#i think i'm going to end on a quiet moment

[justmeinadaze]

Inescapable Part 5 (Steddie X Y/N)

A/N: Ok I have one more part left...I think lol I'm 90% positive I have one more part left but sometimes I type and more of a story flows lol

Enjoy!

Warnings: Convicts Dom Older Steddie (Sir Eddie/ Daddy Steve) & Fem Sub Younger Y/N, SMUT, dirty talk (all the dirty talk), trying to be quiet, praise, etc. FLUFF, they love her and she loves them, Steddie being good dads to Olivia <3

ANGST (😈)

Coming off the last chapter they are on the run, a guard is hurt (brief mentions of blood), the guys finally tell her what happened in 86 (slight season 4 spoilers), mentions of PTSD (especially with Eddie), Reader and Steve get into a small fight (very brief), brief mentions of Y/N and Olivia being considered hostages while they're all on the run, Cliffhanger ending! Involving an idiot from their past and they are prepared to let their dark (slightly toxic) side take over to resolve the problem.

Word Count: 6843

Inescapable Series/ Donate to Me :)

Steve’s eyes continually flick to the rear-view mirror as you stare out the window of the third car they had stolen on this trip alone. It had been about 24hrs and you still looked incredibly worn out. Eddie made sure you took all your pills that were listed in your chart and sat in the backseat with you to keep an eye on Olivia when you finally fell asleep. 

“Shhh… Everything’s ok, sweetheart. You just had to get here early, didn’t you? Were you worried about your momma to? Yeah?”, he grinned when his daughter cooed.

“Alright, I’m going to pull over here. That way we can all rest and get something to eat.”, the other man conveyed as he pulled into a hotel parking lot. 

After grabbing a key and hiding the car in the back, Steve carried you inside and placed you on the bed beside where Eddie had placed the baby. 

“Go ahead and relax. I’ll run and grab some food. I saw a diner next door and we still have some formula from the convenience store we stopped at.”

Nodding at his friend, the metalhead pushes down his baseball cap over his long hair he had pulled up into a messy bun and hurries out the door. As it closes, the loud thunk stirs Olivia as she begins to whine. 

“Oh no, honey, it’s ok.”, Steve tries to sooth as he picks her up and bounces her carefully in his arms. “It’s ok. Daddy didn’t mean to scare you. You have to be quiet or else you’re going to wake up mommy.”

After grabbing the pacifier and climbing into the bed beside you, he can’t help but smile as you curl tighter into him. This is all Steve ever wanted, a little family of his own. When they started interacting with you, his mind was always a buzz with fantasies of waking up beside you every morning or going down the stairs of a big house to find his kids cackling as they ate their breakfast. Coming home after a long day at the office to find you and Eddie working together to help the children with their homework and make dinner. 

Images like that fueled him as he used it for motivation to get through each day until they were set free…until your dad ripped that away…

Steve’s nose scrunched in anger as it ran through his body before his daughter sighing brought him back to the moment. 

***

“Goddamn it.”, Eddie grumbled as he tripped over his feet reentering the hotel room. Spotting you three passed out on the bed had his heart fluttering as he placed the food down on the table. 

You looked so tiny against Steve’s large frame as his palm rested on your temple while Olivia was asleep on his broad chest with her father’s protective hand keeping her steady. 

This is all Eddie ever wanted, a family. Something he never got to have growing up. Wayne was the only person in the Munson line that seemed to give a shit about him and he promised himself when he got married and had kids they would never feel unwanted. 

When they met you, he envisioned a picture-perfect life with you and Steve by his side with a bunch of little rugrats running around. He would take you somewhere outside of Hawkins where you three could start fresh and feel safe. 

Maybe that was still something he could have if you three made it where you were going. 

The sound of you stirring and wincing grabbed his attention as he checked the clock before digging into a bag to grab your pills. 

“Hey, sweetheart. Come on. Time to take this next set of meds and I got some food for you to.”, Eddie whispers as he takes your forearm and helps you to the table. “How are you feeling?”

“Hm…better, thank you.”

“Tell me about the birth. What happened?”, he asks as he begins sorting everything. 

“The doctor thinks it was stress that induced me. It hurt so bad, Eddie. Derek rushed me to the hospital and I was there forever. After she was born, I guess I lost a bit too much blood and passed out. Told you, she was a vampire.”, you smile as the man across from you tries to do the same but can’t hide his worry. 

At the sound of the bags jostling, Steve’s eyes open and the metalhead hastily scurries over to move Olivia so he can get up to eat as well. 

“Thanks, man.”

“She has my last name. I wanted to give her yours but—”

“We know, baby. Your, um, your dad told us.”

“Is he the one that gave you those bruises?”, you ask as you reach out to touch the other man’s face.

“Let’s not talk about that right now, ok? I called Dustin and he said he’s going to send us some things at a P.O. Box a couple towns over so—”

“I want to talk about it now.” Your tone is firm, much stronger than it had been these past couple of days. “What happened? What made you escape now instead of before? You said my father saw me leaving…”

Annoyance darkens their eyes but you remain unshaken as you glare back. 

“You were covered in blood. Did you kill someone?”

“And if we had?”, Steve snaps. “What would that change? Would you take Olivia and run back to your asshole dad? Turn us in and put us back where we belong?”

“No, you fucking dick. I just sacrificed everything to be here with you two so don’t you dare talk to me like that.”, you growl before sighing heavily from exhaustion as you lean back in your seat.

Blinking, the pretty boy calms down, reaching for your soda, and holding the straw to your lips that you eagerly sip.

“I’m sorry, honey. It’s been a rough few hours.”, Steve exhales as he tilts back in his chair as well. “Your dad showed up with some of the guards who are his friends I guess and beat the shit out of me and him.”

“He was going to separate us.”, Eddie added with a crack in his voice as he stared at the table in front of him. “He was going to send me to Indianapolis where my father is and Steve to Washington. Y/N, part of the reason we’ve made it this long is each other. We protect each other.”

“That first week we went in some guy jumped me because of my last name. Munson beat his ass and anyone else who even had the idea. Later on, inmates tried to hurt him to get to me because I’m soft…or so they thought… One night some fucker stabbed him so I did the same. No body messed with us after that.”

“If he separated us, Steve would have been hurt or worse and my dad with his own asshole goons…”, the metalhead shakes the thought from his brain as his eyes meet yours. “You’d have been trapped in Hawkins alone…”

“Did—Did you have to kill someone to escape?”

There’s a long pause in the conversation before Eddie finally shook his head.

“What the fuck are we going to do, Ed?!”

“I don’t know, Steve.”, the man replies with a flat expression as his friend manically paces in their cell. 

“We’ll both be killed and what about Y/N? She and Olivia will be all alone with fucking Derek and her asshole father!”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?! Just yeah?! In Washington, I can’t protect them or you! Eddie, if you go to Indianapolis, your dad is going to fucking teach you a lesson! I guess it doesn’t fucking matter though because as soon as they throw me in a cell up there someone is going to hurt me. The only reason I’ve lasted this long is you!” Steve feels his body fold into itself as he begins to really panic. “I can’t leave you or Y/N. I love you both. How am… I’ll be all alone… I should have just let the bats fucking rip me apart—”

As the boy spoke, the metalhead felt himself get steadily ramped up till he couldn’t take it anymore and rushed forward capturing Steve’s face in his palms as his lips crashed to his own.

“I’m not going to let that happen. I didn’t let you die then and I won’t let anyone hurt you now. Do you hear me?!”, he roughly growls as he tries to control the tears that want to break free. “You won’t be alone, sweetheart, I promise. I don’t care what I have to do.”

Eddie kisses him a bit softer as the other man nods and clings to his wrist. 

The lock to their cell slowly opens and both men prepare to fight before coming face to face with a guard they trust. 

“Come on. We have to move fast.”, Bobby whispers as he ushers them out with his hand and they hastily follow. After leading them to the area he allowed them to leave through last time, he paused and handed the long-haired boy a small knife. “Ok, you remember how to get out right? Now since you aren’t coming back I need it to look like you overpowered me.”

“Wait, can’t we just hit you or something?”

“No, that’d be too suspicious. If this is really what you want to do, you need to decide now.”

Both boys glance at each other before Eddie steps towards him and places his palm on the guard’s shoulder. 

“Thank you, man. For everything you’ve done for us and Y/N.”

“I always knew you were innocent and Y/N has always been kind to me.”, Bobby smiles softly before nodding his head. “Try and hit this side here. I’ll radio it in, in two minutes so you better fucking run. Good luck, guys.”

