leaned down and caught your mouth in a quick kiss. 

Even looming over you, he looked hesitant to touch you, like you were too delicate and fragile.

"You wanna take this off?" he asked, toying with the hem of your nightgown.

"Only if you agree to take your shirt off."

"Deal."

He sat up and took his shirt off. You could see how his arms flexed when he did it and his now-exposed chest and abs.

"How do you look so good at your age?" You meant to keep that thought to yourself, but your mouth had a mind of its own. As you spoke, you ran your hands down his chest, noting that his body felt as lovely as it looked. 

"I'm not sure if I should be offended that you called me old or flattered that you think I look good."

"You look hot."

"You gonna hold up your end of the deal?"

You sat up and removed your nightgown, revealing a tiny white thong with a little bow. 

"Cute," he mused, playing with the bow. 

"I didn't know what you liked, so I had to guess."

"You did a great job."

His large hands cupped one of your now-exposed breasts in each hand, thumbs running over your nipples, making you shiver. 

He hummed in satisfaction at your reaction. Seeing your face flush, he said, "Don't be embarrassed, princess."

You didn't have time to answer before his lips were on yours again, making their way down your neck, stopping to whisper into your ear.

"Promise you'll tell me if I do anything you don't like?"

"Promise."

With open-mouthed kisses, he made his way down to your chest, letting his tongue circle each nipple, looking for weaknesses. It wasn't hard to find them. You were soaking through the thin lace of your panties. 

Feeling Leon's lips on your tits, you let out a small moan and tried to cover any others up with a hand over your mouth. Leon removed your hand and said, "Mm-mm. If I do this for you, you can't cover your mouth. I wanna hear your pretty noises."

He made his way to the hem of your panties. The lace barely covered anything. You felt him lap at your folds through the fabric, making you gasp. 

"Can I take them off?"

"Uh-huh."

 He looked up into your eyes, which had no thoughts behind them other than how much you needed this. He removed your panties, teasing you with kisses on your hip bones and thighs, wanting to see if you'd beg for a feeling you'd never felt. 

He made eye contact while he flicked his tongue over your clit, anticipating your strong reaction. You threw your head back and gripped the sheets.

"Already, princess? I've barely even done anything to you," He mumbled into your skin. 

There were infinite combinations of words in the English language that could accurately describe your embarrassment, but they were all out of reach, as pleasure had taken your mind hostage.

When Leon had imagined this moment - and yeah, he'd imagined it, filled with such intense lust and followed by an even larger wave of guilt - he'd imagined his fingers inside you by this point. But, now, he was just letting his tongue glide along your folds, trying to tease you, trying to taste you, trying to burn a memory onto his mental hard drive of this moment. He pressed a kiss to your clit and watched as your eyes rolled back and you arched your body off the bed. He'd never seen a woman so sensitive, though. He'd never done anything with a virgin before. Most of the women he'd hooked up with in the past decade were in their 30s. 

"Leon," You whined.

"I know, baby girl. Let go for me," he said softly, looking into your eyes with a loving gaze. 

He sucked lightly on your clit, leading you through your orgasm. The intense sensation coursed through your entire body, making your thighs tremble, and your moans turn into sobs.

"Oh my god. Daddy!" In the heat of the moment, it just came out. 

Leon didn't pull away, despite his surprise - truthfully, he couldn't have because your thighs kept him in a headlock. You could've suffocated him, maybe even broken his neck like that, but he was strong enough that he could push your legs apart if he really needed to breathe. Not that he cared very much. Leon had faced death enough times to know that this would've been one of the best ways to go. He'd take his chances if it meant he got an extra minute between your thighs.

"Daddy, huh? Thought you were an innocent little girl. Shoulda known better."

"Sorry. It was just so good, and I wasn't thinking."

"I know, princess. I'm glad I could make you feel good."

He kissed each cheek and your forehead. The way he'd always done when he put you to bed.

"You wanna go to bed now?" he asked. You couldn't tell if he wanted a 'yes' or a 'no'. The smile on his face was the same as it always was - happy and warm and honest. It was the same look he'd given you when he'd said goodnight to you for decades. He wanted you to sleep because he cared about you but didn't mind having you stay up because he loved you. 

"No, I don't wanna go to bed," you said, reaching down to palm him through his sweatpants.

He gave you a look of arousal poorly concealed by hesitation to take things any further.

"I don't wanna hurt you," he said. 

You pouted, and he was defenseless.

"Always get what you want," he said under his breath.

You hooked your thumbs in the waistband of his sweatpants, and he took them off.

When you tried to go for his underwear, he said, "Yeah, yeah. Gimme a second."

He got out of bed, and you whined. 

"I'll be right there." He feigned annoyance, but he obviously still found you cute. 

"What are you doing?"

"Looking for my wallet. It's probably in the other room."

He went to your guest room next door, and you were initially confused, worried he'd left you. Until he came back with a condom held between two fingers. 

"Did you know this was going to happen?"

"No, but I'm always prepared."

It was the truth. No way in Hell did he ever think this would happen when he came to your house.

"Would you ever do it without one?"

"If you're proposing that, the answer is absolutely not."

Secretly, you both wished for him to be inside you without the rubber barrier. You watched him pull out his dick and slip on the condom unceremoniously as if this wasn't the most important moment of your life thus far. 

He caught you ogling. "What? Impressed or disappointed?"

He knew the answer. It wasn't the first time he'd gotten that kind of reaction. 

"Do you think it's gonna fit?" you asked.

"No need to flatter me, sweetheart. You've already got me in bed."

"I'm being serious."

"I'll go slow," he assured you, voice quiet and sweet.

He brushed his thumb across your cheek. He kissed you with such tenderness you felt like you might melt. 

You got a rush of adrenaline watching him line himself up at your entrance. Both from excitement and nerves. You truly were worried about whether it would fit inside you. 

The first thrust was a bit painful - nothing excruciating, just a bit of discomfort - but Leon, worried about you, immediately pulled back and asked, "What's wrong, baby girl? Did I hurt you?"

You nodded meekly and made the "little bit" sign with your pointer and thumb. 

"Okay. Lemme try something else then."

At this point, he had pulled entirely out of you, and he started to play with your clit lazily while gazing at your face. All discomfort faded from your expression and was replaced by pleasure. He had you nearly writhing again over such minimal contact. 

In his deep, silky voice, he said, "Open," pushing two fingers into your mouth, making sure he didn't go too far and make you gag. 

You knew he wanted you to wet them for him, but you decided to give him a little show, too. You looked into his eyes while sucking his fingers, swirling your tongue around them. You could tell he was trying to keep his composure, but you could feel his dick twitch against your leg. 

Though he was enjoying the sight, he removed his fingers from your mouth and pushed them, one, then both, into you and gently stroked your inner walls. His other hand was tending to your clit all the while, and you began to feel the pressure in your abdomen rise again. It must've shown on your face because he started pumping his fingers in and out of you with greater force until you were teetering on the edge of a second orgasm. Your walls clenched around his fingers, and he promptly took them away.

"Why did you do that?" You whined with tears, acting like it was the greatest betrayal. 

"It's okay, princess. I'm gonna let you come. I wanna be inside you when you do, though."

You felt the head prodding at your entrance; the only thing you felt was a desire for more. The feeling of being stretched out took a moment to adjust to, but it felt good to be filled. He gently gave himself to you inch by inch. 

"You're doing so good for me, princess."

"Daddy?" you said in a voice neither of you had ever heard before.

"Yes, baby?" Leon's breath hitched. It didn't matter how wrong it was; it was too good. 

I love you. Those were the words you wanted to say, and 'I love you, Leon' was something you'd said a thousand times, but it was never 'Daddy, I love you' - and it was never during sex, obviously. 

"Thank you," you said - for what? You weren't sure, but Leon seemed to get the gist. 

He didn't say anything, just smiled and then pressed a kiss to your cheek, still thrusting in and out of you, speeding up when he knew you could take it. 

The face Leon made when he bottomed out inside you was a heavenly sight. It made you tighten around him, eliciting a low groan from him. He took one hand from beside your head and slid it down between your thighs, touching you where you needed it most. The feeling of him rubbing your clit as he fucked you made your pussy spasm around him. 

"Gonna be a good girl and come for Daddy?" he asked. 

"Oh my god, Daddy!" You nearly screamed when you came. 

Leon did his best to hide his feelings about that word, maintaining the rhythm of his thrusts, thumb not leaving your clit. The physical sensation of you clenching around him nearly sent him over the edge with you, but the conflicting feelings that 'Daddy' gave him held him back. Maybe it was a blessing in disguise.

If you'd told him before that moment that you wanted to call him 'Daddy,' he would've thought it was odd, but watching your eyes roll back and feeling your nails dig into his back as you said it made it sexy. 

Once your orgasm subsided, he allowed himself to let go. Your eyes fluttered back open just in time to watch his face as he came. 

"Fuck," he groaned, drawn out, followed by heavy breaths. 

You were still a bit dazed when he got up, threw the condom in the trash, and immediately collapsed beside you. You were greeted with a kiss on the forehead once you returned to Earth. 

Leon stopped himself from saying, "I love you," even though you'd both said it to each other a thousand times over the years. The fact remained that both of you loved each other, but the specificities of that love had now become blurry. 

At the risk of embarrassing you, he asked, "So, the whole 'Daddy' thing?"

"I'm sorry. Did it weird you out?"

