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anyarose011 · 2 days ago

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Such an Old Fashioned Word {Angus Tully x Reader}

Summary: The rest of your winter break is spent at Barton, though not completely uneventful. Last minute secrets are shared to ring out the new year, and all seems well for the next semester. Yet, even on the first day, that's not all true.

Part 10 of 10 (Masterlist)

Warning(s): Swearing, unserious injury, mention of past child abuse, and the return of Teddy Kountze.

Welp, we've reached the end (of the movie) you guys. Don't worry, I'm making a small epilogue, but just wanted to give this first. Before it's officially over though, I just wanted to thank all of you SO much for all of your support. I am truly forever grateful for all of you guys' enthusiasm. Also, everybody say "Thank you, Anya" for putting the original Queen audio of "Under Pressure" when I was this 🤏close to making it the Aftersun version 🥰🥰

Word Count: 7.5k

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The car ride back to Barton was mostly silent. Not a nasty, bitter, awkward silence; no, this was a mix of exhaustion, but also content. Even though it was just an hour and a half drive from Boston, your father and Mary still thought it was best to leave a little bit after dawn; that, and the hotel was kicking you out around that time.

You had no shame either as you laid sideways in the backseat, feet draped over Angus’ lap. He kept his hands glued to his side, but he didn’t look uncomfortable either. You know that there was a hint of it though; it’d be bad if there wasn’t as your father and his teacher drove the car.

It was December 28th when you had returned from your little ‘field trip’. Two more weeks until the spring semester started back at the school…there wasn’t much else to do. So, the five of you, now with Danny deciding to join more days than less, decided to make the most of it.

There were a few, eventful days; you and Angus decided to cook for everyone instead of having Mary do it one night.

(“Alright, a tablespoon of salt.” You poured it into the pot.

He was silent for an odd amount of time, before saying your name. “That was a cup.”)

Perhaps it wasn’t a smart idea to stay up until four in the morning, reading. You didn’t risk sneaking into Angus’ room at night after Boston, considering the conversation you both had to have with your father.

(It wasn’t the first day back in Barton, but the next. It was after lunch that you and Angus were simply sitting on opposite sides of the couch in the large study, reading separately. The door opened, and you both looked up to see your father, looking more nervous than you’d ever seen on a normal day.

“Are you alright, papa?” You sat up, asking him with a hint more affection.

He nodded. “Yes, I just wanted to speak to you both about something.”

You already knew what it was, yet you still hoped it wasn’t it. You and Angus leaned forward in anticipation

Your father took a deep breath. “I noticed that you both have become close over the winter break, especially after Boston…I feel as if I have t know if the two of you are-.”

“-Yes.” Angus nodded. “We’re…together.”

“Ah,” he nodded, exhaling.

“Is that alright?”

“Yes, it’s just,” your father huffed a laugh. “frankly, I didn’t think I’d have this conversation for quite some time.”

“Why,” you jested. “you thought I wasn’t desirable to boys my age?”

“No, you just knew your worth, and we both assumed no boy was capable of amounting to it.” He turned to Angus. “I don’t believe in miracles very often, but perhaps I will just this once. We would not be having this conversation a week ago. Yet, in this short amount of time, you have shown me that you are a respectful and selfless young man. If any one of my students had the privilege of courting my daughter, I’m glad it’s you.”

Angus smiled at the sentiment, no matter how strangely it was worded. “Thank you, Mr. Hunham.”

He nodded. “Now, I will say that there’s a matter of how physically affectionate you two are together-.”

“-Papa,” you stopped him. “out of the three of us in the room, you’re the last one to be scared of me getting pregnant.”

Angus and your father didn’t make a sound; they didn’t need to, their eyes said it all. Still, you said it without a hint of discomfort. Even if you felt it, you didn’t show it; it was a true statement. It was almost as if you would be dealing with the brunt of pregnancy, and Angus would face the other part of it.

“Well…” Your father cleared his throat. “I wasn’t going to say it outright, only allude. Still…just be respectful; in public and not.”

“Okay.” You audibly responded, while Angus kept his head down to hide the pinkness of his skin, nodding.

“Alright.” Your father sighed, then moved swiftly to exit the room. “It was lovely having this talk; one I will go and pretend we never had unless one of us brings it up.”

“Love you, dad.” You said once he left. When the door was shut, you glanced back at Angus. “You good?”

He pursed his lips. “Ask me in an hour.”)

The most notable thing to happen after that talk was New Years. You, Mary, and Angus, had prepared a feast for supper; Angus finally joined to cook simply because he didn’t trust you the last time you held a cooking utensil. Danny joined that night as well as all of you were in the teacher’s lounge, watching Guy Lombardo and the Royal Canadians, waiting for the ball to drop.

(“Man, I sure do wish we had some noisemakers.” Mary commented, sitting in between you and Angus.

“I’ve got one.” Angus pulled one out from his back pocket without missing a beat.

Danny huffed from beside you. “Where the hell did you get that?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “found it.”

You and he went on another “adventure” through the tunnels, broke into the dormitories, and snooped around.

Your father shook his head, taking it. “Well, you’re not deploying that in here.”

“You know, you weren’t so uptight in Boston.” You teased, then turned to Danny. “As the head janitor-.”

“-I’m the only janitor.” He elbowed you.

“Where do you stand on indoor fireworks?”

“About as far away as I can.”

Mary nodded. “Very wise.”

The countdown on the TV began, and all of you stood up. To everyone’s concern though, you and Angus dashed behind the couch.

“What’re you doing?” Your father laughed.

You took the bowl of grapes off the table. “Tradition.”

It was something you yourself started when you were seven after befriending a girl from Puerto Rico in the second grade. You told your parents about it, and your mother took part happily; although, she had you eat half the grapes, and she’d eat the other half so you wouldn’t choke.

You brought it up to Angus one night, and he wanted to do it too. You didn’t even have to suggest it.

As both you and Angus crouched under the table, the three adults counted down in excitement, and you joined them.

“Happy New Year!” You all screamed, and after giving Angus a peck on the cheek, you started devouring the grapes. He soon followed.

It was clumsy, and as you both fought over a grape or two, you had to force yourself not to laugh as you simultaneously ate. Angus would sit up and hit his head on the table, and all you could do was smother your laughter and run your fingers over the spot in an effort to soothe him. You swallowed your last grape just as the clock hit 12:01.

“Shit!” Angus snickered, seeing that there were two more in the bowl.

“Damn.” You shook your head. “You’re gonna have two months of bad luck.”

“Is it January and February, or November and December?”

“I don’t think you get to choose.”

“Children.”

You and Angus perked your heads up at your father’s calling. He held the noisemaker high in his hand. “Would you like to light this sucker off in the kitchen, or outside?”

Angus grinned from ear to ear. “Considering it’s like minus ten outside…”

“The kitchen it is.” Mr. Hunham huffed.

“What?” Both Danny and Mary gasped.

You giggled, crawling out from under the table and helping Angus stand as well. Your father and boyfriend rushed to the kitchen like excited children, Angus holding the firecracker, and your father striking a match. You, Danny, and Mary simply stood outside of the kitchen in a mix of terror and amusement.

Once the noisemaker was bursting with light, Angus threw it down the end of the kitchen where there was nothing else in sight. You didn’t see the explosion but heard it for a second before then a slight ringing entering your ears.

There were three things you heard once your hearing returned: Uncontrollable laughter from everyone around you, Mary playfully scolding everyone, and the echoes of Auld Lang Syne from the TV.

You always thought nostalgia was only something you’d feel as an adult, remembering what it was like to be a child. You never thought you’d feel it all at once as it was happening to you.

It was a joyful day for the most part, but that moment had struck a strange feeling within you.

You told Angus about it that night before you went to bed, and he was honest with you; he hadn’t shared the same feeling, but could understand it.

He kissed you goodnight, and that was that.

You felt a little better.)

The only other interesting thing you did was invite Elise over to Barton on her last day before she’d go home for school.

(You, Elise, and Angus finished building a family of snowmen when you decided to scale up the hill of the chapel with your sleds. After going down a few times, Elise turned to you once you were all back up at the top.

“I dare you to stand while sledding down.” She smirked.

“Done.” Was all you said, setting your sled down.

Angus could only say your name before you took the dare. In short, you ended up falling halfway down, and rolled the rest of the way, twisting your ankle and gaining a fresh set of bruises.

It was actually quite funny the differing reactions in the two as they stood on either side of you, your arms draped around their shoulders.

“I give that an eight out of ten.” Elise teased.

“Why?” you grunted as you hobbled on your feet.

“You didn’t eat enough shit.”

“She’s eaten too much!” Angus stressed.

You cackled. “I did fall in some yellow snow. It was lemony.”

In all honesty, the earful your father gave you for being hurt was less than what Angus gave you for the joke you made).

Everyone except Mary hovered over you after that. Even though all you needed was to wear a brace and wrap your foot for a week, they acted as if you had that foot in the grave. Especially Angus, which actually surprised you.

Still, three days before the end of winter break, and one day before students could show up back on campus, you hobbled out of your bed.

It was half an hour before sunrise, and you had made it a last-minute goal to watch it with him. When winter break was over, you’d return back to the faculty housing; back to your own room which you appreciated, but you’d see Angus far less.

So, just like old times, you tiptoed into his room to wake him up.

Yet…he was awake; for the very first time, he was awake. You saw as how the light of the moon bled into the room, and you watched as he sat up, his knees to his chest, and rubbing his nose.

“Angus?” You whispered. He snapped his gaze over to you but didn’t flinch upon hearing your voice. As you got closer, you saw the unmistakable sight of tears upon his face. “Why are you crying?”

He swallowed thickly. “I-I had a dream about my dad.”

Your face fell, and you sat beside him on the bed. “Bad?”

“No.” He shook his head. “It was good.”

Where Angus was confused at your feeling of bitter nostalgia on New Years, you were completely bewildered at that moment. Still, you did your best not to show it.

“What do you mean?” You asked.

He inhaled, trembling. “I just…it was weird, but it wasn’t? I was at home, I don’t know if I was ten, or seventeen, but I woke up and felt normal. I was in my childhood house, I went downstairs and saw he was reading the paper and-and my mom was making bread. I thought I woke up and the rest of my life had been a dream. I didn’t know what was real.”

Your heart crumbled at his recounting; not just from how he’d weep over something he described as good, but from it hitting too close to home.

“I had dreams like that.” You confessed in a whisper.

He dropped his gaze from yours, only to then lay fully down on the bed. You followed, draping an arm over him.

“He said sorry.” Angus said, not looking at you.

“For what?”

He didn’t respond right away. “He pushed me off the porch after when I was thirteen…I kind of deserved it, I was being a little shit. I’d gotten into a fight at school with this asshole kid who stole my backpack, and my dad was trying to talk to me about it. I yelled at him when trying to leave the house, and…yeah, he pushed me. He felt bad right away and patched me up; I just got a bruise and a scratch, it wasn’t bad. Mom found out and…we’d already known about his condition, but she called Pinehills as soon as she got home, and he was taken away that night.”

You wanted to say a lot. Say how it wasn’t his fault, how there was no excuse to push him when he was so much younger…but you couldn’t, you know it wouldn’t help. Instead, you brought your hand up to his face, rubbing your thumb over his cheek and forcing him to look at you.

“Do you want kids?”

He furrowed his brow. “I-I…what?”

So, you said it again. “Do you want kids when you grow up?”

“I…” he wiped his face. “I don’t even know what I want in the next year.”

“Would you ever push them?” He sighed your name, but you didn’t stop. “Even if they were being an asshole?”

He shook his head. “I know what you’re doing.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“I’m serious-.”

“-So am I.”

Angus took a deep breath, leaning into your touch. “No. No I wouldn’t.”

You pulled him into you, and immediately his arms wrapped around your waist. He didn’t make a sound, but his body shook with repressed sobs. All you could do was run your fingers through his hair.

When all was said and done, he was the first to pull away from you, only to kiss you with a gentleness you hadn’t felt before from a man.

“Thank you.” He whispered.

Smiling, you shook your head. “There’s nothing to thank me for. Now, get up.”

He hummed, sitting up once you stood. “Why?”

You took his hand. “I wanna see the sunrise.”

“It’s too cold out-.”

“-I don’t care.”

“Your leg’s bad.”

“So, carry me.”

He snickered, getting out of bed and slipping his shoes and jacket on. He turned away from you, crouching down.

“Come on.”

You shook your head. “It’s actually not that bad, I was just kidding-.”

“-I’m not.”

So, you let him. Well, you both waited until you were outside to get on his back, then saying it was so you wouldn’t get your feet cold. He carried you through the snow for a few minutes until he stumbled, realizing he wasn’t as strong as his ego.

But you both sat at the top of the hill of the chapel, seldomly speaking and just waiting for the sun to rise up from the east. You’d never experienced a twilight so beautiful than in early January of 1971 at Barton. The shade of purple in the sky reflecting off the snow seemed to be more memorable than the sunrise itself.

Still, as the sun peeked up through the trees, and a new day was born, your cheeks started to hurt from smiling so much.

That was the last day of your own personal winter break.

Even though the semester didn’t technically start until two days after that, you and your father had still gone back to the faculty housing, as some teachers had also returned early to prepare for the remainder of the year.

You didn’t notice how lonely you’d been until you step foot back into your room, which you had deemed your sanctuary. While it still served as such, you found yourself missing Angus.

Despite the fact he was just a short walk away, you wanted to take some time apart. You…adored him (it was too early to call it love), but you still needed some space. It was fitting that your father invited you to come in on the first day back.

“Brush up on the Peloponnesian War.” He said at dinner the night of January 10th. “I wanna give the pubescent boys a warmup before their exam retake.”

Not even the Cheshire Cat could form a grin wider than yours.

He didn’t teach Angus’ class until eleven, so you thankfully had time to sleep in and review. It felt strange to enter the school as boys your age and younger rushed past you, either getting to class or fooling around with one another.

The stares were strange too. Although, where you once would shrink into yourself as you walked, every step now had a surge of confidence while they gawked at a girl their age walking the same halls they did.

When turning a corner, you quite literally almost ran into a boy.

“Oh shit, sorry-.” He looked up, and you recognized his voice, but his face and most notably his hair took you by surprise. He smiled upon seeing you. “Miss Hunham.”

You blinked before chuckling. “Jason. You cut your hair.”

“Yeah.” He tucked his hands in his pockets. “Figured it was time; it was getting in my face.”

“Not your dad?”

He didn’t say anything, only smiled before chuckling and giving himself away. “So uh, how was getting stuck over here for Christmas?”

You shrugged. “Not bad, actually. How was skiing?”

“Oh, you know, fun and stuff. I do it every year, so it was nice, but I don’t think I actually would’ve complained a lot if I stayed here.”

Thinning your lips, you still smiled politely. “Oh?”

“Yeah, I don’t know, would’ve been different.”

It quickly was awkward, but not in the worst way. So, you decided to end it. “Happy New Years, Jason.”

He wished you the same sentiment, and you both were on your way. The second you entered your father’s classroom, all fell silent. Ten boys in that room all stared at you as if you’d grown a second head, and only one of them smiled before glancing back down at his notebook.

“Ah shit.” One of the boys awestricken said perhaps without meaning to.

Still, you walked to your father’s desk, sitting down. “Sorry.”

“We seriously have to deal with you? On the first day?”

You looked over at the aggravating voice you didn’t miss, and promptly nearly fell out of your seat. “Jesus Christ, why do you look like that?!”

A few chuckles were heard as you stared at Teddy Kountze, whose entire face, save for his eyes, was redder than the 1968 presidential election.

He glared at you before smirking. “I was gonna ask you the same thing, Hunham. How was being stuck here with Tully and your shitty dad?”

“It was lovely, thank you.” You decided to do a more “lady like” approach to throw him off.

“Really?” He asked. “You take any pictures?”

You glanced at Angus, whose once lighthearted eyes soon turned dark at the comment. Still, you smiled at him and pondered the question. You actually didn’t take any pictures with him, or anything of that winter break.

“No, actually.” You said. “I should have though.”

Teddy huffed. “Didn’t know you were that much of a slut-.”

“-That’s rich coming from the same species of human that fucked animals and blessed us with STDs.”

The room howled in laughter, even though it was technically a jab at the entirety of the male gender. Still, no one cackled louder than Angus Tully diagonally from you. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself; you’d written that comeback down a few years back, happy that you could finally use it.

All Teddy could do was glare daggers into your skin because soon your father entered the room with. “Welcome back, you snarling Visigoths. I trust you all enjoyed a refreshing holiday.” He walked to the front of the room, eyes falling on you. “Ah, you’ve made yourself comfortable.”

“Quite so.” You smirked.

He then looked at Teddy, flinching. “Oh, hello, Mr. Kountze. Or should I say Icarus? Fly a little too close to the sun, did we?”

The boy furrowed his brow. “Huh?”

“Yeah, all right. Along with your skiing and swimming, I hope you found time to enlighten yourselves about the Peloponnesian War and its implications for today. Just to check, I brought my lovely daughter you all know to test your knowledge before we retake the final from last semester. Omnia ex scrineis vestris praeter stilum.”

All of the boys in the room except for Angus groaned heavily. You stood up and walked to the front of the room with a pep in your step and so begun the third round of your trivia competition.

You were kinder this time; you didn’t immediately ring in your answer as soon as your father finished the question. Except for Teddy; in fact, it was in the middle of a question you decided to answer it.

Of course, the final question was between you and Angus.

“What did Sparta do after the Sicilian Expedition which ultimately helped it win the war?”

Neither of you spoke. Of course, Angus was wondering if you were going easy on him, and you were wondering the exact same thing.

The silence in the room only caused your mind to run into overdrive, going over every page you read in preparation just for this silly little game. Then, it hit you.

You smacked the desk and opened your mouth, but only a strangled syllable escaped before a woman’s voice entered your ears.

“Angus Tully?”

Lydia Crane poked her head into the classroom, and all eyes fell onto her. Angus, in somewhat of a shock, asked. “Yes?”

“Dr. Woodrup would like to see you.”

A chill entered the room, not from the cracked window in the corner of it, but from seven words alone. Angus, after taking them in, glanced at your father.

Keeping his cool, but also tension growing, he nodded. “You can retake it on an off period.”

The last thing Angus did was look at you. He didn’t even need to speak to tell you he was worried beyond compare. Yet…you didn’t know why.

He followed Miss Crane out, and the second he left, Teddy snickered. “One day back, and the basket case is already in trouble.”

“You shut your mouth, Theodore!” You spat.

“Hey!” Your father put his hand on your shoulder. “None of that here, this is a classroom, not the Colosseum. And as for you, Mr. Kountze, we’ll not talk like that any further.”

He shrugged, sheepishly. “Of course, Mr. Hunham.”

Your father said your name gently. “You’re excused. Thank you for attending today.”

Nodding, you marched out of the room and immediately rushed down the hall. You entered the bustling kitchen, half of the cooks cleaning up from breakfast, the other half preparing for lunch that was next period. It wasn’t hard to find Mary, who was the ringleader of the entire operation.

She sighed upon seeing you. “Miss Jane Bennett, I don’t have time for-.”

“-It’s Angus.”

There was a franticness building within your eyes, and it was only then she knew you were serious. “What happened?”

“I don’t know, he just got called to Woodrup’s office and that’s it.” You huffed. “I don’t know what’s wrong, but it feels wrong.”

“Okay.” She soothed, taking your hand, then turned to a woman beside her. “Clara, hold down the fort.”

Clara nodded, and both you and Mary left the kitchen. Despite being stuck in the school for weeks, it felt like a labyrinth to you once everyone came back. It was Mary who had to lead you through the halls until you were finally at the office. Just as you an Mary were approaching it, you watched as both Miss Crane and Angus left.

Their gaze met yours and Mary’s, and time seemed to stand still. It was Miss Crane who broke it. She squeezed Angus’ shoulder comfortingly.

“Go sit down.”

He carried himself over to the bench by the window as if he was a dead man walking, and he sat down as if the weight of the world was upon his shoulders. Before you could say anything, Miss Crane walked past you.

You sat beside Angus, looking at him but he wouldn’t meet your gaze. “What happened?”

“My mother and Stanley are here.”

No build up, no fear before the reveal, he said it like it was.

Yet, while there was no emotion behind his words, his face was the spitting image of one you saw in a history textbook. One that showed a soldier suffering from shell shock.

“I think I’m gonna get kicked out.” He said. “That means military school.”

You wanted to hug him, you wanted to take his hand and run away and move to Boston, New York, Chicago, hell, a little house in Nebraska of all places…but you couldn’t do that. You couldn’t even open your mouth to say something.

So, you just took his hand and placed your head on his shoulder. Mary stood in front of you both, leaning against the wall, and combing her fingers through Angus’ curls.

It felt strange seeing your father walk up to the principal’s door and not saying anything. He glanced at the three of you in confusion before entering the room.

You wanted to ask why, oh why, they were here? What made them of all days return for something so horrible and not to be warm to their son? Still, it didn’t feel right to barge him with questions, so, again, the three of you were there in silence together.

A few minutes passed, and the door opened. Out came your father with a look so solemn you felt like you could cry. He looked between the three of you awaiting his answer for whatever went on in that room.

“It’s this one.” He pointed to his right eye. “This is the one you should look at.”

You all looked at one another in puzzlement, yet even in that, there was a hint of humor in your slight grins.

The door opened, and Dr. Woodrup looked at Angus. “Angus, step inside, please.”

He followed, waiting until the last possible second to let go of your hand. When the door shut, your father looked at you, saying your name softly.

“Would you come with me, please?”

You know he wouldn’t ask you if it wasn’t serious. The pain in your had left for just a moment, but then it found its way back when you heard those words. Still, you stood up and followed him.

Your father led you into a hallway that led to nowhere, crossing his arms.

“This…I will not lie and say that this is an easy thing to hear.” He began. “Angus had stolen a snow globe from Miss Crane’s house and gave it to his father at the sanitorium when we visited. It caused his father to have an episode, and he told the orderlies, who then told Angus’ mother. They came here with the conviction that Angus had manipulated us, and that sending him to military school would ‘straighten him’ out so to say…I told them it was solely my idea. I told them I encouraged him to visit his father…and for that, I am being asked to resign.”

“What?” Was all you could choke out.

He took a deep breath, placing his hands on your shoulders. “We’re leaving tomorrow. I’m really sorry, sweetheart.”

“No.” You shook your head. “No, they can’t do that. He-he, you fucking taught the asshole who’s headmaster!”

“I did, but you know that’s not how this works.”

“On-on the first day, are you serious?!” You laughed.

He said your name gently. “I know this upsets you, believe me, I am too-.”

“No, just,” you sighed, pulling away before walking down the hall. “I’m gonna go home.”

Your father shook his head. “You should start packing. We can figure out where we can-.”

“-I’ll see you after school.” Was all you said.

It didn’t feel real. Your father had just told you in less than a minute that you were leaving. Leaving a place you had essentially grown up in but not at the same time. Leaving a friend, a boyfriend, your very first one, leaving Mary…

Oh god…Mary.

You pushed yourself out of the school and rushed back to the faculty housing, doing your best to avoid anyone before you finally entered your room.

You didn’t cry…you felt the pain and sorrow fester within you, yet you didn’t cry. You wanted to break things, wanted to toss your entire desk out the window, but you didn’t.

There was nothing you could do, and that made it worse.

Your father ordered pizza for both of you that night, explaining more about the situation you were in. He had already packed most of his room up, but you hadn’t even started. He said that you’d drop all of your heavy belongings off at an old coworker’s house in Syracuse and then leave.

“I was thinking Carthage sounds nice.” He chimed in. “Then after that, perhaps Egypt? Or Rome even, I remember you said you always wanted to…”

You only nodded along, and you felt like you were out of your body as he helped you pack up a majority of your bedroom in just a few hours. It felt strange; you knew you were going to leave that year, with your unofficial graduation…yet there you were, leaving in the first month unexpectedly.

With a kiss upon your head, your father wished you goodnight, but you only tossed and turned in your bed.

You were nowhere close to drifting off when you heard something at our window. Sitting up, you pulled the curtains back, revealing Angus Tully standing outside below. You opened the window.

“What are you doing?!” You whisper-yelled.

“Come down here!” He responded.

“It’s freezing, you come up here!”

“How do you expect me to do that?”

“You climb a rope in gym, climb the gutter.”

His eyes drew over to it, and with a heavy sigh, he latched his arms around it. He clumsily climbed his way up, using the house as a crutch. Thankfully, it wasn’t that far of a climb, and you pulled him into your room.

He landed on your bed harshly, nearly letting out a yelp if you didn’t cover his mouth in time.

“I beat you.” Was the first thing you said.

Angus took your hand, furrowing his eyes. “What?”

“The stupid trivia.” You swallowed thickly. “The Spartans started their own fleet and allied with Persia after the Sicilian Expedition. I was going to say that, and I was right. If you let me win, I’ll throw you out the window, I swear to God.”

He sat up, his gaze softening the longer he looked at you. Then, with a tenderness that pained you, he pulled you into an embrace.

That was when you finally cried. You clutched the fabric of his shirt until your knuckles turned white, attempting to muffle your sobs. Angus only held you tighter, kissing this base of your neck and running his hand up and down your back.

“Why’d you take it?” You asked.

He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“Why’d you give it to him?”

“I…I wanted him to have something.” He pulled away only to see your face. “I’m sorry. I know it means nothing, but I really am. I didn’t…I wasn’t thinking.”

You shook your head. “I think we’re gonna leave the country.”

“What?” His voice was strangled.

“Why not? He’s old and hasn’t gone in forever, and I’ve never been outside of America.”

Angus dropped his head, as if it was only then did the gravity of the situation weigh heavy on him. When he finally looked at you again, he took your face into his hands.

“I’m gonna come clean.” He said. “I’ll tell Dr. Woodrup the truth, and that-.”

“-You’re a fucking idiot.”

You never spoke to him like that. Whenever you were angry at him, you were snarky, you were a know it all, but only then, did you say something horrible like you meant it.

Of course, he was absolutely taken aback, but he already knew you had more to say once you pulled back.

“If you get sent to Fork Union, I’m never speaking to you again.” You shook your head. “It doesn’t matter if you write me a letter or a thousand, I will make myself forget everything that happened this Christmas. You’re too smart, no, too fucking brilliant to do some stupid shit and get yourself thrown into Vietnam. Don’t waste it.’

He nodded as soon as you were finished. “I won’t. I…I’m gonna miss you.”

Exhaustion pulled on you as soon as he said that, and you sighed. “I don’t wanna go.”

Angus kissed your cheek, his eyes then traveling around your almost barren room. On your desk sat a familiar book. He picked it up, flipping through the pages. “I’ve never actually read this before.”

“Really? It’s so short.”

“Did you ever find the one your dad gave you?”

“Yeah, I packed that one up.”

He smiled. “How about I read it to you? It’s one of your favorites, right?”

You snorted. “You have school in the morning.”

“I don’t care.”

That’s how you both came to lie down on your bed, and he read The Little Prince aloud to you. It was a memory you wouldn’t forget, even if he landed himself in military school.

You fell asleep nearing the end of the book, and Angus Tully did not wake you to say goodbye.

You thought you’d woken up from a horrible dream, only to then see that your room was still packed, and The Little Prince was neatly set on your desk with a note from Angus.

I put the number and address of the school at the bottom in case you forgot. Thank you for being the best part of my year.

-Angus

You held the note to your chest, falling back down onto your bed. Whether that was God, Allah, Zues, Aphrodite, or perhaps even the spirit of Jane Austen, you were going to beat the shit out of the author to your story once you were dead.

After a moment to yourself, you got dressed and packed up the last of your things, deciding to put the book in your backpack. You didn’t know what time it was, but you were starving, so you’d gone down into the faculty kitchen, flat out ignoring whatever stares or feigned condolences that were given to you from others.

What surprised you was Mary Lamb sitting at the main table.

“And I thought I helped raise you better to come and say goodbye to me.” She scolded you, but with a hint of playfulness.

You sat down beside her. “I didn’t want to cry again.”

“Cry until your eyes fall out.” She said. “It hurts less than holding it all in.”

“I don’t…” You sighed. “I can’t say goodbye. I think I’ll die the second I step out of this house.”

“Okay, now you’re just being dramatic.”

“I’m not!” You whined dramatically.

She snickered, taking your hand. “You listen to me now; you’re not going to die. You’re going to grow older and do whatever you want. You’re gonna travel the world, and you’re…what do you want to be when you grow up?”

You didn’t have an answer. “I don’t actually know…I’ve always like writing-.”

“-Okay, then you’re gonna be a famous writer, and you’re gonna be taught in classrooms a hundred years from now where the snot nosed brats will be bored. Or you’re just gonna figure it out because you don’t need to know right now. How does that sound?”

Smiling shyly, you squeezed her hand. “It sounds good.”

“Good. Now come on, you have to make me jealous you’re gonna travel the world.”

You shook your head, giggling. “And what are you gonna do?”

“Me?” She scoffed. “I’m staying here until God calls me home. That, and making money to send my nephew to college.”

“Peggy knows it’s a boy?”

“I think it’s gonna be.”

You hummed. “I’m gonna make a lot of money so we can live on the beach for however long you want.”

“And I’m holding you to that.”

She went up to speak with your father, and you began loading your things into the U-Haul trailer connected to your father’s car. As you were picking up your last box, two familiar boys approached you.

“Ah,” you smiled upon seeing Alex and Ye-Joon. “I was wondering if you two survived.”

Ye-Joon gave you a look. “Survived what?”

“Skiing. Sounds quite dangerous.” You set your box into the trailer.

Alex shook his head. “No, it was great! I’m sorry you and Angus couldn’t come.”

“Don’t be. We actually…” you paused, feeling sudden emotion creep up on you. “we became really good friends. Thanks for the suggestion.”

“So,” Ye-Joon asked. “why are you and your dad leaving?”

“Did he get fired?” Alex followed.

You shook your head. “They caught him eating cat shit and saw me dancing naked on the football field while performing a pagan ritual.”

They stared at you with a horror you had never seen in boys.

“No, I’m just messing with you.” You laughed. “They had to make cuts for money reasons and my dad was the first to go. You tell people that if they say something, you hear?”

They nodded, muttering ‘yes’ and ‘of course’. With a final wave and wishing of ‘goodbye!’ they ran back to school. Your father soon came out, hauling out a few more boxes.

“Don’t tell me you scared them before we leave?”

You took one from him. “I made them think I was a witch for a few seconds.”

The two of you laughed, and when you looked up, you then saw one Angus Tully walking towards you. He smiled.

“Hi…”

Your father returned the gesture. “Hello.”

“Look…I don’t know what you said to my mom and Stanley, Woodrup. All I know is that I’m not getting kicked out, and you got fired.”

“I just told the truth; mostly.”

He smiled. “Barton man.”

“Barton man.” The bell rang as soon as the sentiment was spoken, and your father opened the door to the trailer, mumbling. “Fifth period.”

Angus didn’t take his eyes off of you even as you tried to avoid them. You caught a glimpse of red beginning to outline them, as if he was holding back tears. Then, rubbing his face, he said.

“You know, it’s only PE. Maybe I could skip it, and we could head over to the Winning Ticket, grab a burger and a beer?”

“Are you shitting me?” You chuckled.

Your father playfully shoved you. “Language. A Miller High Life, no doubt? You never give up, do you?”

“They already fired you, so I figured it was worth a shot.” He shrugged sheepishly then looked at you. “We never got to play pinball.”

“I would’ve beat you, and you know it.”

“Just because you won trivia doesn’t mean you’ll win everything.”

Your father touched your shoulder to get your attention. “I left something in the house, I’ll be back in a second.”

You had an inkling right away he lied to give you privacy, but he wouldn’t confirm it for another month. Still, you nodded, and he went back into the house, leaving you and Angus alone. He tucked his hands into his pockets, looking down at his shoes.

“I think if I hug you, I’ll start crying.”

“And you can’t look like a sissy in front of the other boys.” You attempted to tease. “No, I get it.”

He still latched his arms around you anyway, and you held him to you like the universe was trying to rip him away. It was unspoken when you would ever see each other again, but it was also unspoken that you would see each other again period.

You were the first to pull away, and you forced a smile. “No tears.”

Angus nodded. “No tears.”

An idea came to mind, and you walked over to the car, opening the passenger door and unzipping the top pocket of your backpack. Searching, you finally pulled out A Little Prince and a pen.

“No,” he shook his head. “I gave it to you-.”

You opened the book to the first page. “I have decided as of this morning that I��m going to be a writer; and when I’m famous, you’ll have my signature before I was, so that if you ever need money, you have something.”

After signing the inside of the book, you handed it back to him. You hadn’t expected him to genuinely smile the whole time, yet there you were. He took it from you. “I’d never sell it, you know.”

“Yeah right.” You pulled him into a kiss. You made sure to not have it last too long, or you don’t think you would’ve stopped. You said when you pulled away. “I’ll write to you first, and I’ll try and call if I can.”

He nodded. “Send me pictures.”

“You too.”

“I’m gonna be stuck here even after I graduate.” He snickered.

“I don’t care.” You shook your head. “I should’ve taken pictures during Christmas, but I didn’t. I don’t wanna forget anything while I’m gone.”

He nodded, the realization hitting him harder now. “Okay.”

You turned when your father came out of the faculty house, carrying nothing. Angus gave a sheepish smile.

“Is that still a no for lunch?”

Your father grinned. “Your logic is flawless, but I’m afraid we’ll have to decline.”

The three of you didn’t say a word, as if by saying nothing at all, you would never have to say goodbye. It was a silence you would have wanted to stay in forever even if it meant staying out in the bitter cold air.

“You keep your head up, alright?” Your father said. “You can do this.”

Angus nodded, swallowing thickly. “Yeah, I was gonna tell you the same thing.”

They shook hands despite how much you knew they wanted to hug. When all was said and done, Angus nodded towards you and abruptly started running back to the school.

“See ya!”

You should’ve yelled something back, but you couldn’t find the words. Yet, you smiled. It broke your heart to say goodbye, but it was filled at the same time as the memories of the winter break came back to you.