“It was so fast, Y/N. As soon as we hit the woods, the alarms started going off. I didn’t think we’d get to you.”, Eddie sighed as he finished his story, their eyes flicking your way as you started to cry. “No, hey, no. Don’t cry, sweetheart.”, he pleaded as he got out of his chair to fall on his knees in front of you and take your hands.

“This is all my fault. Maybe if I had listened to you and left with my mom or—”

“Maybe all of this would have happened anyway.”, Steve cut you off as he pet your head. “Your dad isn’t exactly a trust worthy man.”

“I love you so much and everything is going to be alright.”

“Yeah, princess, it will.”, the long-haired boy beamed as he kissed your lips. 

##################

Three Years Later

“Olivia!”, you giggle as your daughter continues to dance around while you try to pull on her jacket. “Do you want to play outside or not?”

“Yeah.”

“Ok, then you have to let me put this on you or else you’re going to freeze to death.”

“No, mommy! I no freeze to die!”, she laughs, her cackle reminding you of Eddie as she shows off all of her teeth and gums. 

It had been three years since you made it over the border into Canada with your convict boyfriends in the trunk and Dustin’s falsified papers at your side. You managed to make it to a tiny little town and create a new life for yourself that you absolutely loved. 

With their friends help, you were able to convince a small law firm that you had graduated from college with high marks. Granted it wasn’t criminal law like you had been studying but you were still able to help people and that made you happy. 

Eddie absolutely despised cutting his hair but to keep a low profile he did what needed to be done. Like Olivia, he tended to keep it longer than normal but as soon as it started to go too low past his ears, he went to the shop to get it cut. Because they didn’t want to be too far from each other having been in a small cell together for over 10 years, both men got a job at a car dealership with him in the automotive shop and Steve as a salesman.

Out in public, people called you three by different names but in your home you were still Y/N, Eddie, and Steve. The little dwelling the pretty boy was able to find was modest but perfect for your family with two bedrooms and a large backyard for your daughter to run around in. 

Thankfully for her, she never sensed anything was amiss when it came to her life and you hoped to keep it that way for as long as you could. 

After lifting her into your arms, you carried her outside where you watched her run off to climb her jungle gym. 

“Be careful!”

“Or what?!”, she teased.

“Or else I’m going to tell your daddy and he’s going to tell Santa you were bad!”

“Nu uh!!”

“Yeah huh!”

“What in God’s name are you two shouting about?”, Steve grinned as he opened the back door to join you guys outside. 

“Our daughter is being mean.”

Eddie kisses your lips before running towards Olivia who opened her arms wide to give him a big hug. 

“Ew, daddy! Smell bad.”

“Oh yeah? I know, we had a car in today that I’m surprised didn’t explode. How was your day, sweetheart?”

“Good. Mommy take me t-to work.”

“Did you two have fun?”, the other man asks as he leans down to give her a big hug as well. 

“Yeah! Mister…Mr. Jackson gave me cookie!”

Grinning, the three of you sit on your back patio as you watch Olivia play. This was everything they ever wanted and they were so grateful to be able to experience this with you.

***

“Mmph—fuck, Steve. Feels so good”

“Shhhhh, baby.”, the pretty boy scolds making you smile as you pass by the open bathroom door in your shared bedroom before throwing yourself down in front of your desk and turning on your bulky computer. 

As the years passed, both men seemed to open up more when it came to their love for each other and you absolutely encouraged it. You wanted them to feel safe and loved not just with you but themselves. Now that there was no longer the looming threat of prisoners and being hurt, they confided in you that it no longer felt like survival but genuine affection that they could now feel openly without fear of it being exploited.

Sliding on your headphones to give them extra layer of privacy, you did what you do every night and began double checking information online. 

That first year, message boards and police sites were full of information trying to hunt down the two escapees and their “hostages”. You assumed your father thought that would not only protect you from any prosecution (or embarrassment for him) but make people hunt for them harder if they believed they had kidnapped a baby.

As time progressed news began to dwindle and for that you were thankful. There was the occasional “sighting” but when you read the article you breathed a sigh of relief realizing it wasn’t even close to where you were. 

The feeling of fingers in your hair brought you back to the moment as you leaned your head back just in time for Eddie’s lips to softly land on yours. 

“Anything new out in the world?”

“Mmm…no.”, you grinned as you placed your headphones and CD player to the side. 

“Fuck me, it’s cold.”, Steve whined as he scurried out of the bathroom and hastily threw on his sweats with a long sleeve shirt. “How are you two not cold?”

“You would think he’s never grown up around snow.”, the other boy teased as he leaned his head on your shoulder. “One of these days one of you will have to show me how to use this thing.”, he gestures towards the computer. “Especially since Dustin and Mike showed Wayne how to sign up for email.”

“Is that safe?”, Steve asks cautiously as he places his hands on his hips behind you both. “I mean can they like…track who he emails to…”

“He may have a point. It’s ok. We’ve all had to make sacrifices to be up here.”, Eddie sighs as he tries to smile your way. 

“Baby, I don’t see why it would be a problem. All of our information is under our aliases so if they did look it won’t seem odd.”, you comfort as you place your hand on his thigh. 

“Naw, sweetheart, he’s right. I can just keep sending him letters without the return address like we’ve been doing. I’m, um, I’m going to go grab a beer and check on Olivia.”

After kissing your forehead, he sullenly heads for the kitchen and you rise to your feet to smack Steve’s chest. 

“Ow! What?”

“Steve, he deserves to talk to the only other family he has. He can send him emails under the Ronnie name. It’s not like the police are going to descend from the ceiling as soon as he hits send.”

“Y/N, you don’t think the cops will wonder why Eddie Munson’s uncle is sending emails constantly to only one person who’s supposedly NOT his nephew?”

“You’re over thinking it.”

“Am I? Or are you not thinking enough? Honey, we can’t afford to jeopardize—”

“Don’t. Don’t you dare give me that lecture again, Steven Harrington. I worry about our safety to ok?”

The man exhales heavily as he turns and throws himself into bed, folding his arms like a toddler as you stomp away in the opposite direction to check on the metalhead.

“And then Smaug flew over the people of Laketown spewing his fire breath…Roar!”, Eddie growled as he opened his arms and pretended to fly around the room breathing fire as you watched from your hidden spot by your daughter’s doorway. 

Olivia giggled as she clapped her hands and he fell to his knees beside her bed pretending to land. 

“The dragon felt like he would be triumphant but he did not expect…the bowman…” When he widened his eyes, she did the same as she hung on every word. “Bard stood his ground amongst the flames with the one weapon he knew would take out his foe.”

You and your daughter waited for him to continue but when he didn’t you peeked around the corner to see him standing completely still. 

“Daddy? Are you ok?”, Olivia asks in a small voice before her eyes meet yours. 

“Baby?”, you ask as you slowly enter the room and place your palm on his back. His eyes were glazed over as his bottom lip began to tremble. “Hey, Eddie, look at me.”, you whisper as you cup his cheek to turn his face. 

You had seen this happen before with both of them but the triggers never made sense. You originally thought it was the trauma of being in prison but a little while after moving into your home, you went for a walk to explore the town. Everyone was exceptionally friendly including a little old Russian man who told you more about the sea food store he owned near the water. 

Steve zoned out as the man spoke and when you tried to take his hand in yours, he flinched and tried to cover his face with his arms. You showed your daughter a lot of movies from your childhood and one day during a family movie night a bat just so happened to appear in the background of the scene causing both men to stiffen. 

You never wanted to push but you always felt so helpless. 

Olivia stood up on her mattress and wrapped her tiny arms around her father’s neck. The action seemed to bring him back as he gradually lifted his own limbs to hug her to his chest. 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. Daddy got lost in his own adventure.”, he tried to comfort as his voice cracked. Taking a seat on her bed, he placed her under the covers and smiled as he tucked her in. 

“On your ad-ventures, did you fight a dragon?”

“Something like that, princess. Your dad went into the castle and burned the dragon while he was sleeping while I used my sword outside to protect them…just like Bard.”

“Whoa…where was mommy?”

Eddie chuckles as his eyes flick to you before focusing on his daughter again. 

“Mommy was resting safely in her own castle which is good because daddy wouldn’t have wanted her to get hurt.”

You could tell he was still trying to keep it together when he bent down to kiss her good night and took your hand to lead you back to the bedroom.

“What happened there, Ed?”, you ask as he exhales and falls back first onto the mattress. “Where did you go when you were telling her that story?”

“It’s hard to explain, baby.”

Blinking, you make a decision as you grab your desk chair and wheel till your directly in front of them. 