"I wouldn't put it like that."

"You can just say it did."

"No, it's just – it feels wrong considering the circumstances."

"Yeah, I know. I shouldn't have let myself get that carried away."

"There's no reason to be embarrassed about it. It wasn't a turn-off. I still came, so the proof is… well, it's in your trash can."

You smiled at his attempt to lighten the mood, but your face was still bright red. 

"You really shouldn't feel bad about it. It's no big deal."

"But it is. You said it - because…" 

You couldn't say, "You're like a second father to me," or anything else that came to mind. The whole thing simultaneously made more and less sense. Of course, he was 'Daddy' in your mind, but in more ways than one. 

"I know," he said simply. You didn't need to finish your sentence for him to understand. 

"Can you hold me?" You asked, getting teary-eyed for reasons more complicated than you could verbalize. Overstimulation, overwhelming pleasure, a closeness beyond what you'd ever felt with someone before, the sense that things had changed for good, concern that this had caused irreparable damage to whatever bond you'd had, but most of all, how angry you were at your real dad. 

"Of course, baby girl, c'mere," Leon said with arms wide open. He sat up in bed, knowing what you wanted. You sat in his lap and clung to him while he held you tightly. 

"I can't believe he couldn't even be here for my birthday," you sobbed, still naked in Leon's lap. 

"I know, and I'm sorry, princess. I'm upset about it, too."

He pressed little kisses into your hair.

You wondered if maybe Leon was right: you had gotten attached to him, but this part was always going to happen. In every reality, you would've ended up crying in his arms. 

All the emotions you tried to keep inside came out of your tear ducts at once, and you felt like a little girl. 

You got up eventually to pee because Leon forced you to. He put his pants back on and was about to do the same with his shirt when you asked, "Can I have it?"

"Yeah."

He threw it to you, not even thinking the same thing you were. He'd given girlfriends and hookups t-shirts to wear to bed, but it had nothing to do with sex at this moment; you needed the comfort you always would have. It was like a hug from him. The way you'd sleep in your dad's room when he wasn't home, just to feel like he was there.

You got into your bed, still wearing Leon's shirt, and he got up to leave, as he was supposed to, as you knew he would. Sleeping with you was never part of the agreement, but your eyes flooded with tears when you watched him leave. 

"Goodnight," he said at the door. 

You were too choked up to say it back. Leon waited for you to speak, knowing what you'd say. 

"Don't leave, please," you said, crying, not pouting, not whining, but crying. Leon remembered when you were a kid, and he slept on your bedroom floor because you didn't want to be alone. Because you cried and begged him not to leave, and he felt awful seeing your tears, knowing your mom walked out and your dad was rarely there, knowing that - whether you understood it or not - you meant, 'don't leave me like everyone else.' Leon couldn't do that to you, couldn't leave a neglected little girl alone. As he'd told you, he didn't have to do this by any obligation other than a self-imposed one. Sleeping in your bed right now was dangerous - your father could walk in, you could get the wrong idea and get more attached, you could try to go for round two - but, if you hadn't had sex, if he'd done the right thing in the first place and said no, you'd still have been crying in his arms, you'd still ask him to stay. The right thing to do would be to stay. 

He nodded and climbed into bed with you, letting you rest your head on his chest.

Leon was right: you were so very attached to him.

[obae-me]

The Reunion We Deserved

I said I would do it and so I did, all in one night, one sitting, fueled by nothing but determination, random inspiration, and spite. I re-wrote and created my version of what I would've liked to see at the end of Nightbringer Season 2. Is this a bit dramatic? Yes? Is this the kind of thing I wanted anyway? Yes. I want sobbing, I want people being pathetic, I want emotion, I want it all. So, if that's what you were hoping to see for lesson 40, I hope this can ease some of that anger we had.

Spoilers ahead for Nightbringer since this is quite literally my "remaking" of the ending, which includes in-game references to later lessons!

TW: Blood mention, injury, angst.

Word Count: 4,391

Tears pricked your eyes as you looked upon the several smiling faces of the demons you had come to care for. At the beginning, all you could think of was returning to your home, your time-line, your brothers. You had coped thus far by constantly reminding yourself that these were not the same people you had come to know. But now… after delving into their souls, reforging the pacts, fleeing down the different circles of hell to save one only to nearly lose them all… they’d found their way into your heart once more. How could you? How could you leave them so easily? And tell them to their faces that you’d meet again soon when you knew it was a lie. It might be soon for you, but it would be nearly an eternity for them. Not to mention that the way Solomon and Barbatos described it, this was almost like another universe… Would another version of you show up for them? Or would you leave these particular brothers for good?…

Feet frozen in sorrow and anxiousness, you could only look at them and cry. What were you feeling in this very second, now that you were on the cusp of what you had worked so hard for? The way back home was right above you, the air and magic inches away from sucking you up into it’s mystical vacuum. Your precious family, your home was one step away. So why did it also feel like your heart was being torn from you? “I—“ Your words choked up in your throat. You were tempted to tell them everything right there and then, spill the burden you had been carrying on your shoulder this entire time.

“It’ll be alright,” Lucifer spoke up, seeing your worry, but exuding nothing but confidence himself. “I gave you my blessing after all.”

“Plus, with the Great Mammon’s pact, you’re hella lucky! You’ll get home with no problems, I’d bet on it! S-So you better not make me lose, got it? Get home safe…and happy.”

Levi shook his head a little. “You’d bet on anything wouldn’t you…” But then he turned his head back towards you, nearly just as bold as Lucifer in this one moment. “If someone like me can have courage, you can too. Don’t worry! You’re just like a Main Character! You have indestructible plot armor!”

“Did everyone already forget the white dragon I helped summon?” Satan scoffed. “Their safety and success is guaranteed. So don’t give us that face,” he addressed you.

“Besides!” Asmo perked up. “If anything happened we’d all come rushing to save you! Just like we did for Lucifer. If we can do that, we can do anything! Oo, I just said something real dashing just now! You better take that to heart, hun!”

Beel nodded several times. “You have Luke’s wish egg too. I also made wishes over my eggs at breakfast this morning. I wished for you to always feel healthy and full and loved. And that we’d get to see each other again soon.”

“Those eggs might’ve tasted magical Beel, but they weren’t really…” Belphie looked up his twin as he shook his head, but then he shrugged, coming to the conclusion that it wasn’t worth explaining. “Hey,” he stared at you. “Don’t waste your energy crying now. You’ll need all your strength for your journey. I won’t forgive you if you leave too sad.”

All their words ended up making you laugh, the smile across your face twitching as you worked to force out trembling words. “You all better be kind to one another.” Someone behind you was tugging on your arm. “And make sure you don’t tease Luke too hard.”

“Come on,” Solomon whispered softly to you, tugging you a little harder, making you take a few steps back. The rift in space-time started to roar, attempting to drown out your voice as you struggled for these last few seconds.

“And make sure you all remember to eat and sleep properly. A-and, tell the others at the ceremony that I love them. I… love you all so much.”

“We have to go…” Solomon’s voice sounded tense, like he was nearly ready to cry himself, only keeping himself strong for you. Wrapping an arm around your waist, he nearly hoisted you back himself. Before you left, you reached into the pocket of your pants, fishing out the letter that you had written alone in your old room, what seemed like forever ago now, the one still stained with old tears. You tossed it to the ground in front of you, hoping they would read it, hoping it would help…them live without you.

The last thing you heard was a chorus of cracking voices, getting cut off before they could tell you they loved you too…

And then you were gone. A harsh and forceful wind seemed to suck all the air from your breath. It was almost as if you were being plunged underwater, several forces of pressure from the thousands of years you were swirling past was threatening to crush you. The only sensation you were aware of was Solomon’s. His arms were holding onto you tightly, continuing to mutter spells over and over and over again to keep you safe, expending all of his waining power to push you both through the folds of reality and out on the other side.

Gravity. Disorientation. Falling. A heavy weight slammed against your chest so hard, you wondered if your ribs cracked. The back of your head hit something firm. Everything went black for a while.

After who knows how long, your eyes opened again, staring straight up into the Devildom sky, the shifted stars more familiar to you. Your head was splitting with pain, your breath a wheeze as you glanced down to see Solomon’s limp body keeping you pinned against the ground.

“S-Solomon?” It took a short while for the panic to settle in. “Solomon!” After a moment of struggling, you managed to get him off of you, setting him on his back in the grassy plane you had been spat back out onto. His face looked drained. A chant left the base of your throat, using the last scrap of magic you had to give him a spell to reinvigorate his body. His eyes shot open, coughing as he rolled over onto his side, pushing himself up onto his arms before he fell down again. “Take it easy!” Together, using each other as support, you both got back up to your feet.

“I’m sorry…I had meant to deliver us right in front of the House of Lamentation, but…”

“You did alright,” you assured him, rubbing his back to keep his dizzy mind conscious. “A bit of a rough landing, but we’re alive…” But then, the better question was… “Are we—“

“There you are.” A calm voice manifested itself as a demon in front of you. Barbatos stepped out of a portal, his expression nearly as neutral as ever, except there was something in his eyes that was shining, a strange tremor to his hand that was completely unnatural for someone as him. Then he frowned as he took in the state of both of you, his nostrils flaring as he took the both of you with him, each with one gloved hand. You were pulled into a much less chaotic rift this time. Although the jolt was still enough to nearly cause both you and the sorcerer to fall back to your knees. Before that could happen though, you were shoved into a bed.