Taking your father’s hand, he rubbed his teared-up eyes with the other and you both walked to the car. It was all official; you were leaving the last place that held the remnants of your childhood behind.

You were leaving your mother and Curtis’ grave, you were leaving the summer and winter days with Elise, you were leaving the school you could have attended and thrived in if you were born a son, you were leaving a woman who had come to be your new mother…you were leaving Angus Tully.

And yet…you were also leaving behind Daniel and his new family. You were leaving behind the pain and sorrow you had carried within you ever since you were a child. It would still linger, and it had always been known to you that you were still you no matter where you were; abroad or not. Hell, the only thing that mattered was if you cried in a more beautiful part of the world or not.

So, perhaps it was all welcomed.

“What city do you want to graduate in?”

You chuckled at your father’s question. “That’s not until May.”

“No harm at all in deciding now.”

Humming, it didn’t take long for your answer. “Athens. Mom always wanted to go there.”

“So, Athens it shall be. Could you hand me the rucksack at your feet?”

You did so without question. Your father soon stopped before the main road, and unzipped one of the pockets. He reached in and took out the fanciest bottle of brandy you had ever seen.

“Holy shit!” You laughed. “Is that-?”

“-Dr. Woodrup’s? Yes.” He unscrewed it, taking a sip, then rolling down his window and spitting it out.

You giggled as he handed it to you, and you set it back in the bag. He turned left, starting the five-hour journey to Syracuse.

“How does Copenhagen sound for our first destination?” He asked.

Smiling at him first, you looked back to the road. “Copenhagen sounds great.”

#angus tully #angus tully x reader #the holdovers #paul hunham #mary lamb #Youtube

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press-f1-to-grieve · 6 months ago

Text

Liam telling stories about him and Yuki on the Red Flags Podcast

Source: Red Flags Podcast - WE INTERVIEWED F1'S LIAM LAWSON!!! (edited down and transcribed by @press-f1-to-grieve)

to @2bluetwo85: i read your tags from that yuki and liam post. thank you for letting me know this exists (and for reading my long tags). i hope i got the right podcast you were talking about.

---

full transcription underneath beware, it's long. and i'm not familiar with the podcast (my newbie is showing) so i'm not sure which voice belongs to who. please excuse me if i got them mixed up. i listened to the episode on a podcast app and only found out they have a youtube channel later, after i had already finished everything bar hit the "post" button. the visual would have helped greatly with knowing who's speaking but alas...

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Matt: Ye so, I wanna talk about another teammate of yours, Yuki Tsunoda. So we've read that you and Yuki go back. He lived with your parents in New Zealand?

Brian: (laughs) No! He didn't live- He didn't live with- Liam: He came to- So this is a series called the "Toyota Racing Series" in New Zealand, used to be like, really really big, especially before Covid. And basically we were both competing in it as teammates, and so he came to New Zealand. And we've been teammates a year before that in F3 and Euro Formula, so I've spent a lot of time with him already. So when he came to New Zealand, he basically just hung out with us. A lot. Like, I basically just drive around with him. Matt: So like step-brothers a little bit? Liam: Honestly, ye. (laughs)

Matt: What was your favorite thing to do with him, growing up?

Liam: It was always away from the track. Cause away from the track, he's a really funny, genuine dude. So, obviously, it's harder. When you are competing, with Yuki, (...) competing for the same seat. So, it's like, at the track, it's real intense. And then, away from that, it's real cool.

Matt: How're you able to maintain a friendship when it's just like, you know, blood sport out there for these few seats?

Liam: At points, over the year, (stammers) you know, it's not a friendship. And then he- Like, obviously, his journey was pushed a lot earlier than mine. He went to F1 quite early so, then I was- I wasn't really in competition with him anymore so- Matt: Right. Does that help your friendship? Liam: Then we are like, pretty chill again. And then we are put in competition again.

---

Brian: I think in one of the earlier seasons of Drive to Survive, you were in his room, and his room was like, all messy, and he was annoyed that they put it in.

Matt: Did you catch him on a bad day or is that just is? Brian: Is his room just a mess always? Liam: That's literally- I don't know now. Oh actually, I went to his house recently and it was a lot better. Both Hosts: (relieved) Okay! Liam: He has improved. (stammers) I remember, well, it wasn't really- (vocally winces) It was fierce because you shouldn't live like that anyway. BUT!- Both Hosts: (crying laughing emojis in audio form) Liam: But I remember, he had just moved into this apartment at the start of, I think it was the start of that year, and I- Oh no, it was the year before! But same thing, Covid, here, basically. I went to New Zealand because I was about to be locked out of the country. There was no racing. And Yuki stayed, in Milton Keynes for months. Just on (his own), he didn't go back to Japan. Like he just stayed in this apartment. Brian: Like Cast Away Liam: But I had to move into this brand new apartment and it was sick! And I went to New Zealand and I came back 3 months later. Matt: He has got a beard. Liam: And I walked into this place and it was just like DUUDE. It was bad, like it was real bad. Brian: (hums of understanding) Like takeouts and- (all three make noises of agreement) Liam: It was just food everywhere. Like, the laundry basket was just like, overflowing. Matt: Yuki was basically all of us during Covid. Brian: (enthusiastic YE's)

---

Matt: So, what are you most competitive with Yuki off the track? Like what do you guys like to-

Liam: Awe, dude, everything. Both Hosts: Ye? Liam: No, like, everything. We're like- At the moment, we've been playing table tennis. Just little disc. Matt: Oh you'll just make- Liam: M-make one! Ye, just make it. (...) not a proper one. Matt: Who is up? Liam: He plays a lot more, to be fair, but- Matt: So he crushes you. Liam: (cute babbles) No no- Both Hosts: (laugh) Liam: So, we played in Japan. I think I had him in Japan. And then we played last week and he beat me. Matt: You don't keep a serious tally? Are you better on certain surfaces? Like if it's a dinner table, you got him. Liam: On a smaller table, I have him. But on a slightly bigger table- Like depends on what table we get during race weekend.

---

Liam: But one thing with Yuki that was real funny that we did back when we were in New Zealand.

Liam: I don't know how this is a thing but you can rent a boat, at like 15 or 16 years old. And just take it out, to Lake Taupo. And so me and Yuki were like- I was probably 17 or 18 and he was like 19 or 20, and we just rented this boat, and got like, you know, biscuit, or tube? What do you call them? (...) And we just took it out and basically- It started off like real fun. Like we were just towing each other around. But then it just got like, who could throw the other person off like, the biggest. We just like, tried to kill each other on this little tube, in the middle of this lake. Matt: Just the two of you? Liam: Just the two of us. Just out there in the middle of a lake. Brian: Just the two of you tried to kill each other. Matt: It's like a fucking thriller. Liam: Honestly! I've got videos of like, him and me, like, in the air. Like, meters in the air. Matt: Who won or lost that game? Brian: "We both lost that game." Liam: Actually, I lost pretty hard on that one, to be fair. Matt: He threw you- Liam: I went off like, big time, ye. Brian: It seems like, that's the common experience of tubing, is that. It's like, it's fun and then you're like, am I gonna die? (...)

Matt: So Yuki was a master at flinging you?

Liam: Well, he would like- Sometimes I feel like it's on accident. He would like, get a lot of slack and it will just build up real fast- Both Hosts: Sure, he said it was on accident.

---

Liam: We're drivers. Everything turns into a competition.

Liam: We had a rental car, again in New Zealand with Yuki, that we like, basically would like, make a little track and just set time trials off the side of the road. Matt: Like with a Camry or something? Liam: No, Yuki had this little Mitsubishi ASX. I don't know if you know what it is, it's like a boxed car. And we, with like a couple of drivers, basically made like, a little track, and, basically goes until somebody- until Yuki crashed it. (...) The funniest thing, it wasn't even in the- He had finished his lap. It was afterward, he tried to be cool and do like a flick spin, and just totally sent it into a bank. We had to go to a store to get one of those plungers to try and plunge out the dent in the front of the- Because we had to get the car back. Brian: Right, of course. Matt: Renters insurance, man. If I see you or Yuki walk into an enterprise or something, I'll just like, go somewhere else.

#YAAAAY IT'S FINISHED!#this was meant to be posted yesterday but by the time i finished it i got too tired and just reblogged some cool posts and called it a day #left the proofreading reading for today (it's just me again anyway so not really effective)#i originally thought it was just the first one and a half minute so that's why the transcription idea happened #i like being able to quickly glance at text when i'm searching for info #but then i realized what a horrible mistake i've made the more i listened #there goes my afternoon but it was actually very fun doing this ngl #this is like my second time ever transcribing anything #hope i got everything accurately #liam lawson #yuki tsunoda #formula 1 #vcarb #or what i prefer to call them #racing bulls #lawsonoda #is apparently their ship name?#i found that out while in the “are yuki and liam friends?” rabbit hole lol #does the lawsonoda shippers want this in their tag? does this count as crumb? i personally would if i ship them #i don't ship them... yet anyway idk what future hold #but tagging cause maybe they would want to see this?#*ensiyap #about yuki

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coweye · 7 months ago

Text

The Honda Odyssey

Logan Howlett x Reader | smut | 6k words Summary: The car fight reimagined and it only needed to be like 10% more erotic than the original.

I got carried away. I just love Wolvie so much. I'm so happy Logan is getting the adoration he deserves. Long live the Wolverine renaissance.

Warning: smut, p in v, ass play, foul language.

If you had to pinpoint a moment when your life became the shit show it had steadily developed into, you’d say it was the moment you auditioned for X-Force.

In your tenure as besties with Wade Wilson, it's fair to say things hadn’t gone smoothly. The man was a conduit to all things fucked up, but you adored his loose morals and quick mouth. The idiot in red had weaselled his way into your heart and became something of a brother to you and more recently a roommate.

Now, if you’d have told your younger self you’d be in your late twenty’s sharing an apartment with a burn victim who regularly staples a toupee to his fucking head and a coke-head, blind, old African American woman, you’d have laughed in their fucking face.

So, you’d like to think that as these things go you are pretty damn well adjusted but traversing the multiverse was a bit of a stretch, even for you.

One moment you’re at Wade’s surprise party, the next your ass has been zapped to the TVA and you’ve been given a sacred mission; to accompany Marvel Jesus (Wade) and protect the sacred timeline.

Naturally you’re fucking mind blown, you’re a low-level mutant, fuck, you couldn’t even join the X-Men. Your particular set of skills were a dime a dozen and your flagrant disregard of rules had made you a ‘poor candidate’.

No, the mutant powers you had been graced with weren’t extraordinary by any means. You were basically an off-brand Captain America, just without the gorgeous cheekbones, patriotism and righteous need to do good.

In layman terms, you are strong as shit and have an accelerated healing factor. Not quite the same level as Wade’s mind you. You have, give or take, an inconvenient five-minute turnaround on the more fatally debilitating wounds.

To say you were unqualified was an understatement and to say you were reluctant was a simple fact. A fact you repeated, loudly to anyone that would listen as you were bathed in rich black leather.

“I think maybe you meant to grab negasonic teenage whatchacallit… she’s great, super powerful!” You continue. “Did you mean to get Domino or Colossus or maybe one of the X-Men? “

“No Miss Y/L/N. We have not got the wrong person for the job.” The man you later find out is called Paradox, calls out as you re-enter the operation headquarters. “Mr Wilson requested your presence; he wanted your assistance on his mission.”

“Y/N/N… ten out of ten, baby girl, I one hundred percent would bang. I’m talking raw dog, Barry White on a rug, let’s go all fuckin’ night.” Wade hollers in his own brand-new suit and even you must admit, you look fucking amazing. “Sweet angel, we’ve just gotta’ come up with a superhero name for you!”

You are enrobed in rich thick black and teal leather, your first ever hero suit and it’s a fucking good one. It doesn’t cling, but instead pulls you in securing your flesh and extenuating curves, ones you hadn’t entirely realised you had. The bottom half your face is concealed with a mask, carefully crafted to follow the contours of your nose and cheekbones.

You’d barely recognised the mysterious figure in the mirror.

“Right?! Tailor was pretty handsy though!”

“Oh yeah, ha! - that man is indeed a predator.” Wade says with a chuckle and a fond sigh.

It shames to you to say but that’s when you stopped fighting this whole thing. You looked the part of a hero; you thought that maybe the TVA knew what they were doing. That they had seen something in you and knew that you had a good heart under all the darkness that lingered on the surface.

Wrong.

You were just a demand Wade had made. He wanted his number one disciple at his side whilst he carried out his sacred mission. You were part of an attempt at appeasing him whilst they destroyed your timeline.

Little more than a pawn to be used whilst they manipulated him into a false sense of security.

Thus, you were thrown into a series of events far beyond your control when Wade being Wade decided you were hunting down a Wolverine to stabilise the timeline, only to be once again fucking zapped into some place they called the void by that little English shitbird named Paradox. It’s entirely accurate to say that you were a little less sturdy than your compadres.

Unfortunately for you, the fall from such a height into the void was fatal. When you finally awake in the desolate wasteland to the sounds of blades clashing it is disorientating to say the least.

Forcing yourself to your feet you lower your mask and gasp in the sweet strangely stale oxygen as you stretch out your newly healed spine with a groan. It was impossible to tell how long you were out as you take in the scene before you; Wade and the Wolverine are engaged in a heated battle. From the looks of it, Logan is winning this fight despite being the human equivalent of a knife block with Wade’s katanas protruding from his chest.

For a moment you pause, perhaps its head trauma that hasn’t healed (He’s fucking Deadpool, he can look after himself for two minutes) and appreciate his form, the Wolverine the two of you had kidnapped was gorgeous. Tch, as if there was any other kind.

Sure, you were biased you’d always been somewhat of a fangirl, but the Wolverine was objectively breath-taking.

You’d indulged in comics whilst growing up but when you found out he was real and looked the way he did, hell, Wolverine was your sexual awakening. He was the first man to make you feel that tingle in your lower stomach. Yes, you may have been thirteen years old, a ball of puppy fat and social anxiety but you’d been waiting for him ever since.

You’re snapped out of your reverie when Wade loses baby knife in Logan’s shoulder blade, finally you spring into action. In good time as well as you’re not sure if even Deadpool can survive decapitation.

In the singularly most stupid act of your life you throw yourself in front of your friend’s body. “Wait, Wait! Please!”

Wade has paused behind you, you can feel him weighing up the situation, pausing for a moment to see what you’re going to pull out of the bag.

“The TVA they can fix it, whatever you did, whatever made you the worst Logan, they can fix it! – They have the power to end universes, but they also have the power to fix yours! Help us get back there and we can fix both of our worlds! I promise, they can fix it.” You plead, it’s not quite a lie exactly, more of an Educated Wish than anything.

Okay it is a lie, but you’re sure that the TVA can most likely, probably, maybe fix his world.

Logan’s eyes lock with yours in that moment you can see that he wants to kill you both and be done with it, but that hope won’t let him. You feel a smidgen of guilt for the deceit, but frankly you’ve done worse for less. Your world was on the line it wasn’t the time to pull your punches.

Fast forward four exhausting hours, two periods of unconsciousness and one flaying to find yourself sat opposite Wade gagging down cold spoonful’s of Spam in some dusty ass diner.

You were no better than a man as you watched the Wolverine.

Those arms, those thighs, the way he had beheaded Sabretooth without even breaking a fucking sweat. You wanted him to wrap those instruments of death he called hands around your throat and fuck you dirty until the sun came up.

It had been a long exhausting day and you had been soaking wet for most of it.

Shit, could he smell that? Does that count as sexual harassment? You’d have to ask Wade.

Logan, however, was utterly dismissive of your advances in the face of what was undoubtedly utterly horrific past trauma. Something you were trying to be understanding about, but self-pity in a man, it just turned you on. I said you had some surface layers of darkness.

Unable to help yourself you gaze at him as he opens a bottle of rubbing alcohol. You are utterly entranced, watching the thick chords in his throat bob as he takes a swig.

That tanned skin where his jaw ends and neck begins, slick with sweat and dirt. You’d love to sink your canines into the strip below his ear. He must feel your stare on him as he looks up and catches your eyes dark with lust already surveying his person.

It should embarrass you, that every time he peers your way, he catches you gaping at him like a lovesick puppy, but there’s something about Logan you can’t quite put your finger on. The man heats your blood like nothing you’ve ever experienced before, maybe it’s that torch you’ve carried for him since girlhood, maybe it’s the thick thighs you’d kill to ride – who can say for sure?

In what you assume is against his better judgement, he comes to perch on the booth beside you. His broad shoulders cast an imposing figure as he gets close enough that if you were to move your hand a couple of inches to the right, you’d finally be able to touch that yellow fabric that plagued your tween dreams.

You’re burning up at the thought of him, unable to stop yourself you part your legs slightly to ease some of the pressure. Logans nose twitches, his head swivels your way and his eyes catch your own.

Welp - at least you have your answer about him smelling your arousal.

Deciding that you were most likely verging on sexual harassment charges you decided to focus back in on the task at hand, gagging once again at another spoonful of spam.

“Be a good girl and swallow, Y/N/N, you know the rules!” Wade jokes, your chortle was your only response. What could you say? He always hit your funny bone despite the ocean that was raging in your panties.

Logan stares at Wade for a long moment before turning to your way and addressing you for maybe only the fourth time today?

“What are you doing with this fucking clown? You his sidekick? Following him round to laugh at his stupid fucking jokes whilst he gets kids killed?”

“Why I have never.” Wade is faux outraged at his words, clutching his imaginary pearls as the Wolverine throws around accusations that aren’t entirely untrue.

The Wolverine’s expression remains stern as his eyes track your face. They seem to be evaluating your character and from the flare in his nose and crease in his brow you can guess he finds you lacking. You’re embarrassed to admit how much that deflates you, so you do what you do best; you deflect.

“I could follow you around and laugh at your jokes instead, if you like?” When you speak your voice has a sultry edge to it and there’s no mistaking your intentions.

Logan seems to think on your proposition for a second or two, before he huffs grabs his rubbing alcohol and unopened can of Spam and heads over to sit at the bar.

“Holy hot ham and cheese on rye, Y/N, you fucking slut.” Wade berates you though his voice is as light as it’s always been as he boots your shin under the table. “Trying to your holes filled by Wolvie during a world saving mission, Marvel H Christ, stay on fucking task!”

You swear you hear Logan mutter a Jesus Christ from the bar.

Though as Wade continues irritating the hero hunched against bar, you can’t help the realisation that he didn’t say no.

“You’re uh… well regarded in our world.” Wade complements, being real doesn’t come easy to him. You appreciate the effort.

“Well, I’m not shit in mine.”

“I tried to join the X-Men because of you.” You speak up finally joining their conversation. Wolverine’s back goes rigid, but he doesn’t respond. You’re not sure if he’s waiting for you to continue or hoping you’ll stop. “You made a difference to this world, made me think I could do the same. I just never quite make the cut.”

Logan doesn’t seem to have a response.

It seems your words have an effect as you catch him watching you more often. When Wade makes his jokes, he looks to you for validation of his withering looks.

You’re probably more distracted by this revelation than you should be when the three of you come across a real nasty variant of Colossus seeking out Wade for… you want to say… revenge?

The not-so-gentle-anymore-giant flips the Honda and tosses both Wade and Logan through the treeline as they advance on him as if they were little more than toys his mother had asked him to pick up.

One by one your bullets ricochet from his metal skin as he comes towards you. You aren’t built for this fight; you are completely and utterly outmatched.

All you’re doing at this point is buying yourself some time for your backup to pull themselves from the rubble, however during a particularly spirited cartwheel the metal oaf finally gets his hands on you. Colossus’ metal palm is cold on your throat, and you could swear you hear your neck snapping before you feel it.

With a gasp you return to life to find a slightly dishevelled Logan standing above you. By the grace of god, his sleeves have been worn away in the fight, his arms, oh sweet lord, his arms are on full display.

“Thought you were a goner.” He offers you a hand when you simply stare mutely his way. Locking your fingers around his wrist he pulls you to your feet. You don’t release your hold on him and neither does he.

“Don’t throw the party just yet, eh?” You joke weakly, for a second you could swear there’s a slight raise of the corner of his mouth, imperceptible, if you didn’t know what you were looking for. In the past few hours you had become an expert on Wolverine’s face.

Your mouth is dry as you take in his thick sweat laden biceps.

“Where’s Wade?” You query whilst rolling your aching neck as you haven’t heard his voice in a record thirty seconds, Logan suddenly remembers himself and drops your hand.

“’fraid Metal man took your clown, was pissed with him and can’t say I blame the guy.”

“Shit.” You sigh rubbing your temples as you kneel to pick up the dismembered arm of your best friend. “Well – fuck. That’ll take him a few hours at least to grow back – He’ll be so sad about his suit.”

You peel the fabric from the limb and tuck it under the breast plate of your own suit. Wade will want his glove back when it grows back.

“He say where he was taking him?”

“Oh yeah, that along with his plan for world domination...” Logan huffs as if your mere presence annoys him.

“Thought you didn’t like sarcasm.”

“I like sarcasm just fine, Bub. It’s you I don’t like.” You can’t help but smile his way at the comment made at your expense, his brows crease. “You’re a strange one.”

“Can you do your sniffy thing?” Its impressive, you thought he’d reached the limit with his scathing looks towards Wade, yet he somehow manages to pull a deeper frown out the vault especially for you.

“Sniffy thing?” His words are spoken with such derision, it turns you on a little. You realise that perhaps you are in fact a deeply troubled individual.

“Oh, sorry.” You pretend to clear a frog in your throat. “Please, oh, please, beautiful, handsome Wolverine, please can you locate my bestest pal with your heightened sense of smell?” His face doesn’t break despite your hands clasped in front of your chin.

“You’re just as fucking annoying as that moron.” He huffs “Get in the fucking car, we’ll follow his trail.”

“You can smell him from the car?”

“The blood, Jesus Fucking Christ, there’s a trail of blood.”

“Ah.” Is all you reply as you find your seat in the passenger side and start your own one on one team up with Wolverine. Its not exactly the way you imagined it, but beggars certainly can’t be choosers.

After a few moments of sullen silence, you decide that there’s no time like the present to form a long-lasting bond.

“What’s your world like?”

“None of your fucking business.”

“Okay... What’s the first thing you’re gonna’ do if they can save your world? I bet its something boring as fuck, like team-“

“What did you just say?”

“I bet you’re gonna do something boring like-“

“No before that.”

“What’s the first thing you’re gonna’ do if they save your world?” You question, his sudden interest in your words takes you by surprise as he has been vacant from your conversation.

The breaks suddenly shriek as the car comes to a stop.

“What do you mean if?”

“I…”

“You said they could fix my world. Undo it all, is what you fucking said.”

“I mean I think they can!”

“You fucking liar.” The edge to The Wolverine’s voice is terrifying. The realisation trickles down your spine, Logan has been nice to you all this time, you’re finally meeting The Wolverine.

“I didn’t lie!” For some reason you’re ashamed of your deceit, you’ve murdered countless people and still, you’ve felt less remorse. Logan’s eyes pin you in your seat as disgust clouds his face. It hurts more than you can fathom. “Not exactly, I think they can fix your world! – I needed your help and if you killed Wade there was no hope for my universe!”

“I don’t give a flying fuck about your universe!” He spits your way; his hands are gripping the wheel in what seems like an effort to keep his cool.

“I know, but I do!” You cry back at him. “You know how to save the world, you’re the fucking Wolverine! I know how to kill people, but this hero shit, this isn’t me!”

“Ha! No shit.” There is pure hate in the man’s eyes as he stares back at you.

“Please, you’re Logan. Whether you’re the worst one or not - You’re still better than me.”

“Get out of the fucking car.” The words come from between clenched teeth and are filled with warning.

“No – fuck you.” Your rage breaks the banks to meet Logan’s. Perhaps it’s the guilt, maybe it’s the fear for Wade but something within you snaps at his constant bad temper. “It was an educated guess and a fucking reasonable one at that, get the fuck over yourself you big bird wannabe geriatric fucker! “

He slams his palms on the steering wheel, his nose flares and his teeth clamp together. “Fuck me? Fuck you – you sad pathetic excuse for a side-kick. No wonder the X-Men wouldn’t take you, and they’ll take fuckin’ anyone. You are a ridiculous, immature, moron who spends her days following around a fucking clown to avoid facing the reality that you are no one. I have never met a sadder, more attention starved asshole in my entire life. You were right about one thing, you’re no fucking hero.”

Its shameful the way your stomach drops, and your eyes involuntarily begin to tear. To hear your hero say the words you’ve thought about yourself whilst laying awake at night. It’s a knife to the gut.

“Nothing to fucking say, huh, Angel?” The use of Wade’s nickname for you is like sandpaper on your skin, it rubs you the wrong fucking way.

“I am going to hurt you now.” Your voice is barely a broken whisper.

“You’re going to hurt – “His faux chortle is cut short by a swift punch to his face. You’re worried you may have been overzealous with your swing when his nose begins bleeding. The Wolverine is stunned for only a moment before he grabs the back of your neck and proceeds with smashing your face into the dashboard and those concerns are quickly put to bed.

The old fucker is strong, but you don’t think he’ll kill you, yet another educated wish.

“Not so tough now…” He shouts as the radio channels change with your skull. Pulling a knife from your leg strap you embed it in his thigh and pull the lever to recline your seat whilst he’s distracted, luckily, you’re not there when he swings for retribution.

Though one of his fucking steak knives catches your upper arm slicing through the leather. Warm blood trickles down your arm, staining the beige interior of the poor Honda.

Your legs are your strongest asset, so when he attempts to restrain you with the seatbelt, you are presented with your window of opportunity. You wrap them around his neck as you pivot your hips slamming the Wolverine headfirst into the metal of the door. Once, twice, three times - on the fourth he lands a fist to your gut, luckily, he has retracted his claws.

If he was willing to kill you, you wouldn’t stand a chance.

You’re winded struggling to catch your breath from the gut punch, but you manage pull the knife from his thigh that is nestled between your legs and thrust it into his neck, you aim for the spot you’d fantasied about kissing before he’d torn your character apart piece by piece, now you just want to bathe in his fucking blood.

It was the pain that instantaneously made his claws extend. He’s quick to move them, though he slices through the sides of your suit as he buries them in the chair behind you. Your ribs are a bloodied mess though you don’t care, in a few hours they’ll be good as new.

Logan has seized the opportunity and has your arms pinned to your sides, his blood has cooled a little more than yours, he doesn’t seem to want to murder you over an argument.

Perhaps he’s more well-adjusted than yourself, that thought alone should concern you, except it just enrages you further.

“You stupid fuckin-“The Wolverine starts admonishing you, before you swing your head forward and headbutt him.

Yes.

You really do that.

You headbutt the man with the adamantium fucking skeleton– at full strength. Its sheer dumb luck you don’t crack your own skull in the process– maybe Logan was right, you are fucking dumb.

“Fucking fuck!” You cry grabbing your forehead and writhing. Noone wins with a headbutt, except Logan apparently.

“Fucking stop that.” Your writhing has pushed your core against his crotch, and he is already packing quite the heat at what feels like half-mast. He grabs your hips to stop your movement, but it only seems to push you closer. “Stop fucking moving.”

The constant arousal you’ve felt since meeting him returns in double time, Logan’s nostrils flare and his eyes darken. It’s debased and you’re ashamed that you want him, you haven’t stopped wanting him, despite the awful fucking words that left his mouth minutes ago.

“Like … a little pain Wolvie?”

Its relief you feel, you think, when instead of answering or punching you in the face, he closes the gap.

The Wolverine’s claws retract, and he grabs at your chin. Logan’s mouth utterly devours your own, your front tooth clashes with his own as you push yourself upwards, you pull your knife out of his neck, catching his grunt of pain on your tongue as you begin licking your way down his thick throat.

The vein you’d spotted hours ago is throbbing freshly healed, you sink your canines into the flesh and its as good as you’d fucking imagine. His groan is utterly beast-like as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you flush against him.

The Wolverine’s throat tastes like salt and iron. Thick, tangy and warm on your tongue as you soothe the bite. It drives Logan wild, thrusting his hardened member against your warmth. One of his gloved hands rises to lock on the back of your neck to pull you into yet another earth-shattering kiss. His sharp hot tongue slides against your own, exploring the expanses of your mouth like its his to claim.

You bite at him again then, your teeth catching his bottom lip sharply. Logan groans into your mouth before you use every ounce of your enhanced strength to throw him backwards against the dashboard.

He is taken utterly by surprise as his head slams into the windscreen cracking the glass with a grunt. When he looks your way Logan’s eyes are blackened with desire, he is utterly wild.

Slowly as if afraid to make any sudden moves, you unzip your combat boots, your eyes never leaving his. One boot and then the next.

You thank the TVA’s tailor for making your suit a two piece as you shuffle backwards into the backseat, pushing the thick leather down your legs all whilst maintaining eye contact with the beast leaning against the dashboard.

“You sure you want this Darlin’?”

“Darlin’?” You question mockingly, your voice lowering to imitate his own, as you wantonly spread your legs, your bare leg resting next to the headrest. Only a pair of black cotton panties separate him from your most intimate parts and his eyes are locked on your clothed core. “a second ago it was ‘Pathetic Moron’ to you.”

Your head tilts in question as his eyes lock back on your own, you think perhaps for a moment something akin to regret passes over his face, but you’ve never been entirely comfortable with feelings, so you drop your hand into the waistband of your panties, you’ve barely circled your opening with your pointer finger before he’s on you.

“That’s my job, you fucking Moron.” He plunges two bare thick fingers into your heat. Gasping you throw your head back against the headrest, it’s a tight fit and its been a while but the slight burn eases some of the aching in your core. “You’re fuckin’ soaking wet, you like it huh, bub? Making me bleed?”

Your grab his jaw, your nails digging into his flesh. “I’d like to bathe in-” He scissors his fingers finding that spot inside you and you let out an embarrassing noise, somewhere between a gasp and a moan. “-Your fucking blood… you mean motherfucker.”

You’re an absolute goner when he starts rubbing your clit, after a day of foreplay your body seizes, and you grab at the nape of his neck trying to find something to anchor you down. But as fast as the build was you come tumbling down just as quickly, when he cruelly withdraws his hands.

“No! - Wha- what the fuck?!” You’re almost crying as your torn from the precipice.

Logan flips you over onto your stomach before you can complain any further, your face down on the filthy upholstery as he pulls your panties from your hips. You can’t see him from this angle, though you can feel his warm hands tracing the globes of your ass.

You force your knees further apart, pushing your bare soaking pussy against the tight bulge of his yellow suit. If you had enough of your facilities about you, you’d be embarrassed that you’re currently rubbing your cunt against The Wolverine like a bitch in heat after he’d chewed you out only minutes ago.

Logan’s hand dip between your thighs, his fingers swirl along your hole, dragging your wetness along to your aching clit.

“You think I’d make it that easy?” He asks as he continues the journey back and forth. On the second pass he dips his finger inside of you for a fraction of a second before resuming its path. “What do you want, darlin’?”

You weren’t going to beg, in fact you bit your tongue to stop the traitorous words from forming, this man had already made you abandon most of your self-respect, he wasn’t having this.

“Logan…” At your breathy words the man leans forward, pressing his fabric covered cock into your ass as he folds his body over yours. One hand comes down next to your shoulder, the other explore your tits as he rocks himself into your throbbing core. It’s the perfect storm as he nuzzles into your exposed throat but somehow you manage your words. “Fuck me or don’t, I’m not begging, bub.”

He exhales through his nose in what you guess is equal parts amusement and annoyance, but you’re far beyond caring. He places a bite on the spot where your throat meets your shoulder as his body pulls back. Momentarily his hands leave your hips to deal with his own pants. You hear the clank of his belt hitting the car floor moments before you feel the head of his cock, running along your folds.

The head of his cock is thick, and it feels hot to the touch as he runs it along your slick. All of a sudden Logan pushes forward and sheathes himself inside of you with a single thrust.

You try your best to hold in your incoherent moans but to little avail as he pulls back before slamming full force back into you. If you were a human woman, your pelvis would’ve shattered from the force of his hips against your ass, instead you gather your strength and push back, allowing him deeper. The both of you moan in unison at the depth he reaches.

You grab onto the foam of the seat, ripping through the fabric with your bare hands desperate for an anchor as Logan unforgivingly pounds into you from behind, once again he folds his body over yours, wrapping a palm around your clawed fingers.

“.” He grunts something incoherent into your ear as he picks up the pace, slamming into you repeatedly, slowly picking up his pace. Your core is positively aching as you throb around him, pulling him deeper within you. If you were expecting any further explanation, you’re sorely disappointed.

The wolverine pulls back, gripping at your hips keeping you still as he resumes his powerful strokes. Logan’s hand dips to your clit, rubbing quick circles sending you barrelling back towards your orgasm. As you begin to clench around him, he pulls your body upwards, his head brushing against the top of the car as he holds you against him his fingers never leaving your clit.

“Come on my cock, Angel.” Unable to stop yourself you clench around him, hearing him talk like that does something primal to you.

You fucking loved Logan’s mouth, you bet he ate pussy like a champion if he played the clit this fucking well.

You stopped fighting it and threw yourself from the cliff, shattering in his thick muscle veined arms as he held you up against him, his cock still viciously plundering your depths.

“You’re so fucking tight.” He whispers against your neck whispers peppering it with bites.

Logan gives you a few moments to come down from your high before he resumes his punishing pace, you think perhaps you’ve reached your limit of pleasure, that the threshold can’t possibly be topped until he whispers into your ear in that gruff voice.

“What was it Wilson said? Filling all your holes?” The Wolverine asks, his eyes meet yours over your shoulder meaningfully, asking permission as he offers you his thumb. You merely moan your approval and wantonly draw his finger into your mouth, soaking the pad in saliva.

Logan yanks your head into a vicious kiss. It’s a messy one, filled to the brim with need. The hand not currently locked on your neck holding your face to his, travels down your back, through the valley of your bodies. The pad of his pinky runs appreciatively over the globe of your ass, before his hand dips into the crease.