“What happened in 86?” That grabbed their full attention as they sat up to face you. “I know you didn’t kill those people and I’ve never pushed because I don’t want to hurt you but it’s been four years and everything we’ve been through I deserve to know.”

They exchanged a glance you saw many times between them; two people who knew a truth you didn’t. 

“Just 86? Or should we go back to the beginning in 83?”, Steve asks in a flat tone you weren’t prepared for. “That’s when Barb went missing… one of the crimes I was accused of.”

“I… I don’t know. Just tell me what you feel comfortable telling me.”

“I don’t feel comfortable telling you any of it.”

“What. Why?”

“Because you won’t believe us.”, Eddie cut in. “And when we tell you the truth…you’re going to call us crazy, realize you were wrong, take Olivia, and go back home.”

His words pierced your heart and cracked it open as the tears stung your eyes. 

“Jesus… three years and you still think so fucking little of me.”

As you got to your feet to leave the room, Steve hastily blocked your exit with his body. 

“Y/N, the last time part of the truth came out, it was retracted and used against me to put me in prison. I’m…WE’RE scared.”

“Steve, I don’t know what happened but whatever did is very real for you two. I see it in your eyes when you both zone out or flinch at something. There are so many things I’ve witnessed and heard in your case that don’t make sense but maybe the truth well make those puzzle pieces fit.”

Gesturing with his palm towards the bed, you took his place against the headboard while he sat in your chair and Eddie adjusted his body to face you. 

“It all started when Will Byers went missing…”

***

They continued to stare at you as sat their absorbing their words after telling you their entire story. Your logic brain had taken over as your eyes fleeted from left to right sifting through information in your head that you had researched before you met them. 

“Say something, sweetheart, please.”

“How…how didn’t the fire and the mayor being arrested not give validity to your case?”

Steve exhaled a breathily laugh as he leaned forward balancing his elbows on his knees.

“After everything we just told you, I like how that’s your first question.”

“And they didn’t look into…hospital records…after you were…beaten…”

“I didn’t go to the hospital—”

“Ok but EMS took care of you!”, you shouted as you struggled to catch your breath.

“Whoa, Y/N. Ok, what’s going on, baby?”, Eddie tried to soothe as he reached for your trembling hands. 

“And…and you…you almost died…someone hurt you and they didn’t…didn’t…”

“Y/N, sweetheart. I need you to breathe ok?”

You began to sob as you tried to do what he asked but you were beginning to feel super overwhelmed. Not just at the fact that monsters exist but at the notion that for years unbeknownst to you there was a group of people keeping you safe and in return they were either killed or punished including the two men you loved the most. 

“Look at me, little girl.”, Steve commanded in a tone you knew well. “We need you to breathe. No, no. Look at Daddy, baby.”, he says sternly as he cups your cheeks. “There you go, honey. Inhale, exhale.”

“Neither of you deserve what you went through.”

“You believe us? Just like that?”

“Eddie, you both talk in your sleep. I hear you wake up from nightmares that you don’t tell me about. I see it in your face when something happens or when you look at Olivia. I may not have been there or saw what you saw at the time but…I see it now.”

“I’m glad you weren’t there. It’s…it’s an awful place, Y/N.”

“I wish I could have been there during your trial or when you were at the hospital. I would have taken care of you. I would have—”

“Shhhh… hey. Put the logic brain away, nerd.”, Steve teases as he pets your head. “You’re here now and it’s our job to take care of you.”

Nodding your head, your eyes glance down at the light scaring around his neck that you had seen so many times. Noticing your gaze, he takes off his long sleeve shirt and slides closer allowing you a better look. 

“The bites hurt more than anything…like little knives piercing your sides…”

Glancing towards Eddie, he scoots closer as well and takes your hand in his placing it on the scar near his heart.

“This one… The doctors kept saying how they were surprised I was still alive.”

Tears started to trickle down your cheeks again and the metalhead quickly cupped them in his hands as his forehead met yours. 

“It’s ok, baby. We’re ok. Everything…is ok.”

“I hate the idea of you both being in so much pain.”, you whisper. 

“We aren’t anymore, Y/N. Not that kind of pain anyway. We all know how sometimes Steve and I can be a bit rough.”

When you laugh the tension in the room breaks. 

“Yeah but you know I like it when you’re rough.”

Eddie quirks up his eyebrow in a teasing manner before capturing your lips with his own. As the passion between you begins to grow, Steve climbs in on the other side of you, bringing your mouth to his as the metalhead’s trail down your neck.

Their strong palms knead your breasts as Eddie’s fingers continued their descent down your smooth frame. 

“Oh…”, you whine eliciting a small smirk from his lips as his middle and ring fingers rub slow circles against your clit.

Your eyes close as your head falls back against the pillows, only opening again when you hear the subtle smacks of their lips interlocking. 

“She’s so fucking wet.”

“Mmm—fuck her with your fingers, honey, and make her cum. She deserves to.”

“Fuck…YES—”

As Eddie did what Steve suggested, you struggled to control the volume of your moans as his digits hit every sensitive button inside you that only they knew how to reach causing the pretty boy to slam his hand over your mouth. 

“You have to be quiet, baby. Do you need the gag?”

You shake your head and he tosses a smile your way before bouncing between your legs and tossing your panties by your head. Oh, they loved this game. Pushing you to the edge while you try not to scream from pleasure. 

While Eddie’s fingers curled inside of you, Steve’s lips wrapped around your bundle of nerves. Your legs tried to close around his head but his strong hands kept them still and open. 

“Fuck…please. That feels so good.”

“Yeah, baby? You feel good?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good girl. So beautiful. God, your pussy is so fucking tight, sweetheart, I can’t wait to feel you cling to my fucking cock—shit.” Eddie stifled his grunt in your neck as your palm reached down to stroke him through his sweats. “Reminds me…when you came to visit us…and I fucked your hand through my pants like this. Fuck, baby, all I wanted to do was bend you over that table and fuck you till you were screaming my name.”

At his words, your cunt clenched around his fingers as Steve’s tongue flicked and applied the perfect amount of pressure to your clit as the coil snapped. You moaned a bit too loudly and Eddie shoved your panties into your mouth to silence you. 

“Haven’t gotten better at being quiet though.”, he growled but when your glassy needy eyes met his he felt his resolve begin to break. “Fuck, how can I be mad when you look at me like that. You ready for my cock, sweetheart?”

After your nod, Steve moves out of the man’s way as he quickly slides down his pants just enough for his dick to spring free before finding home between your legs. You jump as he taps your nub with his length, grinning at your sensitivity as he guides himself inside your entrance. 

“Goddamn.”

The metalhead sets a steady pace as his hands find purchase on your hips. 

“We talked about this a lot on the inside. What it would be like to fuck you…”, Steve coos as he sits on his knees beside the bed petting your head with one hand while he licked the other before placing it around his cock. “Eddie always thought your pussy would taste sweet like you and your letters smelled. Mmph. Sometimes your perfume would still be on our hands from the envelopes and we would jerk each o-other off imagining it was you.”

The more Steve spoke the faster Eddie’s rhythm got as he repeatedly hit that spongy spot inside of you that had your eyes rolling. Falling on top of you, he removed your panties from your mouth but kept them bunched in his hand as he grunted into your ear on the opposite side of his friend while he continued to talk.

“At night when the lights were out—mmm—I would imagine you in my arms. Sometimes we would climb into the others bunk and grind our cocks against the others ass until…”

“Sir—fuck—M’gonna cum.”

The metalhead was prepared, clamping his hand around your mouth as he pounded into you.

Your whimpers turned to muffled screams as you were blinded by white and your arms wrapped around his neck. As your pussy quivered around him, Eddie mewled your name into your ear till you felt him paint your insides with his release.

As soon as the other man pulls out, Steve lifts you under your arms and moves you around until you’re on top of him straddling his waist. His large palms cling to your hips as you lower yourself onto his length, your movements stuttering slightly at the sensitivity of your last orgasm. 

“You got this, pretty girl. Take all the time you need. You just have to be quiet.”

“T-Tell me stories, Daddy, please. I wanna hear ‘em.”

Eddie breathily chuckled as he rolled over till he was on his back beside Steve. 

“Steve had never done anything dominate with anyone before so I would let him practice with me. Sometimes, sweetheart, when he would fuck me I would tell him to pretend I was you. Boy, did he have a filthy fucking mouth.”

“Y-You liked it.”, he giggled as his head tilted to kiss the man’s lips. “I would say how you belonged to us. How I wanted you on your knees choking on my dick. Fuck.”

“He would fuck me so hard, Y/N, I would feel him for weeks. Like a silent reminder that we belonged to each other.”