The guest rooms of the castle appeared the same as always, but something in particular felt nostalgic, like you’d just returned to a childhood home. Solomon appeared to be ushered into a bed right by your side, both your minds too rattled to resist, as the butler threw open the guest room door from the inside and summoned nearly every Little D in the entire building. “I need human medication, bandages, two sets of pajamas, the herbal tea I set aside in the kitchen. I need the oven preheated, the counter prepared, two trays set, and need them all done within the next two minutes.” There was a very subtle raise to his voice, the seriousness of his tone sending a chill down your spine and sending every Little D scattering for their lives. Barbatos spent one second observing them flee before he dissipated once more, getting wisked away through another portal of his own making.

This all felt…so surreal. Perhaps it was the pain that you were in that was making it feel like a dream. Like you’d wake up in Cocytus Hall and be right back at square one. And yet, something in you was missing that place… that house that you had just started to get used to. The furniture and things both you and Solomon had bought to make it your shared home. But your real home was here. Well, hopefully here.

You wouldn’t get your hopes up over anything yet. Not until you got to see them.

Barbatos returned before you could even begin to ask Solomon about any of this. A whirl of varying shades of green caused your vision to do somersaults as you were quickly fretted over. Salves and bandages were wrapped around your torso and a damp cloth gently touched the back of your head. That splitting pain resurfaced, joining forces with an added stinging. Maybe it was your body going into shock, but you could’ve sworn you heard a shaky shush coming from your current caretaker as you were cleaned and patched up quickly. Luckily, it wasn’t too much longer after that till the aches went mostly away, your head clearing up again as a set of your own pajamas were settled at the foot of the bed, a silver tray stretched over your lap and propped up on two stands. A small plate with a single pastry sat in front of you, along with a bitter smelling dark-green tea that you could tell you’d rather avoid imbibing.

Swiveling your head to the side, you saw Solomon leaning back against the headrest and a few pillows, a bit more vibrancy in his eyes, although those intense dark circles were hard to miss. He was okay. Thank…everything.

“Eat. Drink. Both of you.” The butler stood between the beds, realizing he’d spoken quite against his normal demeanor, he cleared his throat, his palm pressed between his collarbones. “Phoenix’s Breath Tea. You’ll both need it to recover. I apologize for making you both consume something so distasteful, but I’ve found it goes down a bit smoother paired with something sweet.”

A single whiff of the hot beverage in your hand was enough to make you cough, some sense burning in your nose. You settled the cup back down, taking a deep breath, trying to get your head on straight. “Barbatos… Are we…?”

The butler’s eyelids fluttered slowly. “You are,” he stated, his voice quiet, almost in awe. “You’re home. Back in the world you belong.”

A lump immediately formed in your throat, pushing the tray forward and turning to get out of bed. “I need to go. I need to see them, I—“ Before you could get one foot touching the ground, you were wrangled back into bed.

“I’ll fetch them. I swear you won’t have to wait too much longer. But you must drink the tea and you must take a moment to recover. If the others were to know the state you both were in right now, the castle would be torn—“

A banging sound ripped through the room like a gunshot. The guest room door was busted completely off it’s hinges, the wood of the frame splintering, the door soaring across to the left and fully embedding itself into the wall like a dart stuck in a board. If it weren’t for Barbatos’ inhuman skills, you’ve spilled the tea and dessert all over yourself. The royal attendant audibly sighed, sweeping himself to his feet and holding his arms out, his demon form manifesting, wrestling back a writhing and screaming black mass.

Your eyes went wide.

The mass stopped fighting, going rigid, stepping back to form seven different individuals. Three more non-hostile forms stood back in the wrecked doorway, two white, one red.

The bottom of your lip trembled as an overwhelming surge of joy and despair and relief and guilt all flooded out of you in tears. Your fears were pushed away. Your soul seemed to click back into place, like you’d been the last puzzle piece just waiting to finish the picture. “I’m home…”

Chaos erupted in the castle guest room. A few cracking wails nearly burst your eardrums. Asmo’s arms were the first to wrap around you, mascara running down his cheeks in large inky trails, but he didn’t seemed concerned in the least. Kisses lined your face with each sharp intake of breath, too shaken to even speak, he could only address you in his cries as he clutched onto you, trembling. His hand stroked your head, his breathing stopping for a moment when he saw the damage the landing had caused. This only caused him to whimper and cry harder, his thumb running over the outline of your features, running the back of his fingernails over your cheeks.

Levi was stuttering incomprehensibly. As he fell to his knees, he clutched at his head, going through an entire panic attack. He clawed at his chest, tearing gashes into the front of his clothes, looking up at you behind large welling tears as his tail wrapped around his entire torso. Mist filled the entire room as he continued to shake and cry so fervently he couldn’t even stand.

Luke was quite a ways away, holding onto Simeon’s clothing as he screeched out painful genuine child-like cries. The Angel curled over him, shushing him, getting to his own knees to hold the fledgling to his chest, assuring both the little angel and himself that you were okay. You were alright. Miracles had brought you together again. They didn’t have to worry any longer. The sleepless nights, the endless nightmares, the never-ending cold grip of sorrow could go away. He spoke this mantra- this prayer- over and over again, taking deep breaths between the words, blinking rapidly as he had to sway him and his charge back and forth to keep themselves both at ease. The older angel took the occasional glance over Luke’s shoulder, muttering a thankful blessing on repeat every-time he locked with your eyes.

Satan was thrashing around the room, screaming wildly, out of control, ready to beat Barbatos and Solomon for making you arrive in this condition, for not bringing you sooner, for not telling them sooner, for— Eventually, after getting thrown around the room a little, he ran out of things to be angry for. All it took was one look at your face to calm him down. He approached carefully, angry at himself, angry at whoever it was that took you away, but trying to keep himself together. Satan gingerly pulled Asmo off of you, turning Lust over to Solomon. Clearly, he’d been worried about his other pact-mate, hugging the sorcerer and crying a little more softly into his shoulder. Meanwhile, Satan reached a hand out hesitantly, like you were a feral cat he was trying to pet, worried you’d run away. His hand brushed through your hair and settled at the side of your face. Once he realized you weren’t going anywhere, his arms pulled you to him, pressing your face against his shoulder. “You’re here. You’re here again. You’re—“ His voice went hoarse, like he was losing it, like he’d been doing nothing but screaming for the entirely of your absence. Soon his words were nothing but faded squeaks, trying to portray his words but unable to. He simply held you instead. Then he tore himself away from you, heading over to the back wall and punching holes into the structure till his knuckles turned bloody.

Someone crawled onto the bed. Belphegor peered at you with an almost blank expression. His hand reached out, touching your knee, flinching as soon as he made contact, like the very act of him doing so would hurt you further. You could tell that maybe he felt like some of this was his fault, like he’d deserved the pain of having you be sent away from him, like if he did anything wrong again, you’d vanish for real this time, How many times could you come back from the dead? How close was he to losing you entirely? For good? As soon as his warmth mixed with yours, he collapsed on the mattress, curling up at your feet. He gathered the blanket towards his face, the end of his tail twitching erratically. His sobs were silent but violent, the entire bed shifting and bouncing as his body convulsed, his chest pounding as he broke down. Every once and a while, he would become extremely frightened, needing to gasp and look up to ensure you were real. You weren’t a dream. He pinched himself, shook his head, even almost bit at his hands to snap him out of this vision. But you were really here. He would curl back up and continue to cry.

White hair bobbed in front of your vision, two hands going to your shoulders and shaking you, pinning you against the headboard, fingernails careful not to dig themselves into your skin as they gripped your body. “What the hell is wrong with you?! Huh? Huh?! Do you have any idea what you put us through?! What you put me through?!” Mammon growls and screams shocked you.

“Mammon.” Lucifer’s voice settled as a stern warning, but something about it seemed weaker than usual.

Greed ignored him, continuing his rant. “You were just gone. Gone! You know that?!” He shook you again, careful not to rattle you too much. “And what am I supposed to do about that, huh?! What did I say?! I said—“ His voice cracked, trails of moisture streaming from his eyes and over his lips. “I said,” he repeated, “if you’re ever in trouble, you have to let me save you. What part of that didn’t you understand?! How dare you get taken somewhere where I can’t reach you?! How dare you?! How dare you?!” His voice continued to raise in pitch, sounding more and more unstable with each accusing question. Then he slumped, his forehead pressing against your chest as his hands held onto your shoulders tighter, almost bruising them, fearful of letting you go. He began shaking you a few times more, each shake meeker than the last. “How dare you. How dare you… How… W- What was I supposed to do if you didn’t come back?… The world is nothin’… I’m nothin’…”

Beel came over and helped his older brother to his feet, allowing him to sit on the side of your bed as Mammon furiously used the back of his wrist to rub at his cheeks. Gluttony stood over you, looking down with a wide close-lipped smile. “Welcome back.” He leaned down, pressing his cheek against yours as his large arms wrapped around the back of your neck. He took in the scent of you, burying his face into the crook of your neck for a moment. His body didn’t shutter, didn’t make noise, but you felt a few warm tears of his drip onto your skin. He silently and secretly teared up for just a few moments before he stood back up straight, gesturing to the tray with your items on it. “Eat, please. It’ll make you feel better.” The sixth-born took a few steps back to let you breathe, and as he moved back, someone else moved forward.