Logan’s thumb runs teasingly against the tight ring of muscle, it’s a foreign experience which makes you startle slightly.

“Anyone ever fucked you here?” He asks as he bites down your neck, delicately pushing you forward until your head rests on the backseat. You shake your head as your eyes close, his cock is buried balls deep within you as he plays with your asshole.

When his thumb finally breaches your tight hole just past the nail, he begins his thrusts once more. His cock fills your pussy from behind and suddenly you feel so fucking full, Its far too much for you.

“Fuck… Logan.” You gasp almost on the verge of tears as pounds you into the back seat. It seems the ass play has gotten to him more than expected, as his pace has increases.

“Where?” He asks breathless from the exertion as he pulls his thumbs from your ass and takes a handful of the meat on your hips.

“Inside…. Please … Logan.” You practically beg though you’ll never admit it, his rhythm becomes stunted as his hips slam into the back of your thighs.

“Give me something tight to come in, Darlin’.” Moaning at his words you’re eager to obey as you reach your hand between your own legs and rub mercilessly at your clit. The unforgiving pounding, the grunting and the fingers currently bruising your hips and the burning of your now vacant ass send you sailing over the edge.

You clamp down on him like a vice, groaning unable to hold back your whimpers anymore as he finally bites your neck and pumps his seed deep inside you as far as it can go. Logan grunts like a beast as he pulses deep inside of you.

Logan collapses beside you. Dents in the interior of the van you don’t even remember making have appeared from where a stray elbow or knee has hit the metal in the throes of passion.

The Wolverine tucks his cock back in his suit. Ever the gentleman, he uses your black panties to wipe away the cum dripping from your thighs, you haven’t got the heart to tell him that when you’re commando redressed in your suit that you can still feel him dripping from you, your pussy uncomfortably slick against the leather.

After dressing, the two of you sit in contemplative silence. Neither one of you has the emotional complexity to discuss what happened and neither one of you will accept fault for your argument that led to it, so, silence reigns.

The tension is sliced in two as Logan leans forward and pushes an errant lock of hair behind your ear in an act so goddamn endearing, you melt. You still wouldn’t apologise for lying, because you didn’t lie but you can meet him a quarter of the way.

“I’m sorry for calling you geriatric.” You whisper catching his eyes, a small spark of humour leaps into them, you’ve seen more emotions from your hero in the past half an hour than you knew he was capable of.

“I shouldn’t have-“ Logan’s heartfelt apology is cut off by the lead of this goddamn story.

“Well, well, well. Would you look at this, My best friends, Ha! I get fucking kidnapped, an arm ripped off and you’re nowhere to be found? I thought don’t worry Wade, they won’t leave you, Y/N/N will come around that corner any second."

Wade has appeared through the passenger side window; he looks a little worse for wear and has a child’s arm growing from his stump, its kind of gross to look at.

"What if Colossus had had his way with me? What then Y/N? I expect this from Wolvie, but not from you! No, no heroic rescue for old Deadpool. I have to save myself because you fuckers are too busy playing hide the adamantium bone! Thanks for nothing guys. Now the car has old man sex stank to it, as if this hunk of shit Honda could get any worse!”

#deadpool #wolverine deadpool #wolverine x reader #logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #james howlett x reader #worst logan #logan howlett x you #wolverine smut #wolverine x you #graphics by saradika

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writingsbychlo · 7 months ago

Text

WITHDRAWAL | theodore nott

summary; theo decides to quit smoking, but doesn't realise that his decision would affect his girlfriend, too.

word count; 3007

notes; just a cute, fluffy little piece based on something that I was tagged in about 2 months ago! unfortunately, I cannot find the original post or tagger, but if it's you, please let me know!!

If there was one thing about Theodore Nott that couldn't be denied, it was that he loved with everything he had.

He loved his friends; he was loyal to a fault and he’d never let them down. He loved his family, he wrote over fifteen letters a week to all his aunties and cousins, and still held onto his mother’s recipe book, even to this day.

And he loved, adored, his girlfriend with everything that he had. He’d do anything for her, crawl across hot coals if she asked, give up his magic and his money and his legacy, just to make her happy. She’d never asked as such of him, still blushed when he pulled out his wallet when they shopped and smiled brighter than the sun when he gave her a handmade card or something he’d cooked. So, to his eyes, it didn’t seem all that much when he decided to give up smoking for her.

She hadn't asked him to, never even pulled a face when he smoked. But Theo was damn sick of trying to blow the smoke away from her when she joined him at the astronomy tower, cuddled up to his chest, because he didn’t want that poison near her. He hated watching her shiver on the colder nights, he hated waking her in the middle of the night when he got up to satiate that itch, and he hated thinking of a future where he left her too soon, running short on time, because he ruined himself.

He chucked his last box into the fireplace one impulsive morning, and thought he might go cold turkey. He’d been so moody by lunchtime that he’d almost bitten Enzo’s head off over the way he pronounced ‘tomato’. That afternoon, he’d ditched his classes and trudged through the snow to the floo connection at the Hog’s Head, and picked up enough nicotine patches from a muggle supply store to knock out a fully grown Hippogriff.

He’d torn the packaging off of one in the grimy restroom at the back of the store and slapped it onto his bicep, and almost collapsed from the relief it gave him. It wasn’t nearly as effective as picking up a packet from the newsagent’s stand he’d passed would’ve been, but as soon as his fingers had twitched to pick up a box, your face had flashed through his mind. Your face, smiling at him, your face that morning telling him how proud you were of him when he’d shared his goals in hopes of support, and it was enough to deter him from the purchase.

You were his strength, once again, as you’d always been.

And truly, you were so proud of Theo. Changing his patches for him every evening, in time with that first one. Reading up on the muggle solutions, and making sure you were fully versed on how to help him. Keeping him busy seemed to help, when he got bored, his eyes started flicking towards the door, and the slight irritability he’d been able to keep a lid on pretty well would begin to flare up. For the most part, he’d been staying at your dorm, in an active attempt to keep away from Mattheo, who wasn’t quite ready to give up his comfortable vice just yet.

Unfortunately, as the days went on, while Theo seemed to be handling it just fine, you were struggling. The irritability grew, even Draco’s breathing was making you want to snap pencils in half in the library, or throw Enzo off the astronomy tower if he scraped his fork on his plate one more time. You were ravenous, and nauseous, all at the same time. You wanted to eat everything but could hardly hold it down. You were dizzy, and fatigued, and your grades were going to start slipping if this continued, because it had been almost a week since you’d been able to concentrate on any thought longer than a minute, never mind a whole class.

And now, you were lying in bed, rubbing at your eyes angrily but unable to sleep as you stared at the ceiling. Theo, for once, was sleeping soundly beside you. Since giving up smoking, his sleep patterns had been getting better, while yours were getting worse by the night. Almost a week, and you’d barely gotten nine hours of sleep put together.

When you shuffled again, pressing yourself a little closer to Theo as you rolled onto your side, he began to surface. The arm over your midriff tightened, pulling you in until your hips were bracketed against his, and he chuckled sleepily into your neck. Burying himself in, he pressed a kiss there, and another, and another. The rough pounding of your heart settled as you clasped Theo’s hand in your own, holding them to your chest as he littered your shoulder with kisses.

At your sigh, he rolled you over, propping himself up on his elbow and yawning. Shaking his hand free from your own, he stroked the back of a finger along your cheek, and leaned down to press a kiss to your lips. As his hand settled on the side of your neck instead, yours slipped up to cup his jaw, and you melted into the tender love he offered you in the darkest hours.

“What’s wrong, tesoro? Why are you awake?”

“Why are you awake?” you rebuffed, fingers lifting to comb through his hair, to push it back out of his eyes as he blinked himself a little more awake.

He shrugged, “This is about the time I’d normally go for a smoke.” He murmured, and your eyes flickered to the clock.

You knew well enough the schedule Theo used to keep while smoking. Your timetable had slowly synched to it over the time you’d been dating. He’d wake up during the night, at some point around two, and disappear for a smoke. He’d take twenty minutes, or thirty if he bumped into Mattheo, and then he’d come back to bed.

You didn’t mind the disturbance. Not when he’d come back slightly chilled from the night air and snuggle in close to you, wrapping himself around you.

“Actually, this is the time you’d normally come back from having a smoke, and give me my midnight kisses.”

“Is that why my girl is so restless tonight? Because I owe her some kisses?” He teased, leaning down until your noses were bumping, and you could taste the mint on his breath. Normally, he tasted like smoke, not toothpaste, and the shock of his warm lips instead of cold ones made you hum.

The languid kisses melted the time away, his hand sliding up your shirt, sitting on your ribs and squeezing softly as he lowered himself down, covering your body with his own. Theo had always been your comfort, and your happy place. Being in his arms made you feel safe, and his kisses made you feel relaxed. As he licked his way into your mouth lazily, you anticipated the hazy blur of relaxation that usually followed when he kissed you.

But, like usual recently, it never came. Instead, when he finally pulled back, and pecked the tip of your nose, he found you frowning, instead of smiling up at him. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know.” You huffed, frustrated at yourself, at your confusion and the growing irrational irritation. “It’s not the same.”

“What’s not the same, bella?”

“Your… your kisses.” Your words trailed to a whisper, knowing he wouldn't understand, and the hurt that flickered across his face made your heartbreak.

“They’re not?”

“No. I don’t know why.” His lips curled further at the sides, and the look on his face made you want to cry. It made you hate yourself, aggressively, and if you could tear out your own heart and give it to him just to see him smile again, you would. Just another thing you’d been suffering with lately, an overwhelm of your emotions, worse than any mood swing you got when you were on your period. “It’s not you, Teddy, it’s me. You’re still my happy place, you’ve done nothing wrong. It’s me. I’m the problem.”

“You’re not a problem, bella. But we should figure it out. I don’t want to… kiss you wrong, and see that look on your face. What’s different, tell me what’s changed?” His sweet words made tears prickle at your eyes, and you sniffed sadly as you looked at him.

“I love you so much, Theo.”

“I know, tesoro. I love you too.” His thumb smoothed over your cheek, “Tell me.”

“I don’t know!” Your snap made his eyes widen. “You’re just… different. You don’t kiss the same way, you used to get all needy when you came back from a smoke, but you don’t anymore, and you taste different! You taste like mint right now, and it just doesn’t make me feel the same way afterwards.”

Your words were jumbled and hurried, rushed out as you smoked them and his brows furrowed as he tried to decipher what you meant. Second ticked by into silent minutes as Theo’s wonderful mind ticked and whirred, thinking the problem through, and playing with the information. Then, before you could say anything else, something clicked. You could see it in his eyes, when the gears stopped turning and the thoughts stopped flowing because he’d found the answer.

Pulling away from you, he sat up, kicking back the covers and letting in the cold air, before moving across the room and shuffling through his gym kit left in the corner. Pulling out a nicotine packet from the box inside, he shook it out, using his teeth to tear open the packet as he made his way back to the bed. Sitting yourself up, you propped yourself in the pillows as he peeled off the plastic backing, and tried to unstick his fingers from it, holding it by the corners.

“You’ve only had your patch on for nine hours, Teddy, it’s not time to change yet.”

He clicked his tongue, shaking his head and settling in beside you on the bed, legs folded underneath himself. “This isn’t for me, bella. Take off your shirt.”

Slipping your arm out of your shirt, you pushed it to the side, watching as Theo brushed cotton fibres off of your shoulder, before sealing the patch onto your skin. He made sure it was properly sealed down, flattening it to your skin, before feeding your arm back through the sleeve of your shirt. He smoothed the top back down your torso, pressing a cheeky kiss to your breast over your heart as he did, and sitting back on his legs to wait.

“Give it a second, then tell me how you feel.” He whispered, the moment feeling entirely too fragile as his hand took yours, fingers linked together. He kissed along your knuckles, his eyes locked on your face, waiting. And the moment you felt it hit, you knew he saw it too.

It was like a cool, soothing balm over a raw, aggravated wound. It felt like running cold water on a new burn or healing a painful graze with a quick Episky. “Oh, Merlin…”

“I know, tell me about it.” He mumbled, the smile on his face at victoriously solving the problem melting away as realisation set in. “Cazzo, bella, I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You have a nicotine addiction, and it’s my fault. All that time you spent with me at the tower, and the smoke on me, and kissing you as soon as I finished smoking. All your moodiness these last few days—”

“Hey!”

“It’s true, baby. It all makes sense.” He rubbed a hand over his face, and squeezed your hand tighter in the other. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am. I quit because I didn’t want this to happen to you, I didn’t want my problems to poison you, but it’s too late.”

“Kiss me.”

“What?”

“Kiss me, Teddy.” You demand again, pulling him in, and his mouth collides with yours as he makes a subtle groan of surprise and pleasure.

His hand gripped the headboard behind you, the other skimming down your side. As you leaned back into the pillows, you took him with you, his body falling over your own, slotting between your thighs as our hearts thudded together where his chest pressed to yours. Your hands slid over his shoulders, skimming down his back, and he moaned again as your fingernails scraped across his lower back as you tugged at his shirt.

He sat up, letting you pull it off of him, before his arms were back, caging you in on either side as he fell back down against you. Pulling one of your legs up to sit on his hip, he dragged himself away from your mouth, trailing wet kisses down your jaw, to the pulse point on your neck and back up.

“Merde, bella. What’s gotten into you? Not that I’m complaining.”

“You’re perfect, Theo.” You smiled, leaning up to steal more kisses from his lips that he was happy to reciprocate, “You’re perfect, your kisses are perfect. I knew it was me, not you. I was the problem.”

“A problem I gave you,” He groaned, his hips rolling against your own as you giggled breathlessly.

“Yeah, whatever. Now we’re quitting together. That’s the promise we made, we do everything together, right?”

“Damn right, tesoro.” He growled, teeth nipping at the underside of your jaw, as he began to make his way down your body. Your fingers were loose in his hair, settling back in the pillows, eyes slipping closed as he kissed along the insides of your thighs, teasingly. Finally, your body could relax, no longer tense and buzzing, but the foggy comfort of the night made your muscles ease into the bed, your body feeling heavy, and you sighed in bliss.

Theo mumbled something, and you let your legs fall a little further apart, but your grip on consciousness was falling further and further away as the nicotine coursed through your body, finally letting you ease into sleep you’d missed for days.

“Bella,” Theo said, his voice sharper, and you stirred, working hard to force your eyes open, but they’d only made it halfway. His hair was ruffled, eyes wide and lips swollen, but his smirk melted away from his face into a tender smile as he looked down at you.

“Sorry, what’d you say, baby?” The words slurred out of you, and he chuckled. His fingers unhooked from the sides of your shorts, and he leaned over to kiss your forehead. “M’sorry, I’m so sleepy all of a sudden.”

“S’okay, bella. Never apologise. C’mere, let’s just cuddle.”

Tucking your body into his, you shuffled your hips back into him, and he threw his leg over yours as he held you tight to his body. “You’re hard.”

“It’ll go down, don’t worry.” He snickered, kissing the back of your head. “S’your fault anyway.”

“Sorry…” You whispered, again, sleepily. “I’ll make it up t’you t’morrow.”

“Go to sleep, amore.”

But you’d already drifted off.

It was just as you were closing your History of Magic book, that Theo announced his presence in the common room as he walked in alongside Mattheo. They were loud, and raucous, and thankfully, you were less inclined to bite their heads off for it today.

In fact, alongside Enzo, you’d been able to catch up on all of the History homework you’d been missing out on for the last week or so, getting you back on track for at least one of your subjects.

“Patch change time, bella!” Theo announced, making his way over to you as he untucked his shirt and began to undo the buttons down the front. Tugging the tie out of the way, he crashed down ungracefully onto the couch beside you, Mattheo nudging Draco to move up so he could sit down too.

This had become a regular part of your routine now, and you pushed the edges of his half-unbuttoned shirt aside to reveal the patch sitting on the middle of his left pectoral. Picking at one corner, you peeled it away gently, careful not to tug on his skin as you did, and Theo watched on adoringly in silence as you took care of him. Unwrapping a new patch, you brushed off the spot, before sticking a new patch onto him and smoothing down the bandage.

He patted it himself, before doing a couple of the buttons on his shirt back up for modesty, as though he hadn't already given half of the common room a show, before he leaned in to peck your lips. His fingers fell to the buttons of your shirt, and he began to undo them slowly. “Your turn.”

He undid just enough to reveal your shoulder, without letting anyone else catch a glimpse of anything underneath, and as he leaned down to begin peeling away the old patch, you caught Enzo’s confused expression.

“Why are you wearing a patch?” He asked, and Theo laughed to himself quietly as he changed your old one out.

“Because loverboy here got me addicted too, through kisses and secondary smoke.”

The others burst out laughing, unfettered by your glaring as they made kissy sounds and crude remarks, while Theo buttoned your shirt back up. Your glare turned to him as you caught sight of his smile, and he shrugged, a lopsided smile on his lips. “What can I say, bella? I’m just that good.”

“Oh, shut it,” You smacked his chest, and he took your hand, tugging you forward to cuddle you into his chest as he kissed your temple.

“I happen to think it’s adorable that as a by-product of how you got addicted, that means you were addicted to me.”

“Mhmm.” Your eyes rolled, and he squeezed you even tighter.

“You had me addicted to you without any substances at all, bella. Just you.”

“Alright,” You scoff, “Stop sweet-talking me.”

“Never.”

#theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott/reader #theodore nott x you #theodore nott/you #theo nott #slytherin boys #harry potter #theo nott x reader #theo nott/reader #theo nott x you #theo nott/you #lorenzo zurzolo #lorenzo zurzolo x you

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xo2dee · 19 days ago

Text

NOW LOADING. .

JJK MASTERLIST

ROCKET SKATES

PAIRING: Nanami Kento x (Fem)Reader WARNINGS: MDNI/18+ ONLY. Degradation, dirty talk, thigh riding, vaginal fingering, edging, orgasm delay/denial, finger sucking, some spanking, slight panty kink, public sex, vaginal sex, rough sex, breeding kink, creampie, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of blood and violence (it's not done to either reader or nanami). WORD COUNT: 10,469 SUMMARY: It’s not often you get nice, cutesy dates with Kento, but it’s also not often they get ruined... Yet in your favor.

A/N: i wrote this back in 2021 when i was chronically horny and before my frontal lobe developed and taken the liberty to edit the fuck out of it bc i hated the original LMAO. but pls enjoy this filth <3

Eyelashes coated in your favorite mascara swept over your eyes in a languid blink as you watched him, his movements nearly too fast for you to comprehend if you didn't already know what to expect.

Him in all his muscled glory hiding underneath that regular, suit get-up he donned nearly every minute he was awake in the day, showcasing the raw, brutal strength he held shadowed within himself as his arm lifted and he all but sent but a mere flick of his wrist and decapitated a curse. Afterwards, he pushed his goggles up, veins in his hand protruding and fingers tight with frustration as he eyed his surroundings in pursuit of any other curses, while you remained rooted to your spot for brief moments being too enamored with his behavior.

You were too caught on him to pay attention to yourself, a singular thought brimming along your frontal lobe to your fascination and worry over him.

Something was… off about him.

Nanami Kento was probably one of the best Jujutsu Sorcerers you had ever met (and no, you weren’t being biased and saying that just because he was your lover). He was poised with his abilities, a reserved and perfected angle to how he swung his blade through curses with such deadly precision you wondered if it was his curse technique or just him being him half the time. He finished the job quickly any time he had one, knowing exactly what needed to be done whenever he saw the first curse in his vision and studying their movements for any possible drawbacks. He was an extremely exceptional fighter all on his own anyway, being able to backhand curses (and people) if he so wanted to out of his space and all-in-all having his own advanced knowledge on combat that better helped him get the job done and get it done efficiently.

“Behind you!”

All of that was normal Kento behavior. What you were experiencing at the moment was the very reason you believed something was off about him. Your little dance with curses at that moment was not normal Kento behavior, and that was causing you to drift off and let your brain follow in on him to see if you could pick up what was so odd about him. He was tense, jerking movements of his arm swinging his blade through curses looking choppy and harsh, while the grunts leaving him he normally kept quiet and concealed were loud and groaning as he was heavier on his feet and pouncing around like some hungry predator. He was…

He was aggressive.

“Focus!”

The deep sound of his voice shouting at you after having him dive down and splitting a curse rightly in two for getting too close to you when you had been keeping your eyes on him made you grip up on your weapon more, yet it didn’t stop the shiver curling down each jut of bone along your spine when you nearly could feel the vibration of it and could taste the huskiness of it. He had not been that way all day, only recently whenever you two had been rudely interrupted on your date and had to make room for exorcising curses. Alas – you sighed and watched him run a harsh hand through his hair, him tussling it up even more – you should’ve known something like that would’ve happened.

You always could say it: dates with Nanami Kento were hard to come by, but they were always relaxing and left you feeling wholeheartedly complete afterwards whenever you both got to go on one. Though, you weren’t too sure the ‘date’ you two were on would really be worth it in the end.

Yet, color you wrong once more, it certainly was worth it in the end.

It wasn’t like you had planned for it to even happen. Who the Hell would hope in the middle of a Farmer’s Market date that you two would get attacked by curses and have to clear out the goddamn area and lead them to a more secluded and adept area to exorcise them better? Certainly not you since you rarely got to go on cutesy dates with him and just enjoy his ‘I’m not at work so I can be less strict and less professional with you’ attitude.

That last part wasn’t seeming to be happening at that moment anyway with him huffing out orders and yells at you whenever you slipped up a bit and nearly costed yourself.

You rolled your shoulders back as another lowly curse approached you, twirling your cursed weapon in your hands as you sent a substantial amount of cursed energy through it before you were dashing forward and poising yourself for a strike. You faked to the right whenever the curse provoked, a swift, brutal swing as you heard the wind whizzing through the air in your ear and felt the vibration of when the impact hit it from how hard you had swung. The payoff was worth it in the end, the curse’s head fully unlatching from its body after you pulled through your entire hit with the faint buzzing of adrenaline bubbling up through your veins whenever you felt that thrill from fighting. You stood fully afterwards, lips parted slightly from your breaths and heart loud in your ears as you laid eyes back on Kento who had cleanly cut another curse again in two.

And by your own foolish accord, you were losing focus thinking back to perhaps why he was acting so aggressive.

The day had been fine and so had the date; locked arms with Kento walking around the vicinity amicably with him holding the basket full of all fruits, veggies, greens and ingredients he wanted to use in cooking recipes you liked to listen to him prattle on about because his interest in cooking and food was as adorable as it was sexy. Kento cooked like a dream and you had a reason to tease him to say he could be a professional chef if he wasn’t a professional Jujutsu Sorcerer, to which he’d go on his humble monologue about how his cooking wasn’t all that amazing and he did it to get by and appetize himself. Yeah okay, that’s why whenever you ate his cooking he always would subtly look for your approval and let a sigh of relief when you liked it.

Adorable man.

Nevertheless it was a stark contrast to his fierce attitude with the curses. You had vocally whined and expressively pouted whenever that basket full of ingredients and edibles had been slung away by him rather harshly whenever a curse had gotten too close to you and he straight-up knocked it feet away from you two with a poorly concealed, pissed off grunt by smacking it in the face with the basket. Kento, understandably, was exasperated you had been more worried about dinner more than your own safety, but in the end you sighed while getting serious and listening to him whenever he told you plans were changing and that you two needed lure the curses away from civilians and exorcise them elsewhere.

After all, Kento held up above the safety of civilians, innocents and children more than his own self. And that included you, even though you were perfectly capable of fighting alongside of him easily and he needed to stop jumping in front of you like he had just done beforehand trying to shield you from another curse and then backhanding it away again with tensed muscles and a tensed jaw with a pants-pissing glare.

You liked fighting with Kento (even if it ended up ruining dates, and he sometimes was a bit overbearing trying to keep you safe) as it was energizing and downright adrenalizing whenever you got to fluidly moving around him and along with him. Yet at that moment, despite all the adrenaline and the pent-up aggression you could feel fluctuating off the both of you, there were no words to describe the regret you were feeling for your fashion choice. After flipping through the air and landing on the cracked pavement at one point, your ankle had twisted causing you to stumble and a curse to come flying right at you, but Kento being nearby was already steadying you with one hand first before twirling you both out of the way and then shooting another exasperated look towards you before swiftly slashing the legs off the curse.

“Watch your step.”

Honestly yeah, you got it, wearing high-heeled boots for combat was stupid, but you weren’t dressing for combat. You had dressed for a cute Farmer’s Market date that got fucking ruined, and you were then flipping around in a skirt and heels fighting curses. If you weren’t so annoyed, you’d tease him and say that he probably liked watching your skirt ride up on your thighs and letting him get a peek at your panties, but the man looked like he was about to bust a blood vessel for whatever reason.

Still… you weren’t too used to being rescued like he had been doing for your carelessness, but watching Kento rip off his jacket and completely abandon it on top of a vacant car letting you feast eyes on the harness fitting snugly against his back before rolling up his sleeves showing his forearms that were already firmly coiled up with his veins bulging outwards and him harshly grabbing his tie and unraveling it free of its confines so that he could wrap it around a tight fist…

Or maybe you’d get yourself into more trouble so that he’d come save you and give you that little glare that wrinkled his forehead and made his lips twitch.

No way you were horny just looking at him (then again… look at him). You chalked it up to all that adrenaline and cursed energy you were emitting outwards, while it also pumped through your veins and rushed through your blood as you finally sprinted off after him when he began to shake the blood clinging to his weapon off, your solid heels making quite a lot of noise on the pavement as you went.

You had dodged, flipped, slashed, spun, and hit your way around the curses, coming up to stand next to Kento after he sent another clean cut that split a curse into two. You took notice of the white-knuckled grip on the handle of his weapon, the grunts he had been letting out rather loudly compared to how he usually stayed rather quiet and reserved whenever fighting, the vein nearly pulsing on his temple, some blood smeared on his jawline you wanted to drag a finger across to clean, and you took notice of his body stiffening and jaw clenching harder whenever you leaned up to brush your chin across his tense shoulder.

Something was… off about him.

Unconsciously, you let your breath blow across his neck as you opened your mouth to speak, “You’re being awfully violent today,” you remarked, your chest heavy from all the stamina you had been using that made it come out more sounding like a pant.

Kento’s head only angled towards you minimally, the glare on the lenses of his glasses allowing you but a brief look into a steely glower, and the tilt letting you see his mouth twitch down further into a frown. “This is annoying,” he finally spoke, gravelly voice thick with a hard edge that was but growled out. He shifted again and slightly turned towards you, the thick cord of his bicep brushing against your breasts before he was looming over you, nearly shadowing your entire body, “And I’m being distracted.”

His cologne was strong sifting up through your nose and into your brain, the nerves already alive in your body from the adrenaline buzzing harder as you wiggled those words around in your brain. “Distracted by what?” you asked as you glanced off towards the side to see if you two were truly alone. Something in his slightly heaving chest was twisting the atmosphere between you two (as well as twisting your lower gut in an all-too familiar feeling).

He didn’t answer you right away, instead moving into your personal space to capture your full attention. Your face ended up nearly buried into his sculpted pectorals and you could hear, as well as feel, the raspy grunt leave his body whenever he jerked his arm up rather harshly and swung through another curse that had been creeping up behind you. The gurgling noise of the curse reached your ears and you peeped around your shoulder to see he had slashed another one in half again. Normally he was one of just going for the limb decapitation, but… he had been absolutely demolishing them left and right in outstanding speed and ferocity you had been having trouble keeping up with him.

The hair on your body rose whenever his hand snaked its way onto the middle of your back, easing you forward into him as you trained your eyes onto his face. You let him guide you, his hand suddenly seeming to be the only thing keeping you upright and keeping your feet planted firmly on the ground.

Kento was quiet for a brief moment until you felt him slightly leaning over to brush mouth against your ear, warm breath tickling as you felt his palm lay flat against your back, “Am I going to have to keep saving you?” His breath was suddenly hot on your skin then, your toes curling into your boots as your adrenaline-fueled body and mind was moving before you could even recognize what you were doing or inspect if he was feeling the same.

A hand of yours shot up out of nowhere as you tangled your fingers into the hair of his undercut and you pulled him harshly down into your face for a kiss. It was messy and it slightly hurt whenever you knocked your chin against his, but you were so pent up and moved by just your nerves literally being lit on fire from the thrill of a fight and your loins spiraling from how he was just being so aggressive and just so different, you couldn’t stop yourself from just getting a taste of his lips. However, even in your stupor you worried that the kiss wasn’t returned and that perhaps you misread and were being unbearably horny, but that quickly flew out the window when the hand on your back slid downwards to rest lower and pull on the fabric of your shirt.

“You said – you’re distracted –” you spoke hotly and breathily in-between smacks of fierce kisses, biting down onto his lower lip in the process, “Distracted by what – Kento?"

Kento didn’t necessarily respond at first, busy devouring your lips as much as he could in kisses consisting of saliva and smacks, a far cry from your usual chaste ones, before he was using the arm holding his weapon to cage you into him around your waist. You could feel the sword angled upright against your spine, your hip knocking into his thigh as he slid a leg forward and kicked one of your feet away so that he could slot his thigh in-between your own. It was hard, and it was tensed, the appendage already jerking up into your clothed cunt that was embarrassingly wet you noticed whenever you rolled your hips in response to his movement.

He swallowed the small moan you gave from the stimulation, jerking you harder into his stone-like abdomen and farther up on his thigh, before his mouth left yours and he trailed his saliva-covered lips across your cheek and down into the junction of your neck. He started kissing and biting there, all the while letting his arm slip down to let a hand curl fingers on your hip and guide you to grind on his thigh as the blade of his sword sat dangerously close to your ribcage.

“You want to know?” he asked in that octave that whispered sinfully deep into your ears when he had your legs thrown up over his shoulders with his cock diving into you. It was utterly nefarious, wisping across your skin and letting you know he felt the same way you did, and only burned that arousal brewing within you hotter. He continued on when your eyelashes fluttered at the tone of his voice and your spine arched into him, "Something tells me you already do."

"Mm," you started off, pressing into his hard body like you wanted to melt within the hard planes of his being, as you played with him more since he already had you figured out. You could already feel your cunt getting more soaked and the cloth of your panties growing uncomfortable the more you shamelessly grinded on his thigh in the middle of the street, the soft sighing pants leaving your mouth blowing his locks curling down onto his forehead and your fingers tangling more into his hair for retribution. You rolled harder, feeling his thigh press up more into you in retaliation before huffing out against his forehead, “Tell me and I’ll tell you why I’m so wet for you –”

You cut yourself off with a high-pitched gasp, however it was not by your own doing. Kento had taken that moment after your little breathy whisper to flex his thigh. You couldn’t help your own straining to tighten around the movement, trying to unsuccessfully meet that rhythm when he held you at bay instead.

“You,” he groaned out in desperation against your neck, a sweet kiss placed there that shattered the front he was putting. He was lifting his face back away from you after that, the furrowed brow and tensed jaw on his expression sending a hot course of pleasure into your clit as you continued a slow pursuit on his thigh and letting you leisurely drown in ecstasy the more you moved.

“Me?” you asked in a teasing tone, craning your head back further exposing the soft skin of your throat he had been fixated on beforehand. You slightly tugged his head back away from your own to expose his neck, watching his nostrils flare and face pinch up before you could feel the stare from underneath his glasses; a plea perhaps. You paid it no mind, arching your back further and pushing your heaving chest outwards for his gaze while you tried not to take notice when his eyes that were barely discernible through his glasses fell to your breasts when you did so that made you all the more excited. Instead you were kicking your foot against his like he had done before to you to bring his eyes back as you smirked that you had caught him staring, “How could I make you distracted?”

Kento tugged you back closer, your chest slanting against him as his new attitude and breathy words altered the ambiance from fighting in the air between you two to something he used whenever he was prowling after you in the bedroom. The adrenaline was still coursing through you whenever you watched his glasses slightly slide down to give you view to his dilated pupils, his hold on your back nearly startling as he leaned down closer to you, “Your carelessness, the way you’ve been steadily losing control, the way you’ve been watching me the entire time… that damn skirt I can’t stand to look at right now…” he all but groaned out that last part, eyebrows twitching and teeth gritting as his chest heaved in tune with yours and urged your hips rougher onto his thigh.

You sighed whenever your clit began to tingle from all the pleasure and the mere fact you two were doing all of that in public, the adrenaline morphing and combining your eagerness for sex to follow in on his movement, but instead to keep him at bay as the hand still holding your weapon crept along his belt and skimmed across the front of his pants that were already bulging out.

You grinned.

“You’re already hard? Have you been hard this entire time watching me? Did you like seeing every peek of my panties you could get? Did you think about just what you could do with them whenever you could get the chance? Did you think about taking them off of me and wrapping them around your cock –”

You didn’t get very far finishing the sentence, his patience and desperation clouding his actions as he leaned into your body. Perhaps chasing after what you sought, his temple pressing into yours and his lips slightly trembling as they found their way onto your ear.

“You’re distracting me,” he sighed, mouth coming closer as he heatedly spoke those words, “and it’s best we don’t do this here unless…” he trailed off for a moment, dark eyes momentarily leaving your face to glance around the area with an inquisitive look as though seeming something else caught his attention.

You, however, were intrigued, the new side of Kento something you had never really seen. Yes you had seen him somewhat agitated whenever he fought curses, but those times were nothing compared to what you had seen earlier with his ferocious movements and near unrecognizable harsh burst of cursed energy he had been emitting. You liked that look in his eyes, an icy anger and adrenaline-hazed in his pupils that grew which each passing moments and only widened the more he looked at you, but also the desperation he like displayed whenever you turned around and prowled after him. You liked the way his body seemed to be coiled up a predator about to strike down its prey for the kill.

Something was off about him… and you began to know exactly what it was.

Whether it was just him getting worked up watching you or perhaps he felt the same way you did that your date was ruined, it was clear that he was pent up with frustration.

You didn’t give him a chance to finish whatever he was going to say, tilting your head closer to him as you skimmed your lips across his in a mock tease to let his eyes return back to your face with an indescribable glint. You untangled your fingers from those blonde locks, trailing a nail down his neck as you smiled against his mouth and gave a long, slow roll onto his thigh and letting him feel the pulsing of your cunt as you did so.