Gripping the back of your neck, Steve yanked you down till your cheek was between his and Eddie’s. 

“And that you belonged to us.”, he whispered as his hips thrust up roughly punctuating his words. “A quiet promise—fuck—of what we would give you when we got out.”

“Please…”

A wicked grin spread across his face as the metalhead pushed your panties back into your mouth before Steve covered it with his other hand. 

The obscene sound of skin hitting skin filled the room as he slammed his cock deep within you causing your eyes to roll as your head hung as much as it could. 

“That’s right, baby girl. You take Daddy’s cock. Good girl. I can feel it, honey. Cum. Cum on Daddy’s cock, Y/N.” You do as he commands, your throat vibrating as you tried to be heard through the gag and Steve’s palm. “Atta girl. Let it go. Ride it out for as l-long as you can. Shit—I’m gonna cum.”

The man’s arms wrapped around your waist as his rhythm faltered and he thrust his spend into your now overstimulated cunt. Fingers reached between your sweaty frames and removed the gag from your mouth. 

“Such a good girl. You ok, sweetheart?”

“She…She said yeah. Fuck that was good.”, Steve answered for you after you whispered the answer exhaustedly in his ear. 

“As always.”, Eddie beams as he starts to take you in his arms, chuckling when you groan. “I know, I’m the worst person. Come on, babe, you need a bath. Steve, you wanna get her some water and check on Olivia?”

While the pretty boy does what he asked, the metalhead quickly gets a bath ready and places you inside the water, smiling softly when you sigh in pleasure. 

“We, uh, we didn’t just talk about you sexually on the inside. I feel like I should tell you that.”

Your eyes blink as he sits beside you, now in a pair of his blue boxers. 

“What else do you two talk about?”, you ask as you lean forward and run your fingers along the arm he had resting along the porcelain. 

“We wondered how we would have met you if we hadn’t of been locked up. You worked at The Hideout and I used to play there. Maybe you would have seen me up there playing my guitar or you would have served me a drink.”

“You were a law student and knowing my dad I probably would have been working with him.”, Steve added as he entered the bathroom and sat on the edge as he handed you the glass of water that you chugged down. “Olivia’s still asleep… I probably would have run into you at the Hawkins Library doing some research for a case or something.”

“We’d definitely be self-conscious at first but act like we were a confident badass.”

“Why would you be self-conscious?”, you giggle. 

“Because you’re beautiful, smart, and young with your whole life ahead of you.”, Eddie answered as he reached up to caress your cheek and you kissed his palm. “We’d just be some old assholes—”

“Eddie.”, you scold making him softly smile. 

Steve bent down to carefully lift you out of the water, placing you on your feet to dry you off. 

“More than anything, Y/N, we talked about this life here. Living with you in our own little house while our kids wreak havoc.”, he chuckles as he focuses on his task. 

“W-Would you want to have more kids with me?”

When they glance at each other before looking up at you, you know they’ve already had this conversation amongst themselves. 

“Of course.”, Eddie murmurs as he carries you into the bedroom and picks up the other man’s shirt off the floor to tug over your head. “Of course, sweetheart. Olivia is so fucking amazing and you’re a wonderful mom. We’d love to have a couple more little Munson/Harrington kids running around…”

“But…”

Pushing you back, they climb under the covers with you as the metalhead pulls your back to his chest while Steve moves some stray hair away from your face. 

“What if we have to run again? What if we get caught and you’re left to raise these kids alone? What if—hey…”, Steve tuts in a firm tone as you sigh in annoyance. “Stop. Y/N, we literally fought to have the life we have now and we’d do anything to keep it.”

“We’re just worried, baby.”, Eddie adds. “There’s a lot of risk bringing another little life into our world.”

“I love you both…so much…I won’t push but…whenever you’re ready I’m ready.”

Both men smile at you as your eyes steadily close and you fall asleep.

###################

“Hey Miss Franklin!”, the daycare administrator greets you as you walk in beaming through the front door.

“Hey Tasha. How was my little monster today?”

“She was good. Told the other kids her father fought dragons.”, the lady giggles as you playfully roll your eyes. “Let me go grab her.”

As your eyes scan over the children playing, you notice the administrator’s demeanor stiffen while talking to one of the other ladies before nervously smiling your way.

“Miss Franklin, Lily says Olivia’s uncle came to pick her up about an hour ago.”

Your heart drops as your eyes widen.

“Uncle?”

“Yeah…tall fellow about your age.” As she continued to describe him, the bile in your throat began to rise as anger clouded your brain. 

“Did he give you a name?”

“Uh, yeah it’s right here.”, she replies cautiously as she shows you the sign out sheet. 

Derek  

Speeding down the road and running every red light, you practically swerve into the dealership, sprinting inside to find the guys. Steve notices you first, his protective mode kicking in as he grabs your wrist and tells the front desk to send the other man to his office. 

“Y/N, honey, I can’t understand you when you talk fast like that. What’s going on with Olivia?”

Eddie hastily enters, the door slamming behind him as he steps forward to cup your cheeks. 

“What’s going on?”

“The daycare said Olivia’s uncle came to pick her up.”

“Who?”, he growls. 

“Derek’s name was on the sheet.”, you grumbled matching his anger. 

Steve’s office phone rings and he recognizes the number immediately, answering it and placing it on speaker. 

“Hello?”

“Hi, dada!”, Olivia shouts excitedly causing you to let out a sigh of relief that at least she sounded ok and wasn’t hurt. 

“Hey, honey. What are you doing home without mommy?”, he asks trying to sound calm. 

“Uncle Derek picked me up! When are you comin’ home? He wants to talk to mommy.”

“Baby, is he nearby? Can I talk to him?”, you inquire, listening to her little voice speak to someone in the background before a gruff tone pulled through. 

“Hey, babe. Long time no see.”

“If you hurt her, Derek, I swear to fucking God…”

“You must think so little of me. I don’t want to do anything to her. That’s why I tried to give her a better life with a better father.”

“Fuck you, you fucking dick—“, Eddie cut in before Steve grabbed his wrist.

“Ah good. Edward is there to or should I say Ronnie and Ben.”, he snickered. “Do you know how long I’ve been looking for you?! Your dad reneged on our deal since you disappeared and my family lost everything. EVERYTHING, Y/N!”

At his outburst, you hear your daughter whine and both men’s eyes grow dark with fury.

“What do you want?”

“I’m at your house. Come here so we can talk. If you aren’t here in an hour I’ll take her back home with me to your father.”

“This was a mistake.”, you growled. 

“Maybe, Y/N. Maybe but for once in your fucking life you’re going to hear what I have to say. Olivia! Say goodbye to your parents.”

“Are they coming home?”, she asks cautiously.

“Yes, sweetheart. We’ll be there soon.”, Eddie answers her and his eyes close as he listens to her laugh. “I love you, Olivia.”

“Love you to, daddy. Love you, dada and mommy!”

The phone hangs up before you or Steve can reply.

“We have an hour…”, the metalhead says more to himself then you two. “I have guns stashed away a couple of miles from the house—”

“You are not pulling a gun with my daughter in that house.”, you hiss. 

“What do we do, Y/N? He’s not going to let us go and even if he was…he kidnapped our daughter. He’ll be lucky if he leaves the house still fucking breathing.”, Steve retorts in a dark tone you had never heard from him before.

“I’m not saying I disagree but I refuse to let any of this affect her. As far as she knows she’s a normal child and I want to keep it that way.”

“Then answer his question, Y/N. What the fuck do you want us to do!?”

##################

@lemme-slytherin-that-dick @micheledawn1975 @paleidiot @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @noooah @baileebear @dashingdeb16 @nailbatanddungeon @rockmusiciscalming12 @mikeyswifie @poofyloofy @eddiexmunsonlover @dreamliners @munsonmoonshine86 @bexreadstoomuch @kitkat80 @myherometalhead @hardladyheart @sheisjoeschateau @chelebelletx @yesimabratandwhataboutot @cherryxhaze @utterlyinsanity

[pomefioredove]

wait wait wait, your requests are open for noble bell for this weekend only? (if i got that right?!) sound perfect gimme 14 of em. anywhos if i did not getting the date wrong i have one! and if i i did please just let me shrivel up and die, thank you.

post college rollo and reader who live together as “roommates.” they’re 100% more than roommates and everyone can see it but them. rollo is probably some senator or something and insisted reader moves in with him cause he insists that since he’s making laws more just for magicless people there’s literally no where safer for them to be. just basically some domestic fluff with two people who act like they’re married and don’t even realize it. i personally think it would be way cuter to read from the perspective of a third party but if you’re willing to write this you can do it anyway anyhow and i’ll still be happy. thank you! <3

(if i got the weekend wrong i will absolutely die so please let me down gently, i am accoustic so i no no understand very basic things such as “this weekend” or “next saturday” if the day of the week is before a saturday)

oooh a bit of a future au... this is cute

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ and they were roommates

type of post: fic characters: rollo additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, kinda written from a 3rd perspective

Rollo Flamme's favoritism had never been a secret.