Lucifer stood at your bedside for quite some time in silence, looking down on you with a rather unreadable expression. He had a frown, eyes squinting like he was upset at you. He scanned you over, his brows furrowing, his jaw clenching. He refused to move, refused to say anything, refused to look you directly in the eyes. You moved forward a little, grabbing his hand, holding it in yours. All the sudden, the tension released. His eyes widened before his eyelids lowered, glancing at you past the vulnerable shimmer past his irises. Wrinkles of stress deepened in his forehead as his whole face contorted in agony. He held your hand tightly, bringing the back of it up to his lips. After that, he pulled you against him, his forehead pressed up against yours, his wings in his demon form acting as some sort of visual blocker, as if he couldn’t stand to have the rest of the room see how he was acting right now. He rubbed his face against yours back and forth, one small touch away from cooing, his hands caressing the sides of your neck, feeling your pulse, hearing your breath, taking in every detail and confirming to himself that you were indeed in his arms again, alive and mostly well. “You’ve come back to us,” he whispered, the end of his nose touching yours as one of his hands cradled the back of your neck. “Back to me.” His breath was hot as he panted for a moment, taking a deep breath and speaking in a hushed tone. “I had nearly begun to entertain the thought that…”

You pulled him closer to you, letting his head rest on your chest as you reached around to his back, grasping the cloth of his clothes in your hands. “You know I would fight through all the layers of hell to get to you.”

That seemed to resonate with him, but you weren’t quite sure he remembered that you were speaking quite literally. All those adventures…the things you’d all learned. How lost were they?…

However, Lucifer simply smiled, laughing a little, squeezing you before laughing again. “Yes, if anyone would do such a thing, it would be you. I shouldn’t have doubted you.” He straighted, fixed his clothing, lowered his wings, and moved further back into the room, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger as he paced towards a back corner.

Levi had finally soothed himself enough to move, walking on his knees towards the bed. His hands were fidgeting with every part of his outfit. Eyes puffy from crying, throat raw from his collapse earlier, he kept himself from speaking. You managed to smile down at him and wipe away the last few of his tears. His lips shook again before he lowered his head into your lap. Face-down in the fabric of the blanket, he kept shaking his head. He didn’t stop until your fingers ran through his hair. With a forced gulp, he eventually vocalized words. “I missed you… I was- was- was so scared I would…”

“Lose you.” Belphie sat up in bed, ignoring the fact that his face was now a mess. He scooted closer towards your side on the bed. “We thought we lost you.”

The youngest was able to say what none of the others could. Full silence washed over the room as the reality of the situation fully seemed to hit them, their shock slowly starting to fade.

Diavolo strode in, everyone moving out of the way to allow him to have his own time with you. The corners of his eyes crunched in happiness. His tight and broad shoulders sagged. Both of his large hands scooped up one of yours, bringing your touch to the side of his face. He closed his eyes, almost appearing as if he might purr any second. As he opened his sight back at you, a fire of positivity and excitement lit within him. “A party! We must throw a party! A welcome home celebration! This is…this is… a joyous day.”

At first, the others seemed confused. Then, one-by-one, small determined smiles spread across their faces. The sorrow melted and gave way to pure uncontrollable elation. People hugged each other, danced around the room, cheered, bounced, came back to kiss you, came back to hug you, nearly passing you around the room till Barbatos barged back in and took your hand, bringing you back to bed.

For a while, you assumed he would shut the idea down entirely. But then, the butler grinned. “I figured you would all say as much. Some preparations are already being made. In the meantime, we should let these two rest. They’ve had all too much excitement today.” Barbatos pulled the blanket back over your legs, readjusting the tray and giving you a biting glare that told you you wouldn’t be able to get out of drinking that god-forsaken tea. “But after that, we will celebrate. We will take every day and night to cherish you, and make up for the time we lost.”

Most of the brothers tried clinging to you, demanding they get to stay, but Diavolo, Barbatos, Lucifer, and Simeon managed to corral the desperate demons and one small angel out of the room.

But before they all left, you shouted. “Wait!” They all turned, worried that something was wrong. However, you smiled, happy tears running down your face this time. “I love you all. So very much.”

“I cherish you with every fibre of my being.”

“There ain’t nothing more priceless than you.”

“E-Everything is so much more fun with you here with m-m- us…”

“I…don’t want to even try to imagine a world without you in it.”

“Nothing, and I mean nothing, hun, is as charming as you.”

“Our family isn’t complete without you in it.”

“You belong with us. End of story.”

“You are one of the most precious beings the three realms has ever known.”

“I find myself discovering new things to enjoy every moment I spend with you.”

“Listen, you are a shining beacon in the night. Know how special you are.”

“You teach me so much! If it weren’t for you, I might still be scare— I mean, dislike demons!”

“My dear apprentice… We couldn’t have gotten home without you. You deserve the world. I will stick by you no matter where you go. And you deserve to know—“

“How much we love you too.”

[uriekukistan]

JJK 265: The Role of a Sorcerer

one of the focal points of jjk since the beginning has been the roles and responsibilities of jujutsu sorcerers. it's a question that gets thrown around a lot between different characters: as sorcerers, what is the right way to live? it's a driving force behind many of the major events of the story, and the cause of fragmentation, where different paths could have been taken, but weren't. and in one chapter, yuuji dismantles it all.

as much as i'd love to talk about this when it comes to every character, i picked a few that i think are interesting (to me) and carry a lot of weight throughout the story to discuss, including gojo & geto, megumi, yuuta, and, of course, the man of the hour, yuuji.

Gojo & Geto

the main difference between them right from the start is the way they view their roles as sorcerers, and this fragmentation influences their trajectories going forward, and the trajectory of jjk as a whole.

at the start, geto believes that his role as a sorcerer is to protect non-jujutsu sorcerers. as someone who is strong, he must protect those who are weak, and he must keep those who are also strong in check. he accepts this as his role without much question, and he takes it seriously.

in contrast, gojo thinks that idea is, well, garbage, and he argues with geto about it, calling him self-righteous for thinking that way. where geto focuses his concept of his role on those who are weak, gojo focuses his on those who are strong. his role is simply to be strong. he acts to get stronger and prove that strength.

another place where their opinions diverge in conceptualizing their roles as sorcerers is when it comes to finding meaning in their actions. where gojo doesn't think there needs to be meaning in their actions, geto disagrees.

ultimately, his search for meaning leads to his downfall, as he reaches the conclusion that being a sorcerer is a thankless job, cleaning up after and saving the humans from their uncontrolled cursed energy. he decides that sorcerers are the ones who need protection from humans, because they are subjected to the horrors that humans generate, while those humans live in ignorance.

meanwhile, as gojo matures, he doesn't ditch the idea that strength is what matters as a sorcerer, but he shifts his idea of role to raising a generation of strong sorcerers who can rely on each other. and ultimately, these leads to his downfall too. thoughts on this here under point 1.

regardless, their ideas of their roles are major driving factors of their decisions, and therefore the plot of jjk. their roles are what doom them to their respective fates.

Megumi

megumi has made damn sure we know what he believes his role is. he's a sorcerer, not a hero. he doesn't save people because he has to or because it's the right to do. he saves the people he wants to save. that's all.

he uses his conscience to decide who he wants to save, and that is his decided role.

and this is what dooms him too. his decision to save yuuji is what left him vulnerable to sukuna, and his desire to save tsumiki from the culling games left him open to be manipulated by yorozu, as she pretended to be his sister in order to take advantage of what megumi was willing to do so she could play her own version of the culling games. that shock and hurt is what let sukuna latch onto him so easily, and submerge his soul in the depths of his body.

Yuuta

yuuta decides that his role is to not let others be alone. of course, this is most notable when it comes to gojo, but it's shown throughout jjk0 as well, such as when he refuses to let inumaki go against the curse that geto planted alone.

he also expresses this to yuuji after he fake executes him. he makes sure yuuji knows that he isn't alone in his feelings, and that he's not to blame. empathy is one of yuuta's strongest traits, and he makes it his role.

this is why he is willing to go as far as taking gojo's body, because he knows how gojo has to toss aside his humanity to fight all of these special grade curses (for example, when he used his domain expansions while humans were around despite knowing it would cause damage to them), and he doesn't want him to be alone in his inhumanity.

and while yuuta isn't dead yet, his role has doomed him, because, well...

Yuuji

now we come to yuuji, the sorcerer who shakes this concept to its core in jjk 265.

he's someone who'd decided his role before he even became a sorcerer. he wants to help people, and he wants to guide them to proper deaths.

he also accpets his role as sukuna's vessel, and tries to maintain those two parts of his chosen role simultaneously. however, as we know, he fails to balance being sukuna's vessel and saving people in shibuya (i hesitate to use the word fail because it was not a failure of yuuji's, but i hope you know what i mean).

this causes a shift in his idea of his role, especially once megumi asks for his help in the culling games. he embraces this role as a cog. he will help out fushiguro, he'll help unseal gojo, and then he will die. that is his new role.

quote from yuuji in 265:

until recently, i thought i should simply live to fulfill my role as i understood it. i thought if i died like that, i could at least consider it a proper death. but now, i feel like that's not entirely right. ... just the tiny fragments of memories that make up a person drifting elsewhere give value to a human life. ... people aren't tools. we aren't born with any set roles

yuuji completely rejects the idea that people are defined by theid roles at all, whether they are jujutsu sorcerers or not. he sheds his mindset that he needs to help people, or give them proper deaths, or fulfill a role than die in order to be worth something. instead, he accepts the value of his life as a collection of all the things he's experienced and the people he’s known.

and in doing this, he shakes the world of jujutsu kaisen to its core, and creates another crack in the cycle.