“So what are you gonna do, Kento? What are you gonna do about me distracting you?”

It was a split second and your eyes widened, the sudden burst of cursed energy from him in front of you and another creature behind you raising your hackles and nearly diminishing the arousal you felt within you if it hadn’t been for Kento’s actions.

It was another hard swing of his arm, the grunt and hot breath leaving him pushed out against your mouth in a near kiss as he swung through yet another curse that had snuck up behind you in your fascination with him. You could hear the flesh split and blood splatter, slightly turning your head to peek once more as you noticed that time he had cut off the head of the curse for getting too close you. You watched dazedly as he flicked his weapon free of blood again, the hand on your back cradling you into his body smoothing down your skin in a slow caress of comfort.

You could barely stop the moan leaving you after he did it too, grinding farther up on his thigh to wet his pants and brushing your knuckles against his hard cock as you placed a kiss on his bottom lip. He didn’t grant it to you for too long however, letting his hand fall off your back before he was stepping away from you altogether but a few inches, untangling all his limbs from you and removing his glasses to place them in his pocket in the process. His tie remained wrapped tight around his fist as he rolled up his sleeves better, the thick corded muscles of his forearms bulging with the movement before he deftly unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt.

His hair was still messed up, and the blood was still smeared underneath his jaw.

God, fuck, he looked good.

Kento regarded you for a few moments as you both stared at each other with clear ravenous desire electrifying the air between you two. You nearly wanted to take a step forward to initiate it with that kiss you still wanted, but Kento was once again beating you to the punch with a long sigh that sounded so deliciously sinful and bordering on a groan it stopped you in your pursuit and dampened your panties more.

“I suppose I’ll just have to make do there since anything and everything will interrupt us out here.”

You rose a brow, “Meaning…?”

He fixed you with another leveled stare, cheeks flushing from agitation, arousal, embarrassment, you weren’t sure, but something told you it was something perhaps darker and that you were wound tight in the trap set by him. He took another breath, heavy and oh-so loud, then took one step forward and tensing up as he grew nearer once more. His lips parted as he stalked you, the words coming out shocking your nerves and burning that fire behind your naval brighter.

“Meaning… I am going to finish what you started in that alleyway behind us and fuck you."

Then without further ado, and with another remarkable show of his speed he had thrown you over his shoulder, a squeal leaving your mouth as you found yourself staring at the blue fabric of his shirt covering his back and his broad shoulder digging into your abdomen. He had picked you up with one arm, the feat of the strength he possessed always surprising you and shooting white-hot pleasure straight down into your core. A small, giggling snort left you, pressing your boobs as much as you could into his back as you felt him stiffen from the feeling and your hand ghosting down to swat at his ass in further attempts to set him off.

The eye you were able to see from his side profile made a slow shift towards you for a desperate look, the vein in his temple near throbbing and his cheeks a very bright red from all your teasing. You would’ve felt wounding him up after being pissed off from your date getting ruined, but Kento had made zero complaints that he had wanted you to stop at all. Besides, it wasn’t like it would be the first time you two did anything similar.

You spent your time staring the blue hue of his shirt and subtly slipping a finger underneath his harness to ever-so often to slap it against his taut back as he finally made way to the alley, letting you down gently and taking your weapon away from your hand to slip it onto his back along with his own. Your pussy was throbbing by then in anticipation to what he had planned, and you didn’t have to wait long when you made eye contact with him again.

And from the look in his eyes, he was going to have his way with you and fuck you in a gritty, secluded alleyway that no regular person would dare to walk down in fear of what was in the darkness.

God, it shouldn’t have been as hot as it seemed.

“Good?” he asked, nervousness painting along his features for what you had to say – or if you were to decline that time. And it didn’t take a genius to know what he was asking of you.

“Good. And you?”

“Perfect.”

It was fast as Kento’s mouth descended onto yours, his hands cradling your face in desperate kiss as you walked backwards for him to press yourself against the wall. Your shoulder blades dug into the brick of the alleyway before you felt him close in on you and curl an arm underneath your knee to lift your leg up and pin your thigh up against the wall. His hips were already digging into either side of your inner thighs, his pelvis nearly inches away from your own as your skirt finally rode up to let him feast eyes on what he wanted most in that moment. You curled your fingers into the fabric of his shirt on his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as you bit your lip watching him already get to work and fluttering your eyes when you realized what he was doing.

Kento wasted no time dragging a knuckle down the front of your panties, a desperate noise leaving him whenever he pressed down onto the wet material before ultimately deciding he wasn’t going to have to waste any time with you. A finger coiled underneath the lace covering your pussy, pulling it to the side, and then he was sinking a lone, thick middle finger into you and cursing under his breath whenever you moaned unabashedly loud and clenched around the appendage while shallowly rocking your hips forward onto him.

He didn’t spare you any glance, face downwards as his fingers tightened on your thigh pinning it harder into the wall it nearly left indentions while he only watched the movement of his finger leaving you and returning you and coming out more coated with your juices each time he did so. You watched his dark eyebrows angle down more, a muscle bulging out in his jaw whenever the sounds of your soaked pussy began to fill quiet alleyway before he was speaking in a condescending tone, “Why are you so wet?”

You tried to tug him closer, a ‘Mmm’ leaving you whenever he picked up the pace and added another finger that slid in way too easy and leaving him to grunt again when you enthusiastically returned that with a higher-pitched moan. However Kento stayed steady, keeping his eyes down watching himself finger you and pinning your thigh higher up on the wall as you indulged him, “You mean why am I wet after watching you act like that and when you let me ride on your thigh? God Kento, you should know how wet you get me…”

His face twisted again, a slight look up towards your face underneath his eyelashes that nearly made you shiver from how blown his pupils were before he gently pulled his fingers out of you. His fingers were absolutely drenched with you, and he was examining them for a brief moment until he returned his hand and let it skim gently across your slit with a finger tickling at your clit and slowly using the pad of his finger to begin circling it. You let out a quiet whine, fingers twisting into his shirt more as you tilted your head against wall and slowly rolled your hips in tune to his ministrations.

Suddenly his finger was gone, taking all the pleasure he had been giving you for the brief moment and he lifted his head back up to look at you with a scowl and his voice deathly calm in a murmur, “You can do better than this.”

You squirmed whenever his finger brushed by your opening again, teasing you with putting a finger in to one knuckle before pulling it away and returning to soft touches to your clit. “Just touch me please.”

Kento regarded you with a sigh, pinching your clit for the whine and giving you what you wanted. He wasn’t finished with the teasing though, spending a few more rounds alternating from curling his fingers against your walls and pulling them free whenever he felt like it, and rubbing your clit in circles as you started to turn into a moaning, drooling mess biting into his shoulder from all the stimulation. Yet every time you sighed and your eyes nearly rolled back when you felt your cunt begin to loosen with an impending orgasm, he was pulling away and leaving you hanging that had you shaking in his hold and biting harder into his shirt.

You gained another bit of clarity from your swirling haze when you felt his fingers drag excruciatingly slow in circles along your thigh he had pinned against the wall, a vibrating hum leaving his throat whenever he felt your legs begin to shake. That hand trailed up and moved to lie palm up on the wall next to your head, the other pulling away from your pussy and letting it slide in a smooth, tantalizing graze until he glided up in-between your breasts before he laid his palm flat there. You could feel the wetness of your pussy juice coating his fingers through your shirt as he gently pushed your body back off of his to lean you against the wall. He took a moment to access your conditions, and when seeing no signs of backing out he continued onwards.

Your half-lidded eyes fell on his face, watching him grow closer until he was mouthing his next words around your lips and knocking his pelvis into yours.

“Tell me what you want,” Kento huffed so heatedly into your mouth, a barely there bite to your bottom lip and a small squeeze to one of your breasts.

Your whole body was trembling, fingers twisting into his shirt and mind drunk for him as your cunt all drenched along your inner thighs and pleading to be filled by him fluttered from his sinful tone. “Please, just let me cum – touch me, Kento,” you all but begged, bratty demeanor from before all but gone.

“And why should I do that?” His voice was low, eyelashes dipping more over his dark eyes that seemed to grow brighter the more you lost your composure. His hand left your chest after that, gliding back down as he pinched at your soaked panties.

“Because… just please, I understand what I did,” you whined out, trying to kiss at his lips again but to no avail. You nearly felt like thrashing around, the want to cum and need have him inside too strong and making you lose some of your sense.

A ‘Hmm’ was breathed out around you, two pads of his fingers rubbing the fabric of your lace panties together, “You did show you could do better letting your pussy get more wet for me, but…” he slid your panties down an inch, “you need to learn to be patient,” he finally hissed out, his tone losing that calm form and coiling into that barely restrained one you heard earlier whenever you had been teasing him.

You weren’t giving up, desperate for his entire being as one hand of yours slid back into his hair and massaged the back of his skull, “I am patient! I’ll do what you want me to do, just – please.”

Kento didn’t reply to you for a moment, only a sigh leaving his mouth that sounded just as condescending as it felt before he pulled your panties down another inch with the cool air tickling your soaked lower half. “You’ll do what I want? You’ll listen and only cum when I say you can?”

You wiggled up against his chest, arching your back away from the wall and trying to get closer to him and his clothed hard cock pressing against your abdomen, “Yesyesyesyesyes, anything.”

He was getting better at it. And hadn’t broke character once.

You’d definitely reward him for it a later time.

Kento only pulled away far enough to lean down and tear your horribly drenched panties off of you with a powerful sweep on his hand, pocketing them away in his pants for safekeeping. He closed in on you faster than before, and in one easy maneuver he yanked you up into his front harder with a steel arm wrapped around your back before instructing you further with orders.

“Up.”

You jumped up rather wobbly, his hands falling to settle on your thighs in a squeeze as you wrapped them around his waist. He pushed you back against the wall to lean in and plunge another harsh kiss onto your mouth as he grounded his cock up against your naked cunt, biting at your lower lip again when you whined and pulling away to mouth at your jawline before making his way to your ear and whispering his next command against your earlobe with a biting tease.

“Undo my pants.”

You weren’t able to wait any longer, hurriedly releasing your hands from where they were holding onto him and you miraculously were able to loosen his belt free and pull him out with a teasing squeeze. You barely held in a moan when you felt him so vulnerable in your hand, a shudder leaving you when you realized he was about to put himself inside of you and from his reaction to you touching him so heavy.

Kento’s lips and teeth detached themselves from your jawline frighteningly quick, his handsome, chiseled features twisting into pleasure as he threw his head back a brief angle and let out a groan from your touch. You nearly wanted to bite down onto his Adam’s apple exposed so nicely to you, and you would’ve if he hadn’t tilted his head back down with a wild glint in his eyes and used one hand to push yours away from his cock and hold them together against your breasts. The other left your thigh as well, leaving you suspended in the air by just his strength and weight as he rose his hand palm up right under your mouth.

“Spit.”

His curt, clipped tones only served to continue and turn you on, eagerly complying to him as you rolled your tongue around in your mouth to produce more saliva until the inside was completely full of your spit. You puckered your lips afterwards and drooled a decent amount of spit into his palm as his fingers teased at the edge of your lips while you did so, your drool getting caught in the corners of your mouth and wetting your chin once you were finished. A harsh tingle found its way into your clit once more when you watched his nostrils flare at your willingness and the way you were complying to his orders so quickly, a quirk to the corner of his own lips as he pulled his hand away from your face tickling your chin and freed your wrists.

“Good girl,” he praised you once, and in a quick display of reflexes and experience he had learned with you, he reached down with one hand and coated his cock with your spit and mixed it in with his precum, letting a long grunt leave him as he threw his head back once more when he began stroking himself to completely cover his dick with the makeshift lube. His other hand curled around your nape once more, squeezing the area as he shuffled closer to you suddenly, and you felt the recognizable feeling of his hot cock rubbing up against your entire cunt.

You squirmed again, locking your arms around his neck as you lifted yourself up a bit by arching your back waiting for the inevitable. Kento grunted at your eagerness, eyes squeezing shut along with yours whenever you wiggled down more onto his bare cock as your moans mingled together with your mouths so close together whenever you felt his tip brush against your opening. Kento let out a heated huff as he guided himself more into you, his cockhead breaching inside of you while his expression twisted into one of concentration.

“Kento,” you breathe, all breathy and pleading around his lips, “Please.”

His patience had worn thin then you understood, his cock finally pushing further inside of you somewhat slowly and even with how wet you had gotten from the fingering and pussy slapping, it still was quite the fit given Kento was someone who had girth. He was so thick, so searing, it was nearly too much for you to handle even though you had taken his cock countless times before. Though he continued into you as you arched and squirmed from the stretch of him pulling your pussy walls taut, your fingers twisted at the collar of his shirt when you suddenly heard him grunt in frustration then grip your hip in a near bruising hold before shoving the rest of him inside of you in one harsh thrust.

You couldn’t help the loud moan escaping you, the red-hot heat of his cock inside of you and the nerve-tingling pleasure of your cunt squeezing him impossibly tight and shocking your body nearly unbearable for you to even handle as you finally got him inside of you.

Kento seemed to be fairing somewhat better, a hot kiss planted on your mouth when jerked himself as far as he could inside of you, and his voice so low and sinful in your face it was a wonder you weren’t gushing all over him then. “How perfect,” his breath mingled with yours once more, your noses skimming across one and another’s as you began to find it too hard to kiss him back from the coil of pleasure burning behind your naval. “It’s like you were made for me, weren’t you? You’re my girl, aren’t you?” his fingers tightened on your nape, teeth scraping against your bottom lip as he pulled a choked gasp from you with one shallow push of his hips into you.

“Only yours,” you managed in your near drunken stupor, legs shaking around his waist as he started up a slow round of thrust in a mouthwatering angle. A high-pitched moan left you when his free hand teasingly brushed across your clit once more and you rolled your hips downwards to further impale yourself onto his cock, testing his patience in the meanwhile when you heard another long exhale leave him when you bit his lip in tune to clenching up around his dick. “Only you can get me this wet and fuck me like this.”

Perhaps… you should’ve backed off with the tempting words.

Kento was still for a moment before he shifted your higher up against the wall to where his mouth had access to your neck, his breath hot in puffs against it once he got there and with one bite into the junction between your shoulder and neck, he spoke his last command for the time being.

“Lock your ankles.”

Oh, God.

You fluttered your eyelashes at his request, a squirm of excitement tingling down into your pussy as the words nearly made you cum and you unabashedly whimpered in his ear after he growled them out into your throat, your booted feet accompanied with heels locking around his body and letting the dull edge of your heels press into the delicious dip of his lower back.

Better hold on tight.

He pulled out of you slowly one last time and let his tip glide up across your slit and clit before he was burying himself into your cunt with a quick, snap of his hips. The press of him against your sweet spot was harsher that time and the stretch better as it ended up letting you give out a breathless moan, your chest beginning to heave with pants and whines when he set an unforgiving and powerful pace. A pace that sent you spiraling back down into the path of a release that did as much for you as it did for him, the pulsing and fire inside of you raging as he continued to pound away at you.

Your gasps and whines began to line up to the rhythm of his harsh thrusts, your chin coming down to fall onto his shoulder once more as you bit and mouthed away at this shirt to try keep yourself grounded. You rocked your hips as best as you could, trying to incite him into fucking you harder and faster all the while chasing that pressure behind your naval that grew heavier and bigger the more he rapidly entered and left you. You wanted to hear more of his noises, the slight low grunts he was giving not enough as your fingers twisted harder and you let your nails dig into his nape. You wanted him to lose himself in the fitted wetness that was your cunt.

Kento busied himself to kissing and biting along the column of your throat, bouncing you harder as your back began to slide up and down the brick wall behind you and rub your skin through your shirt. You paid it no mind (he’d probably curse himself later as he tended to skin of your back in a bath), too caught up in the rough thrusting as you instead took notice of the steel cold of his belt buckle rubbing into your thigh on one side and the leather of it rubbing onto your other. His groan was muffled into your neck when you squeezed your thighs tighter.

You parted off from sucking on his shoulder with another hair-raising moan, angling your head far back enough so that the back of your skull was knocking against the brick, “Fuck –” your eyes nearly rolled back when his grip on you turned bruising and your tightened at the thought bruises being left behind. Your words came out in the rhythm of each hard thrust, the breath of you getting knocked out each time he quickly entered you and slammed up into your cunt. “I – love – it – when you – get – rough – it feels – so fucking – good!”

Your breathy little admission and the louder and filthier your mouth got earned you the noisy groan you had been wanting, that one hand releasing your hip to slam into the wall beyond you, that you swore nearly shattered the brick, and the other one leaving your nape to trail two fingers along your jawline until he was diving them into the hot expanse of your mouth. Kento pressed his two fingers down onto your tongue, an unspoken word for you to suck on them, and you did so greedily. You could feel your pussy tightening up along with that coil in your abdomen, the warning from earlier not to cum until he told blaring out in your mind before you shoved it away and fell towards your own pleasure.

The smacks you were hearing was both of your skin damp with sweat slapping against each other with every thrust he made and straining you were able to hear the slippery sounds of your cunt getting horribly wrecked. You moaned around his fingers when he grunted harshly into your neck, your head lulling to right and –

You nearly froze, the hair rising on your neck as you took notice of the curse hobbling along towards the both of you with a curious tilt to its head and another slight step of a sound caused you to move your head around to stare at the one approaching Kento from behind. Fear struck you for short moments, your eyes widening and body tensing up as you made a noise complaint around his fingers trying to get his attention that you two were not alone anymore. Though as Kento said before with you distracting him, he almost didn’t take notice and you almost reached around to grab your weapon to swing at one if Kento hadn’t already beat you to the punch.

“Ken –"

The curse to right of you took one step too close and you watched oh-so fascinatingly and so goddamn aroused when Kento’s fingers in your mouth left abruptly with drool stuck to them and caught the curse by its neck, his hand and forearm corded with thick veins bulging outwards in a display of raw strength before he twisted the neck of the curse around and smashed its head into the wall until it exploded in a smog of purple. He was quick again when you heard another annoyed grunt leave him and the hand on the wall disappeared and he reached behind for his blade, and with one clean sweep behind his back without even looking, dislodging the head of the curse with a harsh thrust up into your sopping cunt.

He had done all of that… without looking… with his face buried in your neck… and with him still fucking you…

You couldn’t help it, you came right then and there, so unbelievably turned on that he had done that so aggressively and without even stopping his momentum.

Your nails had made their way scratching down his back through his shirt as you rode out the entirety of your intense orgasm. You were glad Kento had returned his hand from where he had beat that curse against the wall to wrap back around your waist because you were sure you would’ve fallen apart onto the ground with how you finally came down from the euphoria and your limbs all but felt useless to you. He had continued to fuck you through the rushing release, your mind content to allow him to do so since you were all caught up with trying to calm your racing heart down along with your erratic breathing.

For that you heard him grunt and pull his hand away from your back as did his thrusting coming to a stop once he felt your thighs jerking around his waist. You wondered why he stopped as you blinked yourself out of the drunken-like haze that was your paradise; you may have been a little muddled from the way he made you cum but you knew he hadn’t cummed then. You got your answer when he pulled back from you and let you lie your back more against the wall, his dark eyes briefly watching your chest move with your fast breathing before rising back to your lusted-out expression. He waited until you weren’t breathing as hard and then his hands were falling back to grasp both your hips after returning his weapon to his back, his voice deadly calm as he regarded you.

“Did you just cum?”

You rolled your shoulders, sighing whenever he rose a dark eyebrow and waited for you to explain yourself, “Mmm, yes, just – keep going –”

He cut you off, a dumbfounded expression on his face as his eyes darted around your face, “Are you sure…?”

You wanted to sigh. So much for not breaking character. You indulged him with a breathy noise, tightening your thighs around his waist and flexing your cunt around his cock, “Yes, now – keep going… Be mean and… y’know. Unless I have to do all the work again…” you trailed off, a mischievous ploy in your words you hoped spurred him on.

His fingers tightened up on your hips, feeling your cunt flutter around him once more as his jaw clenched. And somehow, you found yourself on your feet confused for a moment… Like he’d moved too fast for you to actually follow…

“Um…” And it was a brief few seconds before your mind caught up with your body.

Kento had pulled himself out of you and gently dropped you to stand level on the ground. You let out an indignant noise in response before trying to find your way back onto his cock, but in another display of his strength he had turned you around, your chest and cheek pressed against the brick and your hands lying flat against it as well. Your back ended up bent in that position as he pulled your hips back into and you were bouncing on his awaiting cock once more. The new position had you moaning louder, his own hissing exhale from how deep he went in and slid in so easily from how wet you were following right behind you as he started up a pace.

There was no chance to gather your thoughts, Kento’s behavior was bordering on losing control as he pressed his weight onto you and pinned you hard to the wall. His mouth found its way to your ear again, breath hot in your ear as he started off his depraved words for you and you alone to hear.

“It was your loud mouth that attracted their attention,” he gravelly started, one hand on your hip leaving as two fingers found your swollen and sensitive clit, “What is it? Can’t even keep yourself quiet even when you got something in your mouth? Or was it you couldn’t find the words to tell me you wanted to cum?”

You couldn’t form an answer to that, too engrossed with the pleasure he was giving you into your still sensitive and gushing cunt while simultaneously rubbing away at your clit in a fast pace. What you managed was a whining noise, fucking back onto his cock as his fingers slowed down on your clit and held off your new rapidly approaching orgasm. You nearly wanted to cry out in frustration from his ridiculous self-control, yet you were branching out on another cry whenever his fingers molded themselves into your hips with a quick pull backwards onto his cock.

You squealed, pressing your breasts harder into the wall as he started back up into your ear again. "Focus. Tell me what you want.”

“I want – mmm God, I want –”

He squeezed your hips, his own smacking loudly against your ass before a thumb found its way into your mouth and his teeth latched onto your earlobe before repeating himself again, “Say it. Tell me how much you want me to cum inside of you. Tell me how much you want me to cum and how you’ll barely be able to hold it inside of you. Tell me you want me to fuck my cum into you. Tell me how much you want to be a good girl for me.”

He was commanding you then, your eyes squeezing shut in tune to how your pussy clenched around him to his sinful words. The cutting edge to them told you that he was leaving you no room to even try and escape from answering him, your toes curling inside of your boots when he picked up his thrusts and huffed heatedly against your cheek.

Your whines were airy, face feeling flustered as you heeded his order, “Please, Kento, I’ll do anything – I want you to cum inside of me so bad –”

You cut yourself off when his fingers left your clit, thinking perhaps he was giving you what you wanted until that hand came down onto your ass in a resounding slap. You lurched forward from it, biting your lip trying to muffle a load moan as your pussy gushed more around his cock and the slippery sounds of your two’s debauchery grew louder in the alleyway. Your body felt like mush then, legs shaking under his form as he pressed a sloppy kiss to your cheek.

“More.”

You could nearly feel the exasperated tears well up in your eyes, nails scratching at the brick and legs spreading wider for him as he bent your body down further and his fingers found your clit once more. Kento started up his teasing circles, chest heaving into your back as you tried once more in a shaky voice to appease his commands, “I want you to ruin me, fuck me dumb like a slut and can only think of you.”

You could feel his brow furrow against the side of your face, sweat lining in with yours as his hips picked up in a dangerous smacking with his balls following in pursuit to slapping into your pussy and clit as his fingers picked up the speed on your clit. Your eyes nearly rolled when you felt yourself falling back into your second release, gasping moans leaving your parched mouth as he grew desperate and started groan into your cheek. It spurned you on, you wanted to push him further to get him to act out more.

“I want you to fuck me so hard and cum in me so much there’s no way that I’m not pregnant. Come on, Kento –” you broke off in a heated moan, sweaty forehead grinding into the brick as you continued to babble whatever he possibly wanted to hear to get him and yourself to cum. "Fuck me till I'm pregnant – please – cum in me as much as you want until your baby's in me –"

His fingers pushed harder onto your clit, a white-hot burst behind your eyelids as you felt him teeter into a breakneck speed into your cunt. It nearly stopped you from getting the rest of your sentence out, but you managed to gasp it out you finally entered the throes of your second orgasm.

You couldn’t take it.

His fingers felt too good on your swollen clit, his cock so fucking hot and thick inside of you as it jutted into your deepest region, everything just fucking smelling like him, your brain churning into pure depravity as you listened to him groan and grunt as he increased his pace, your lower abdomen pulling and stretching out so far, and holy fucking shit –

You were sure what you garbled out was a variation of his name, but you weren’t too sure considering you were preoccupied trying not to pass out.

You were definitely sure then if he hadn’t kept a firm hold of your hips you would’ve collapsed and slid down the wall and onto the ground from how bad your legs were shaking. You didn’t necessarily care either when you felt a small dab drool escape your mouth around his thumb as you were too busy fighting off the aftershocks of your orgasm. That one was the most intense; your world – and your cunt – bursting like a champagne bottle when struck your entire body like a lightning strike. If you weren’t so needy to hear him cum you would’ve let your mind fall deep into the endorphins being given to you and tickling your body all the way down to your toes, your muscles and bones feeling like they had been liquefied and going numb.

The way he was still fucking you was on the frontlines of your thoughts, your body bouncing back and forth from the tenacity of his thrusts as your insides constricted and throbbed around him to help meet his own end. You didn’t have to wait long though as the mere feeling of you cumming around his cock pushed him over the edge, both hands on your hips tugging you backwards for one fierce thrust to let himself find your deepest point in the hot, mind-blowing pleasure that was your cunt and meet his end.

“Fuck!”

His body twitched behind you as his hands dug deeper into your flesh before he started to erratically jerk inside of you in slower strokes as his cum spurted out of him. Your eyes spun back and you moaned again when you felt the warm spurts of his cum shoot inside of your awaiting cunt and literally stuff you full to point you were sure you wouldn’t be able hold all of his cum within you. It nearly felt as if he never was going to stop, the new heat in your pussy sliding down throughout the inside of you. You could feel from the thick girth of the liquid passing through your cervix and into your wombs as Kento’s hips rocked slowly with each new spray into you until finally he came to a full stop with his cock sitting snugly inside of you to hold all of his cum in your cunt for the time being.

It was a few moments more longer as you both gathered your breath and bearings before he was slowly sliding out of you, his hands releasing you after one final squeeze and gliding across your ass, then completely leaving your body. After that he was spinning you around, hands finding your cheeks to angle your face towards him as he let his eyes roll over inch of your face and body.

“Are you alright?” Kento finally asked, voice still slightly breathy and face still flushed. His hair was even more messed up than before, his shirt wrinkled and you noticed his tie was still wrapped around his fist. He had tucked himself back into his pants and in those few moments you had been shaking against the wall, and you wiggled whenever you blinked into more clarity and he was pulling your skirt back down to shield your modesty.

You grinned dopily up at him, leaning further into him as you stuck your nose into his collarbone, “I’ve never felt better.”

“I didn’t hurt you?” he questioned again, a tilt of concern in his voice whenever you nearly stumbled into him.

“Absolutely not,” you mumbled and wrapping your arms around his waist for a hug, “I would’ve told you if you did.”

He sighed wrapping an arm around your waist and checking his watch whenever he noticed the sun beginning to set, “The Farmer’s Market is probably over by now.” Why did he sound somewhat melancholic?

(Of course, leave it to Nanami Kento to be upset he couldn't go to the Farmer's Market anymore after getting some pussy.)

You rolled your head upwards to study his face, an eyebrow cocking as he looked devilishly handsome in the oncoming sunset, “Are you still worried about that?”

Kento looked back to you, eyebrows knitting together as he started to walk you both of out the alley, “I’m only saying that because you were the one whining whenever I dropped the basket.”

“You didn’t drop it, you slapped a curse with it and then threw it at another one. Besides… not too worried about it since I got something else in the end.”

“Hmm.”

“C’mon, you know you liked it too. Especially when I told you to put –”

“Don’t finish that sentence. Especially since I’m not done with you yet.”

“What. I can barely feel my legs.”

“I know, and after I find my jacket and we report what happened to the school we’re going home where I’m, as you said, ‘putting another baby in you’.”

“Ugh, whatever, but since you get your jacket can I have my panties back, you freak.”

“No. They’re mine.”

“No way you’re gonna make me walk around with no panties on…”

“I am and –”

He slapped your ass again, causing you to jolt and squeal as he leant down and whispered in your ear again as you laughed.

“A single drop of me better not come out of you until we get home.”

#{🩸} nee fics #nanami kento x reader #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami x y/n #nanami kento #nanami kento smut #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk smut

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melminli · 2 months ago

Note

I LOVEDDDDDDD your Thanos “bang bang bang” post and it made me very curious abt how they know eo and stuff and like I’d love to read more about it in general if you don’t mind. It’s so great and I love your writing <333 have a fun day / night 🫶🏻

BANG BANG BANG ll

summary - thanos was always just such an easy person to argue with. you really hated the guy and that was something that was never going to change, even if your life was on the line and it fucking was.

pairing: (thanos) choi su-bong x fem. reader

word count: 1.8k

contains: violence, angst, death, drug use and addiction, dark content - just usual squid game stuff really

a/n: ty so much! this turned out kinda freaky but that is because thanos is a freak so, i didn't really have a choice.

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There was an eerie silence among all the participants for the first few seconds after the first death happened. The realization of what this meant for everyone present slowly sank in, and you thought that maybe the crazy man with all his screaming, wasn't quite as crazy as you originally thought. The real madman was probably the person somewhere upstairs or - you didn't know exactly where, but you knew that they were watching you.

“Don't move!” His voice shouted again, but this time with a completely different force. It may be that this was the most logical conclusion one could draw from what had just happened, but some seemed to throw all logic out of the window as soon as the fear of death hit. It only took one person to panic to set off a domino effect and from one second to the next loud gunshots could be heard, following the fearful screams of one person after another. The participants were being slaughtered like frightened animals in a cage, what kind of sick game was really going on here?

You too began to tremble as you looked down at the floor, dissociating and trying to ignore your surroundings as best you could. You had to stop yourself from flinching when the person right next to you was killed, even as you felt his still warm blood covering your cheek, even as a small river of it started pooling around your foot. You were most likely going to leave a trace of him all over the ground as soon as you started walking again - whoever he was. It didn't take very long for everyone who had moved to be shot, maybe half a minute - and yet it must have been the worst half minute of your life so far.

“Don't you dare move,” Thanos said in a voice you weren't used to hearing from him. “I'm serious, don't make me mad.”

You just looked at his back from behind, with a tense posture while you tried to regain control of your breathing again. Finally, there was complete silence on the pitch again. Even if it wasn't an entirely welcome silence.

The voice from the loudspeakers began to speak again and you already knew that this would be a voice that would haunt you in your nightmares. “Let me repeat: You can move forward while the tagger shouts, Green light, red light. If your movement is detected afterward, you will be eliminated.”

Ah, so that's what you meant with eliminated. A bit literal but no biggie! The game continued, but no one really dared to move a muscle even when the puppet looked away. You then saw Thanos shift slightly out of the corner of your eye and noticed that he was pulling his cross necklace out of his t-shirt. Safe to say, that you could barely believe what you were seeing right before your very eyes. You've got to be kidding me, they took everything we had from us, but he was allowed to keep that old thing? “Are you seriously going to take that stuff now?” you whispered in disbelief but didn't really judge him for it. You were this close to just laughing out loud at the absurdity of the scene, but you didn't.

“You don't have to be jealous, sweetheart,” he replied with slightly shaky hands as he stopped his movement abruptly when the doll finished talking. He just stared longingly at the colorful pills in front of him. “I don't mind sharing with you, you know that.”

You sighed inwardly at the thing you were about to do. You had been clean for maybe about three years by now and quitting drugs of any kind overnight was fucking hard - definitely one of the hardest things you had to do in your life. On the other hand, your life was still as shitty as before, the only difference being that you were now consciously depressed and unhappy, so who cares? You could die every second anyway. “Thanks.” you just said after taking the pill out of his hand and threw the thing as quickly as possible in your mouth as soon as the doll looked away. Yeah, you were the biggest hypocrite on earth, old news.

It only took maybe a few seconds after that for you to feel the effects of the pill and then finally, all the stress started to dissipate. Your muscles relaxed, all the shouting about whatever felt like a soft pillow hugging you and the weird laying positions of the dead around you suddenly seemed incredibly funny. These were really strong pills, you could practically feel your whole body tingling. “Why are they all suddenly forming a line?” you asked with a grin and Thanos just hummed, not knowing the answer himself. “No idea, but watch this,” he said and waited until the puppet had turned towards you to push the person next to him, causing everyone in front of them to fall over too. “Ding! You lost,” he told them while wiggling his eyebrows and smirking after he watched them get shot.

You didn't even try to stifle your laughter at the scene. “You really are such an asshole.” you replied, shoving him aside this time after the doll averted its gaze. You then ran away as fast and as far away as you could so that he couldn't take revenge on you for what you had just done. However, you quickly stopped moving with both hands in the air as soon as the girlish voice emitted red light as if you were surrendering to her. You stifled your grin and pretty much failed when you noticed a slightly older woman standing relatively close to you. “Hey, are you trying to hide behind me to use me as a shield?” you spoke out without moving your mouth much and watched as she began to sweat more after you realized what she was doing. Still, she didn't pay you any further attention. “And now you're ignoring me too?” you spat out annoyed and grabbed her by the arm when you were free to move and pulled her in front of you against her will.

She tried to fight you off but you forced her further forward while she tried to defend herself. “You're older than me, aren't you ashamed of yourself?” You asked her and stopped walking before the robot's face turned towards you.

Number 57, who was still resisting your grip, stumbled a little to the side when you suddenly let go of her. She was about to howl in delight when she noticed how everyone else stood still. “No…” she mumbled out fearfully. “It's because of that bitch! I didn't -” she tried to defend herself to someone as she looked around the room, but her head caught the bullet before she could even finish her sentence.