He might have been quiet, reserved, repressed beyond all reason, but there were some things even he couldn't hide behind his star-spotted handkerchief.

The very moment you arrived at Noble Bell College, you were his.

Rollo Flamme beheld you with a sort of reverence that could be called sacrilegious. That is to say, one had never seen idolatry until one had seen the way he looked at you, the way he touched you as if you were made out of porcelain, as if he could break you with an unclean hand and a breath.

His coldness and cordiality towards the others never changed.

For all your kindness, your smiles, your gentle touches upon his cheek that he would never have let anyone else give, you could not change him. And you did not try.

It was a tragedy in two parts.

Not that it mattered, of course. Not to you.

As far as you were concerned, the world began and end with each other. In a room full of people, mages and scholars and royalty, Rollo Flamme would still only look at you.

Nothing was confirmed. Your affection for one another was kept to lingering touches and burning glances across the long, morose hallways of Noble Bell.

If anyone had asked, and they certainly did, Rollo's handkerchief would come to sit over his mouth and he would remind them that gossip is unbecoming.

And to be decent, thank you.

Yet the rumors could never be smothered, and they lingered after Rollo's first graduation, and another, and to his seat on the Fleur City Council.

You lived with him.

You lived with him, in his family home.

And he would continue to deny anything romantic, giving the same excuse that he had since Noble Bell, that you simply had no one else to look after you, and it was his duty as a civil servant to see to your care.

Which was utter bullshit.

But, perhaps, bullshit that you both believed.

Outside of the council, it was rare to see him alone. When he went out, he went out with you. When he attended public events, you walked by his side. When he worked at home, you sat in his study, by the fireplace, as if you had always belonged there. With him.

Rollo would excuse himself from small talk and after-hour business like so:

"It's been lovely talking to you, Senator, but I'll be late for dinner,"

"Please, come by my office first thing tomorrow morning. I'm expected at home,"

"I'll have to be going, now. I have an excursion on the town tonight. With whom? Well, whom else?"

It became widely accepted, amongst his colleagues and the public, that Rollo Flamme was married. One might not have guessed, of course, from his cold demeanor, but rumors of the magicless alumni from Noble Bell that he so adored smoldered.

Rollo did not concern himself with the whispers or the knowing looks his colleagues gave each other, until a warm day in late March where a well-meaning secretary from another branch asked if he had any children.

"Children?" he had scoffed. "Why would you ask such a thing?"

The poor secretary looked like he had seen a ghost. "Well... you're married, aren't you?"

"Absolutely not. What gave you such an idea?"

And he seemed reluctant to answer.

Rollo had gone home that night with much on his mind. When you asked him if anything had happened at the council, he said "Nothing eventful".

To Rollo, who had lived in Fleur City, lonely yet not alone, for so many years without a kindling of friendship and not a thought on romance, he had never once questioned your relationship. You were his companion. His first, and last. That's all that matters.

Isn't it?

He could ask for nothing more than you. Your voice, your smile, your hands and warmth mingling with his. He was happy with you. Your friendship is enough for him.

Isn't it?

Despite what he tells himself, that night, when you sit close to him in front of the fire, reading a book he recommended simply because he recommended it, Rollo finds himself looking at you twice as much as usual.

He puts an arm around your shoulders and pulls you into his side, and you stay there, as if you had always belonged there. With him.

[domm1etae]

Can I request an Ateez Yeosang x Fan Gf reader? Where she asks him to go super rough on her since all they do is soft sex, and she embarrassed to ask. He of course says yes but as he starts to go rough she feels a different feeling and starts to squirt and both reader and Yeosang are surprised. Etc until he ends up cumming in her so much

When Soft Meets Rough

yeosang x f!reader

oneshot | mdni

1.1k

When Yeosang goes feral after his girl finally asks him to go rough on her, they both discover a whole new level of pleasure they didn’t know they needed

nsfw tags under

m/f, top yeosang, reader bottom, rough sex, gentle dom to rough dom, squirting, praise kink, intense sensations, intimate closeness, begging, first time going rough, passionate kissing, slight teasing, aftercare

author's note: aaaah, I got sooo many requests, I'm trying my best to write them as fast as possible!

You and Yeosang were cuddled up on the couch, a movie playing quietly in the background as the two of you exchanged lazy kisses. His fingers drew gentle circles on your hip while his other hand rested lightly on your thigh, his thumb brushing your skin in soothing motions. Even in these simple, close moments, you felt the familiar warmth spreading through your chest, a feeling you’d come to know well since being with him.

Yeosang had always been gentle with you, always attentive and careful, as if you were something precious to him. The two of you often ended up like this, wrapped in each other’s arms, savoring the quiet together. But tonight, there was a tension inside you, a desire that made your heart beat faster, something more than the usual butterflies he gave you.

As he pressed a kiss to your neck, you felt a shiver run down your spine, and you found yourself wanting something different. You wanted him to lose control, to be rougher and less careful. It felt embarrassing to even think about, but the idea had been building up for weeks, leaving you breathless every time you imagined it. Finally, after gathering the courage, you pulled back just enough to look into his eyes.

“Yeosang…” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

He looked at you with that soft smile, his thumb brushing your cheek. “What is it, love?”

You hesitated, searching his gaze. “Could you…” Your cheeks heated up, and you hoped he wouldn’t hear the nervous tremor in your voice. “I want you to… maybe go a bit rougher tonight.”

His eyebrows lifted, surprise flashing across his face before his expression softened into something unreadable. Then, a mischievous glint appeared in his eyes, and his lips curved into a smirk. “Rougher, huh?” he teased, his voice low and edged with excitement. “You could’ve asked sooner.”

Your stomach fluttered, nerves mixing with anticipation. Before you could reply, he swept you off your feet, carrying you to the bedroom and laying you gently on the bed. He settled beside you, his fingers tracing patterns along your waist as he looked down at you, his gaze darker now. His lips captured yours in a kiss, deeper than usual, his hands sliding over your body with more intent.

As he kissed down your neck, he murmured against your skin, “Tell me how much you want this.”

A soft moan escaped you, your body arching into him. “Yeosang, I want you… so badly.” The words came out in a breathless whisper, your cheeks flushing with need as he moved lower, his hands slipping under your shirt and sliding it up over your head. His eyes darkened as they roamed over the black lace of your bra, his fingertips grazing over the fabric, making you shiver beneath him.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, his voice barely a whisper as he leaned down, pressing a kiss to your collarbone. The feeling of his lips trailing down your skin sent tingles through your entire body, leaving you breathless. When he tugged at the hem of your shorts, you raised your hips to help him slide them off, leaving you in your matching lace underwear. His gaze became hungrier, and you felt a thrill rush through you.

He pulled his shirt off, revealing the lean, toned muscle underneath, his eyes never leaving yours. You reached out, fingers tracing along the lines of his torso, admiring the way he looked as he hovered over you, his gaze burning with desire. As he leaned down, his lips found yours again, his body pressing you firmly against the mattress, making you feel trapped in the most thrilling way.

When he finally slid your panties to the side, you felt your breath hitch as he positioned himself at your entrance, his length pressing against you. He entered you slowly, his grip on your thighs firm as he spread them further, his pace starting out controlled. But then, as if giving in to the same fire that had been building in you, he began to thrust harder, each movement rougher, deeper, sending waves of pleasure through you with each stroke.

A moan slipped from your lips as he moved faster, his breathing growing heavier with every thrust. The way his hands gripped your hips, the way his cock filled you completely—it was overwhelming. You could feel every inch of him, the way he stretched you, his pace unrelenting, making you tremble beneath him.

Your fingers dug into his shoulders, the pleasure so intense it made you gasp, and a strange, new sensation began to build inside you, something different and more powerful than you’d ever felt before. You tried to hold it back, embarrassed, but as he hit deeper, you couldn’t control it. With a cry, you felt yourself release, a wetness coating him as you looked up in shock, your cheeks flushed with a mix of surprise and embarrassment.

Yeosang paused for a second, his eyes widening as he looked down at you, a smirk appearing on his lips. “Did you just…?” His voice was filled with surprise and pride, his hand moving to your cheek. “You liked it that much, huh?”