[gatorbites-imagines]

please pretty please good sir, please right an imagines of Kurt Wagner with a demon, like full on demon from like the Bible s/o, like straight up like a prince of hell kind of demon.

p.s. I love your fics sm 💐🌅

Kurt Wagner x Demon male reader

Headcanons

Did you guys know that in olden time, people thought owls and toads were linked to the devil? Was this an excuse to give the reader animal characteristics? Yes, yes it was. Fruits like strawberries and cherries were also used to symbolize different more bodily involved sins. I took a bit of inspo to how the demons look in Dictionnaire Infernal, since they’re cool and goofy.

I may still be tired and wrung out from all my classes, but the will to write lives on. How’s everyone’s week been?

No one had known you were a demon in the beginning. Everyone just kind of assumed you were another mutant. They already had one member of the x-men who had wings, so it wasn’t the wildest thought that you were like warren.

Your wings were a bit more like an eagle owl, and sure, sometimes your eyes would morph into something like a toad or even a goat, but they had seen much weirder.

You not stepping inside churches or other holy areas was mainly seen as a personal preference, since you were so casual about it. you technically could step inside the buildings, but it was too much work to be worth it for you.

Instead you’d hang out outside with the others who didn’t feel a need to step inside. And yeah, you may have carved a sigil or two into the building behind your back, so you could teleport there in the future to cause some trouble if you got bored.

Demons had no specific form, at least your father didn’t and so you didn’t. you simply morphed into the one that felt most comfortable, making most believe you had a shapeshifting mutation.

There were multiple kings of hell, but your father had always been the most powerful and most influential, so you were expected to follow in his footsteps, which was why you had kind of ran away to earth.

It was just so boring, sitting there and doing all that kingly work so your father could retire with the other ancient kings, since demons don’t die, they can simply only be ignored and rebutted.

You had never meant to help the x-men or join them, but they’d been there at the right place at the wrong time, and just happened to catch some human trying to assault you for being a “mutant”

It was only the x-men stepping in that kept you from trapping the guy in eternal damnation, but you decided why not just play along for now, see where it takes you. And before you knew it, you were an x-men, helping to “fight for the good of mutant kind” or whatever.

It wasn’t hard to make you seem like a mutant, for you to even show up when Charles was looking for mutants with his powers.

It was all good and dandy, until that furry blue bastard wormed his way into the six pitch black organs you called your hearts. Well, sometimes it was six, sometimes twenty, sometimes zero, it really depended on the day.

But it was six the day you realized Kurt had gotten into your good graces. More than that honestly, as he made you feel… flustered. How he succeeded in making a demon like yourself flustered was still a mystery to you.

You had been drawn to him in the beginning because of his whole “blue demon” thing, only for it to turn out that Kurt was religious, and would sometimes wear a cross. He even prayed at times, the action always making your skin itch.

Kurt was honestly the only one to start putting things together since he knew some about demonology, hell, your name was just a shortened version of your infernal title. Weaker demons showing up and groveling at your feet and referring to you as their prince probably didn’t help.

Luckily it had just been Kurt around at the time, but the blue imp clocked you quicker than you thought they would.

Surprisingly, Kurt didn’t hate you or fear you. To him, you were an x-men and helped save people, so you weren’t fully bad. He even went out of his way to pray somewhere else so your hands wouldn’t burn and for your wings to start burning at the edges.

Somewhere along the way, what you had morphed into more than just a friendship. You had an inkling that your father would have your hide when he realized you had bedded a mortal, and one so clearly meant for heaven when the day came.

But eternity was so long, so who could blame you for wanting to spend it with someone as kind as Kurt. Even if you knew somewhere deep inside, that you would mourn Kurt for most of that eternity when the time came.

Kurt talked you into telling the x-men your true origin. They were hurt in the beginning, and you politely stepped out of the team since you technically weren’t a mutant, and you wanted to respect that.

That didn’t stop you from hanging out at the mansion, or on Krakoa when that came around. How you got on the island? You would never tell, mainly because it drove Scott crazy that he could never figure it out.

After coming out of the hellfire closet, you felt less need to control your form to the same degree. To most you were still just a mutant, since the body you wore the most had been a mutant, so… it counted in a loophole kinda way.

Everyone got good at clocking who you were, even on days when you altered your shape completely. Kurt was obviously the best. Even on days where you had a lion head and the tail of a snake, or when you had three heads and a burning crown.

It was a little awkward when Kurt became a priest and built his own religion like thing, mainly because you just couldn’t get yourself to touch him when he wore the uniform.

It was the aura for the most part. None of the others got it, or saw it like you did, but they weren’t demons, so it made sense. But Kurt always carried an aura, and it was manageable enough on regular days. But after sermons it just got strong enough to make your tongue buzz and your feathers puff up.

Kurt got good at wiping himself off in a metaphorical way, so you guys could kiss and cuddle even on days he did sermons. And you as a demon were way too strong to truly to hurt by it, it just got a bit annoying sometimes.

All in all, you two were happy. Even if you had to chase away demons that wanted to take over earth every now and then. Your father had never given you your own domain, so you just kinda slapped your name on earth and told every other demon to square up for it.

Some did come out of the woodwork to fight, mainly just because they could. No one really wanted earth. Too much trouble, too much holy interference, and all those magicians? No way. It was just older demons wanting a good fight for the most part.

Kurt also came to really like your less human look. Maybe he was projecting, but there was something nice about having a partner that didn’t look too “human”, if he could say that without being offensive.

There were days where you looked like the average human man. But other days you were more beast than man, or even the days where you didn’t even want a blood-filled body, so you were made out of sand or water, or anything along those lines.

He did have a preference for forms where you had a tail, because it was comforting to coil your tails together. Or if the form you took had claws, since it felt so good to have your hands rubbing up and down his back and scratch through his fuzz.

There were times when Kurt forgot to take off his cross, or hide it under his shirt, so you did get small burns, even if they went away in a few seconds. You didn’t care much, but seeing Kurt apologize was always very cute.

Having a powerful demon like you on the side of the x-men also helped out a lot during fights. You stayed out of it for the most part, to “keep balance of the mortal plane” or whatever your father said.

There were times when Kurt was in mortal danger where you stepped in though, but you always contained the worst of your powers.

And staying back also meant you could focus your powers on healing those that needed it. Kurt got the most of it, of course, as you would cuddle and kiss him, your kisses transferring the healing energy instead.

It was nice. And yes, you knew one day you’d be alone again, stuck on earth after claiming it as your territory. But the present was so good, so warm and loving, that the cold empty future didn’t matter.

[targaryenluvs]

— ALL MINE

pairing - prowler!miles morales x reader, miles morales x reader

summary - whilst on the run, your boyfriend miles and yourself were taken home. although your hometown is not as it seems. with a shadow clinging to your every move, will you make it out of this universe? part two - not yours

warnings - possessive!prowler miles, he’s like low key delulu, swearing, violence.

notes - i am absolutely in love with prowler miles. THE BRAIDS HAVE A CHOKEHOLD ON ME. sorry if this seems to resemble other fics but i just wanted to do my lil version since all the others are half way done :P and i’m writing again since i’m in the holidays :) also idk if miles can make people invisible but for the sake of this text yes he can. also big fancy words idk if i used em correctly. comment for p2!!!! also pushing the 42miles calling his girl ma agenda 😘

wordcount: 2.1K

you had to catch your breath.

you’d never been the most athletic person in p.e and it certainly wasn’t going to change then and it certainly won’t now. but as miles eggs you on to keep moving you ignore all the un-athletic bones in your body and push yourself to keep running.

as you reach your destination miles grabs your hand and the two of you creep your way inside. miles begins to mess around with computers as margo tried her hardest with the help of lyla to figure out what on earth was going on.

as miles scanned his eyes he pulled you into his arms, “you okay?” he asked as you nodded, “for now, as long as miguel-”

and to your luck he barrelled through the doors at the exact moment you uttered his name. “bloody mary much?” you muttered under your breath as you took a step back.

and as he clawed and fought his way in your hand tightened its grip on miles’s. “it’s okay, he’s not getting in y/n/n. it’s okay.” and as he reassured you to the best of his abilities you couldn’t help but feel grateful. he always put you first, no matter what.

always made sure you and his family were okay.

and his reassurance managed to calm you down as margo looked up at the two of you, her finger hovering over the reboot button but as she looked between the miles and you, she couldn’t help but aid the two of you. as miles pulled his mask over his face, you saw the pure rage painted over miguel’s face and you couldn’t help your indignation towards the man.

but you didn’t see him for long as the pair of you were sucked out of the room and travelling at the speed of light (or so it seemed) to freedom.

the lights were harsh on your eyes.

as you adjusted to the luminosity of the neon signs you looked to your right to see miles on the floor.

“miles? miles!” you rushed over and rolled his body over as he coughed, “i’m okay, i’m okay. how about you?” you smiled, “i’m fine babe. we made it, we made it home miles.” you cried as you engulfed him in a hug.

he smiled as he reciprocated, “thanks to you y/n. but we needa get goin okay?” you nodded as you stood and helped him up by his arms.