“I may be a bitch, but at least I'm still alive.” you sang to her dead body on the floor before running past her. You didn't know how much time was left, but you had almost made it to the finish line anyway. You stopped with your back to the robot girl this time and it didn't take you long to spot the purple hair in the crowd. “Su-bong!” you shouted his name, since you had somehow gotten separated while running. You waited until he yelled back with a what?! “Last one there, gets fucked in the ass!” you yelled out without any shame or filter and saw his facial expression turn serious at the challenge. “Let's Go!”

The whole game went by relatively quickly once you took the pill from Thanos. It was actually quite fun, you thought to yourself as you both jumped around like two crazy people with grinning faces, waving your arms around wildly. I know it's not socially acceptable to say this, but I fucking love doing drugs! It was like everything around you was happening in slow motion and all the decisions you made felt foggy, like you didn't even realize what you were doing.

You loved being this person, it felt great to forget everything and just - not think. “I have won! No, really! You crossed the line two steps after me, I saw it!” you exclaimed before Thanos could object to a single thing. “Didn't anyone else see that?” you exclaimed in disbelief as if the others weren't busy staying alive while watching several others die right before their faces. You didn't care about the looks they gave you as you waved your hand. “No, they definitely saw it. I won.”

Thanos just gave in with a heavy sigh and a roll of his eyes. “Yeah yeah, I'm getting fucked in the ass which is gay, very funny.” he just mumbled to himself annoyed, and continued to avoid your gaze, but couldn't help grin again when you slapped him on the shoulder laughing. “Hey, why did we stop doing all this again?” he asked you when he couldn't remember the reason. All he knew was that he hadn't had this much fun in a long time, even though he knew that he always had a great time with you - no matter what.

You laughed. “Oh, that's because you promised me that we'd both get clean together, and then you spent the money I gave you for rehab on more drugs behind my back.“ you laughed along with him, even if Thanos frowned a little at the memory and you started to smile forcedly after remembering again how he had betrayed you. “Or what was it again? Was it something about that Youtuber you told me about…” you mumbled to yourself obliviously, feeling any sense of happiness begin to fade. You finally gave up, the details weren't that important anyway. “It doesn't really matter though, right? In any case, you used the money for something else, whatever it was. Even though you knew how hard I worked for it - hell, I didn't even eat most days to scrape it together, man.” you stated while you looked him in the face, even though he averted his gaze from you. “That's just fucked up dude.”

Exactly. You actually hated being this person. You might not remember it right now, but you would as soon as the effects of the pill wore off, which hopefully wasn't soon. You really hoped it wasn't soon, because you didn't want to be aware of anything that had happened today.

next.

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organic-bloodbath · 29 days ago

Text

No more secrets

Hwang In-ho x Wife!Reader

Summary: You're In-ho's wife, but know nothing about him being the Frontman. Without his knowledge, you've been taken to play the games too. One night he explains everything to you about being the Frontman.

A/N: This was a request i got, i hope you like 🫶🏻 I haven't written about him before so i wasn't sure how to portray him here. This also became a lot longer than how i originally thought it would turn out.

♡♡♡

Your husband was lying to you about something. You knew he wasn't telling you everything, but every time you asked about it, he would just deny that there was anything going on.

He told you that he'd soon be leaving for a 'work trip' and would be back home in a week. He didn't tell you any details, nothing about what it was even about, he was really dodgy about the situation. You knew it wasn't just a work trip, something was going on and you had to find out what.

♡♡♡

You were in a large field with hundreds of other people, all dressed in identical green tracksuits, including you. People were getting shot, the ground was full of blood and fresh corpses.

You were running towards the finish line behind everyone else, until you fell on your back when someone pushed you, running past you and not caring about your life at all. You winced and held your head as you sat up and realized too late what you had just done.

You had moved.

You had moved when the giant doll was scanning for any movements in the area. You were going to die and so was your unborn child. Someone was going to shoot you to death and you buried your face into your hands, as if that would prevent you from getting shot. A few people here and there were being eliminated and you waited for your turn.

But it didn't come. The doll had turned around and the players continued running. Had they missed you? Not noticed that you hadn't stayed still?

"Psst," someone said next to you. "You better get up if you want to get to the finish line and live."

He was right, you were far behind from everyone else and if you didn't start running soon, you'd be dead for being too slow.

♡♡♡

The Frontman was sitting on his leather couch, watching the game on the big screen and sipping whiskey. When the first player had moved, a chaos ensued and people started running around in panic, bullets dropping them down one by one. In-ho's favorite part of this game was the players realizing what 'being eliminated' meant for them.

Then, his heart stopped and he almost spilled the whiskey on his black suit. He saw someone familiar among the players.

Y/N. His own wife was taking a part in the games. How the hell had she ended up here?!

Just a few minutes ago he was enjoying the show, relaxing and taking a bet in his mind how many players would survive through the game. But then there was you who had no idea what you had just gotten into.

No, no, no, no - this wasn't happening.

He needed to know why someone allowed her to come here and why he wasn't aware of it. He had seen all the files of the players, all of them. You weren't even in any debts, Hwang In-ho knew that, so how was it possible you were pulled here? Someone had stripped you and put the same green tracksuit on you as everyone else.

Maybe he was seeing things. Player 002. That was your number. Maybe she just looked like you. The camera which was recording this game had done a close-up on a few players and it was enough to recognise you.

He wasn't going to let you stay here and play these games. This wasn't your place to be, this was meant for people who needed money urgently and had no other choice.

♡♡♡

The moment you saw your husband walk through the crowd, anger rose inside you. You wanted to hit him, kick him, throw all sorts of insults at him for lying to you.

Your eyes met, about thirty metres between you two. You were the first one to start walking towards him and he came to you half way.

"What the hell is going on, In-ho?!" you shouted, not caring how many people heard and how much of it.

"Y/N, please-"

"'Y/N please', just tell me what on earth you're doing here? What is this place? Is this your so called 'work trip', hm?"

Another man was near him, looking at the two of you, confused but not wanting to intervene what was going on.

"I didn't want to tell you because you'd only get worried and-"

"Worried? Worried?! You came to a place where you could be killed! You didn't tell me anything where you were going!"

"How are you here?"

"I tried to follow you."

"Follow me?"

"You were hiding something from me, for weeks you were acting so suspicious and i needed to know what was going on," you explained, standing so close to him that you could smell his breath and barely letting yourself to breathe between the words, you wanted to get everything out of you as fast as possible.

"I would have explained everything after i'd come back."

"Well sorry i didn't know that because you don't talk to me anymore." You stepped back and started pacing back and forth, fingers brushing through your hair. You took a few deep breaths to calm down before looking at him again. "But what if you hadn't come back anymore? What if you got killed? Would i ever know about that?"

He stepped closer to you again and wrapped his arms around you, even though you tried to resist at first.

"I'm sorry, Y/N, i truly am," he apologized with a sincere voice and then made you look at him again. "But like everyone else, i didn't know i was going to die and i really needed to get more money to pay off a few debts."

You looked at him for a moment until just stormed away and left him stand there alone.

♡♡♡

At night while lying on your bed, you were gently rubbing your bare stomach, as if trying to comfort your baby that everything was going to be okay. You were going to be okay. The baby's dad was going to be okay.

You would get back home, all three of you, and continue your life like before.

Who were you fooling? Nothing was the same anymore. In-ho had abandoned you for money, lied to you because of money, not giving you attention all because of more money.

Your baby was three months old by now and you could see the bump but it could still be hidden under your shirt and jacket well enough. You hadn't told In-ho yet, you should have told him weeks ago.

But he had put everything else before you in the past couple of months. You were also scared to tell him, especially now because you thought he would be mad at you for not telling him sooner that he was going to be a father. You had waited for a moment where he would notice you again and spare a moment of his busy day just for you, but that day had never seemed to come anymore.

Now thinking about it - he had no right to be mad at you for not telling him. Still, you were nervous, and being trapped in this place didn't help it at all.

It took you almost an hour, but eventually you fell asleep and it was one of the worst night's sleeps you'd had during the pregnancy.

♡♡♡

You were safe. In-ho had made sure that you stayed safe. He argued with the guards for an hour how it was possible to allow his own wife to get involved as a player but nobody knew any details. But somehow they had tricked the system in the first game that the doll ignored any movements you had made.

But what's done is done. He couldn't get you out of the game by just letting you leave while everyone else stayed. Majority of people wanted to stay here, according to the votes, they needed the money for their own good and didn't care about any casualties that didn't involve themselves.

You were mad at him and he understood why. But he couldn't tell you about the game and how all his time was spent to plan everything out. What if he had told you all about these games? Would you still love him or would it make you leave? You were his entire world, much more important than these games.

But he wasn't able to quit, not now, not yet. It would absolutely ruin him if you packed your bags and never wanted to see him again.

He would make sure that you will get out of here and back home, no matter what. And he'd have to tell you everything eventually, and that thought terrified him, seeing how angry you had been earlier.

♡♡♡

"You doing alright?" Gi-hun asked the next morning when you had woken up, taking careful steps towards you as if you were going to bite him if he approached you too fast.

"Yeah, fantastic."

"Listen, i don't want to meddle between you two because i don't know either of you well, but we'll have to work together to get through these games," Gi-hun explained. "The most important thing now is to survive and get through the games so we can get out of here as fast as possible."

He was right, of course there had to be one man to talk sense to the rest of the group.

"I know, i know," you sighed. "It's just been hard for me lately and he hasn't shown appreciation to me and we don't communicate anymore."

"In-ho seems like a good man," Gi-hun admitted. "And none of us told our friends or family members that we would be joining the games, it wasn't allowed to spread the information to outsiders. Please, don't blame him, not right now."

You slightly nodded. "You're right, thank you, Gi-hun."

"Let's go eat before the next game starts, okay?"

♡♡♡

After you had passed the second game, you were getting a little suspicious of him once again.

It was only a small thing which nobody else probably noticed, but why did he throw the toy with his right hand? He failed several times, but succeeded immediately when he threw it with his left hand. You had always known he was left-handed.

It was like he was wasting time on purpose to leave your victory to the last second and it pissed you off. However, you had passed the game so you decided to leave it be - for now.

You woke up at night and had to go to the bathroom.

"Please, i really need to go," the small girl from your group pleaded.

"Nobody is allowed to leave the area at this hour."

"I need go too, just let us through. We'll only take a few minutes," you said, tired to argue about getting to go to pee.

The guard looked at you through the glass for a short moment until opened the door without further questions.

"5 minutes."

You were surprised and Jun-hee looked at you in even more shock but hurried inside.

You came out of your stall after couple of minutes and was about to go wash your hands when you heard crying and sniffing from one of the other stalls.

"Hey," you said and knocked on the pink door. "Hey, you good?"

No answer, only quiet sobs.

Oh my god don't you dare to start giving birth right now, you started thinking inside your head. You were not going to start delivering a baby in the bathroom while guards with guns were telling you to hurry up.

"Hey, can you open the door?"

But the door wasn't locked, as you had thought, and it opened easily, showing the girl crying, her cheeks wet from the tears and eyes red. You kneeled down in front of her and held her hands in her lap.

"What's wrong? Are you in pain? Is it something to do with the baby?"

"I'm scared," she sniffed. "I want to go home."

Your heart broke just by looking at her.

"We'll get you home, i promise," you said. "We'll all go home and you'll be able to raise your child."

"You promise?" she asked, looking at you directly in the eyes.

"I promise. I'm pregnant too."

Jun-hee stopped crying for a moment and looked at you, shocked. "You are?" she gasped and looked towards your stomach. You nodded with a weak smile. "How far are you?"

"3 months."

"And the dad...?" she started. "Is it the man in our group? In-ho?" She wasn't sure if she remembered his name correctly.

"Yeah, he doesn't know yet," you said and felt ashamed.

"You should tell him. Soon. We don't know how much time we have left here," she encouraged.

"Stop it, we have all the time in the world."

But she was right, you had to tell him as soon as you could.

You got up and put your arms around Jun-hee, brushing her back with your hand to try to calm her down a little bit. It seemed to help after a little while.

"Time's up," a guard said behind the door.

"Just a second," you yelled and turned back to Jun-hee. "You good to go back?" She nodded and wiped the remaining tears from her face. "Come on, let's go. If you need anything, just come to me, okay?"

You were on your way back to your bed, when you saw In-ho walk away from his bunk. You were confused, since he wasn't going to the bathroom, it was a different door where the players never went and weren't allowed to.

You quietly walked towards the same door where your husband has sneaked into. A guard stood in front of you, stopping you.

"That area is forbidden from players at this time, go back to sleep," the guard instructed but you weren't having it.

"Funny, since a certain player just went in there," you said and put your hands on your hips. "Now tell me where he went or i'll cause a scene."

"Player 002, go back to your bed, you'll see him in the morning."

"I am not leaving anywhere before you take me to my husband."

"Please, player-"

"I said now."

You were standing right in front of the guard, mere inches between you two. Eventually, since there was no way you weren't going to give up and would cause a massive scene, he hesitantly opened the door and let you in.

The guard started walking upstairs and through several corridors you haven't been in before, you walking behind him and starting to internally freak out what was going on.

You ended up in front of a large door and the guard hesitated for a moment, until he glanced at you and knocked on the door.

When the door was opened, your beloved husband was standing there, looking at you with a terrified face.

"Y/N? What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Sir, i'm sorry but she insisted-"

In-ho grabbed your hand and pulled you into the room past the guard.

"Go back to your duties," In-ho commanded the guard.

"Yes, sir," was the only response the guard gave and then hurried to leave. In-ho closed the door.

Looking around the room, it looked like an office and it was only you and him in the room, nobody else. You crossed your arms against your chest.

"Now tell me exactly what the hell is going on. And no more lies or excuses - nothing. You're going to tell me the truth about everything or you can say goodbye to me."

"Okay, sweetheart, calm down. Just please let me explain."

And he did tell you everything. His involvement in the games, being a former winner, becoming a Frontman and everything he could think of.

Your face was horrified, you two had been together for the past 5 years, married 3 of those years and he had basically lived a double life and keeping everything a secret from you?

All those 'work trips' he had used as excuses over the years made now much more sense, all the pieces were connecting to each other and falling into their places.

"I understand if you hate me right now, despise me or however you feel about these games - i understand," he explained, letting out a deep sigh. He took your hand in his and looked at you directly in the eyes, his dark eyes mixed with several emotions all at once. "I was afraid to tell you because i feared you would leave me and stop loving me."

"I could never stop loving you, no matter what, In-ho," you said and put your hand on his cheek. "I said it in my wedding vows too, i'll always love you until the day i die. In good and in bad, yes?"

Of course you weren't fine with this. These games were brutal, almost barbaric. But you loved In-ho more than anything in the world and you were fighting with yourself how you could learn to be okay with this.

"I just... i just need time to think these things through," you said, then taking a deep breath and taking his hands in yours, just like he had done to you only a moment ago. "Now that we're talking openly, there's something i must tell you and should have told you a lot earlier."

"Yes?" he said, encouraging you to continue when you had fallen silent for a few seconds.

"I'm pregnant," you revealed, it was almost a whisper but he had heard you, loud and clear.

"You... You're what?" he gasped, looking at your stomach and then back to your eyes.

You brought his left hand on your stomach.

"We're going to have a baby, my love," you told him.

He looked like he was about to cry and pulled you into a tight hug. You knew he wanted to become a dad, had wanted for a long time but you hadn't been able to become pregnant before, no matter how much you tried.

He held your face in his hands, kissed you and then looked into your eyes.

"I'm going to be a dad," he whispered, as if it sounded too good to be true.

"And i'm going to be a mother," you said back. "To your baby."

You stayed there for a long time, until both of you were forced to go back to your beds.

♡♡♡

The Mingle game had started and you were all spinning on a huge carousel. In-ho was holding your hand, squeezing it hard.

When it was time to choose 4 people to find a room together, you and In-ho were separated. People were pushing and pulling each other and the time was running out.

Everything happened so fast.

The time ran out and In-ho had ended up in a room with three other players. And you? You were left outside, still on the carousel which was now stopped.

The pink guards shot the remaining players, pleading for help and to spare their life, but their cries were for nothing. You looked on your right and saw Jun-hee standing there too, looking at you with a terrified face.

One of the pink guards came in front of you, the black gun in his arms.

♡♡♡

The plan to get you out of there was simple. You were going to fake your death and In-ho was going to act all heart broken for the loss of both his wife and his unborn child. He would act like only a shell of a man who he had used to be. Anything to convince Gi-hun and others that his wife was dead and he blamed it all on himself.

You only had one requirement for doing this. One wish that In-ho had to make happen or you weren't going to cooperate anymore.

To let Kim Jun-hee go home with you. Let her go as well and raise her child in safety. You knew she wouldn't otherwise survive to the end and you wouldn't be able to live with yourself if you left and she stayed.

You also made In-ho promise that she'd get her share of money and wouldn't leave this place empty handed. In-ho had gotten protective over Jun-hee during the short time she had been here, so even though he was reluctant to let any player out of here without all of them leaving, he allowed Jun-hee to go with you.

They would need to keep an eye on her for some time, to make sure that she wasn't going to do anything funny regarding to the games but you trusted her.

Before you left that night, In-ho came to see you one more time before he'd eventually come home too the next week.

"I love you," In-ho said, holding you tightly in his arms. He took your face into his hands and pulled you into a passionate kiss, kissing you like he was going to a year long war, but it was only going to be a few days anymore, under a week.

"I love you too," you said, couple of tears running down your cheeks.

Now, you and the girl were free to go. The guards escorted you out of there and you were taken back home. They didn't gas you or Jun-hee, in case the gas would harm the babies, but they did blindfold both of you, just in case you wanted to do something stupid and reveal the location to others - which you certainly weren't going to do.

The fact that so many other people stayed there to try and stay alive just to win money made you feel bad. But they were allowed to quit if they really wanted to. The game would be possible to end if the majority wanted it but they decided to stay.

You had to focus on your baby and prepare a good life for him or her, give them a nice and healthy life with you and their father who promised to quit the games after these were over.

He wouldn't take the job as the Frontman ever again, he had to move on and raise his child with the woman he loved the most in the world - you

#hwang in ho #hwang in ho imagine #in ho x reader #in ho imagine #squid game x reader #squid game imagine #in ho x you #hwang in ho x reader

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maxx-the-queer · 2 months ago

Text

The Siege at Weisshaupt is honestly one of the best missions of any Dragon Age game, let alone Veilguard.

The stakes are already high: kill an Archdemon and then kill Ghilan'nain.

Killing an Archdemon - the big bad at the end of Origins whose very presence means apocalypse and certain sacrifice - is just the first step to killing an even greater force.

Ghilan'nain - an Ancient Elven Goddess blighted beyond recognition, whose unchecked ambition unleashed great horrors upon the world - is the real threat to face or else the Darkspawn Army will be the least of Thedas' worries.

The leader of the Grey Wardens, the only mortal force who have thus far been able to protect Thedas from utter annihilation, categorically refuses to face reality. Rook only has a ragtag team of half a dozen guys from all over to face an entire Darkspawn army with.

It's exactly as terrifying and daunting as it sounds, and neither task is something anyone treats with any amount of levity. Everyone is confident in their abilities to perform their task and get Lucanis to the right place to finish this contract, but there's no playfulness or divine certainty about their success.

Rook, whose only game plan is "get in and win by any means necessary," is then immediately confronted with the reality of their situation as absolutely everything goes wrong.

The Eluvian isn't where they thought it would be, the Grey Wardens are overwhelmed by Ghilan'nain's forces, and just to add to the sheer horror - there's a young child running through this battlefield of Darkspawn in search of her father and she will not listen to your pleas for her to get to safety.

All of that happens in the first ten minutes of the mission, mind you. This isn't even including the fact that Ghilan'nain appears as a damn spectral cloud face - which Lucanis rightfully points out is who he has to kill and "how am I supposed to kill a damn cloud?!"

Rook runs through the fortress, makes it to the East Battlements and hears the sounding of a horn begging for reinforcements, only to realise that they're the only ones coming and everything is falling apart, but they have no choice but to keep going.

Retreats are called, everywhere Rook goes is the wrong way, the forces are overwhelming beyond measure, and this battle is no longer about killing but surviving, because they're cornered like prey by horrors beyond comprehension.

When all of a sudden, the world's bravest little girl rushes in like a hero and guides them through impossible odds to somewhere with some semblance of safety. She's the only reason they haven't succumbed to death already and despite the waves upon waves of Hurlocks, Spikers, and Ogres - she finds her father.

Thanks to Mila, there's a moment of reprieve. Rook gets a chance to breathe. The Veilguard regroups, replans their approach. Distract Ghilan'nain with the dagger, trap her Archdemon in a dragon trap, and kill it to render her mortal. With time to breathe comes time to doubt, to fear.

A Warden has to die to kill the Archdemon. Davrin knows this, and is ready to go. But is Rook? What if they can't do this? What if this is how they die? Can they even spare the time to think about it?

Regardless, they fight through to the dragon trap. The Archdemon approaches as Rook all but dangles the dagger within reach. She takes the bait and sends her Archdemon forth, it seems all too easy - like putting cheese out for the mice.

The Archdemon is trapped. Davrin says his goodbyes, but the First Warden surges forward insistently. He plans to end this according to tradition. He'll die with dignity, he's not asking for your permission to do what all wardens must. He steps forward. Sword in hand, ready to end the Blight.

Ghilan'nain will not be so easily beat. She will not play by the rules they're used to, and the First Warden does not get to die a hero. She seizes him in her grasp, sucks the life out of him to empower Razikale, and changes the game once more. Her Archdemon is unlike any seen in history, and there's no time to revel in it because it's do or die and Rook cannot afford to die yet.

Every blow brings it closer to death, and therefore Ghilan'nain herself as she becomes more and more desperate. One snakelike head becomes two, becomes three, with blight everywhere - the time is at hand.

Davrin is the only one left who can kill the Archdemon, his death is inevitable, and he's ready to go as he sinks his sword in for the final blow.

Except, if there's one thing this seige should have taught them all, it was this: the rules have changed. Davrin is still standing, and he doesn't have time to think about why, because Ghilan'nain is mortal and the time to strike is now.

Rook tosses the Lyrium Dagger to Lucanis. He surges up, wings of Spite propelling him up to kill a goddess like she's any other target, because it's all that he came here to do.

And then, he misses.

With everything at stake, and everything to lose... Lucanis Dellamorte misses.

They don't have time to try again. If they stay, everyone dies. And so, the Veilguard flees through the Eluvian and back into the Lighthouse. It was a victory, but at what cost?

Nothing is how it's supposed to be. Weisshaupt is fallen. The Wardens are scattered. Razikale is dead, Ghilan'nain is mortal. And yet...

It wasn't enough.

#dragon age the veilguard #dragon age #bioware #dragon age the veilguard spoilers #veilguard #da4 #lucanis dragon age #davrin dragon age #Weisshaupt genuinely is amazing and I cannot express enough how much of a gem this mission is #it is beautifully devastating to have a win that categorically feels like a loss in the grand scheme of things #I have many critiques about Veilguard but Weisshaupt is not one of them

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opashoo · 9 months ago

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So I am not a painter and color/value is actually one of the biggest things I struggle with, but I've been doing 15-minute painting studies of clouds before finally moving onto more solid subjects. I've been watching videos of other artists' processes and listening to their advice, and I gotta say I'm really happy with how much I'm learning.

These are posted in chronological order with about a week and a half between the first apple and the can, which I did just today. The first apple is kind of embarrassing to post but it was an important step to realizing that I just need to worry less and things will work out.

Some of the thoughts I was mulling over while I painted today

Something that I heard today from a HeavyPaint process video is that the artist didn't concern themselves with picking accurate colors, but rather colors that were interesting to them. The important thing was to maintain the color relations. It makes sense because the color relations (and by extension value relations) are what convey the edges and form of the subject.

It reminds me of what I heard yesterday, that "Art isn't about drawing what you see, but what you want your audience to see." Originally I was very concerned with capturing the colors and values as closely as possible and hoping that by doing that, I could convey the edges and forms. This time, by focusing less on that and more on making sure the colors *relationships* are maintained between the colors I *am* using, I was able to effectively convey all the planes and shapes, which are the actual important thing to me.

#my studies #still-life #pashdraw

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atlabeth · 2 months ago

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(please) spare me indignity

masterlist

pairing: spencer reid x fem gideon!reader

summary: you and spencer spend more time together. it's bad, then it's good, then it's something else altogether.

a/n: continuing the gideon!reader series! a whole lot of this is arguing because they love each other fr. sorry this took so long, for some reason i had a really hard time finding my footing here but i hope you enjoy!! reader is a victim of the sassy man apocalypse bc this may be s1/2 spencer but he is not going to not be standing up for himself!! have this new banner that i made to try and help with my inspiration. title is from nothing new by rio romero

wc: 5k

warning(s): r and spence argue some more. angst, hurt w/o comfort, then hurt with comfort! idk theyre kinda sweet

You and Spencer spend the next six and a half hours watching movies.

You make it through Goodfellas and you only tell him to be quiet twelve times. You take a break to get water and make popcorn, which was so generously provided in your grocery supply, and while you’re doing it, Spencer insists on picking the next one. You end up watching Psycho, and you don’t think he lets a single scene go by without explaining the meaning behind it.

You choose Notting Hill after, and he knows just as much. He picks Halloween—it doesn’t really help your stalker anxieties, and Spencer apologizes profusely when you bring it up, but you still end up finishing it. Next you go for Pointe Grosse Blank, then Spencer picks Kolya, a Russian film that he specifically put into the box.

There are subtitles, but he spends half the time translating for you anyway—apparently there are nuances to the script that an English translation doesn’t get compared to the original Russian, and that would be a tragedy.

He’s in the middle of his third rant going on seven minutes when you finally break.

“Okay,” you say as you reach for the remote, “I can’t do this anymore.”

You do a double take when your hand meets another instead of hard plastic, and you see Spencer beat you to it. You pull your hand away as soon as possible, feeling your face heat from annoyance.

“What are you doing?”

“What are you doing?” he echoes. “The movie’s not over yet.”

“I can’t take any more of your rambling,” you say. “I’m cutting you off.”

He frowns. “We have to finish the movie first.”

“What are you, a broken record?”

“I couldn’t be a broken record because I said two different things,” he protests. “Besides, what else are you going to do?”

“Unpack my things? Read a book? Sit in silence staring at the wall in my room?” You shrug as you stand up and walk over to the kitchen. “I’ve got a lot of options.”

“Gideon told me not to let you out of my sight,” Spencer says, standing up as well.

“You can see me pretty well from there,” you say. “You don’t have to invade every bit of my privacy.”

“I— I kind of do,” he says. “The whole point of a safe house is to keep you safe. If you’re off doing your own thing, it’s not really safe.”

“It’s not like I’m leaving!” You throw up your hands in exasperation. “What, are you going to sleep with me too? Make sure I don’t go anywhere in the middle of the night?”

It’s almost funny how fast his face flushes bright red. You’ve got a feeling he doesn’t have a lot of experience with this sort of thing.

“That’s what I thought,” you say. “Keep watching your movie if you want. Just leave me alone.”

You feel his eyes on your back as you storm off to your room. The childish part of you wants to slam the door, but you decide to throw Spencer the smallest bone and leave it open.

It’s not his fault that you hate him, and that just makes you hate him even more. He gets to come out of this the bigger person, a saint for putting up with your various deficiencies while keeping you safe from a stalker. You’re just the difficult, ungrateful, estranged bastard daughter of the most deified man in the Behavioral Analysis Unit who can’t set her personal grudges aside for her own good.

You shove your duffel bag into the bed with a little too much force. You unzip it, deciding to try and occupy yourself with unpacking. You’re here for the indefinite future, so you might as well make yourself at home.

You can’t help the dry laugh that comes at the thought. You don’t know if you’ve ever felt at home anywhere.

This might be the worst thing about this whole situation. You’ve got a stalker out there, and it’s making you do all this bullshit introspection against your will. It’s got you thinking about your dad and your relationship with him, and thinking about Spencer Reid and how he’s replaced you in your father’s life without even really knowing about it because he didn’t know about you until he walked into your dad’s office a month ago.

Ten minutes pass in a blur before you’re knocked out of it by a rapping on your door. You turn to see Spencer standing in the doorway, expression unreadable.

“What?” you ask.

“You’ve been quiet,” he says. “I’m just checking in.”

“I’m still alive,” you say. “Nothing exciting happened in the five seconds I was gone.”

“It was ten minutes and thirty two seconds, actually,” he says. “But— but good.”

Again, more silence passes between you. You look up at him from your pile of clothes after thirty seconds.

“Are you just going to stand there?”

“I— I don’t know what else to do,” he stammers.

“Didn’t you say you did something like this before?” you ask. “Guarded some girl from her stalker?”

Spencer nods. “She was a lot easier to get along with.”

You roll your eyes. “Somebody out there wants to kill me to get back at my dad. Sorry that I’m not the pinnacle of happiness.” You make a point to avoid his gaze. “But what I’m trying to say is that you’ve done this all before. You should have some kind of idea of what to do besides bothering me.”

“How am I bothering you?” Spencer asks in exasperation. “I’ve said three sentences to you!”

“Everything you do bothers me, boy genius,” you say. “I thought you would have figured that out by now.”

“I—” He looks like he wants to say more, but instead he just clamps his mouth shut and shakes his head before he walks away.

You stare down at your pile of clothes, largely unfolded and scattered around the bed. The silence doesn’t give you the satisfaction you thought it would.

It only lasts for all of thirty seconds though, and you don’t have time to linger in the discomfort—you hear footsteps, heavier ones this time, and you look up to see Spencer round the corner once again.

“What is your problem with me?” he blurts out.

You frown. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Spencer nods. “You hate your dad, fine— but he’s not here for you to fight with, so you’re taking it out on me. It’s classic displacement, and you don’t get to take it out on me.”

“Why not?” you ask.

“Because it— it’s not fair!” he sputters. “I didn’t do anything to you— I didn’t even know you existed until a month ago!”

“Well, gosh, boy genius,” you say, “I’m sure you’re smart enough to figure it out yourself.”

“Stop calling me boy genius!” he exclaims. “We’re the same age!”

“Then stop acting like one,” you retort. “I know you’ve got a psychology degree, but you don’t need to use them on me whenever you can.”

He frowns, his mouth opening for a second before he closes it.

“Were you going to ask how I knew that before you realized the obvious answer?” you ask.

“No,” he says.

“Yes, you were.” You continue folding your clothes. “You went to Caltech, MIT, and Yale, even though it was your safety school. You’ve got three PhDs, two BAs, and you’re working on a philosophy degree, but you’re not done with it yet.” You shrug. “A little difficult to make it to classes with all the FBI stuff.”

“…Does he really talk about me that much?” Spencer’s voice is quieter than it was before.

“Oh, yeah,” you say. You set a finished pair of jeans to the side then look at him. “I graduated from college too. Granted, it was a couple years ago, not when I was 17, but I think it still warrants a little support.”

“You went to George Mason,” Spencer says.

Your movements stutter. You weren’t expecting him to actually know.

“Yeah,” you say. Your heart skips a beat. “How do you know?”

Has he talked about you to the team before? Sure, they didn’t know you existed before you showed up out of the blue, but maybe he showed them a picture after it happened. Your mom carries one of you in your cap and gown in her wallet—maybe he got a hold of one and Spencer caught a glimpse of that. Maybe you just missed it and he does have a picture of you on his desk. Maybe—

“You have a sweatshirt for it,” he says with a gesture. You look where his finger is pointing, and sure enough, your GMU sweatshirt is tangled up with a couple of other crewnecks.

“…Of course,” you say. You don’t know why you even dared to hope. “Because it’s more likely that you’d notice something like that than it is for my dad to talk about me.”

Spencer says your name, and you hate the sympathy in it.

“No.” You cut him off before he can get any further. “Don’t try to defend him. You know,” you huff a cold, humorless laugh, “he missed my graduation, too. Two separate dates for commencement and my actual school’s ceremony, one 45 minute car ride, and he couldn’t make it to either one.”

“You don’t know how busy we are,” Spencer tries again. “We work weekends and holidays and around the clock— sometimes we get called in at 3am to stay in some random town for weeks at a time, and there’s nothing we can do about it! I— I mean, we’ve had three days off in the past 47 days and—”

“That’s why I have a problem with you!” you cry out, throwing the shirt in your hand onto your bed as you turn to face him. “Because I’m twenty-four years old, and I’ve lived an hour away from my dad for the past six years, but his team that he spends all his time with didn’t even know I existed until I showed up at your office.” You take a step forward, anger resurging inside of you. “Because I threw away a chance at an Ivy to get to see him more, just to deal with the same bullshit as usual. Because I worry about him dying every single day he’s in the field, and he can’t even give me a phone call at the end of it all—” another step forward— “and even in the middle of this shitshow, you think you have a right to defend him— to- to tell me how to feel about him!”

You move even closer, close enough to see his wrinkled button-up is partially untucked, his lips are slightly parted, and his stupid doe eyes—that haven’t left yours—with his stupid dilated pupils, and you jab your finger in his chest.

“Because all I ever wanted is my father’s affection,” your voice breaks, and you hate the way it makes you feel, “and he’d rather build an entirely new life with an entirely new kid than give it to me.”

You push your way past him, making sure to shoulder-check him on your way out. You don’t look back as you forge your way to the bathroom (that you unfortunately have to share), even though his gaze burns into your back.

You close and lock the door. It’s childish, you know, but you need to be alone right now. You can’t stand to be around him.

Spencer just— he irritates you in a way that no one else ever has. He’s your age and more accomplished than you could ever dream to be, with almost six times the degrees and a much better job, and probably a family that loves him. Who wouldn’t love him with everything he’s done?

You, apparently.

You plant your hands on the countertop as you stare into the mirror. Your usual dark circles have become more pronounced over the past month, and you can’t help a wry laugh at the thought. All that trouble sleeping and it was for the wrong damn reason.

If you knew someone was watching you, you would have moved out of Virginia months ago. But maybe this bastard would have found you anyway. If Spencer’s profiling is right and he’s going after you because of your dad, you don’t think much could really dissuade him.