You nodded shyly, unable to find words as he began moving again, picking up his pace even more. His grip on your hips tightened, his thrusts becoming rougher, his breathing ragged as he lost himself in the sensation. Each thrust sent you spiraling, your body arching against him, your moans filling the room as he drove you higher and higher.

The heat built between you, each thrust filling you with pleasure so intense you felt like you were floating. His pace quickened, his body moving against yours with an urgency that made you dizzy, and you could tell he was close, his grip on you almost desperate.

“Oh god, Yeosang, I’m—” you managed to gasp out, but he cut you off with another deep thrust, his own voice low and rough as he moaned your name. He filled you completely, his release spilling into you as he pressed his forehead against yours, both of you breathing heavily, savoring the shared moment as you came down together.

When he finally pulled back, he looked at you with that same soft smile, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “I didn’t know you could… feel that way,” he murmured with a teasing smile, pulling you close for one last gentle kiss.

You laughed softly, still catching your breath. “Guess you bring out a different side of me.”

He chuckled, wrapping his arms around you as you lay together, your heart still racing from the intensity of it all. “Well, next time, don’t be shy to ask for what you want.”

[izzabela]

Could you write headcanons for the Lin Kuei trio (Cyrax & Sektor too if possible) with an Autistic reader helping them deal with a sensory overload? Thank you! ^_^

Too Much - Lin Kuei x GN!autistic!reader (headcanons)

in which you experience a sensory overload

a/n: i'm back

ship[s]: tomas vrbada, kuai liang, bi han, cyrax, sektor x GN!autistic!reader (separate)

warning(s): sensory overload (i did my best on research guys), pre-lin kuei split

Sensory overload: "...occurs when one or more of the body's senses is overstimulated to a point where a person is unable to cope."

While it can be used for PTSD and OCD, for the purposes of this fic, it will be related to autism and people on the spectrum

Tomas Vrbada - Ear-clapping

- ear-clapping is one of the more serious mechanisms that could happen with a sensory overload, which involves the person with autism to aggressively clap their ears. in the most severe cases, screaming and crying can occur

- Tomas learned this was caused by very loud sounds

- to help you, he learned that immediately moving you to a quieter area works wonders

- if there were no available quiet spaces, he did his best to hold you very tightly (and i mean very tightly) and cover your ears for you himself

- sometimes, during the severe attacks, you scratched his arm because they were in the way, but he powered through because you would not only calm down, but according to him- "tis but a scratch!"

Kuai Liang - Foot-tapping

- Kuai Liang used to think you foot-tapped when you were annoyed

- it always happened during the meetings where they were held in the old meeting hall, where the flames always seemed to flicker a bit too much

- or it happened when you heard the ancient clock in your shared room tick-tick-tick too much (he had it removed after weeks of back-and-forth between one of the elders)

- Kuai helps you out during these moments by just sitting next to you. he'll even talk to you (only when you say so)

- he learns that holding your hand is the best way to help you overcome the overload

Bi Han - Sensory-seeking Behavior

- Bi Han though you were really odd when he first saw you intensely smelling the unlit candle in your shared room, he realized though it was much more

- Bi Han definitely has "asian dad vibes" because his response to that was buying the entire stock of the candle you liked in case you were going somewhere and had an overload without him

- if you couldn't get your hands on the candle scent, Bi Han juggled ice balls (no you will not correct me on my headcanon that Bi Han juggles). he even mastered how to do multiple ice balls at once

- he learned this was caused by the intense smell of the incense that's burned in the training room. a combination of smelling salts plus some weird potion the elder mages imbued with the salts

- he prohibited the use of it immediately, but you occasionally smell it due to the centuries of use

- still, when you do smell it, he'll help you anyway he can

Sektor - Distraction Behavior

- Sektor thought it was weird that you fiddled with the stylistic wires that stuck out on the back of her helmet, but after learning it was to cope with sensory overload, she was more than happy to help

- sektor made you a personal "sensory toy," a stick with the exact wires that stuck out on one end. you use it often, but when it isn't on you, Sektor has other ideas

- she brought you this toad sculpture made of wood, with ridges sculpted in them for you to touch (you find it rather soothing)

- if it those things aren't present, Sektor doesn't mind that you fiddle with her hand: tracing pictures with your finger, playing with her fingers, etc

Cyrax - Sensory Avoidance Behavior

- after Cyrax watched you shut your eyes as tight as possible while rocking in place after dropping a huge aluminum tube, she felt really really bad

- caused by loud sounds, she learned your overload coping behavior was to not feel, see, or hear everyday sounds

- she made you a helmet that's blacked inside and out, and has incredible noise cancelling abilities

- she also made you earplugs, a combination of technology and soft materials so that you wouldn't be uncomfortable. she paired it with a simple blindfold made with the "blackest fabric dye in the world" (with what funds?)

- while there were days you wanted Cyrax to hold you, other overloads weren't as kind. sometimes you didn't want her with you, and thank the elder gods she didn't take it personal. she still felt bad leaving you alone, so she always left a pillow that was heavily doused in her natural smell

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

okay two of my mass-posts

i really did my best with research on this guys, but if i wrote anything wrong or anything else, please let me know! constructive feedback is accepted, but as soon as i see insults or berating, those will be deleted and your blog will be blocked

see yall in the next fic

[mika-no-sekai-blog]

Unforgettable (first kiss)

Azriel x OC

Word count: +5500

Summary: Who would think that a family dinner could turn into a reunion with female from the bookstore? However, certain members of his family treat her poorly and she ends up running away. Azriel can't forget her though and wants to see her again

Warnings: some cursing, IC having some issues and behaving unpleasantly

@azrielappreciationweek Day 5: No need for poetry Kinda part 2 of Unforgivable (sins), but can be read separately Dividers by @tsunami-of-tears

Azriel landed on lawn near entrance of the River House. It was already dark, but night was warm and smelled of cool river that flew behind the house and sweet magnolia. The smell of roast meat and apple pie wafted from the open kitchen window, reminding him that he hadn't eaten from the morning, and mixed with the smell of coming summer.

Trying to look at least a bit presentable, he ran his fingers through thick dark hair, brushing it back. The shadows already informed him that there's an unknown face in the house. He was exhausted and not in mood to meet someone new, but he already promised he would come for the dinner and the game night his family had every Friday.

Sighing heavily, he slipped into the building like a ghost, unnoticed. Everyone seemed to be already gathered in the dinning room, sounds of conversation and laughter echoed in otherwise quiet house. A paper bag from his favourite bookstore left in the entrance hall immediately caught his attention. As a spymaster he couldn't help it and peeked in. The familiar covers of books he had read, aroused his interest. Azriel assumed that the bag had to belong to the guest because his family usually didn't leave their stuff by doors. This piqued his interest in the mysterious newcomer.

He checked his face in the mirror, correcting his posture and glamouring the dark circles under his eyes. If possible, he wanted to avoid any questions about his wellbeing or comments full of worry. He already felt like shit and didn't want to dwell on it. He suddenly noticed the absence of his usual companions who loved to inform him about any insignificant details. Looking down the hallway, he found them peeking into the dinning room, pushing each other to get a better view.

He just rolled his eyes and got ready for the welcoming and his least favourite part - introduction.

His long legs quietly carried him to the threshold of the room. Everyone was already seated around the big table that buckled under the delicious-looking dishes, undoubtedly the work of the middle Archeron sister who smiling sat next to her mate. Azriel frowned at the sight. Nobody told him that Lucien was invited, too.

Rhysand, sitting at the head of the table, noticed him as first.

"Ah, finally here," he greeted him with his usual cocky grin. "We've been waiting for you."

"You could have started without me," Azriel retorted and quickly walked over to the only empty seat. He hated to be in the center of attention.

"When did you return? I didn't hear you go to your room," Cassian bawled from the other side of table.

"I found what I looked for this morning, but I had work to do in Hewn City." He didn't need to add more details. His friends already knew what kind of job he did there. Azriel's insides twisted at the memory, but he buried that feeling deep inside where no one could see it.

"By the way, Helion thanks you for the help," he turned to Rhysand who only nodded.

"I'll write him later. How did it go?"

Before Azriel could say anything, Feyre sighed at Rhys' side. "Boys, could you forget about the work at least for a moment? We have a guest tonight."

"Sure, Feyre darling," Rhys smiled at her and caressed her cheek. "I'm sorry. We'll discuss the details later."

"Azriel, let me introduce you my friend from Rainbow and fellow artist, Blaire. She came from Autumn court not so long ago and currently, she's slowly settling in our city and her new life."