“hold on tight.”

you’d honestly forgotten how nice the cold air felt on your face. the thrill of swinging through the city, passing people by as they stared in wonder, slinging by and grabbing a few treats on the way, yours and miles’s normal routine almost everyday in the past six months. you never knew you could miss a place so much.

but being with the spider society and being at the HQ managed to make you deeply homesick.

as you neared miles’s home you felt a weight being lifted off of your chest.

you were almost there.

you had gotten home in time.

you’d save mr morales, be allowed to call him jeff and his wife rio, miles would have his father, he’d continue being spider-man, the two of you would move to new jersey (fingers crossed), miles would study something new (seeing as the two of you have had your fill of other universes in the past few days), you’d study journalism, you’d get your own place, travel, live and love.

together.

as you got to his rooms window you held on to the ledge as miles opened the window and carefully guided you in. you’d never expected to feel so elated at seeing his single bed, his action figures and posters, everything. but as you entered, the waves of fatigue messed with your head to the point where you managed to overlook the contents of his room.

you were so exhausted you didn’t even manage to make it to the bed and relaxed in-front of it in the corner. as you looked around you couldn’t help but frown. it looked, different.

some things were missing such as all the posters and figurines. you chalked it up to mrs morales packing them away perhaps, or miles moving them to his own place.

as you slowly drifted off you missed the creak of the door opening.

rio walked through the door with her laundry basket clung to her hip.

miles turned around quickly, relieved to see his mother. “ah mom, you don’t know how happy i am to see you.” rio furrowed her eyebrows as her son ran over to smother her in a tight hug. it’d been so long since he’d acted so.

and was his hair out?

he seemed shorter too.

what on earth has this boy been up to?

as he rambled on explaining himself she couldn’t help but smile. he seemed so, innocent. before everything, before the pain, before the loss, before it all happened, before he changed, permanently, before her.

“miles, i think it’s cute your into uh what’s it called cosplay? you one of them comics-con kids?”

“what’s that? i- no, this isn’t cosplay ma.”

as she walks into another room miles stands frozen as his uncle aaron walks into the home. albeit a different version of his uncle aaron but it doesn’t change the way miles’s hands are sweating, his heart threatening to implode.

as aaron rested a pile of cash on the table miles stared in awe. “you ready to go miles? damn you took your braids out? what’s going on man?” he joked as he walked to the door his hand gesturing miles to follow along. “yeah lemme just grab something and i’ll be there.”

miles shook you awake and asked you to follow along but not too closely.

you were perplexed as to why but followed along nonetheless. as you made it to the door you saw aaron in-front of miles. and suddenly something came at miles, knocking him out.

you ran to him, “miles! shit, are you okay?” you felt your chest tighten as he didn’t respond, his finger tips twitched yet he was unresponsive. “fuck what the hell did you do aaron?”

aaron couldn’t believe his eyes.

how- what?

you were there. sitting, cradling miles’s body in your arms as you stared up at him.

alive.

“y/n?”

it was a whisper. but you caught it. “no i’m the fuckin sun. yes it’s y/n.” you said as you continued to inspect miles, looking for any signs of injury.

“you want her too?”

your head snapped up as you heard aaron speak again, he was looking behind you and you honestly didn’t have the energy to see someone else right now but as you looked back you wished this was a bad dream.

the prowler.

he stood tall, not as tall as aaron but at least a few inches more so than miles. his suit was a little different, his claws sharper and his mask. he nodded towards aaron, yes.

it was as frightening as aaron’s. aaron. if he was right infront of you you then who the hell was thi-

your head was throbbing so much, but you were currently being tended to. or, you thought you were. someone was lightly dabbing a wet cloth on your forehead, your head was supported by something, it was nice.

when you built the strength to open your eyes you saw miles. “arriba mi vida.” you squinted. “what?” you saw a slight smile on his face, “try to get up.” miles wrapped his hand around your neck, cradling it as you attempted to get up.

you rested against the cold wall as you took in the environment around you. “where are we?” you asked miles as you tried focusing your eyes, you swore you saw the outline of someone tied to a, was that a boxing bag? the light from the window behind them illuminated their outline, their face left unknown.

“shh, está bien y/n.”

“miles you know i cant speak spanish that well.”

“i’m sorry, i forgot. you feelin’ okay ma?”

as you were about to respond the body tied to the bag started to move and mumble, causing you to actually realise that someone was tied up. your eyes were adjusted now and as you looked around and settled on miles’s face you couldn’t help but frown.

“since when do you wear braids miles? and do you honestly think this is the right time to try out a new hair style?” you questioned as he got up, “you don’t like my braids? you use to do em all the time ma.”

your eyebrows furrowed as the body finally came into focus, and you saw-

miles?

you slowly rose from your spot on the floor and looked back and forth from both miles’s. the one in front of you had a certain way to him. his shoulders straightened, taller than usual, hardened face, he seemed so, formal.

whilst your miles was a sloucher most times, not short but he didn’t tower over everyone, usually with a smile donning his face and always easy going.

“i- you.” the words scrambled out and you had no idea what was going on. all you knew was that you needed to get out of here. as you walked towards what you had assumed to be your miles, other miles grabbed your hand and yanked you back.

“whatchu doing?”

“i was seeing my miles. what are you doing? why did you tie him up?”

“can’t exactly have someone running around my streets with my face now can i?”

“okay, i understand that miles but you need to let me go. we need to get back to our universe otherwise mr morales is gonna- and we can’t let that happen you know that. untie him. please.”

“why would i do that shit? what’s so special about him? why does he get to have everything so good? his school, his friends, his family- you.” other miles was getting a little too close for your liking and you found yourself backed up against the wall. not a great position to be in when completely helpless and tired as hell against someone who could probably throw you across the room.

his hand came to your face as he pushed away a stray strand of hair from your eyes. “i- did we- did you date someone like me?”

“not someone like you ma, i dated you.”

“no you dated another version of me. that’s not me, that’s her, wherever she is i’m sure she missed you and if you picked up the phone and called-”

“she’s dead.”

your eyes widened, “i- i’m sorry for you. and for her. i’m sure you loved her a lot but, i’m not her. you’re not my miles, my miles is right there. and i love him. please you have to let us- me go. y/n wouldn’t have wanted this for you i’m sure of it.”

“you gonna tell me she wanted me to be happy?”

“uh i’d assume she wanted that for you. i’m sure you guys were amazing together miles.” you smiled as you tried to suppress your fear. it was hard to, you could feel it slowly creeping in, the miles in front of you was hypnotising, his eyes were warm so warm you could feel them burning into yours. he was absolutely gorgeous, the soft glow from the night life outside highlighting his face. he was so gorgeous it was insane as well as scary. he took your breath away, the same way your miles did.

“we were, and we will be again.”

“i’m not so sure you can bring people back from the dead. i understand you miss her but you need to let her go and move on. speaking of moving on miles and i should be moving on back to our universe so if you would so kindly-”

“i got her right here ma.”

his grip on your hand tightened as he somehow got closer. all the air had apparently hopped out of the room since you felt your chest tighten.

“no me dejarás de nuevo mi vida. your staying with me, here.”

“You won’t leave me again my life.”

“stop it, i understand you’re hurting but please just-” you tried with all your strength to push him away but his feet were planted firmly into the floor, as still as a statue and you couldn’t help but cry.

you’d escaped one place to be potentially imprisoned in another.

“shh, shh y/n/n. i got you right here.” he held you as you sobbed, praying your miles would wake up soon and save the two of you.

as miles held onto you he couldn’t help but feel his tensions and sorrow seep into the floor as he held you again after all this time and as he did he couldn’t help but whisper,

“you’re mine mi amor,

all mine.”

[cbrownjc]

Hi there! I'm sorry if this feels super obtuse and it has been ages since I read the novels, BUT...

After this recent episode I was a little confused about what Armand had done to infuriate Louis and Daniel so much. If he simply wiped their memories so neither Louis or Daniel didn't remember everything that went down, that doesn't seem so awful, especially since what went down WAS awful. So I think I must have missed something substantial because I was distracted by my cat, or something. 😅

BTW I love your blog and all the fantastic insight you provide! I used to be ride or die with IWTV but haven't paid much attention to it in the last 15-20 years, so I'm finding it immensely helpful for getting back into the swing of things!

Hello!

So why Louis and Daniel are so angry at Armand isn't because Armand simply erased their memories. (And, to be clear, their memories weren't actually erased, but just clouded over and blocked). Armand rewrote them. Armand basically reprogrammed Daniel and Louis' minds after the OG interview, Louis' mind especially.

That was what that final scene was about, what it was demonstrating. The answer that Louis gave at the beginning of the episode, as to why Armand saved Daniel's life in 1973 was a word-for-word repeat of what Armand's own answer was at the end of the episode to that same question.

The answer wasn't something Louis truly felt wrt his own real feelings. It was something Armand put into Louis' mind to think and say about the incident after the events of it from Louis attacking Daniel on were blocked and clouded over.

As @virginiaisforvampires notes here, the way Louis speaks of Lestat in the OG interview vs the new interview is very telling wrt that reprogramming done. Yes, in the OG interview, Louis was talking down Lestat in spiteful ways, but it was all surface-level stuff. Just saying that the way Lestat spoke revealed how stupid he was and that he wasn't at all skilled when trying to play music.