Tears pool at your waterline, and you wipe them away with a rough hand before they can manifest into something more. You slump back against the opposing wall as you continue to stare at yourself.

You’re pathetic and you can’t even find it in yourself to care.

You hear the sound of footsteps once more and you wrap your arms around your midsection. This chill won’t go away.

“…Are you still alive?” a hesitant voice calls.

You bite back a remark. “I’m fine.”

“You’re sure?”

“No.” You don’t know what makes you answer honestly.

A beat of silence passes. You really do feel like a kid. You’re talking to him through the door because you just yelled at him and Spencer is still being the bigger person.

“Can I help at all?”

This answer comes a little quicker. “No.”

Again, more silence.

“Okay.” Spencer pauses, and the footsteps start again. His voice is a little closer the next time he speaks. “Just… let me know when you’re turning in. So I know you’re still alive.”

You huff. He can’t even stick to his guns and hate you like you hate him for ten minutes. “I don’t think I’ll be dying anytime soon.”

“You never know,” he says. “Spontaneous human combustion might not be proven beyond pseudoscientific concepts, but there’s a first time for everything.”

The laugh that comes out of you is unexpected, both in its lightness and occurrence at all. “Keep an ear out for the smoke alarm, then.”

“If you smell anything burning, stop, drop and roll,” he says. “Make sure you don’t run. All it’ll do is add to the oxygen and feed the fire.”

“Okay,” you say. “…I still don’t like you.”

You swear you can hear the smile in his words. “I know.”

You wake up when the smoke alarm goes off.

It’s a very rude awakening. It jolts you out of your very uneasy sleep to unfamiliar surroundings—in your disoriented state, you almost forget where you are.

Right. You’re in a safe house in the middle of nowhere because someone is stalking you. How could you possibly forget?

You stumble out of bed, rubbing your eyes to try and assuage some of your exhaustion as you leave your room.

“Is the place on fire?” you ask through a yawn.

“No!” Spencer exclaims, sounding more panicked than usual. That straightens your back and speeds your pace. “No, everything’s fine—”

You smell smoke, and as you come around the corner, you see him waving his hands overtop the toaster trying to dispel said smoke. You can’t help but laugh, and you actually smile when he gives you the most helpless look.

“I’m so good at so many other things.”

“What are you trying to do?” you ask wryly. “Burn this house down to try and get a better one?”

“This wouldn’t have started a fire,” Spencer says. “Toaster fires usually spread because they’re below wooden cupboards, which catch easily and spread everywhere else.” He gestures at the toaster, which he has plugged in to an outlet on the side of the island. “No cupboards, no house fire.”

“You started this because you were making toast?” you ask.

He flushes. “I’m used to the toaster I have at home. I have the settings worked out perfectly there. This one is all wrong.”

You sigh and shake your head. “Just… hit the reset button, and open the door. It’ll be fine.”

“I can’t open the door,” he says. “It goes against the safety thing.”

“Then open a window.”

“Making it easier to get in here in any way goes against the safety thing,” he says.

“So we have to just deal with the smoke?” you ask in exasperation.

Spencer hits the vent button on the microwave, and the fan whirs into action. “No?”

You shake your head in disbelief as he then reaches up to hit the button on the smoke alarm. His t-shirt lifts with the movement—your eyes drift to the bare strip of skin, and you immediately look away when you realize.

“Where’s the coffee in here?” you ask, clearing your throat as you start sifting through drawers. “I’ll be even worse to deal with if I don’t have caffeine.”

“I already brewed a fresh pot,” Spencer says, gesturing with his head. “Half and half is in the fridge, and sugar is in the cabinet.”

“Oh,” you say. You stop what you’re doing, your hands lingering above the drawer handle. “You didn’t have to do that.”

You see him shrug out of your peripherals. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Because I was a total asshole to you last night, you want to say. Because I’ve been awful to you since I met you and you refuse to fight back and give me a better reason to hate you.

“Because you didn’t need to,” you finally say. Good one.

“I did. So you’re going to have to deal with it.” Spencer takes the burnt toast out and throws them in the trash can, talking while he does it. “You know, it’s actually a rumor that burnt toast contains carcinogens and can increase the chance of cancer. Acrylamide forms when you burn food, but researchers haven’t found a link between starchy foods with high amounts of acrylamide and cancer.”

You hum in some form of acknowledgement as you take a mug out of the cabinet and fill it from the pot. You take a sip and grimace—it’s not the best, but it’s caffeinated. After three years of shitty gas station coffee throughout college, you can deal with it.

“How did you sleep?” Spencer asks.

“Fine,” you say.

He frowns. “Really?”

“Yes,” you say, a little rougher. “The dark circles come with the model.”

“There are a lot of causes other than sleep deprivation,” Spencer says. “Contact dermatitis, hyperpigmentation, dehydration, alcoholism, stress—”

“Got plenty of that,” you interrupt.

“Even genetics can play a part in it,” he says.

You huff. “I think this is one thing I can’t blame my dad for. I haven’t slept since the nineties.”

“Well, you should try,” Spencer says. “The blood vessels around your eyes don’t constrict like they should when you’re sleep deprived, which means your blood vessels dilate, which increases blood in the area, and that gives you dark circles.”

“Wow,” you say wryly. “I really look that bad with them?”

“I— that—” Spencer’s face flushes red as he stutters, and you hide the slightest smile with your mug— “that’s not what I mean! I’m just trying to give advice to help—”

“I know.” You set your mug back down, not able to fully bite back your amusement. “I was joking, Spencer.”

“Oh,” he says. “That’s… new.”

“Am I not allowed to joke?”

“It just doesn’t seem like you,” Spencer says. “Especially after last night.”

“I’m too tired to fight with you right now,” you sigh. “Enjoy your break.”

He clears his throat as he takes two fresh pieces of bread out, then looks at your mug. “You drink it black?”

“It’s not coffee if you don’t,” you say. “It— it’s a sugary mess.”

“It is not!” he exclaims. “It still has the same amount of caffeine, and it’s still coffee—”

“No it isn’t!” you laugh, and you nod at his mug. “How much sugar did you put in there?”

“A couple spoonfuls but—”

“Spoonfuls?”

“But it’s how I like it!” Spencer defends.

“Don’t you have some facts about how harmful excessive sugar consumption is?” you ask.

“Of course I do,” he says. “I also have some about the benefits of black coffee, but I’m not going to tell you now.”

“Wow,” you say. “I’m so hurt.”

He shakes his head as he slots two more pieces of bread into the toaster. “And to think, I was trying to make breakfast for you.”

Again, that gives you pause. Why does he keep trying to do nice things for you?”

“Don’t bother.” You pick up your mug and go into the living room. “I don’t really eat breakfast anyways.”

“That’s not healthy,” he calls after you.

“Most things I do aren’t,” you respond. “What’s on the agenda today?”

“Skipping breakfast puts you at a higher chance of heart disease,” he says.

“Then I guess we won’t have to worry about the spontaneous combustion, will we?” You look back at him. “What’s on the agenda?”

Spencer sighs. He’s given up momentarily, it seems. “Gideon’s going to call me in thirty-two minutes for an update. The whole team has been focusing solely on your case.”

You perk up. The coffee warms your hands through the mug but it doesn’t fully assuage the chill down your spine.

“Do they have any leads?”

“I don’t know,” Spencer says. “Gideon hasn’t called me yet.”

You roll your eyes. “Do you think they have any leads?”

“Maybe.” The toaster pops and he pulls the bread out, then starts buttering it—or trying to. His brow knots in annoyance at the stick of butter, still hard, and he pushes his glasses up with his free hand. You have to look away. “Like I said, Gideon helped start the BAU. He’s solved more cases than anyone else, and,” you feel his eyes on you, “it’s personal this time. He’s probably working around the clock.”

“Just have to hope they get somewhere,” you murmur. Your coffee tastes even more bitter than usual, but you drink it anyway.

“They will,” Spencer says. “I promise.”

“Y’know, people keep making promises they can’t keep,” you say. “I’m getting real tired of it.”

“Well, I’m not leaving your side until they do,” he says. “And I’m going to keep you safe. So consider that promise kept.”

“Great,” you say. “I’m stuck with you until I die or this is solved.”

“You’re not going to die.”

“You don’t have to take everything I say so seriously.”

“Then don’t say everything so seriously.”

You huff a laugh and shake your head. Spencer comes over with his plate of messily buttered toast—not very easy with fully solid sticks of butter—and sits down across from you. He holds the plate out.

“Want one?”

“I told you, I don’t eat breakfast.”

“You should.”

“Because one piece of toast will make so much of a difference,” you mock.

“It will,” he says. “Maybe it’ll even make you happier.”

You roll your eyes and drink more of your coffee. “Are you going to bother me all day like this?”

Spencer took a bite of toast then shrugged. “If you’re this blase about everything relating to your health, then yes.”

You groan as you stand up. “It’s too early to deal with you. See you in a few hours.”

“And good morning to you too,” Spencer says wryly. You make a parting gesture with your hand in response.

It’s been a day and a half, and not only have you argued with him twice, but he still refuses to give you anything to work with, still insists on trying to be there for you. It’s as infuriating as it is gratingly admirable. Anyone else probably would have tried to kill you by now.

Well, you’ve already got a stalker trying to do that.

You sigh and down half your coffee. You’ve got a long day ahead of you.

Spencer doesn’t know why you not liking him bothers him so much.

It’s illogical, but it makes sense for you. Your dad spends more time with him than he does with you, and you’re projecting your hatred for Gideon onto Spencer. Whatever.

But it’s not just whatever, and that irks him.

This is an assignment, simple as that. Gideon trusted him enough to put you under his protection, even if it’s for your mental health more so than your physical. It should be a point of pride, being chosen for something like this by someone like Gideon.

Spencer presses his fingers against his temple. You’re a lot, there’s no way around it. But you also claim to hate him, and he knows that’s not true.

Yes, you argue with him. Yes, you’re short with him. Yes, he lost his temper momentarily because not even Spencer is capable of endless grace.

But he also sees your moments of lightness throughout it all. Your brief smiles, the quips that lean towards jokes more than insults—and he notices your eyes, and the brightness that breaks through on occasion.

He always notices your eyes.

Spencer’s phone rings in his pocket, jolting him out of whatever reverie he found himself in. He pulls it out and flips it open, then presses it to his ear. “Gideon?”

“Reid,” he greets. “How are you doing?”

“Fine,” he says. “You’re calling twenty-four minutes early.”

“We just finished a briefing,” Gideon says. “I wanted to get word to you as soon as possible.”

Spencer sits up. “What is it?”

“Morgan, Hotch, and Garcia have been working together to comb through my past cases and see what they’re up to now. They finally found a potential unsub,” he says. “Someone I put away a decade ago was released last year, and recent records indicate he’s back in the area.”

“Who is it?” he asks.

“Adam Hernandez. Also known as—”

“The Stafford Strangler,” Spencer finishes. “He killed three people in two weeks in the 90s—classic spree killer. You caught him with David Rossi’s help.”

“Released on good behavior, despite the victims’ families campaigning against it,” Gideon says. “You know it?”

“Obviously,” he says. “I’ve read all of your old case files.”

Gideon chuckles, and he can almost imagine him shaking his head. “Of course you have.”

“Do you think Hernandez is your guy?” Spencer asks.

“I’m not sure yet,” Gideon says. “We applied for a warrant—as soon as we get it, Morgan and Elle are heading his way to ask a few questions.”

“You think he’d do something like this?” Spencer shifts his position as he frowns. “Hernandez got fired, lost his house, then went off the deep end. He killed because he didn’t see any other solution. The guy going after your daughter is a lot more emotional about all this, and—” his throat feels dry all of a sudden— “and it’s like he’s got some kind of attraction to her.”

“You don’t need to remind me,” Gideon says roughly. “We’re going for leads where we can, and we’re still working every other angle. It doesn’t end with Hernandez.”

“...Good,” Spencer says. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help from here.”

“You’re already doing everything I need you to do.” Gideon pauses, and he hears the creak of the chair in his office as he adjusts how he’s sitting. “How is my daughter doing?”

“I don’t know,” he answers honestly. “Her mood changes with the wind. One second she’s trying to start a fight with me, the next she’s trying to joke around with me. It— it’s a lot, I won’t lie.”

“But how is she handling all of this?” he asks. “Staying in the safe house, dealing with a stalker, feeling like a sitting duck.”

“Very cynically,” Spencer says. “She keeps talking about dying or getting killed.”

Gideon sighs. “That sounds like her.”

“She’s… she’s mad at you, mostly.” Spencer picks at a hangnail, ignoring the sharp, temporary pain. “Every time I bring you up, it lights a fuse. You’re the one thing she hates to talk about.”

There’s nothing but silence on the other end.

“Gideon?” he asks. “Did I lose—”

“I’m here,” he interrupts. “Just… thinking.”

“It’s not your fault,” Spencer says. “She’s—”

“It is my fault,” Gideon interrupts again. “Has she told you much about her younger life?”

“...Some,” Spencer says.

“Like?”

Spencer doesn’t really know what to say. He doesn’t want to just tell Gideon that you’ve told him he’s been an awful dad. That it’s really all you’ve told him.

“You can say it, Reid,” Gideon says. “I won’t get mad.”

“...She says you’ve missed out on her whole life,” Spencer finally says, notably quieter. “Her high school graduation, her college graduation— most of the stuff that happened in college, actually.”

Gideon lets out a rough sigh. “I’ll always regret it.”

“So it’s true?” Spencer asks. He’s surprised at the sharpness of his voice.

“I don’t get to control when cases come in,” he says.

“We’re a whole team of qualified agents,” Spencer says. “We— we always have been. Especially when you and Rossi were together. It was like the golden age of profilers.”

“Spencer—”

“You made it to my graduation!” he interrupts. “You were there for my chemistry PhD, and you said you would be there when I get my philosophy degree, but you couldn’t make it for your only child’s high school and college graduations?”

“I already told you I regret it,” Gideon says. His voice is as calm as ever, and for some reason, that irks Spencer even more. “What more can I say? It’s in the past now. I can’t change what I did.”

Spencer stares at the wall. He doesn’t know why this is such a damning thing to him.

His own dad has missed all of his graduations. He’s missed almost every part of his life. But his dad walked out—he wanted nothing to do with Spencer or his mom.

Your dad is right here. Gideon is still around, working every day to save lives and change the world and take down monsters—but he’s still not there for you.

He’s so close and yet he always steps out of your reach.

“Spencer.” Gideon’s voice is tinny through the speaker, and he presses his phone back against his ear.

“Call me back the second you get another lead,” Spencer mutters.

He hangs up without another word.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #gideon!reader #spencer reid angst #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds angst #x reader #sadie writes #and yes. reader heard spencer's whole side of the convo<3

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underwhelmingalchemist · 11 months ago

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So apparently the version of the "Isn't It Bromantic" interview that gets passed around isn't the full thing

So after seeing a tumblr post I can't find, about two and half hours of intensive internet digging, and one purchase from a sketchy second-hand site later (full story under the cut, I promise it's interesting, but also long), I got the physical magazine and scanned it

So here you go: the full "Isn't It Bromantic?" TV guide interview with Robert Sean Leonard and Hugh Laurie

Feel free to repost wherever you want- I want people to be able to find the full thing

SO, as for how I found it:

I saw this tumblr post forever ago that I can't find anymore because tumblr is just Like That with a cropped screenshot of an interview with Hugh Laurie and Robert Sean Leonard. In the interview, they're asked about the "bromance" between their two characters. Leonard makes an annoyed comment about how "everyone [is] obsessed with homosexuality", followed by the interview apologizing and Laurie immediately jumping in with, "No, no, let's talk about it. Wilson and House have an unusual relationship so you have to explore…" and the screenshot cuts off there. Cue funny comment from the OP about the interaction, roll credits.

Except, as these things tend to do, it ended up becoming a bit of a brain worm, and I wanted to find it again. But I couldn't find the tumblr post. I looked absolutely everywhere, and in the process of looking everywhere, I found what I thought was the original interview- a blog post with the full quote from the actor. I didn't think too much about it, I figured it was just a short quote given to a popular blog in 2008. There's a magazine cover above it, but I don't think too much about it, because I'm focusing on the quotes in the article instead of the rest of it.

So I send screenshots to a couple friends to make jokes, and it probably should have died there.

However, late at night I end up thinking about that interview again, because of course I did. I start to think about how it's weirdly formatted for, what I assumed at first reading, was just an entertainment news blog reaching out for comment and getting a response. So I pull up the screenshots of the article (because weirdly enough, the old-ass blog only loads on mobile) and look at it again.

This is when I realize that this isn't an original piece from a blog interviewing these two after reaching out for comment. This is a blog post quoting and commenting on a full interview from a magazine, which I had originally thought had just been the inspiration for the piece.

So naturally, I go looking for the magazine.

Luckily, the name of the magazine is displayed on the cover, and so is the title of its main piece. This should be easy to find, right?

Wrong.

This is an interview in a physical magazine. From 2008. October 13th, 2008, to be exact.

I know this exact date because searching the article title and magazine name leads me to an archive on the TV Guide website.

Of covers.

And nothing but covers.

I spend like forty-five minutes searching everywhere I can think of on the web. Internet Archive, the TV Guide website, any search result that comes up when I search any combination of the words "House" "Interview" "Bromantic" "Bromance" "TV Guide" "Archive" etc. Over and over, all that's coming up are that original blog post and the cover from the official gallery.

The only things I could find online were:

The cover and date of the issue on the TV Guide website

The original blog post that was screenshotted in the original tumblr post

Another blog post that had a much shorter version of the quote, references something Leonard says from later in the article, and makes a comment on the nature of his reaction to the term "bromance"

An entry on Leonard's IMDB page's "interview" list mentioning it in title only

And:

5. A single listing for the issue on what seemed to be a second-hand site that looked like it hadn't had its UI updated since the mid 2000's, with a listing with no date or additional information besides what issue it is.

This is the only listing anywhere. I checked every other second-hand site I could think of, and then some that only came up through google searches. There's not a single listing for that issue on any of them. There were plenty of listings of TV guide magazines, including one that seemed promising because it included issues from that year, but it was missing all of October.

It seemed like the only listing for this issue on the entire internet was this one copy on this one obscure website. For all I know, this was listed in 2008 and abandoned, and just never got marked inactive. It could also be a complete scam.

A few quick google searches show that that website seemed to be legit, albeit a bit loose on quality control (which makes sense, this website seemed like the kind of thing you'd have to use the Way Back Machine to access). It also had an option to pay via PayPal, which meant I could file a chargeback if need be.

It was $11.50 when you include shipping.

So at about half past midnight, I bought the listing.

Naturally, about an hour later, I manage to actually find a scan of the interview. I had to follow a link in the comments of a post on FanPop, taking me to an old wordpress blog, and I'm sitting in front of the damn interview at last.

But something doesn't make sense. Why would their cover story only be two pages of text that aren't even full pages, and why would it cut off so strangely? There was no concluding sentence or paragraph, even though it started with a fairly long lead-in. It also led right up to the edge of the page, which felt like there should be more to it. There were more images in the interview than text, and the fact that there are so many of them and they clearly did a whole photoshoot indicated that they had them on hand for a while. The silly string one, for instance, I imagine probably had to require a couple takes, which means cleaning off Wilson's hair and face, adjusting makeup, etc. for it. Meanwhile, the conversation itself seems like it could have taken ten minutes total. I could have been totally wrong and that was where the article ended, but I couldn't shake the feeling that there might be more.

So I hold tight. A couple days pass with no update, and then the PayPal purchase gets updated with a tracking number. Promising, but it could still be a scam. Whether or not I get the actual magazine becomes a source of anxiety for the next week.

Until today, when I get told it was delivered. And when I opened the envelope it was sent in: there it was.

When I tell you I was happy stimming in my bedroom just holding the damn issue in my own hands... And then opening it and finding out that I was right, there was a missing page... I was elated. I still am, just typing this.

So I spent half an hour getting my scanner to work, and I give you the above issues.

Like I said above, feel free to repost however and wherever you want. I want all this to mean something.

In the meantime, I have two more House-themed TV Guide magazines coming to try and get articles from.

#i am so psyched to have found this you have no idea #house #house md #hatecrimes md #malpractice md #gregory house #james wilson #hugh laurie #robert sean leonard #tv guide #magazine #interview #house interview #isn't it bromantic #hilson

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applepiewinchesters · 7 months ago

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Every Universe (Logan Howlett x fem!Reader)

A/N: This was written while I was slightly intoxicated, I regret nothing though and hope you guys enjoy it. It was proofread but I cannot say there will be no grammatical errors. Regardless, please enjoy!! :) Also, takes place in the Deadpool and Wolverine universe.

Word Count: 4,158 (this bitch is long, for me at least)

Warnings: None really unless you count angst and fluff as well as the mention of butt stuff

Finding out that not falling in love with a man being the sole reason you were sent to the void seemed like a pretty patriarchal reason to essentially be damned but who were you to question the TVA.

The day you were sent to the void you’d seen the news, MULTIPLE CASUALTIES AFTER ATTACK AT XAVIER’S SCHOOL FOR GIFTED YOUNGSTERS, names such as Jean Grey, Marie D’Ancanto, Scott Summers, Hank McCoy, and Logan Howlett were read out by the heartbroken looking anchor.

Being a mutant yourself, the news stung and left a pit of anxiety in your stomach. It was an attack by an anti-mutant terrorist group, if they were bold enough to attack the home of Charles Xavier, why not a shopping mall next, or another school full of mutant and non-mutant children alike.

Only minutes after the newscast on the tragedy started four rectangular, orange portals opened in front of and behind you. Four men dressed in odd looking military uniforms stalked towards you. You didn’t even have time to attempt to fend them off before they grabbed you, holding you down while you attempted to break free but even with your mutation, they were too strong.

All you remembered was one of them placing some weird stick against your stomach and you screamed as you essentially dissolved into nothing.

When you woke you were found by who you now knew as Blade, and were told you were in the Void, where you would stay until you died or were killed by a fellow member of said Void.

You’d been there for a what you thought was probably a few years when a couple of Deadpool and Wolverine variants were found by Laura in an absolutely fucked Honda Odyssey. She brought them there and Gambit and Blade brought them inside and laid them down. They appeared as if they’d just had a horrific fight or the most violent sexual encounter ever.

The Wolverine variant was the first to wake up, quite literally shooting up into a sitting position while breathing heavily. His claws extended quickly from his knuckles, and he made an almost animalistic sound.

“Easy there killer,” you almost teased, holding up your hands, you’d been the one unfortunate enough to be closest to him when he woke up, so his eyes immediately fixed on you.

Several emotions seemed to flash across his face at once, his look of anger changing to one of shock. His claws disappeared just as quickly as they’d appeared just moments ago as you slowly put your hands down, now a little concerned for the man.

“Y/N?”, he asked, his head tilting slightly.

It was your turn to look confused, “Did we know each other?”, you asked.

Sure, you’d heard of Wolverine, of Logan, but you’d never met him personally, you had originally been set to attend Charles Xavier’s school when you were 18 but after an attack on the school the same year your parents had decided against it.

The Logan before you’ s face fell slightly; he seemed almost hurt. It took him a second to respond, “I, uh, I guess not.”

That was when Elektra cut in, explaining to Logan where he was and how she’d found him and Deadpool. While he seemed to only half listen, he got up and found the nearest bottle of Gambit’s booze and started drinking it.

When Deadpool woke up it was a completely different side of weird, you hadn’t had the pleasure of coming across a Deadpool variant, but you’d heard how odd they were, and unfortunately for you, you thought they were exaggerating.

After annoying literally everyone in the room, the Deadpool variant all got you to somehow agree to help him and Wolverine get back to the TVA to save his timeline, as well as a sneak attack on Cassandra Nova. The whole time Logan watched you from the corner of his eye.

He couldn’t completely convince himself it was you. The last time he’d seen you, you were lying dead on the front lawn of the school, killed by a large group of humans, along with almost everyone at the mansion. You were covered in blood and cold by the time he’d gotten there. He’d held onto you until the coroner was nearly begging to take you away.

Logan remembered almost everything about you. Your favorite movie, what food you hated, and even the feel of your hand in his. But when you looked at him with little to no recognition in your eyes, his heart could’ve broken all over again.

You had no idea the conflicting feelings he’d had while you sat only a few feet away. You looked practically the same, maybe older than you were when you’d died in his world, he was older too, maybe you just didn’t want to be with an old man and were pretending not to know him. He was the worst Wolverine after all, he wouldn’t blame you.

But then there were some things you did that reminded him of his version of you, the way your laugh sounded exactly the same, how you sat the same way in your chair, and you even made the same face when you’d taken a drink of Gambit’s whiskey as when you’d sip his occasionally while the two of you sat on the couch in the mansion watching some movie one of the others had put on.

It was you, just, one that apparently hadn’t fallen in love with Logan Howlett. Logan himself couldn’t help but wonder if that had been your reason for being sent here, but thought better of it, deciding he'd probably never have that kind of impact on any kind of world.

After a successful attack on Cassandra and her small army, Deadpool and Wolverine were gone, and you hadn’t expected to ever see them again. Then Cassandra almost destroyed every timeline to exist, and you’d thought for sure those two variants had gotten themselves killed.

But then the TVA came for you and brought you to said Deadpool variants world, which he had successfully and somehow saved with Wolverine’s help. You couldn’t help but notice Logan’s shirt missing this time around. Almost cursing yourself for not trying harder to go to Xavier’s school when you were younger, having a chance to meet your world’s Logan. A man’s abs can do that to a woman.

“Happy to not be in the void and all, but why am I here?”, you asked, eyeing the agents around you and taking in the cracked subway station.

“I thought I’d give a little gift to Wolvie here,” Deadpool replied in an overly enthusiastic manner, throwing an arm around Logan who instantly pushed him away.

“I’m not a gift to give you dumb fuck,” you replied, crossing your arms over your chest.

Deadpool ignored your obvious distain and continued, “Well I figured since he lost you in his world and you never falling in love in your world caused his death that you could stay here with us!”.

Your eyes widened and you had to think about what he’d said for a moment, “I-I got him killed? I got Logan and those other mutants killed?”.

Logan couldn’t focus on the other details once his name left your mouth; he hadn’t heard you say that in almost a decade.

You on the other hand turned to the woman beside you that looked to be in charge.

“Is that the reason I was sent there, because I didn’t fall in love with Logan Howlett and he died because of it?”, you asked, you felt like you could be sick.

The woman sighed, almost regretful, “Yes, it was,” she finally answered you. “Without your help of your mutation those mutants did not survive that attack on the school.”

“Oooooo, trauma plot twist,” Deadpool practically squealed.

“Shut the fuck up!”, you snapped back, making Deadpool whisper a bashful, “Sorry,” and take a step back.

The TVA agents left shortly after, and that was how you found yourself living in a small apartment with Wade, Logan, and the craziest old lady you’d ever met, Blind Al.

Wade and she shared a room as weird as it was, you were given the spare room Blind Al reluctantly let you use, as it was now formerly her grow room, and Logan elected to sleep on the couch.

You settled in somewhat nicely, you still felt awkward in a world that wasn’t yours living with a doofus that you'd grown somewhat fond of and a man you got killed in his other life, but you had new friends, ones that didn’t have a huge chance of dying every day so that was a plus.

Yukio and Ellie had gravitated towards you, you were somewhat close in age, with them being early twenties and you in your somewhat late twenties, they reminded you of your younger sibling’s friends from back home in your previous world.

So, when they invited you to go out a month after you settled in, you couldn’t say no, it would get you out of the house at least, you wouldn’t have to sit and listen to Wade and Logan argue or endure Logan’s kicked puppy look when he thought you weren’t looking.

You felt awful you weren’t the you he thought you were, and you knew it was nothing you could control but after Wade let it slip what had happened to you in Logan’s world you couldn’t imagine how you’d feel if the roles were reversed.

So, to hopefully be able to forget about everything for a few hours you got ready, doing some easy makeup and hair, you put on a cute outfit you’d bought earlier in the week, Yukio had begged you to go shopping after finding out you didn’t own anything for “going out” yet on this world.

You relented and picked out a skirt, top, tights, and boots, it was simple yet cute enough to not be mistaken as any old outfit.

When you’d exited your bedroom in your shared apartment shortly before Yukio and Ellie were due to come get you, Wade looked up from whatever the hell he was doing on his phone, which could be anything from porn to angry birds.

His eyes widened slightly, “Got a date?”, he asked, only slightly feigning shock.

Logan had looked up immediately at the mention of a date, he was sipping a bottle of whiskey at the kitchen table. His eyes traveled over your outfit when he thought you were busy glaring at Wade.

“Not that its your business merc but no, I’m going out with Yukio and Ellie,” you stated, tossing a lip balm you had in your hand to your small purse.

“Girls nightttt,” Wade sang, only making you sigh.

As if a divine intervention interrupted there was a knock on the door and when you opened it you found the two girls standing there waiting.

“Hi Wade!”, Yukio exclaimed waving at him.

Wade leaned back in his seat to look around you at Yukio, “Hi Yukio!”.

“Come on,” you told them, moving to leave but a hand on your shoulder made you turn around. It was Wade.

“Now honey,” he began, “don’t take drinks from strangers, don’t go off alone, and don’t hook up with anyone. You know what they say about beer goggles, you’ll be waking up next to the crypt keeper.”

While you rolled your eyes and pushed Wade’s hand off your shoulder although you knew he really did care. Logan on the other hand clenched his jaw. You weren’t his and he knew that, but Wade’s last comment set his teeth on edge.

“I’m a big girl Wade, but thanks,” you told him, turning around and leaving this time without so much as a glimpse Logan’s way.

When the door shut Wade spoke again, “She’s gonna get picked up by every hottie in the club in that outfit. Did you see her legs Peanut?”.

Wade then almost immediately flinched when he felt glass shatter on the back of his head, the alcohol in the now broken bottle staining the back of his My Little Pony shirt.

He didn’t even have to look back to imagine the look on Logan’s face, “Gotcha,” was all Wade replied, picking out a rather large glass shard from the back of his neck.

…

It was hours later when you were so drunk you couldn’t feel the cold outside, but you sure felt good on the inside. The only bad thing was that the other girls wanted to go to another club, and your social battery was just about gone.

You three stumbled out of the club, Yukio and you giggled at something Ellie had yelled at some perv leering at you when you’d walked out. Stopping the other two from turning the opposite way to another club, you spoke rather loudly despite being out of the crowd and loud music.

“I-I think I’m gonna go home! You girls go!” you told them, making Yukio frown.

“Don’t walk home by yourself, call Wade or something,” Ellie commented.

You nodded thoughtfully before gasping, “I’ll call Logan, Wade is doing butt stuff with Vanessa tonight!”.

Your loud comment sent Yukio into a giggling fit and made a guy near you wince, maybe he’d done butt stuff too.

Ellie only nodded, rolling her eyes as you pulled your phone from your purse, scrolling through the very few numbers you’d had, Wade had gotten both you and Logan phones soon after arriving, claiming he needed to be able to send you both funny videos every day. Which were no doubt ignored by Logan.

Pressing on Logan’s contact, you put the phone up to your ear, listening to it ring only once before the call was answered.

“You alright?”, was the first thing out of Logan’s mouth and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Oh, I’m great!” you replied, “but Ellie doesn’t want me walking home alone and Wade is doing butt stuff so will you come? I’m only a few blocks from home.”

The whole sentence was sort of rushed and you thought maybe Logan hadn’t heard you correctly because the line went silent.

You were about to repeat yourself when Logan stopped you, “I’m coming,” he told you, you could hear him shuffling around and the sound of a door closing, “What’s the name?”.

Despite having been in the club for well over an hour you had to look up and squint at then brightly lit sign, “Uhhhh,” you mumbled into to the phone, before your eyes finally focused, “House of Yes!”.

You could’ve sworn Logan chuckled, “Be there soon,” was all he said before hanging up.

“Escort secured,” you told the two girls, slipping your phone back into your purse. “He’ll be here soon,” you added, attempting to replicate his gravely tone, only succeeding in making yourself cough and sending Yukio into a laughing fit.

It was only 15 minutes of standing around before Logan showed up, you spotted him first, having turned yourself that way to look for him. He was dressed in his usual jeans, button up, and undershirt, along with a leather jacket he’d picked up recently.

He looked good you had to admit, nearly every girl outside, and even some guys turned to look at him when he walked past. He didn’t give them any sort of acknowledgement though, earning some disappointed looks from a few of them when he walked up to you.

What was it Wade said about beer goggles? Logan was hot without alcohol though, so you shook off the thought.

“Ready to go?”, he asked, eyes scanning over you, not to be a perv but to make sure everything was the same as when you left, and it was, save for the way you swayed slightly and the way you smiled at him like you were so happy to see him. He thought he’d never see that again, but he has to remind himself for what felt like that hundredth time that it wasn’t you, not his you at least.

You nodded, turning around to hug both of the girls, telling them to be safe, although you knew Ellie wouldn’t put up with anyone’s shit.

“Bye Y/N! Bye Logan!”, Yukio exclaimed, waving at you both before grabbing Ellie’s hand as they turned the opposite way.

“Alright, come on,” Logan said, taking a step away from you and waiting for you to follow him to keep walking, he made sure to keep you closest to the buildings, it wouldn’t be too great to have you fall in the street in front of a car.

It was silent for a couple minutes, you stumbled every so often and Logan’s hand always shot out, ready to catch you, but you always righted yourself, giggling as you did, and Logan found himself smiling at the sound.

You caught him smiling after a couple times, narrowing your eyes, “What’re you smiling at grumpy?”, you asked, voice anything but angry.

“Grumpy?”, he asked, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Yeah, it’s what I call you sometimes in my head, Mr. Grumpy is also a good one,” you told him in a very serious tone.

“Mr. Grumpy,” Logan found himself repeating, only making you laugh, which made you stumble, nearly knocking into someone walking the opposite way of you both. Logan instinctively wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you away from the almost collision and into his side.

You immediately noticed he was warm, you could feel it even with his multiple layers on, it was growing colder now outside as the days went on and you yourself knew without the alcohol, you’d probably be cold but here he was, a personal heater.