Azriel looked to his left, in the direction Feyre showed. To his shame, he was in such hurry to get rid of all the prying eyes that he hadn't noticed that the unknown female sat right beside him.

He tried to smile down at small female with long dark brown hair. "Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you, too, Azriel," she looked up at him with a shy but kind smile. He blinked in surprise. It was the same female he just met in the bookstore.

"Do you know each other?" Feyre's smile grew, noticing their surprised faces.

"Yes-.. Well, no," he mumbled.

"We met by chance in the bookstore today. I wasn't paying attention, tripped and bumped into him, yet he was so kind that he helped me gather the books that I dropped," Blaire explained. A lovely blush spread on her cheeks. "Again, I'm really sorry for that," she turned to him.

"No, it was my mistake. I was taking too much space in the aisle. I apologise."

"Interesting," Rhysand and Cassian said at the same time, watching the two of them with all-knowing grins.

Assholes, Azriel mouthed.

The shadows peeked from beneath the table, interested in the newcomer. Blaire noticed the movement and looked down. Azriel carefully watched her reaction, expecting her to freak out as most of people did when they found out the shadows could move on their own.

"Hey there," she whispered, eyeing them with interest. The shadows vibrated at the greeting and flew closer, curiously swirling around her, touching her arms, legs and hair. Blaire giggled, hiding it in her palm.

"My apologies," Azriel mumbled. "They are very curious beings and don't really respect personal space. Not even mine."

"It's okay," she answered, her fingers playing with cool tendrils.

Azriel's corners of the mouth twitched in a small genuine smile. Her reaction was refreshing. He finally relaxed into the chair, a bit stretching out his wings that he had held rigidly tugged to his back whole the time.

The dinner went smoothly, the light conversation over the meal was very pleasant and interesting. Azriel found himself listening carefully whenever someone asked something Blaire, eager to learn more about her. He'd like to blame it on an occupational disease, but it was just his natural interest in an attractive female.

He was so busy keeping an eye on her that he didn't even notice the cold glare Mor was sending their way all the evening. She didn't speak much nor ate, yet her glass needed to be refilled quite often.

After eating delicious meal everyone walked over to the sitting room were the conversation continued. However, it was Friday and as every Friday his friends took out their usual favourite games.

Bat boys sat down around small round table with cards and cheered by the females, they played as passionately and ruthlessly as only they could. Azriel got completely carried away by the game and his excessive competitiveness, and for a moment he forgot about everything that bothered him. He really enjoyed it.

After losing several times, Cassian grumbling gave the game up, wanting to play something he couldn't lose at. And so he took out the bottle.

The whole group gathered on sofas in front of the fireplace. This time everyone played. Well, almost everyone. Elain and Lucien moved to the corner of the room, quietly talking about something. Azriel watched them for a while, ire twisting his guts. He emptied his glass in one go.

"Easy," Rhysand whispered as he refilled his glass.

Azriel narrowed eyes at him. If he could, he would rather leave than to torture himself like this. When his gaze again moved to the couple, he couldn't see them anymore. Instead, Blaire with her soft smile sat opposite him, obscuring the view. In the heat of the game, he had almost forgotten she was there. She was quite quiet most of the time, looking rather shy, mostly talking only with Feyre. She didn't look like really wanting to play this kind of game, but Feyre had convinced her.

Cassian, seated next to his mate, spun the empty wine bottle and took a big gulp from his glass.

"Okay, guys, let's play," he growled, clapping his hands. This was his favourite game ever since Azriel knew him.

The bottle stopped, pointing to Mor who seemed to be already quite drunken, swaying from side to side even while sitting.

"Truth or dare?" Cassian grinned. Hot topics were his speciality and reason why he liked this game so much.

"Truth," Mor drank gulp of wine.

"Great! So.. are you dating someone now?"

Mor frowned at him, pouting. That was something she visibly didn't want to answer. For a moment, her eyes fell to Azriel sitting next to Cassian and something inside him stirred.

It wasn't so long since she finally told him that he had no chance with her as she prefered females. He accepted it more calmly than he actually felt and made peace with it. Though, it was hard get over the feelings and hopes he held on for so long. All the pain and longing that tortured him for centuries, was still there. A bit duller than months ago, but still too fresh. He wondered what was so bad about him, what he had done to be undeserving of love. Seeing so many happy couples around him, he wanted nothing more but to have someone who would accept his heart and return the feelings sincerely.

Holding breath, he looked down at his feet and emptied another glass. He didn't want to think about that now.

"I want dare then," Mor announced at last.

"So kiss Cassian," Amren barked before Cassian could open his mouth. Her silver eyes were at Nesta, cold and cruel.

Azriel in disbelief gaped at small female. His mate was literally sitting next to him, yet she dared Mor of all people to kiss him. By the murderous angry gazes two females were exchanging, Azriel could easily guess that they were again at each other's throat because of something that had happened while he was on the mission.

Blaire was eyeing them all in confusion. He felt sorry for her. This definitely wasn't the best first impression. He wouldn't be surprised if she never accepted invitation to dinner again. Feyre seemed to be of the very same opinion. She excused herself and went to the kitchen to prepare desserts, glaring at those four fools.

"Fine," Mor stood up on unsteady legs.

Cassian obviously hadn't noticed the mood in the room and grinning jumped up. Azriel turned away, not wanting to witness the kiss, neither Nesta's reaction. Despite everything, he liked Nesta. She earned his respect and he considered her his good friend. This was a real blow below the belt that she didn't deserve.

Next, Mor spun the bottle. Azriel watched it, his jaw clenched. He wished that the bottle fell off the table and broke into pieces to end this stupid game. Instead, it stopped, pointing to Blaire who nervously winced.

Mor raised a brow at her.

"Truth or dare?" Cassian asked excitedly. He was apparently the only one enjoying this.

"Well," she cleared her throat shyly. "The truth."

Mor grinned drunkenly. The shiver ran down Azriel's spine at the sight, already sensing some really unpleasant question coming.

"How many males have you slept with?"

Azriel froze on the spot. That really wasn't question for a female who just flet from Autumn Court and from the ridiculous rules she had to follow her entire life, and they all knew it very well, including Morrigan.

Blaire paled and then blushed, her soft green eyes wide open.

"You don't have to answer, dear," Rhysand assured her gently. "We all know that giving such questions to guests is inappropriate, right?" He turned his violet gaze to his cousin, the anger radiating from him. Even though he was quiet ever since the game had started, Azriel felt his cold rage rising like a tide with every minute.

"Oh, Rhys, don't spoil the game," Cassian sighed. "You can choose dare instead." He winked at fiercely blushing Blaire. She hesitantly nodded.

Morrigan gritted her teeth. Her drunken gaze jumped from Blaire to Azriel who couldn't take his eyes off of the female, ready to protect her if necessary.

"Kiss him," she pointed at Azriel.

Azriel's eyes shot to his ex long-term love interest in disbelief. It was as eyes-opening situation as a punch to the guts and he couldn't believe he hadn't noticed sooner what kind of person she was in real. How could he fall in love with someone so cruel who played with people and their feelings like with chess pieces? It shocked him so much that he hardly heard when Blaire excused herself and went looking for toilet.

Rhysand waited until she left out of earshot. "What. The. Fuck. Is wrong with all of you today?!"

The room fell silent, no one dared to even breath.

"She's Feyre's friend. What does she think about us now? Did you listen when Feyre warned you that she's from Autumn Court? That she had to run away from her home, so she could start to live anew and on her own terms? That girl has serious trauma. And you?! You really disappointed me today."

"You are right, Rhys," Cassian mumbled, scratching his beard. "Playing this game was really stupid idea. I'm sorry."

"Don't expect me to apologise. I have nothing to be sorry for," Morrigan grunted.

Azriel saw red for a second. He had enough for tonight. "Unbelievable," he growled. "I'm off."

With that he stood up and before anyone could say a word, he left.

Blaire was on verge of crying. She needed time to breath it out.

She really loved Feyre and was so grateful for everything she had done for her ever since Blaire came to this Court. When Feyre invited her to the dinner at her house to meet her family, Blaire was hesitant at first. However, sitting at the table she was glad she accepted the invitation. The dinner was delicious and Feyre's family seemed to be so nice and kind.

When the mysterious and handsome male who was so kind to her at bookstore, appeared on threshold.. well.. She was really excited. He was gloomy and looked kind of dangerous, but he radiated a strange aura of calm and peace that attracted her. He hadn't spoken much during the dinner, but she felt good sitting beside him.