That is all a far cry from the things Louis has said and spoken about in the Dubai interview about Lestat. Lestat's crimes, as they are being talked about in this second interview, are not just surface-level transgressions said to simply make Lestat angry and draw him out, as Louis was originally trying to do back in 1973. The crimes of Lestat laid out in the Dubai interview, in contrast, are very much there to justify the murder of Lestat.

Because without that justification?

Well, we see that starting when it comes to the false memory -- yes, false -- of Louis thinking Claudia couldn't burn Lestat. Louis thinking that -- that Claudia couldn't burn Lestat -- would take away Louis' guilt at having stopped Claudia from trying to burn Lestat if it was something they both couldn't do. Especially if the killing of Lestat had been justified.

But if there was no justification for killing Lestat? Then the reason Louis stopped Claudia from burning Lestat was because Louis knew that killing Lestat had been wrong. Louis knew it the night Claudia did it, which would be the real reason why he stopped her from burning him.

And because Lestat didn't burn, because he was still alive, that led to the events of the trial in Paris and what happened to Claudia there. And what is looking to be the show's version of the Merrick reveal about Claudia's true feelings wrt Louis. Which, in the book Merrick, the revelation of that is what sent Louis to try to destroy himself via sunlight exposure, as we saw him try to do back in 1973 -- which the cocaine and other drugs that were in Daniel's blood had Louis unable to either ignore anymore -- or lifted a veil that had been placed over his mind about it until then.

Do you see the cascade effect in all of this?

And look, maybe some will see what Armand has done here as not that awful, but Armand didn't do it just to try and protect Louis. That was very damn clear when he didn't relay Lestat's full "I love you" message to Louis after Louis' 1973 attempt to end his life. It's because part of Armand very much still wants to live with the illusion that he and Louis can be happy together, even after what happened in Paris and Armand's role in those events.

I've said before that Armand's flaw when it comes to love is that he will go way, way, WAY overboard to obtain or keep love. And this is all just, once again, him repeating that pattern. Armand rewrote Louis' memories of both Lestat and Claudia's actions all to try and assuage the true guilt and pain Louis has over everything that happened and Louis' own role (mostly due to his own inactions) in it all that has led to such suicidal guilt about it, but also because IMO Armand wishes to hide -- as much as he can -- his own role in everything that happened as well . . . and all of this so as to keep Louis by his side so that Louis doesn't leave him -- be it for Lestat, or even in death.

Armand isn't being altruistic in his reprogramming of Louis' mind and memories. Because really being so would have been not only telling Louis what Lestat was trying to relay to Louis back in 1973 but then probably having to let Louis go as well . . . let Louis go back to and be with Lestat, the person who Louis was trying to draw the attention of with that whole OG interview in the first place.

Honestly, I see the whole situation as kind of expanding on this line of Louis' in the book, as he and Armand are breaking up:

And when I came to Paris I thought you were powerful and beautiful and without regret, and I wanted that desperately. But you were a destroyer just as I was a destroyer, more ruthless and cunning even than I. You showed me the only thing that I could really hope to become, what depth of evil, what degree of coldness I would have to attain to end my pain. And I accepted that. And so that passion, that love you saw in me, was extinguished. And you see now simply a mirror of yourself.

With the rewriting/reprogramming of Louis' memories, this is very much what Armand has created with Louis in many ways -- a mirror of himself. The pieces of himself that Armand blocked and changed had Louis "knowing who he was" . . . but who that person is, isn't the real Louis. Just a reflection of the person who made those changes.

So yeah, that is where the anger is coming from. Moreso Louis than Daniel when it comes to the rewriting aspect of it all I'd say; Daniel is likely just angry that his mind was messed with in the first place. One thing you can say about Daniel is that he's brutally honest, even when it comes to his own foibles. He's the type who'd rather know all the horrible shit that happened to him, than not.

Anyway, I'm glad you like my blog and comments about the show, and I hope this answer explains some of it for you. 🙂

[wonuwrites]

Seventeen In The Beginning Stages Of A New Relationship x

saw someone do an ask in someone elses inbox and thought this would be fun to write about. Especially since I've been writing SO much angst lately. It would be nice to have some teeth rotting fluff :)

Prompt: How would Seventeen Members be in the beginning stages of a new relationship?

Warnings: really fluffy, sfw version so sorry no horny time, minors still don't interact tho~, pet names, potentially cussing because that's the person I am. idk if you like cute shit you might not like this.

ღ S Coups: super soft, complete opposite of how he usually is.

Almost all of them are the type to be "down bad" but holy shit Seungcheol is on another level.

Thinks that you are royalty and treats you that way.

He holds the door for you.

Opens the car door for you and puts his hand above your head so you wont bang your head.

He will be the best bag and umbrella holder.

He always walks to your front door with fresh flowers before each date.

Has a million compliments running through his mind but too shy to admit them all because he's afraid you will run away.

The first time you interlocked your fingers with his, he almost died.

Like his heart almost backflipped out of his chest and he just felt electrified.

He has a list of things you like saved to his phone so he can 'surprise' you out of the blue.

I can see him thinking long term pretty early on in your relationship.

You just are so important to him as he is to you.

ღ Jeonghan: super shy but can't help but tease still.

Jeonghan would act like it was the other way around but he was SO wrapped around your finger.

When you weren't looking he would be sending you the biggest heart eyes.

He'd constantly wonder how the hell he got so lucky to have someone like you.

He would want to be next to you all the time.

Sometimes he'd forget time was a thing and would send "goodnight" texts after practice or schedules.

Sometimes that would be like 3 in the morning and then he'd triple text an apology.

Luckily you would find it precious.

But not as precious as he thought YOU were.

He would always have a smile plastered on his face when he was around you.

He just thought you were so neat.

ღ Joshua: insane yet a gentleman

Listen, Joshua is insane but he's a gentleman. Especially to his baby.

When you agreed to be his, he felt like he won the lotto.

He would so mindful of you.

He would want to know everything about you.

As long as you were comfortable with it though.

TBH he would either do big gestures or little ones. No in between.

He would make you a bracelet with both of your favorite colors.

He would love to talk on the phone with you.

Especially at night after a long day of practices.

Even though he MUCH rather be with you in person, your voice is music to him.

You are his peace.

Overtime, you become apart of the 'evil twin' chaos with him and Jeonghan.

Seventeen would call you three the 'evil triplets'

If you are crazy as well, you get bonus points.

ღ Jun: shy giggly mess but would do anything for you.

If you were to tell Jun to jump, he'd ask how high.

Similarly to Seungcheol, he'd be extremely down bad.

He would constantly smile at you no matter what.

Like, you could sneeze and he would find it adorable.

At the beginning before he was 1000% comfortable, he would giggle a lot and overthink everything.

Hell, he over thought whether or not it was too soon to hold your hand.

YOU had to be the one to grab his hand and swing it back and forth.

(That action alone gave him butterflies for 7 business days btw.)

The more comfortable he got, the more silly he got which made you giggle and become the shy giggly mess.

He would send you random pictures throughout the day of things that made him think of you.

TBH I can see him bringing you random things that made him think of you.

like a cool ass rock? Totally would bring it to you because the color of the rock reminded him of your eye color or whatever LOL.

He just wanted to show you how much he liked you.

ღ Hoshi: pretty much what you would expect

Soonyoung wore a smile whenever you were around and even strangers could see how whipped he was.

Do you rememember Loco and Hwasa's interaction on "Hyena's on The Keyboard?" Yeah basically, Soonyoung would be like Loco toward you. Especially the car scene when he bought Hwasa a lipstick LMFAO

You would make him so flustered most days and it was honestly so cute.

The days he was a bit more confident would make you so flustered but unlike you where it was unintentional his was intentional.

Cuddly lil tiger... rawr (I'm so sorry)

Honestly, just being near you was all he needed for a good day.

When you both were busy with various schedules, he would send you texts throughout the day and send you pictures and videos of things that made him think of you.

Which would honestly be basically everything because you were ALWAYS on his mind.

Basically just a cuddly lil simp that was so happy to be yours.

ღ Wonwoo: the biggest cheerleader tbh

All members would be hella supportive of their significant others but I feel like Wonwoo would be the most supportive.

Not in a way that would be overly shown but would bring you flower after big projects and things like that.

Loves to listen to you talk about projects, aspirations, and all at.

He is all smiles whenever you talk about things you are SUPER passionate about.

His love language would be acts of service so he would do his best to do things that would make your life a bit more easier.

Also would be a subtle romantic. He would take you on casual but meaningful dates.

If you went to an arcade he would make sure he won you a plushie.

Also, if you thought you were paying for anything, that would be cute.

Also, if you were also a gamer and wanted to play minecraft, he would put your beds next to each other in your shared house.

Just the best cheerleader <3

ღ Woozi: feels like he won the lottery

Jihoon feels like he won the lottery when it comes to you.

He found someone that liked him for Jihoon and not just because he was Woozi?!

He would constantly be shocked that you were so supportive of him and vice versa.

After like the second date, he already felt like you were going to be a muse for him.

Writes the cutest love songs for your ears only.

They would be some of the most vulnerable lyrics that would make you just cry because they were so beautiful.

He isn't a very touchy guy but he would hold your hands often.

Is a homebody mostly but would step out of his comfort zone to go on an adventure with you.

You both have 'secret gestures' when out in public. If you are nervous or want him to know you are thinking of him, you tug at your left ear twice. For him, he will rub the top of his nose bridge twice.