“Are you actually just a werewolf?” you asked him, making him stop walking completely and turn towards you, removing his arm from your shoulders, making you pout a bit.

“I am not a werewolf,” he told you seriously.

You groaned, “Okay but you’re really warm, you have claws, you can run on all fours, and you’ve got those little…,” you trailed off, putting your pointer fingers up on each side of your head, attempting to mimic the little swishes his hair made.

Personally, you had no idea if his hair just did that (because he’s a werewolf), or if he styled it that way. You couldn’t decide which option to like more.

When Logan didn’t seem to understand what you’d said, you reached up, lightly running a finger along one of the swoops of his hair. You jumped a bit when his hand caught your wrist as you were pulling your hand back.

There was a look in his eyes you didn’t recognize but it soon disappeared as he let you go, “Sorry,” he quickly said. “Reflex.”

You shrugged, “No harm done,” you told him, and his eyes softened at the way you brushed off his behavior from years of enduring nothing even remotely close to the gentle way you’d just touched him.

Maybe you didn’t think so badly of him. You always seemed so wary, afraid to make him angry, to say something wrong, like he was a ticking time bomb. It put him on edge and made him want to steer clear of you, he didn’t want to scare you off either. But now, standing there staring at you while you just smiled at him made him relax a bit.

“Let’s go,” you suddenly said, beginning to walk away from him. He was back at your side in moments, and you found yourself bumping into him every so often, apologizing every time you did.

Finally, he wrapped an arm around you again, pulling you back into the warmth of his side. You smiled when he did, stumbling slightly but he held you up easily, not letting you fall.

“Thanks for coming to get me,” you told him when you were only a block from home.

“No problem,” he replied, keeping his eyes on the sidewalk ahead.

There were a few moments of silence before you began to giggle suddenly, Logan’s brow furrowed as he looked down at you, “What?” he asked, hopefully not regretting asking.

“So, you’re not a werewolf?” you asked, looking up at him.

Logan groaned looking away from you, “No, and if you keep asking, you’ll regret it.”

“Ooo what are you gonna do?” you mocked, poking his side.

“Wouldn’t you like to know sweetheart,” he replied, making you stumble at the nickname.

“I would,” you challenged, after righting yourself with the help of Logan’s arm around you.

Logan regarded you for a moment before shaking his head, “You’re drunk, another time.”

“Ughhhhh,” you groaned, “Tell me!”.

“Not a chance,” Logan replied, smirking a bit. He’d been drinking since you left and was buzzed himself, he couldn’t help but smile at your behavior.

The you he’d known had always acted like this, at least when intoxicated. You were whiny, clumsy, and clingy. The way your fingers gripped the back of his jacket to stay up right made his heart ache though and his smile fell.

You noticed his attitude change and became concerned, “You okay?” you asked, attempting to stop walking, but Logan kept you going.

“Fine” he replied, his hold on you loosening slightly, you couldn’t help but notice.

So, you stopped, much to Logan’s dismay, moving to stand in front of him, swaying slightly as you very determinedly looked him in the eye.

“What’s wrong, did I do something?” you asked, genuine concern in your voice, he could almost feel his heart crack just slightly.

“No, it’s…,” Logan began, his tongue getting tied, he was never great at emotions, that’s why he drank so much. You didn’t have to feel anything then.

“I’m listening,” you reassured, resisting the urge to take his hand.

“You’re so much like…like her, like you,” Logan finally said, not really meeting your eye. “I thought I could ignore it, but I can’t, you even smell the same.”

Logan had rendered you with nothing to say, could you truly comfort him? Reassure him? You felt yourself sobering up a bit at the thought.

It was a few moments of silence before you found your words, “I know this has been shitty for you too, and I'm sorry I haven't been a better friend. Honestly sometimes I think you hate the fact that I'm not her, me her, whatever...that you hate me. But then you do things like this and it makes me think otherwise. I guess I just don't know how to...approach you, Logan."

Logan felt his heart drop at the word “friend”, and the thought he made you feel inadequate. God he really was stupid enough to think he might have a chance with this version of you.

But he found himself lifting a hand to your cheek, feeling your skin heat up beneath his fingers, “I could never hate you, not in this universe, not in any, got it? Its my fault, for pushing that onto you, making you feel like you have to be someone you’re not.”

You couldn’t help but laugh slightly, “We’re both just fucked up in our own special way, aren’t we?”.

Logan nodded, dropping his hand, but you caught it in your own, “It’s not your fault either you know, I personally blame whatever bitchass overlord of the universe did this.”

Logan had to keep himself from solely focusing on the way your hand wrapped around his, “But…,” he went to argue.

You put up a hand to stop him, “Enough with the self-pity Howlett, its unbecoming of a man of your nature.”

“My nature?” Logan asked, titling his head at you.

“Yes, the nature of being absurdly attractive,” you admitted, looking away from him as you spoke, attempting to walk away, but he pulled you back, almost into his chest, but he kept you a few inches away, still concerned with scaring you.

“Absurdly?” Logan asked, the smirk returning to his face.

You swallowed hard, “Did I say that? I meant unappealing, completely unsightly.”

Your attempt at saving your future sober self from your drunk self was failing miserably, but Logan gave in after a few seconds, shrugging as he turned, placing his arm around you once more, guiding you towards the apartment building you could finally see in the distance.

“Whatever you say kid,” he told you.

This was the most at home you two had felt in a while, and when you sat next to each other at breakfast in the morning, Logan passing you whatever you needed when you’d asked, Wade gasped dramatically.

“Did you two also engage in butt stuff last night, or is that not your cup of whiskey Wolvie?” Wade asked.

This earned him a fork to the forehead, easily tossed across the table by Logan.

The way you laughed made Logan’s heart skip a beat instead of crack again. For the first time in quite a while he felt hope, and if being here with you meant putting up with Wade’s dumbass mouth, he could make an exception just this once.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I felt like Tumblr was seriously lacking in Logan fluff so here ya go!

#logan howlett #james logan howlett #deadpool #wade wilson #deadpool and wolverine #logan howlett x reader #xmen #logan howlett x you #logan howlett fanfiction #hugh jackman #logan howlett x fem!reader #logan howlett imagine #logan howlett fluff

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finelinefae · 10 months ago

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match one [tennisplayer!harry x tennisplayer!y/n]

synopsis: y/n's struggling with harry's coaching before the first tournament and harry's feelings control him more than he controls them

word count: 10.2k

contains: enemies to lovers, set at a boarding school, slow burn, angst, tennis rivals, strict parents, fluff, harry being a boy and not being able control himself around y/n

this is part 2 of the game, read part 1 here

. . .

“Again,”

Y/N gritted her teeth and bounced the tennis ball on the ground before throwing it into the air with a straight arm and hitting it with the racket, watching as it pierced through the air to the opposite end of the court.

She heard a sigh come from the bench on the side of the court, “Again,”

She inhaled sharply through her nose to try and contain her temper as she repeated the same serve.

“Again,”

Y/N spun around on the heel of her New Balance trainers, her pleated, white skort twirling as she did. She crossed her arms and glared at the boy lying on his back in his school uniform which was now crinkled and unkempt after the school day. “You’re not even watching,” She replied for the first time after having done the same serve more than ten times already.

“I don’t need to, I know you’re not doing it correctly,” He replied, monotonously.

She clenched her jaw, “Well as my coach, aren’t you supposed to show me how I’m meant to do it correctly?”

“I can show you but it won’t change anything,” He said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He sighs and sits up, “You already know how to do a flat serve, I’ve seen you do it. You’re just not hitting it hard enough. I can hear it in the way the ball lands on the other end of the court.”

“You could have just told me to hit it harder,” She retorts.

“Am I meant to play the game for you as well?” He quips which makes her blood boil.

This was their third training session, and Y/N had reached her limit. With her first proper tournament just three weeks away, she had hoped that seeking help from the best tennis player at Crestwood would elevate her gameplay.

However, Y/N was getting frustrated with each session being a monotonous repetition of drills she had already learnt herself. It grated on her nerves and she felt as though she was back to square one.

She was beginning to regret having enlisted Harry for his mentoring in the first place. Whenever they’d try to talk mutually to each other, it would just end up in an argument of some kind where they’d end up needing ten minutes to cool off.

Y/N had already qualified for the Academy Slam before she even asked Harry to coach her. There had originally been sixteen academies from the surrounding counties competing in the games and now there were only half and Y/N was one of them. She’d passed the qualifiers all by herself and maybe she could pass the games that way too.

“Again,” He said that one word Y/N was beginning to hate.

Who knew what she was capable of if she had to hear that word one more time.

Feeling a surge of anger, Y/N tossed the ball into the air and hit it with all the strength she could possibly summon. She watched as the ball made a fast and straight trajectory towards her target area which just so happened to be right beside Harry’s place on the bench.

He jumped up, a look of surprise on his face. "What the fuck?" he exclaimed, eyes following the ball as it hit the fence.

Y/N's smirk wavered as he approached her, her surprise matching his when he spoke again. "Let's move on, shall we?"

By the end of the session, every inch of Y/N's body throbbed with exhaustion. She drained an entire water bottle in one go, her fitted polo shirt clinging to her damp skin. She had thought she'd engaged every muscle in her body, but the way her calves screamed at her with every step told a different story.

“Same time tomorrow?” Harry asked, standing above her and blocking the sunlight.

“I want to start training properly,” Y/N stated.

“We are training properly,” He argued.

“You realize you haven’t shown me a single tactic since you started coaching me right?”

“And?”

“How am I meant to win the first tournament if all I know how to do is basic drills?”

“Do you know how many times my coach made me practice flat serves before we could move on?” He asks but she doesn’t answer, “A month. I went home with blisters on my hands because I was doing them non-stop six hours a day.”

Y/N’s eyebrows raise, “You think tennis is just about being tactical then you’re not playing it properly. The only way you’ll ever be a good tennis player is if you master the techniques.” He explains, “I’ve seen you play Y/N. For someone who has never had professional coaching, you are one of the best players I’ve seen but you lack confidence in your technique. That flat serve you just aimed at me? One of the best flat serves I’ve seen in a while. If you can do that in every game, you’ll have no problem winning but if you want tactics? I can draw you a diagram and it’ll save two hours of my day no problem.”

Y/N tries not to show her surprise at his words. Instead, she takes them all in, “Shouldn’t we at least be analysing my opponent?”

She was playing against Vanya Maddison in her next game. She was tall which was a major advantage in the game but her spatial awareness wasn’t exactly on par.

“Do you know what your biggest strength is in this game?” Harry asked.

“My speed?” Y/N frowned.

“Your anger,” He replies, “Off the court, it’s a little annoying but on the court, it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Use it.”

Y/N had no idea whether to take it as a compliment or not. She’d never heard Harry say anything good about her so was taken off guard by his words. “So are we still on for tomorrow because I have to meet Mitch in thirty minutes and if the answer is no at least I can actually plan on getting wasted tonight.”

Y/N took a moment to think. She had never expected him to say something positive about her, especially about her anger. It was a side of herself she often struggled to control, but hearing Harry acknowledge it as a strength left her feeling conflicted.

As much as she considered training on her own which would give her some peace and quiet, she wanted to see where her training with Harry would go. If he was right, maybe she’d actually have more of a chance of winning than she did on her own.

She stood up and put her gym bag over her shoulder, “See you tomorrow,” She walked past him, wanting to avoid the satisfied grin on his face.

“Y/N!” Harry called, she could hear him jogging towards her before she stepped out of the courts, “I wanted to give this to you.”

He placed in her hands a cassette tape with white masking tape on it with the words ‘Y/N’s theme songs’ scribbled onto it in black ink. “What is this?” She asked, looking up at him.

“When I was in Australia, I used music to help me get in the zone before a match. My coach told me to use a cassette tape because phones were too distracting,” He explained.

“You made this for me?” She frowned.

“What? You’ve never been given a gift before?” He chuckles.

Y/N looks down at the plastic in her hands. It’s not that she’d never been given a gift by anyone before- she and Sarah always exchanged gifts over Christmas and for each other’s birthdays- but it was rare for her to ever receive anything from anyone else. Her parents would often give her practical things at Christmas or transfer money into her bank account on birthdays.

Harry’s eyebrows furrowed at her lack of reply but she cleared her throat, “I don’t have a cassette player,” She said but Harry quickly removed his backpack and pulled out a walkman.

“You can borrow mine,” He handed it over to her, “I won’t be needing it anytime soon since I’m not playing,” She noticed the downcast look in his eyes as he mentioned the fact he wasn’t currently able to play with his injury.

“Um, t-thanks?” She said, unsure of how to respond to his sudden kindness. It felt unusual.

“I picked a few songs that reminded me of you,” He smirks, “Don’t worry, they’re not all about a girl with an attitude problem.” With that he turned back around and walked towards the other exit to head to the car park.

She felt ease on her chest as the usual teasing remarks returned, “Asshole,” She called out to him to which he just put his middle finger up in reply.

. . .

After taking a long shower in the girl’s shower rooms in her dorm block, Y/N headed back to her dorm after changing into a white shirt and sweatpants. She could feel the strain in her arms and legs as she flopped down onto her bed.

Luckily Sarah wasn’t back from spending time with Mitch, so she took in the peace and quiet which came rare to her these days as all her mind had been on recently was the Academy Slam.

Her mind wandered off to Harry and his words from earlier. Y/N knew she was a good tennis player but it was the first time she had heard someone else tell her that. She wasn’t expecting it, especially not from her tennis rival of the past ten years.

Her eyes glanced at the cassette tape and the walkman she had placed on her desk before she headed off to the shower. Sitting up, she grabbed it and stared down at it for a moment before putting the cassette into the player and putting the headphones on.

She laid back on her bed and looked up at the ceiling of her room. Her fingers hit the play button and the first song began to flood her ears. The first few beats of Nelly Furtado’s ‘Maneater’ began to play and she immediately rolled her eyes. Then afterwards, ‘Fergalicious’ by Fergie.

She wondered how many songs Harry had managed to put on the cassette and how many were female anthems of empowerment.

The next song seemed to catch her attention even further when Gorillaz ‘She’s my collar’ began to play. The beat now permanently injected into her bloodstream along with the rest of the album from the number of times she had listened to it.

She wondered if Harry had known he had included a song by one of her favourite bands and whether he knew the meaning behind the song too. Maybe it had been a coincidence which was a thought Y/N had decided to settle on as she listened to the rest of the song.

‘Nothing to be justified yet

She the first I'm running with

She the one that get my collar

She the one I'm running with (she's my collar)’

. . .

The next day at school, Y/N sat in the library during her study period to study for her biology exam at the end of the week. Even though she was set on the scholarship, she still needed something to fall back on if she lost out in the next few games so she made sure she was still getting the best grades she could. It had also been ingrained in her to be the best in every class and she didn’t think that trait of hers would ever leave her.

“Y/N!” Sarah called, her voice echoing within the silence of the library.

Ignoring the irritated glances she received, she paced towards Y/N and sat in the empty seat beside her. Y/N smiled at her friend’s excitement. They were foils to each other and that’s what made them get on so well. Whilst Y/N had a black cat personality, Sarah was sunshine in a person which was probably why she was so perfect for Mitch who was equally as bright. “What’s up?”

“I need to ask you something and you’re probably going to hate me but Harry’s already said yes and-”

“Sarah,” Y/N placed her hands on her shoulders, “Breathe.”

Sarah did exactly that before continuing, “Would you do a feature with Harry for the school newspaper?”

Y/N frowned, “What?”

“The school newspaper? You know the club I’ve been part of for the past two years? They want to do a feature on your training for the sports section and I told them I would ask you.” Sarah explained.

“Oh I don’t know about that-”

“Pleeeassseee,” Sarah gripped her arm that was resting on the desk and batted her eyelashes.

“You know I’d do anything for you Sarah but I don’t know if I have the time and my focus is on my next game,” Y/N replied.

“Harry’s already said yes to it,” Sarah interjected.

“You asked him before me?”

“Well actually,” Sarah hesitated, “Luke, the boy who’s writing the article, asked him this morning,”

“Why didn’t he ask me?”

Sarah gave her a pointed look, “You’re not exactly the most approachable,” Y/N’s frown deepened at her words, “So will you do it?”

Y/N sighed, considering it before giving Sarah an answer. The last thing she wanted was for someone to be asking unnecessary questions in time that could be used to train for the first round of the competition but Sarah was her best friend and she knew how much the school newspaper meant to her and her university applications too.

“Alright,” She relented, “I’ll do it.”

Sarah squealed, receiving another round of vicious glares from other students in the library. Her arms wrapped around her in a tight hug, “Thank you,” She pulled away, “They’ll come by tomorrow afternoon during practice, is that okay?” Y/N nodded a response.

. . .

It was raining outside.

Y/N’s eyes stared out the window as she bounced a tennis ball on the hard floor of the gymnasium and wondered if the weather foreshadowed the next hour.

“Will you sit down?” Harry muttered, “You’re giving me a headache,”

“He’s late,” Y/N says, “We could have been practising,”

“Do you ever just do anything else?” Y/N shot him a glare at his sarcasm, “I get this is important to you but don’t you just want to, I don’t know, have fun?”

Y/N walked over to her seat right next to his and straightened herself for the interview the school newspaper had organised for them. Sarah had told both her and Harry to dress smartly for the occasion which, according to Harry meant a designer sweatshirt and trousers whilst Y/N had gone for a dress and pumps. It wasn’t overly smart for either of them but enough to make it seem like they had made an effort.

“The fact that you’re even suggesting that tells me you have no idea how important this is to me,” Y/N responds, monotonously.

She hears a scoff from beside her, “What?”

He turns to face her, his face rather too close, she notices three moles on his right cheek that she hadn’t ever seen before, “I think I know better than anyone how important this is to you but I also know from experience how important being in high school is with people your own age.” She forgets sometimes that even though he was whisked away to fulfil his place in the Australian Open, that his time of being a kid was cut short, “I don’t go out of my way to coach just anybody,”

“What do you mean?” She frowns but before Harry could reply, the doors to the gym open and in scrambles a sixth year with a messenger bag and a tripod with a camera dangling from his neck.

“It means,” he leans forward, murmuring, “if you had half the belief in yourself as I have in you then you wouldn’t need me at all.”

“Sorry I’m late,” Luke’s voice echoes as he steps towards them and places all three legs of the tripod on the ground and scrambles to screw his camera to it.

“What’s with the camera?” Y/N asked.

“O-oh, we’re recording the interview so I can write everything up later and we’re going to need your pictures together afterwards,” Luke explained.

“You want us to take a photo together?” Y/N frowned.

“Did Sarah not tell you?” Luke replied.

“Calm down, love. It’s just a photo,” Harry murmured and she tried not to react to the nickname he had used for her.

Once everything was set up, Luke sat across from them with his laptop on his thighs, questions already typed out, “So, you two have known each other for a while now?” Luke asked as he sat across from them.

As Y/N was about to tell him how they didn’t exactly know each other on a personal level but knew each other through tennis, Harry spoke up, “Since we were both in third year. I was eight and Y/N was seven but we’ve been in the same class since we were infants.”

Luke nodded, “That must help a lot in your partnership,”

Harry chuckled lowly, “Something like that,”

Luke types a few things down in his computer before turning his attention to Y/N, “Um, Y/N what made you turn to Harry for his coaching other than the fact he won the Australian Open?”

Y/N frowned, what more reason did she need to give? “Well, the fact he won is a big reason as to why I approached him,”

“But isn’t he injured?” Harry stiffened beside her. The way he asked made it sound like he was defective, unusable.

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows, “Yes but I’ve seen Harry play games with a dislocated shoulder. He’d just pop it right back in and start playing again. His current injury doesn’t take away from the fact that he’s one of the best tennis players I’ve seen at Crestwood.” Y/N ignored the looks from the two boys. She knew she’d have to compliment Harry at some point during this interview, especially if they needed to show a united front for the games.

“And do think the same about Y/N?” Luke asked Harry who now seemed irritated by him.

“I think,” Y/N was prepared for a backhanded compliment but what she got was something entirely different, “Y/N has all the potential in the world to go for what she dreams of and I hope to watch her do it all even if that means I’m watching from the sidelines.” This time it was Y/N’s turn to glance at Harry, taken aback by his words.

Luke spoke again, “You know some people are calling you the underdog in this tournament?” Y/N froze, it was the first time she had heard of it, “all the other women competing have had professional coaching and the school invests heavily in their tennis players.”

Y/N cleared her throat, “I didn’t know that but I have every intention of proving them wrong,” Harry bumped his knee with hers but she ignored it.

“And What do your parents think about you doing this before leaving exams?” Luke asked.

Y/N ignored the sting she felt at the thought of telling her parents what she was doing and the looks of disappointment she envisioned, which had been gnawing at the back of her head since she qualified. She answered confidently, "They're happy for me and excited to see me in the final."

Harry furrowed his eyebrows as Luke leaned in, his expression curious. "You think you'll get to the final?"

Harry scoffed, “Are you insinuating she won’t?”

Luke backpedalled slightly, sensing he’d struck a nerve. "I didn't mean to suggest that at all. It's just that some people doubt the capabilities of those who haven't had professional coaching."

"Hey Luke, do me a favour and invite those people to the first game in three weeks' time. Let them witness firsthand what it's like watching a player as skilled as Y/N, without any professional coaching," Harry's frustration was palpable, catching Y/N off guard with his assertiveness. Typically, she would be the first to break in such situations but it seemed Harry already had.

Luke’s face warmed as he realised he overstepped, “R-right, let’s move on.” He scanned through his list of questions to find something more light-hearted to break up the mood, whilst Y/N straightened her shoulders, thankful they’d gotten to the final round of questions. “What do you both like to do outside of training?”

“Together?” Y/N cringed, trying to picture spending time with Harry in a normal setting.

“Not necessarily,” Luke shrugged.

“My best friend is dating her best friend so we’ve been spending a lot more time together recently. Normally, I play guitar or recite poetry whenever I’m not coaching Y/N to volley properly,” Y/N rolled her eyes at the lies that left his mouth.

“I study,” Y/N stated.

“That’s it?” Luke’s eyebrows creased.

Her cheeks turned slightly pink, “I’m top of the class in all of my classes, that doesn’t just happen without hard work.”

She could feel Harry’s eyes on her and for the first time, she turned her head to catch his eyes. She noticed the frown on his lips and something in his eye that looked a lot more like concern or sympathy than the desire to tease her about her lack of social life.

“Well, I think that will be enough,” Luke stood up and grabbed his camera, “Do you mind if we take a few photos now?”

Y/N and Harry stood from their seats, side by side and looked into the lens of the camera. Y/N’s cheeks hurt from forcing a smile as Harry did the same, “You’re standing too close to me,” Y/N spoke through her teeth as the camera flashed.

"Look who's talking with their giant foot squashing my shoe," Harry retorts, a playful glint in his eyes. Y/N inhales sharply, her gaze dropping to her foot to see what he's referring to. But before she can react, Harry smoothly slides his arm around her waist, pulling her into his side with practised ease. Their eyes meet, and just as the camera flashes, capturing the moment, Y/N side steps out of his grip with an annoyed huff.

“Okay, that will be all,” Luke smiled.

As Luke packed his things away, Y/N and Harry stood awkwardly side by side without saying a word. Y/N glanced out the window and saw the sky had cleared up and the sun was setting. She needed to get back to her dorm to study for her French exam tomorrow as well as binge-watch tennis matches on YouTube which she’d been doing a lot recently.

“Did you really mean that?” Harry asked, catching her attention, “All you do is study outside of school?”

Y/N looked at him, “I hang out with Sarah some days but yeah, I mostly study. I don’t really have a lot of choice and I’m not naturally smart.” Harry’s head tilted to the side like he was secretly questioning her in his head, “What? Aren’t you meant to crack a joke about me being stupid or something?”

Harry's eyes softened, his voice gentle. "I could never think you're stupid, love," he said, the nickname slipping from his lips with a tenderness that caught Y/N off guard. She found herself speechless, unable to figure out what had gotten into him recently.

He pulled out his car keys from his back pocket and motioned his head towards the gymnasium exit, “C’mon,” He urged, “I wanna try something out and before you ask, it’s nothing to do with tennis or studying.”

Y/N’s feet stayed glued to the ground as he walked away and expected her to follow. She furrowed her brows and crossed her arms, wanting to refuse his invitation so she could get back to her dorm. But curiosity got the better of her and she followed a few paces behind him as he led her to the empty car park.

Harry pressed the button on the car keys and the lights flashed on a black Audi hiding in the corner, “What are we doing?” She asked.

“Have you ever driven a car before?” He wondered, looking at her with a hint of mischief.

“Never,” She replied and was bewildered to see him open the door to the passenger seat instead of the driver’s seat.

“Looks like it’s your lucky day, love,” He smirked.

Y/N’s eyes widened, “N-no! Harry, I'm not driving your stupidly expensive car.”

“C’mon,” Harry chuckled, “Don’t be chicken.”

She scoffed, “I’m not being chicken, I’m being sensible. If I crash that car, I don’t even think my parents will have enough money to fix it.”

“My parent’s will,” He grinned, cockily, “Get in,”

“No, I’m not driving that car.” She insisted.

Five minutes later, Y/N sat in the driver’s seat of Harry’s Audi with her fingers over her eyes as he instructed her on how to start. “Are you crazy?” She whimpers as he switches the engine on.

“Stop worrying, I’ve got my hand on the break.” She looks down to see his hand already wrapped around the hand break, “Just stay calm and do what I told you to do. Clutch down, first gear and then ease your foot gently off the clutch.”

“You’re supposed to be teaching me tennis, not driving laps around the school parking lot,” Y/N argued.

“Think of this as a team bonding exercise,” He shrugged, “Okay now foot down on the clutch,”

“This is the worst idea you’ve ever had,” She strangled out, placing her shaky hands on the wheel.

“Relax,” Harry chuckled, “You’re being dramatic.”

“It won’t be so dramatic when we end up in a tree,” Y/N retorted as she carefully felt the pedals and pressed down slowly on the clutch. Feeling the car rise, Y/N gasped and removed her foot.

“Calm down, it’s just because you put your foot on the clutch,” Harry was trying his best not to laugh at her, “Okay, now do it again.”

Y/N squeezed her hands on the wheel and repeated her actions, moving the gear stick “Okay, now carefully raise the clutch,” Harry instructed and as she did, he lowered the handbrake and the car slowly began to move forward.

“Holy shit,” Y/N wailed, “We’re moving,”

This time, Harry did laugh unable to stop himself after seeing her reaction, “Make sure you turn the wheel or we really will end up in a tree,”

Y/N did as she was told and turned the wheel slowly, “Okay, I’ll move into second,”

“Harry no!” She gasped but put the clutch down so he could move gears.

“Atta girl,” He beamed.

Y/N’s worried expression soon turned into shock and then excitement as she moved slowly around the car park, “I’m driving Harry!” Y/N grinned and Harry swore it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

“You are,” He praised, “There’s nothing you can’t do.”

After switching between first and second gear and Y/N complaining that her feet were aching from how tense she was using the pedals, Harry offered to swap places and show her what it was really like to go out on an evening drive.

“Harry!” Y/N choked on a laugh as he went all the way up to sixth gear down the empty streets in the middle of nowhere, “Slow down,” She squealed.

Harry glanced at her, grinning when he saw how wide the smile was on her face. He pressed his finger on the button to wind down all the windows, “Oh shit I love this song,” He turned the volume up on the stereo as Beyonce’s ‘Love on Top’ started playing, blaring loudly through the speakers of his car.

“Baby it’s you! You’re the one I love! You’re the one I need!” Harry screamed the lyrics of the song and Y/N’s laughter sounded through the entire car as her hair blew behind her. “Sing it, baby!” He cheered, neither of them realising what he had called her.

“I’m not gonna sing it,” She shook her head, her eyes squeezing shut as the engine revved.

“It’s the only way I’m gonna slow down,” He teased as the build-up to the chorus played.

Y/N giggled as Harry began to sing solo to the chorus again, giving her a look that had her rolling her eyes before she screamed out the lyrics alongside him, “When I need you, make everything stop! Finally, you put my love on top!”

Their laughter merged together as the song played out. Harry slowed down the closer they got back to town and cast a sideways glance at Y/N who was brushing her wind-swept hair with her fingers. “You okay?” He asked, seeing the glow on her face.

“Yeah,” She bit her lip, “I’m okay. I just don’t get to do stuff like this… ever really.”

He nodded in understanding. Harry had met Y/N’s parents a few times before. His parents were frequent visitors to their country club so he knew what they were like but he had no idea of the extent of the pressures they had put on Y/N to do well. It reminded him of his own parents and the last thing he wanted to do was allow someone to feel the same way he did whenever his parents were too hard on him.

“Wanna pull in somewhere to get something to eat?” Harry asked. It was getting late and they both had school tomorrow but he couldn’t seem to allow himself to let her go- not when she was having so much fun.

“Okay,” Y/N nodded.

He pulled into a dessert shop that was still open. Y/N followed him inside and to a booth in the corner. Harry ordered both of them bowls of soft-serve ice cream and Y/N even asked if she could have a strawberry milkshake to go with it. “I shouldn’t really be eating,” She told him.

“Hmm I heard drinking strawberry milkshakes improves your footwork. They served them all the time in Australia,” Y/N shot him a look that told him she knew he was bullshitting her but it made him smile.

“Are you nervous about the game coming up?” They’d been training non-stop every evening and Y/N was quickly improving everything she had already learnt on her own. After considering Harry’s words a few days ago, she knew Harry was right. He had been good for her technique and she felt even more sure of herself than she did at the beginning.

“No,” She said coolly, “I don’t have time to be nervous.”

Harry scoffed, “I don’t believe that for a second.”

The waitress came over and placed their desserts in front of them, along with a strawberry milkshake with whipped cream and a cherry on top. “Mitch says he’s going to throw a party at my place if you make it through to the semi-finals.”

“A party at your place?” Y/N quirked a brow.

Harry sighs, “He came up with the idea of throwing a party and then just kind of decided it would be at mine.” He explained.

Y/N nodded and took a sip of her milkshake. It had been so long since she had had something so sugary and sweet. She hummed before realizing she was being watched by the boy opposite her, “Just so you know, even though you bought these desserts and taught me how to drive, doesn’t mean I like you.”

Harry laughed, his eyes crinkling and dimples carving into his cheeks. Y/N’s heart stuttered but she pushed the feeling down, “Okay, tomorrow you can go back to hating me again and we’ll pretend today didn’t happen.”

“And you can do the same,” She says.

Harry gives her a look, his eyes flashing with something she couldn’t put a label on, “I don’t hate you Y/N.”

She frowns, “You’ve always hated me,”

“No,” He shook his head, “Never.”

“But you’re always making fun of me,” And she always did the same.

“Because it’s the only way I get to speak to you.” He admits.

Y/N’s lips parted in surprise, unable to believe what she was hearing. She had always assumed Harry had hated her since their rivalry had gone on for so long. She didn’t know what to say, confused by the sudden revelation.

“Ew,” It came out before she even had time to think, “Don’t be nice to me, it’s making me uncomfortable.”

Harry seemed to deflate but quickly placed a smile on his face, “You make me uncomfortable and you’re singing, by the way, is awful.”

Y/N scoffed, "At least I don't sound like a dying goat." Despite the return of their familiar banter, her heart seemed to continue to flutter under Harry's earnest gaze, stirring a mix of emotions within her that she’d never felt before.

She didn’t know what was going on with her but the last thing she needed to think about was her emotions when her biggest goal to date was right before her.

. . .

Three weeks had gone by far too quickly for Y/N’s liking.

“Again,” Harry drawled.

Y/N gritted her teeth and repeated the backswing technique Harry had shown her but the angle was all wrong and the ball ended up going completely off court.

“Fuck,” Y/N spat, throwing her tennis racket on the floor and squatting, balling her hands into fists on her head.

Harry sighed, walking over. “You’re nervous about tomorrow,” He stated like he didn’t need her to confirm despite the fact she had constantly told everyone she wasn’t nervous about anything.

“I just need to win,” She mumbled.

“Get up,” Harry ordered.

Y/N did as she was told and stood up. He grabbed the racket from the floor that she’d thrown across the court like a toddler throwing their toys out a pushchair and flipped the racket between both of his hands. He handed it back to her and grabbed his own.

“I want you to mirror my actions,” He says and stands a few steps away from her.

He steps forward, tossing the tennis ball into the air before swinging his racket with both hands, expertly landing it in the left corner of the opposing court. Y/N tracks his every move, mimicking his actions as if she were his shadow.

Y/N’s ball lands slightly off target and Harry bites his lip to stop himself from smiling at the scowl on her face. He walks towards her and comes up behind her. Y/N’s breathing hitches when she feels his fingertips press gently on her arm.

“You need to straighten this arm more,” He advises, his fingertips sliding down her arm and leaving a trail of goosebumps as he straightens her arm out. “Calm down,” he murmurs, his mouth near her ear, “I can feel your heart beating.”

Y/N seems to lose every ounce of oxygen when he places his hand flat against her back where he can feel her heart beating, “Breathe,” He says, “You will win tomorrow, I will make sure of it.”

The warmth that flooded Y/N’s body quickly left as Harry took a step back, “Try it again,” He nodded towards her racket.

Y/N sighed, tensing her muscles again after Harry had practically managed to turn them into liquid. She tried to ignore the flutter in all of the pulse points in her body that were screaming to make contact with that new presence and swung her racket, landing the ball exactly where she wanted.

“There y’ go,” He murmurs, almost as if he was saying it to himself. “I think we should call that it for today,”

“What?” Y/N frowned, “The game is tomorrow, I need to practice.”

“Y/N, we’ve been practising for half the day already. You’re going to wear yourself out if you carry on,” Harry tells her.

“Fine,” She huffed but Harry gave her a knowing look.

“Come to my place,” He offers.

“Why would I do that?” She goes to grab her sweatshirt on the bench and pulls it over her head. It was getting colder now that the sun was going down.

“Because I know you’re just going to come back here once I leave and trust me, you don’t want to do that.” She opened her mouth to refuse but he continued, “We can watch Wimbledon on TV and order pizza.”