It gives him butterflies if you do it in front of y'all's friends.

He's honestly so down bad for you and just constantly grateful for you.

ღ DK: down bad, comfortable, your new best friend.

Seokmin had the biggest crush on you before you started dating. When you both got together he felt like the luckiest son of a bitch ever.

The other members would tease him constantly because he was so down bad and such a simp for you.

But hey, you weren't complaining because you also were down bad and a simp for him lol.

You both skipped the "awkward" parts of the beginning of a relationship and it just always felt so comfortable.

Even when it was learning about what you both liked and disliked.

You both just fit together like a puzzle piece.

You both were head over heels for each other super quick.

He just was your best friend and vise versa.

ღ Mingyu: 25/8 heart eyes and so thankful for you.

Mingyu was super emotional when it came to you.

He was a mix of Seungcheol and Seokmin where he was just so down bad for you and just so comfortable around you.

Similarly to Seungcheol, he would also think long term.

He just loved and craved doing domestic things with you.

He loved cooking, he loved movie nights, he loved late night drives where you were the best passenger princess.

Shit, he even loved folding laundry with you which he helped you do when it was pouring rain and y'all had to cancel reservations because the rain was so bad.

He just was so enchanted to be with you and love you.

Oh also, he is such a clingy man and would always want to hold your hand or be touching you in some way.

ღ Minghao: the moment when the anti-delulu becomes delulu for his baby

Minghao would find you to be the most precious person in the world.

He would want to do everything and anything for you.

He would constantly look at you with heart eyes.

He would be constantly flustered because of your antics.

He would think you were the most precious-est person to ever ever exist.

You would be a muse for him and his paintings.

Omg, if you both did paint dates, his heart would explode because you were both doing something he loved together.

If you were someone that likes to read, you both would cuddle and get lost in your books while near each other.

To him, you are perfect.

And to you, he is perfect.

ღ Seungkwan: he would want to be perfect because you deserve it

Seungkwan is very cautious about his image with him being an idol and doing variety shows often.

For first bit of the relationship, I can see him trying to prove something to you.

He would try his best to be perfect for you that you would have to sit him down and tell him that you like him for him. That him being an idol is just a lil bonus.

This would hard rewire his brain and he would learn how to be himself with you.

He is very vulnerable with you.

A lot of the members love that you bring a more casual side to him.

However, he would love if you were sassy and would be side eyeing people with him.

Imagine a lot of self care days with him. Like face masks while eating take out.

He just loves being around you because he feels safe.

You become his safe place <33333

ღ Vernon: partners in crime and just so thankful for you.

Hansol finding you was a dream come true and he often thanked the stars for finding you.

You both spoke in movie, vine, and tiktok quotes.

Most of your text convos are of random memes.

Some of the older members look at your relationship and just think "?????"

However, Hansol and you don't give a rats ass because you both understand and that is what matters.

He would match clothes with you.

He would often let you borrow his clothes because he thinks they looked way better on you then him.

He would show you his solo stuff before he showed anyone else.

He is just so in love with you awww.

ღ Dino: Down bad doesn't even cover it

I know I said Seungcheol was the ultimate when it came to being "down bad" but holy shit Lee Chan.

He would be a mix of all of his hyungs tbh

However, he would be so down bad that his hyungs would tease him.

He would bring you up ALL the time.

He had you as his wallpaper and even had a polaroid picture of you both in his wallet.

He would be your biggest fan and he just loved you so much.

He would do tiktok dance challenges with you all the time.

He also would try to find things cool things to do on dates with you.

[cosyvelvetorchid]

angsty, and the word is toaster

I don’t get a lot of opportunities to write angsty stuff so thank you.

🩶

**********

Buck sat on the bench in the locker room; his jacket on and bag by his feet, ready to go home. Except he didn’t know where to go.

He was supposed to be going to Tommy’s after shift—that had been the plan they made, but he didn’t know if he should. Or could. Not after their fight 48 hours ago.

The only communication they’d had for the last 2 days was Tommy letting him know when he was going in the air and when he’d safely landed back at the station, and Buck hearting the messages so Tommy knew he’d seen them.

Buck was still just so pissed at him. And worse still Tommy didn’t even seem to grasp the reason why. Or if he did he didn’t seem to think it was important.

Buck knew what he had to do—everybody he’d asked had told him to just get his head out of his ass and talk to Tommy.

As he walked up to Tommys front door, he hesitated in using the key that Tommy had given him last week. He thought about how happy he’d been when Tommy had presented it to him, and how he’d almost been late for his own shift the next day because he wanted to get a key to his apartment cut to give back to him.

The door opened making him jump. Tommy stood in his loose shorts and tank top—his usual Muay Thai get up—and was covered in glistening sweat. This would usually turn Bucks brain to goo, but not tonight.

“I heard the Jeep.” He said plainly. “You hungry?” He stepped aside allowing Buck in. His voice wasn’t the usual happy one he greeted Buck with, but it wasn’t angry either. He sounded tired.

“Yeah. You wanna order in?” He dropped his bag next to Tommy’s by the door.

Tommy nodded. “Order wherever. I’m gonna take a quick shower.” He placed a quick kiss onto Bucks cheek and climbed the stairs. This was the first time in three months that they hadn’t greeted each other with a full on mouth assault. Buck didn’t know what to do with that.

His stomach was beginning to twist. This was the point in every relationship he’d had to far where the cracks began and inevitably led to an eventual break up.

In part because, as he had realised since meeting Tommy, that they just weren’t right for him. But also because he tended to stick his head in the sand and not confront the problem at hand.

Buck 3.0 (Taylor’s version), would ignore the problem, order dinner and hope that they could just move on from the issue. But he wasn’t him anymore—he needed to confront the problem and deal with it.

No matter the outcome.

He quickly climbed the stairs to Tommy’s bedroom. Tommy was removing clean clothes from his dresser whilst waiting for the shower to heat up.

“You order something?” He asked.

“Uh, no.” Buck replied. “We, uh.. we need to talk about this Tommy.” He said, releasing a shaky breath.

Tommy sighed. “There’s nothing to talk about, Evan. Everything’s fine.”

“No. No it isn’t. You.. you’re being.. different, and-and I can’t.. I don’t want to ignore what happened.”

Tommy shut the drawer and turned to face him. “What is there left to say, Evan? I saved a kids life. I’m not sorry for that. You seem to think there’s something wrong with that. I don’t. Neither of us are going to win this fight so why continue it?”

That got bucks hackles up.

“You think I have a problem with you saving a kids life?!” His voice was raised “Tommy, the problem is that you were so reckless when you did it!”

Tommy scoffed. “Really? You want to accuse me of being reckless?”

“Running into a burning apartment without proper equipment is reckless. Don’t play dumb—you know that.”

“He would have died, Evan. And as for the reckless part, I’ve heard the stories of your past behaviour—hell, you’ve told me most of them. I think it’s pretty hypocritical to chastise me for something you’ve done more than once.”

Tommy wasn’t wrong—it was hypocritical for Buck to be pissed off when he’s done some really stupid shit himself.

“You’re right—it probably is hypocritical. Maybe karma is teaching me a lesson, or maybe the universe is showing me what it feels like to be on the other side of it to change me or something, I dunno. But that doesn’t take away from the fact that what you did was dangerous and reckless.”

“What should I have done? Let the kid die?” Tommy threw back, his own voice raised.

Buck ran an angry hand through his hair. “No, Tommy. Of course not!”

“You want me to not do my job?” Tommy said and Buck tried to keep calm but god damnit he just wasn’t getting it!

“No, Tommy! I want you to understand that I love you and don’t want you to die!”

And there it was. Those three words that he’d been skirting around saying for weeks. Neither had said it yet and Buck was trying to take it slow and not get ahead of himself by saying it too soon.

His loud voice echoed around the room, followed by a deathly silence as Tommy’s face softened, taking in Evan’s words. Buck continued talking; needing to get the words about before his nerves got the bed to him.

“It’s not about you saving a kids life—I’m proud of you for doing that. It’s that you-you just went ahead and-and did it, no questions asked, without thinking about the fact that you have someone that wants you to come home.” He closed some of the distance between them as his voice softened more. “Of course I don’t want you to not do your job, or stop saving kids or stop saving anyone. I just.. I just need to feel like you care enough to come home to me; that you’ll be more careful so that you can. Because Tommy I.. I don’t know what I would do if I lost you.”

His voice began to crack at the end and tears were threatening to spill.

Tommy closed the remaining distance and wrapped his arms around him. Buck leaned into Tommy’s warmth and gripped the back of his shirt tightly.

“I’m sorry, baby.” He whispered into Bucks ear. “I promise from now on I’ll be more careful.”

“Thank you.” Buck mumbled into Tommys shoulder.

“And hey-“ Tommy added pulling back to look at Buck. “I love you too.”

Buck couldn’t hide the grin that formed on his face and Tommy just had to kiss him about it.

After Tommy eventually got his shower—with Buck joining him so that they could properly make up, of course—they lounged on the sofa, eating pizza and watching one of Bucks documentaries.

“Oh hey, did they find the source of that fire?” Buck asked.

“Toaster.”

“Half an apartment building burnt down and it was all because of a toaster?”

“Technically, it was the kid who put his Lego men in to the toaster because they were cold that did it.”

“Oh. Well, yeah that’ll do it.”