She wondered how he knew that Wimbledon was one of her favourite movies and pizza was her favourite food. “Is it the DVD exclusive?” Y/N asked.

Harry’s lips tilted upwards, “Of course,” Y/N nodded, following him to his car so he could drive them to his apartment.

Y/N remembered the last time she was in Harry's car three weeks ago. It was the first time Y/N truly enjoyed being in his company and the first time she had allowed herself to have fun and relax.

The day after, they resumed their usual arguing as if the previous night hadn't occurred. However, Y/N found herself overwhelmed by a surge of unfamiliar emotions swirling within her.

Despite the bickering, she kept noticing things about Harry—like the way he smiled and talked. It made her feel weird like there was something more between them that she hadn't noticed before.

The air was silent between them as the radio played lowly in the background. Harry turned into a block of apartments that looked far too expensive for a student to afford all by themself. “This is where you live?” Y/N asked, her eyes widening as he pulled into a spot.

“For now,” He says.

Y/N trailed behind Harry as they rode the elevator to the fifth floor and made their way to his apartment. When he swung open the door, flooding the space with light, Y/N couldn't help but notice the spaciousness of the apartment, as well as its emptiness.

“I haven’t had time to unpack,” Harry said, walking to the kitchen after kicking his shoes off, “Do you want anything to drink?”

“I’ll just take a glass of water,” Y/N’s eyes darted to all of the boxes that covered the floor.

She walked to the kitchen area and leaned against the counter, “Are those your trophies?” She asked, seeing the metal cups in an open box.

Harry smiled, “Yeah, I’ve kept all of mine even the ones that didn’t count.”

“They all count,” Y/N grins, walking over and pulling one out, “The battle of the sexes trophy.”

Harry smirked, walking round to stand beside her, “I still remember the look on your face when they handed me that trophy. If looks could kill, love, I don’t think I would be here.”

“It was a big deal to me okay?” Y/N replies, “I seemed to blame you for all my losses when I was a kid.”

Harry’s expression softens and his head turns to look at her, “Will you blame me if you don’t win tomorrow?”

Y/N’s smile falters, “No, I’d blame myself. I think if I lost this, I don’t know who I would be anymore. Tennis is my life.”

Harry’s eyes glint underneath the soft lighting of the kitchen, “God,” He whispers, “You drive me crazy y’ know that?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Do you think you could love anything more?” He asks, ignoring her question.

“I can’t think of anything, if I did I’d have to love it an awful lot.”

“Okay,” He nods like he’s accepting a challenge.

Y/N narrows her eyes, “What are you thinking?”

“Nothing,” He shrugs, “But I want you to know-”

Before Harry could finish his sentence, the door swings open and the shrill sound of his mother’s voice fills the air. Y/N stands straight and she notices Harry tense up, taking a step in front of her, he pushes her behind him.

“Harry,” His mother sighs, “How are you darling?”

“Mum,” He replies, curtly, “What are you doing here?”

“Your father’s running late home so I thought I would come by to see how you were,” She says and then looks behind him.

Y/N doesn’t need Harry to introduce her as she steps forward and holds out a hand, “Hi Mrs Styles, it’s nice to see you again.”

"Y/N?" Anne gasped, her eyes widening in surprise. "You've grown so much, you're beautiful." She reached out, taking both of Y/N's hands in hers and giving her an appraising look.

Y/N's cheeks flushed at the compliment. "Thank you, Mrs. Styles," she stammered, feeling a mixture of nerves and warmth.

Anne smiled warmly. "Oh, call me Anne," she insisted before turning her attention to Harry. "I didn't know you two were such good friends."

Y/N and Harry exchanged a quick glance, both unsure of how to respond.

"I'm her coach," they both blurted out simultaneously, the words tumbling out in a rush.

Anne's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "What?" she exclaimed, her gaze flitting between them. "You're coaching?"

Harry nodded, his expression serious. "Yes," he confirmed quietly.

"But Harry, your injury," Anne interjected, concern evident in her voice as she glanced down at his leg. "You're not meant to be—"

"I'm fine, Mum," Harry interrupted sharply, his tone making no room for argument.

"Harry, you know you can’t be playing-"

"I said I'm fine," Harry's voice rose, his frustration evident as he cut her off, causing Y/N to jump at the sudden outburst.

Anne's concern softened into a resigned sigh, her eyes reflecting a mixture of worry and understanding. "Alright, Harry," she relented, her tone gentler now. "Just promise me you're taking care of yourself."

Harry's features softened, a hint of remorse flickering in his eyes. "I promise, Mum," he said, his voice softer now, more subdued.

Anne nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. "Good. That's all I ask."

As the atmosphere relaxed, Anne turned her attention back to Y/N, her smile warm and welcoming. "Well, it's lovely to see you again, Y/N," she said kindly. “Tell your parents we’ll be stopping by in the spring.”

Y/N returned the smile, her earlier nervousness dissipating in the warmth of Anne's acceptance. "It was nice to see you too, " she replied sincerely.

Harry glanced at Y/N, a softness in his gaze that made her heart skip a beat. After seeing his mother out following her very brief visit, Y/N finally mustered the courage to ask, "What was she talking about?"

Harry's expression turned grave, his features shadowed by a sense of burden. "It was nothing," he replied.

"Why can't you play?" Y/N pushed, her concern evident in her voice.

"Y/N, I'm telling you to leave it alone," Harry warned, his tone firm.

But Y/N couldn't let it go. "If it's nothing, then why can't you tell me?" she insisted, her frustration bubbling to the surface.

"Because it's none of your business, that's why," Harry snapped, his words cutting like a knife.

"Nothing I do or say has anything to do with you, so go back to hating me because it's a hell of a lot easier than what I have to deal with."

Y/N's heart sank at his harsh words. With a deep breath, she crossed her arms, her resolve hardening. "You know, now I remember why we never got along in the first place," she retorted, her voice laced with bitterness. With a sharp turn on her heel, she made her way to the front door. "You're such an asshole, Harry."

"Y/N," Harry called out, his voice tinged with regret as she stormed out of his apartment towards the elevator. "Y/N, come on, don't be like that."

"Go suck a dick," she shot back, stepping into the elevator before Harry could stop her.

As the doors closed, Harry's shoulders slumped in defeat. "Let me drive you back, at least," he pleaded, his voice barely audible over the sound of the closing doors.

"Fine," Y/N huffed, her tone clipped with annoyance.

The car ride back to her dorm was tense and silent. When Harry pulled into the front of her dormitory, Y/N moved to open the door finding the silence far too uncomfortable. Then, out of nowhere, Harry's voice broke the silence. "I can't play tennis anymore," he confessed, his words heavy.

Y/N's heart stopped, her breath catching in her throat. "What do you mean you can't play anymore? That's ridiculous," she exclaimed, her disbelief evident in her voice.

Harry's hands tightened on the wheel, his knuckles turning white. "I mean I can't ever play tennis again," he admitted, his voice cracking with emotion.

"Are you serious?" Y/N asked, her voice trembling with shock.

"I tore my ACL during practice for the French Open. I—" Harry's voice trailed off, unable to continue, “It was so bad Y/N and I was in so much fucking pain and no one would listen to me. I went through multiple surgeries and rehab but the doctors sat me down and said I couldn’t play unless I wanted to fuck up my leg for the rest of my life.”

“Harry…” Y/N’s eyes glistened with tears.

Her breath caught in her throat as the weight of Harry's words sank in. She glanced over at him, seeing the pain etched in his features, and felt a surge of empathy wash over her. It was a devastating blow for someone who had dedicated their life to the sport they loved.

"I'm so sorry, Harry," Y/N whispered, her voice filled with genuine sadness for the boy beside her.

Harry managed a small nod, his gaze fixed on the road ahead, “That’s why I had to come back here. My father can barely look at me and my mother won’t leave me alone. At least here I can be around people my own age but when I’m at home, it’s fucking suffocating Y/N.”

Y/N didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t imagine losing the one thing she loved above anything else in the world and have to re-construct everything she had ever known to find something else to love just as much.

“I don’t expect you to say anything but I’d appreciate it if you showed me a little mercy,” He spoke.

“Why would you offer to coach me then? Would that not make things worse?” She asked.

He looks at her, really looks at her, like there was something on the tip of his tongue he wanted to say but couldn’t, “I figured it would alleviate the pain.”

“But I saw you play, I watched you and you beat me,” She exclaimed.

“Yeah and it hurt like a bitch afterwards,” He shook his head.

Y/N couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She wondered why Harry had been unwilling to play against her during the training sessions and now she knew why. She felt awful, her heart was hurting for him.

“I don’t want you to feel pity for me and I don’t want this to change anything between us. I’m tired of being treated like a broken toy and I think it would kill me inside if you looked at me differently.”

Y/N stayed quiet, facing forward and collecting her thoughts before saying, “Thank you for telling me,” She murmured, “And it doesn’t change anything. You’re still an asshole,”

Harry laughed and then his pinky brushed the side of her hand, “You will be everything tomorrow.” He whispered.

Y/N’s heart fluttered at the soft edge of his words, “You think so?”

His eyes softened, “I believe in you, more than anyone in the entire world.”

She nodded, taking a deep breath and looking out the window. The tension had settled and now a newfound respect lingered between them.

She would win tomorrow, for herself and for him.

. . .

It had been a while since Harry had been to a tennis tournament. The last time he was on a court for an official match was well over six months ago, it was a challenger match he participated in during his training for the French Open before his life took a vast turn.

He sat in the stands with everyone else from Crestwood who had come to watch the first game. Although Crestwood Academy invested more in the football team than any other sport, the turnout had been pretty good and nearly every seat was occupied by a student or teacher.

On the opposite side was Eaststone Academy who seemed to have invested heavily in their merchandise for Y/N’s opponent. Everyone was either wearing a t-shirt with Vanya’s name on it or carrying a sign with supportive catchphrases written in bold marker.

Harry craned his neck in hopes of seeing Y/N preparing herself somewhere outside of the court but couldn’t find her anywhere. He’d sent her a quick message this morning and asked her if she needed anything but she insisted she wanted to be alone.

“Fuck, it’s good we got in the queue early,” Mitch came by with an anxious Sarah, holding two cokes in his hand. They were both wearing navy shirts and sweatbands around their heads, Sarah was holding a sign that had Y/N’s name on it.

“She’s gonna hate you for that,” Harry tried not to smile.

“Oh I already know,” Sarah said, “She watched me make it last night and then almost ripped in half when I asked her if I should bedazzle it.”

Harry’s expression changed into one of concern, “How was she?”

“She’s nervous but she insisted she was okay,” Sarah rolled her eyes, “You know how she is.”

He did, which was why he was willing to accept the fact she wanted to be by herself even though he was desperate to drive over there with strawberry milkshakes just so he could see that smile he had been dreaming about for the past three weeks.

Suddenly, Eaststone Academy stood from their seats and cheered as Vanya Maddison came onto the court. “I’ve never seen such long legs,” Sarah gasped, saying what both Harry and Mitch were thinking.

Harry’s heart pounded in his chest as the people around him stood on their feet. He glanced down to the court and his eyes fell on Y/N as she walked onto the court with a dip between her brows and her tennis bag over her shoulder.

She was wearing a white, pleated skort and a Ralph Lauren polo shirt. Her hair was slicked back as tightly as possible into a braid and her white runners were tied up on her feet. He noticed she was wearing earbuds in her ears and then found the walkman he had given her clipped to her skort. He smiled at that, wondering which of the many songs he had put together she was listening to.

“There she is,” Sarah pointed and then waved to get her attention.

Y/N held a hand over her face to block the sun and looked up at the crowd. When she caught sight of Sarah, she offered a friendly wave before her eyes landed on Harry. She gave him a nod of acknowledgement and then walked to her seat on the other side of the umpire.

“C’mon,” Harry murmured, feeling his palms sweating at the sight of her.

“She’s got this in the bag, H.” Mitch puts a hand on his shoulder.

Through the speakers, the umpire calls out the start of the match and everyone falls silent as both players walk to opposing sides of the court. Y/N bounces on her feet and swings her racket backwards and forwards as though warming herself up before the match starts.

When the first serve came, Y/N's reflexes kicked in. She returned the ball swiftly, keeping the rally going with her quick movements, remembering what Harry had taught her. Each exchange became more intense, but Y/N stayed determined, chasing down every ball.

When Vanya hit the ball for the other corner, Y/N ran towards it and returned the ball swiftly, earning the first point with a well-placed shot. The crowd erupted into cheers as Y/N gained an early lead.

“That’s my girl!” Harry clapped his heart in his throat.

But Vanya wasn't about to let up. With determination in her eyes, she fought back, winning the next two points with powerful serves and precise shots. The score was now in Vanya's favor, and the pressure was on for Y/N.

“Fuck!” Y/N released a growl and hit her racket against the floor before storming off to her seat. Harry was tempted to walk down and help her but he needed to let her see what she was capable of on her own.

Her anger was radiating from her, “I’d hate to get on her bad side,” Mitch said.

Harry couldn’t seem to reply as he leant forward with both his elbows on his knees. “C’mon, c’mon, you can do it.” He mutters, thinking of the first bit of advice he had given her.

“Do you know what your biggest strength is in this game?” Harry asked.

“My speed?” Y/N frowned.

“Your anger,” He replies, “Off the court, it’s a little annoying but on the court, it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Use it.”

Y/N rolled her shoulders back and stood on her feet. She walked back to her line on the court and bounced the ball up and down on the ground before throwing it up in the air and hitting it with a flat serve, exactly the way Harry had taught her. Her anger radiated from her as she slammed the ball with her racket and hit it with such force it went flying to the other end of the court but not before bouncing inside the square right by Vanya’s foot.

Harry stood to his feet and pumped his fist into the air, “Holy shit!” Mitch exclaimed as Sarah cheered beside him.

They were now at match point and Y/N had to win this next round if she wanted to win the entire game.

The tension thickened in the air as people sat on the edge of their seats to see who would come out on top. This time, it was Vanya’s turn to serve as she launched the ball into the air and hit it with her racket to Y/N’s side of the court.

As Y/N unleashed powerful serves and precise shots, Harry found himself captivated by her every move. With each grunt of exertion, each flex of her muscles, he couldn't tear his eyes away from her. Despite the shifting heads of the spectators around him as they followed the ball back and forth, his gaze remained fixed solely on her.

Every aspect of Y/N's play had him in a trance—the way her muscles rippled as she sprinted across the court, the intensity in her expression as she anticipated Vanya’s next move, the graceful sway of her hair with each swing of her racket.

But as Harry watched, something stirred within him. A warmth spread through his veins, igniting a fire deep within him. Suddenly, he felt a tightness in his shorts, a physical reaction to the raw power and determination radiating from Y/N on the court.

"Oh, fuck," Harry muttered under his breath, his heart racing as he glanced down and saw the undeniable bulge in his shorts. Panic surged through him, his mind reeling with embarrassment.

"What's wrong?" Mitch's voice cut through his thoughts, and Harry quickly lowered his drink to conceal his arousal.

“N-Nothing,” Harry forces a smile, “I need to use the bathroom.” He doesn’t wait for Mitch to respond as she pushes past everyone to get away from the crowd.

He walks quickly over to his car and jumps into the driver's seat, slamming the door behind him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” He didn’t know what to do. He felt like he was thirteen years old after experiencing girls for the first time again. Was it wrong to rub himself off in the middle of a tennis match when all he was looking at was the girl who played his favourite sport better than anyone he had ever seen, dominating the game with her anger and intensity like she was a complete animal?

He couldn’t shake the image of her from his mind and his cock seemed to ache the more he thought about how beautiful she was on the court, completely in her element, anger and passion emitting from her. Every grunt and groan she made as she hit the ball with so much fervor had his head spiralling.

He looked down and tried to will it away, he needed to get back out there to see her win the game. He thought of every disturbing thing he could possibly think of and even took out his phone to google the quickest way to get rid of an erection.

The excited yells of the crowd told him someone had won and he prayed he would return and see Y/N with the medal around her neck.

After about ten minutes of taking deep breaths, he finally felt composed enough to leave his car. With a flustered face, he made his way back toward the court, silently praying for some kind of cosmic intervention to erase the embarrassing moment from his memory.

As he turned the corner, he spotted Mitch and Sarah engaged in conversation with Y/N, who was proudly wearing the gold medal around her neck. She had won - he knew she would.

Y/N's eyes lit up as she noticed him, a wide smile spreading across her face as she proudly displayed her medal. Unable to resist, he grinned back in response.

Sweat glistened on her skin, her cheeks flushed with exertion, and delicate strands of hair framed her face. At that moment, she radiated beauty, and he couldn't deny the sudden surge of emotions that had slowly been weaving themselves into the fabric of his feelings ever since he had returned to Crestwood.

If the past fifteen minutes were anything to go by, Harry knew this was more than just a game of tennis.

He was in trouble.

. . .

People cheered as Y/N entered Harry’s apartment with Sarah at her side, holding beer cans in the air and patting her on the shoulder as she sifted through the crowds of people. S&M by Rhianna played over the speakers as the apartment that was previously empty was now filled up with student’s from Crestwood.

“There she is,” Mitch’s voice yelled over the music, “Crestwood’s very own Serena Williams,”

“I wouldn’t go that far Mitch,” She chuckled, unable to stop herself from smiling so hard after the excitement of her first win.

Y/N’s eyes scanned the room as she went in search of the one person she wanted to see whilst everyone fell into conversation around her.

That’s when she saw him, leaning against the wall with a red solo cup in his hand. His hair was a tangled mess, and his body was adorned in a loose, white shirt, its u-neck revealing the inked pair of swallows beneath his collarbones and gold chain around his neck. On his legs, he wore a loose pair of black trousers.

Y/N held back a smile as she made her way over to him until she realised who he was talking to.

Her face fell as she saw the angelic blonde, tanned and glowing like she’d just come back from a holiday somewhere south of the equator.

Harry’s face lit up as Y/N approached until he realised what was going on.

“Hey,” He smiled, trying to distract her.

“Where were you?” Y/N snapped her gaze towards him.

“What do y’ mean? M right here,” He spoke, “You were incredible out there.”

“Who’s this?” Y/N ignored him, folding her arms and looking at the girl he was speaking to. Y/N knew exactly who she was but felt the need to act as though she had never seen her before.

Harry hesitated for a moment before introducing her. “Y/N, this is Astrid.”

Astrid flashed a dazzling smile at Y/N, her demeanour friendly yet confident. “Congratulations on the win today, Y/N. I’m looking forward to our match in the semifinals.”

Harry's reaction was immediate. “What?” he stammered, clearly taken aback.

“You didn’t know?” Astrid asked, surprised. “Y/N and I will be facing off in the semifinals.”

Y/N grit her teeth and forced a smile, the two girls eyeing each other up and down as Harry’s eyes darted anxiously between them.

Now that Y/N was into the semi-finals her next opponent was Astrid Anderson, one of the best junior, female tennis players in the county.

Who just so happened to be Harry’s ex-girlfriend.

1K notes · View notes

iholdwhatican · 9 months ago

Text

tension

part two to reunions - must read part 1 first!

pairing: art donaldson x reader x patrick zweig

length: 3.2k

author's note: this took wayyyy too long for me to do yall, i'm so sorry. these two have a tight hold on me and i'm in the trenches. i've got some good stuff lined up tho, and i'm super excited to write it heeheehee :) also smut in the future will be much longer and much more detailed, just fyi

tags: y/n is art donaldson's wife ; birthday party ; art is down bad ; patrick wants y/n ; possessive!art ; the boys are fighting ; no use of y/n ; pining ; sexual tension ; sugar mommy y/n? ; unapologetic flirting with your bff's wife at his birthday party

warnings: sexual content, p in v, not super detailed but still there!

summary: the stressful night of the birthday party continues, and you find yourself pinging between art and patrick like a tennis ball. how the hell did you get yourself into this?

originally posted by iholdwhatican

It took four minutes and 36 seconds of Art and Patrick being alone outside before the anxiety became too much. Your dress was too tight against your skin and the chatter of the guests rattled in your skull. Your mind replayed the anger on Art’s face over and over, convinced that he’d direct it at you the moment he came back in. And if you were being honest, you couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss.

Your blood boiled with the ferocity of it, and an ache in your core begged for another taste.

Another three minutes and 18 seconds passed while you downed half of your second glass of wine. You made conversation with a few people who caught your eye, making sure all the food and drink were up to par. Not that you really could care about that right now. Your mind was a jumble of thoughts about the two men on the balcony.

Art, Patrick, Art, Patrick, Art, Patrick, Art, Patrick

“You look like you’re gonna puke.”

For the second time that night, Patrick Zweig’s voice made you jump.

You looked at him, catching sight of that damned smirk that made your stomach flip, and furrowed your brows. One quick scan of the room came up empty for your husband, forcing the anxiety in your chest to worsen.

“Where’s Art?” You asked, not missing the way your voice wobbled slightly.

“Relax.” Patrick responded, resting a hand on your shoulder, “He went to the kitchen, I think. I didn’t kill him. And he didn’t run for the hills either.”

You decided not to comment on how easily he’d read your worries without you saying anything. For some reason, you were an open book to him.

A deep sigh left you. You licked your lips anxiously- which immediately caused Patrick’s eyes to fall on your mouth.

“What happened out there?”

The man gave you a shrug, letting his hand fall back to his side, “Nothing, really. We just talked for a bit. He told me I could stay, as long as I stopped flirting with you.”

“So does that mean you’re going to stop?” The idea made you slightly unhappy, which in turn filled you with guilt. Why were you so excited by his flirtations when you had a wonderful, loving husband who treated you like a queen?

But then Patrick grinned, and you knew the answer before he said it, “Well, I’ve never been one to do what I’m told.”

A smile grew over your lips, and you tried to hide it with an eye roll, “Why don’t you mingle? Try some food. I’m going to find my husband.”

He didn’t miss the enunciation you put on ‘my husband’, and you didn’t miss the way his eyes darkened as you said it. You didn’t give it time to linger, instead turning away and moving towards the kitchen.

You knew the look Patrick had in his eyes. You’d seen it a dozen times in Art’s. On the court, over a board game, in all sorts of scenarios. And every time, even now, the look sent a chill down your spine.

That expression was clear, resolute competition.

Just as Patrick had said, you found Art in the kitchen. With his back to you, you had a perfect view of his tense shoulders and hanging head as he poured himself a glass of water. He was all wound up, and you knew it was your fault. Now it was your responsibility to fix it.

You stepped up behind him, sliding a hand between his shoulder blades. He didn’t hesitate to lean into the touch, a subconscious reaction. He knew it was you just by the feel of your hand on him. And, even if he might be furious, he still found comfort in it.

“Hey…” You breathed, leaning to the side to meet his gaze. Art looked at you over his shoulder, a half-smile quirking his lips up, “How are you doing?”

“Hey.” He responded, turning and sliding his hands over your hips. Your chest pressed against his as he leaned down and placed a kiss on your hairline. Then he just lingered there, breathing in your smell, “I honestly don’t know. I just- it was so weird to see him.”

“Yeah, of course it was.” Your words reached him in a soft, comforting tone. The guilt of putting your perfect, doting husband in this situation was enough to make you feel like you had barbed wire around your neck. You had to pay penance- somehow. You rubbed your hand in circles over his back, “I’m sorry, sundrop. I don’t know what I was thinking when I invited him.”

Sundrop. A nickname that went way back to the early days of your relationship. Art was an energetic puppy dog with a halo of golden curls and a smile that made your insides feel hot. He was what you pictured a personification of the sun to be, hence the pet name. He pretended not to like it, but his eyes always sparkled a certain way when you said it.

Art pulled his head away to peer down into your eyes, his own pensive and confused, “No, baby, don’t be sorry. It was a great fucking surprise. Just… a surprise.”

You shook your head. He was so fucking good to you, “You’re allowed to be mad at me.”

“Mad? At you?” In one quick motion, he picked you up and set you on the counter. Your legs opened for him without hesitation, allowing him to slot right in between them, “I don’t think that’s possible.”

You fought the blush rising in your cheeks and rolled your eyes, “You think too highly of me.”

“No. Never.” He replied instantly. He kissed your chin. Then your jaw. Then your neck. Then down your throat, “As far as I’m concerned, you’re God.”

“Art-” You argued, though you weren’t sure what for. You tilted your neck back and offered yourself up to him.

“I could spend my life on my knees for you and be happy.” His words were muffled as he mouthed at your neck, sending shivers down your spine. This, combined with the kiss from earlier, was making you ache with need. You were half-tempted to end the party early and take your pretty husband to bed.

You bit your lip when he ran his tongue over a sensitive spot above your collarbone. If he wasn’t in between them, you’d be squeezing your thighs together.

When Art pulled away, his eyes had darkened. Dilated pupils and heavy breaths told you all you needed to know. He was just as fucking horny as you were right now. His hands held your hips tighter.

“Do you think we’d be left alone long enough for me to show you how much I mean it?” He asked. It was almost as if he were begging. As if he couldn’t bear the idea of doing anything other than dropping to his knees and devouring you.

And God, when he looked at you like that, you had no choice but to say yes.

Unfortunately, fate intervened, and you were kept from making a scene at your husband’s birthday party.

“Hey, you two, quit snogging and come entertain us!” One of Art’s tennis friends called, sticking their head into the kitchen. The big grin on their face told you it was just teasing, but you still felt your face burning with embarrassment.

“It’s my birthday, let me do what I want.” Art jeered right back, lifting you off the counter and back onto your own two feet. You laughed airily at the comment, feeling more light-headed than anything.

Before following his friend back into the action, he whispered a quick, “Later, okay?” to you. And then he left you standing in the kitchen- touch-starved, foggy-headed, and excruciatingly aroused.

It was then that you realized you didn’t even get to ask him what happened with Patrick.

Upon re-entering the party, you found yourself taking note of two things- or rather, two people. One, Art- conversing with some friends from the foundation with a big grin on his face. Two, Patrick- having his fill of finger foods from the refreshment table. He was alone. And though you tried to fight it, you found yourself gravitating towards him.

“Do they not have food where you’re from?” You teased, falling into place at his side. Your gaze slid over the spread before flicking up to his face.

You’d caught him mid-bite, and he attempted to swallow quickly and regain his composure. Something warmed slightly in your chest. Endearing.

“Well, I’m kinda… in between places right now.” He explained, tongue stuck in his cheek to clear out residual bits of food, “And there’s never stuff as good as this.”

You let the compliment slide away, instead focusing on his more troubling response, “Are you homeless?”

“What? No.” He chuckled, as if the question were preposterous, “I go all over for tennis. It’s just easier to stay on the move.”

You raised an eyebrow, “And on off-season?”

Something in his expression darkened, only for a moment, and then he was back to cocky smiles and overwhelming confidence, “I’m too busy to care about that. And what’s it matter to you, anyway?”

“I’d like to think I’m a good person.” You said, plucking a snack off the table and popping it into your mouth. You chewed it halfway before continuing, “And a good person worries if they think someone they care about isn’t doing well.”

Patrick grinned at you for five long seconds. And it took him actually saying the words to realize where you’d slipped up.

“You care about me?”

Shit. You had not meant to say that. Why was this man so damn good at getting every little thought in your head to spill out of your mouth?

“If caring about you means I don’t want you sleeping under a bridge somewhere, then sure.”

“Okay, I would never let it get that far-”

“I wanna help.”

He blinked, “Help how?” Briefly, very briefly, you thought of your bed. Your comfortable, spacious bed, perfect for three individuals. You could picture it- you, safe and sound and nestled between the two men. Art, your lovely, obedient husband on one side, letting himself love and be loved. And Patrick on the other side, nice and cozy with a roof over his head and a full belly.

The image flashed in an instant, and you were left with hollow, heavy guilt. You swallowed.

“How much do you need?”

“Huh?” You rolled your eyes at him, “How much money do you need? To keep you afloat for the next little while. And I’ll send you home tonight with leftovers.”

Patrick let the words wash over him, slowly smiling as they did. He took a step towards you, close enough that one tiny shove would have your bodies pressed together. You could smell him, all sweat and cigarettes and woodsy cologne that made your head spin. You’d been wound up all night, and this was absolutely not helping.

“You gonna write me a check? Use your hard-earned money to get a practical stranger a hotel for a couple nights?” He murmured, heavy on the charm, “What would your husband think?”

He knew he’d gotten under your skin. He knew what he was doing. He was fucking enjoying this.

You tried to hold your ground, looking up at him through your lashes, “It’s his money, actually. He makes sure I never have to work unless I want to.”

“Guess he treats you pretty well. And look how you’re taking advantage of it.” His hand lay on the table next to yours, his fingertips nearly brushing the skin of your wrist. How bad would it be if you closed the gap?

You bit your lip, “You’re allowed to turn me down.”

“I don’t think I’d ever turn you down, Mrs. Donaldson.”

Something about that title, something about the way he said it, made your blood run hot and cold at the same time. It reminded you of the myths of sirens. Beautiful monsters of the sea that used their voices to bring others to their demise. Talking to Patrick had that same type of allure, and the sense of danger.

“Then tell me what you need.”

“What do you think I need?”

Oh, you could think of a few things. But you could also feel a pair of eyes on you, and you knew exactly who they belonged to. Part of you wanted to tempt him, see if you could get another reaction like out on the balcony. However, you quickly shot the idea down. Not right now, not in the middle of a crowded party.

Lips curving into an innocent smile, you pushed yourself a step back from him, “I think you need a nice place to sleep. And a few good meals. And maybe a hug.”

The sudden switch-up took Patrick by surprise, but he handled it smoothly and responded only a beat later, “You’re offering?”

“At least for the first two.” You didn’t know what you’d do if you were in his arms. With the way you were feeling now, with two glasses of wine in your system, your boundaries were getting blurrier and blurrier. How humiliating.

His bottom lip jutted out into a pout. Which unfortunately dragged your gaze right down to his mouth. It took you a moment too long to meet his eyes again.

“What, we can’t hug? Don’t you consider me a friend?”

“I do.” You shrugged, tucking loose hair behind your ear, “Maybe I’m just not a touchy person.”

A lie. You knew it, and you could tell by the look on his face that he knew it too.

“Yeah.” He smirked, sounding the opposite of sincere, “Art’s wife isn’t a touchy person. Sure.”

You needed a cold shower. Or to go have some one-on-one time with your vibrator. Or maybe move to the seaside and spend your days going mad in a lighthouse. You weren’t sure. All you knew was how increasingly hot you were feeling.

“Speaking of Art, go talk to him. Try to make amends. Meet some of his friends.” You suggested, glancing over at your husband. He wasn’t watching you anymore, at least not straight on. But he had a radar when it came to you, and he was very diligent in keeping tabs. No matter what.

“You trying to get rid of me?” Patrick asked lightly. No heat behind the words.

“Oh, yes.” You admitted, placing your hands on his shoulders and pointing him towards Art, “Find me again before you leave and I’ll have your check.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He grinned at you over his shoulder, sending a wink before sauntering off.

Finally, you felt like you could actually get a breath in your lungs.

The party had ended. Guests went home, Patrick got his check and headed to a hotel you recommended, and you and your partner left all the cleanup for the morning. You barely gave it a second glance as you went up to bed with him, your hand held tightly in his.

Art fucked you like a starving man that night. You barely got into the room before his lips were plastered on your skin, his hands unzipping your dress with quick precision. He was usually much more reserved, but something about tonight had made him ravenous. And he wasn’t the only one.

You ended up on his lap; bare chests pressed together, skin sweaty and breaths heavy as you rolled your hips into him. His hands clutched your thighs, keeping you close, fingers pressing into the flesh. You pulled on his hair and his head immediately fell back. As if he were a puppet for you to position and use however you wanted. His eyes looked up at you with a fire in them you’d never seen before, but the adoration, the reverence, was all too familiar.

Your name fell from his lips over and over again like a prayer. The single word weaved with threads of devotion, possessiveness, desire. A song joined in chorus by whatever nonsensical phrase entered his head. I love you, so perfect, all mine, please, please, please.

He was claiming you. Marking his territory in his own special way. It didn’t matter that Patrick wasn’t here to see it, or that he probably would never even know. As long as Art could tell himself that you were his, he’d be okay. Jealousy was a good look on him.

You could feel your core tighten with each and every movement of his hips against you. You weren’t going to last much longer. But by the look in your husband’s eyes, neither was he.

Parted lips claimed yours in a messy kiss, tongue sliding into your mouth and exploring every open space. Then you were being flipped over; back pressed into the mattress as Art rocked into you with reckless abandon. He intertwined his fingers with yours and pinned your hands above your head without ever breaking the kiss.

You lasted about thirty seconds. Finally, the tension in you snapped and your orgasm washed over you in waves, leaving you limp and trembling. Art finished only a moment later. You could feel him pulsing inside of you as the aftershocks slowly faded away. The room reeked of sweat and sex and your head was spinning.

Art, your precious, dutiful man, rested his head on your chest as he attempted to catch his breath. You could feel the tickle of his lips kissing your skin, the soft squeeze of his hands on your hips. You ran a hand through his damp hair, fingers massaging his scalp.

“I love you.” He murmured against your ribs, right over your thundering heart. He said it like he couldn’t quite believe he was allowed, like he didn’t believe you were here, that you were his.

Dark hair and cigarette smoke flashed through your mind. Almost-touching hands and paper checks.

“I love you.” You responded, kissing his hairline, “Happy Birthday, baby.”

The only response you got was a tired, happy sound and another kiss to your collarbone. A quick adjustment later and the two of you were tucked under the blankets, your head on Art’s chest and his arm around you. Neither of you cared enough to clean yourselves up or to put pajamas on. Art was already softly snoring next to you, and you could feel your eyelids getting heavy.

As you listened to the baddump of his heart, a strange thought flitted through your mind. You’d just had the best sex of your life, and it was because of Patrick. You weren’t the only one who’d been thinking of him while in the throes of passion. The notion made something strange twinge in your gut.

And then, like he’d somehow read your mind, your phone lit up with a text.

Patrick Zweig: You free for lunch tomorrow?

***

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