The game evening hadn't started so bad too. It was kind of exciting to watch three males play cards. They were so serious about it that it was funny. Azriel seemed to completely relax during the game and she could secretly watch him. He was so interesting person. She already thought so when they briefly talked in the bookstore and now even more after getting to know him little better.

However, when they started to play the other game, they all changed all of sudden. Kissing male who was mated, was quite unthinkable for Blaire, as well as accepting such kiss. At that moment she wasn't sure what to think about them.

And when they asked her that question.. It was really uncomfortable and she felt as if she did something bad and somehow offended the blonde. The kiss dare was the last straw and she needed to leave.

Blaire was walking down the hallway, completely lost. Feyre showed her direction to the toilet when she arrived, but she was upset now and must have mistaken somewhere along the way. She turned the corner and got yet to another hallway with several doors. She wasn't sure what to do, so she tried the first doors on the left.

The room was dark, but she could make out an outlines of a large bed. She panicked and was about to again close the doors when she noticed shelves full of books. She hesitated. At last, she decided that it couldn't hurt if she took a look. She turned on lamp in the corner of the room and closed the doors.

The room faintly smelled of cedar and night-chilled mist. It was quite pleasant and calming scent. Her eyes wandered over the countless spines of the books, until she found one that caught her attention. It was the book she had bought earlier and now it was waiting for her in the bag at foyer. She couldn't resist and started reading.

She was so immersed in the story that she didn't hear the doors opened and closed.

"That one is good."

Blaire was startled, almost dropping the book. She pivoted and was met with piercing hazel eyes that in the soft light of the lamp looked golden-brown, like warm honey.

"I-I'm sorry.. I was looking for toilet.." she stuttered.

"And instead you found my room," Azriel smirked and one lovely dimple appeared. "What do you say to that?"

She gaped at him in terror. He was so tall that it was intimidating. He was leaning against the frame of door, hands crossed on his broad chest, a few dark strands falling to his eyes. His expression was unreadable.

When she didn't answer, he nodded to the book in her hands. "Do you like it?"

Ashamed she looked down at the book and then back up at him. "Y-yes, it's interesting."

Azriel just smiled and stepped closer. The smell of cedar and night-chilled mist became stronger. Blaire inhaled deeply, completely enchanted. He was too handsome and charming.

Head slightly tilted to the side, Azriel watched her carefully, searching her face. An enormous wings behind him rustled softly. His chest was heaving with quick breaths, full lips lightly parted.

Something cold brushed against her back and hands, snapping her out of the trance. "I-I'm sorry. I shouldn't have gone inside and touched your things. It was really rude of me."

"I don't mind," he chuckled.

His long fingers wrapped around the book, gently touching hers. When she didn't pull away, they travelled to her wrist, thumbs drawing circles over her pulse points. Holding her gaze, he slowly bent down. His hot breath fanned over her face.

Gods, he was so handsome. Blaire's heart was hammering in her chest, her body shivering with pleasure. Combination of his look and personality should be illegal. She was drawn to him like a flower to the sun. At this moment, she would gladly allow him to do to her whatever he wanted. Just him standing so close to her, touching her hands, made her feel more alive than ever. The enchantment changed into sweet pain that grew between her thighs.

"Are we still playing?" he asked with lips mere inches from hers, his voice hoarse.

Blaire blinked once, then twice. She suddenly sobered up. Realizing how much she was leaning into him, pushing him to the wall, she blushed. As if it wasn't enough that she invaded his private bedroom and touched his stuff.

"I'm so sorry," ashamed she ran away, leaving heaving Azriel with book in hand behind.

Blaire seemed to leave the house in haste that night. He didn't know whether she told her something, but when Feyre learnt how Morrigan treated her friend, she was mad. Azriel hoped she would mention her friend or try to bring her over one more time. Though, after what had happened last time, she most likely wouldn't come again.

Azriel couldn't forget that short moment in his room that he shared with Blaire. He was so close to kissing her. Her sweet scent lingered in his bedroom for days and he stayed there until it completely faded away. Then he returned to the House of Wind instantly feeling sorry for his choice. After the game night, everything was messed up and atmosphere in the House was suffocating at best.

Week passed without Blaire's name being mentioned again. Azriel grew restless. He still could feel her soft skin and rapid pulse. And those eyes and smile. He wanted to see her again even if only to apologise for scaring her away. That night he really hoped he could at least kiss her and ask her out. After all, mentioning that stupid game was bad idea. Maybe if he didn't, she wouldn't run from him and things would be different now.

She seemed to be attracted to him, too. No doubt there was a spark between them. He clearly felt it. He needed to meet her again to find out whether the spark could become a flame.

After thinking it over and over again, he decided to visit Feyre in her studio.

It was nice, sunny day and Rainbow was just as vivid as always. A pleasant melody flowed through the street, artists pulled out their easels and painted on the street. The sounds of laughter could be heard from everywhere, children ran among the people on a walk.

Azriel landed in front of Feyre's studio and after looking around for a while, he entered. She immediately looked up from her newest project and smiled.

"Oh, it's you. Everything alright?"

"Yeah, I suppose," he mumbled, not sure how to turn the conversation to the reason of his visit. He had prepared a speech, imagining the whole situation, but now when he was standing in front of her, it didn't seem to be such a brilliant idea as he originally thought. He felt awkward.

"Hmm, Az, I meant to say this sooner," Feyre put down the brush and wiping her hands, she fully turned to him. "I want to thank you for.. the way you treated Blaire before. You were probably the only one who bothered to behave normally and she said that she is glad she could meet you. She seems to like especially the chat about books, you two had, even though I'm not sure when it happened."

Azriel was stunned. Blaire really mentioned him? He'd like to know what exactly she said about him.

"Uhm, that was nothing," he shrugged. "I'm glad I met her, too.."

He felt the heat slowly spreading to his cheeks and turned around, pretending that he admired the paintings on the wall.

Feyre watched him with a small smile. "You like her, right? I noticed it during the dinner."

Azriel froze on the spot.

"No.. What?! I mean, yeah.. No!" he babbled, blushing more and more. He bit on his tongue and took a deep breath. When he calmed down he tried it again. "What I mean is that she is quite interesting and I'd like to talk to her again if I had the chance."

"I see," Feyre chuckled. "You seem to be a bit flustered today. Maybe a cup of tea in some nice cafe would make you feel better."

Azriel pivoted, brows raised. When he saw her expression, he understood.

"Maybe I should give it a try," he smirked. He bid her a goodbye and went out, blending in with the crowd on the street.

There was one lovely cafe at the opposite end of the street. It was in a quite quiet neighbourhood and one of the places Azriel liked to visit from time to time.

As soon as he opened the door, staff greeted him with smile and immediately prepared the tea he usually drank there. He took the cup and looked around. The inside of the cafe was spacious and cosy with tables set far enough apart that he didn't have to pay attention when walking between them. As usual, there were some customers, but it wasn't crowded. One of many reasons he liked this shop.

In the opposite corner he spotted the person he was looking for. Without hesitation he headed to her table.

Blaire was seated on chair facing the window, immersed in the book he recognised right away. The steam rose from the cup placed on the table in front of her, sweet scent of fruit tea surrounding her.

"We meet again," he murmured with genuine smile.

Her green eyes shot up to him, surprised.

"I- Nice to see you again," she blushed and made space for him.

He sat down, noting her progress with the book. "Have you already gotten to the part where he finally tells her the truth?"

She shook her head. "What kind of truth is it?"

"I won't spoil the surprise," he snorted.

"How cruel of you," she sipped from her cup of tea, hiding the blush in steam.

"I hoped to see you again," he watched her carefully. "I wanted to apologise."

"It's strange," she bit on her bottom lip. "I wanted to apologise to you, too. You know.. For invading your privacy and.." She hid her face behind the veil of her long hair.

Azriel reached out and taking her chin between fingers made her look at him. He wanted to see her face properly. "Don't. I quite liked that part."

Her eyes widened.

"Ever since I met you, I can't get you out of my head, Blaire," he purred lowly, watching with pleasure as she shivered and closed her eyes when he said her name. That was exactly the reaction he hoped for. He licked his lips. "There's a place I'd like to show you. Would you go with me?"

She considered his offer for a moment and then nodded. He helped her put her things to the bag and holding her hand led her from the shop. As soon as the narrow alley widened into a street, he picked her up and dashed to the sky.

Blaire couldn't believe what just happened.

After her shameful behaviour and run from his room, she was convinced that Azriel didn't want to even hear about her again. The day she came to terms with the thought that she would probably never meet him again, he appeared in her favourite cafe and came to her table. It was unbelievable.

Hearing him utter her name for the first time in the deep voice of his shattered her soul into pieces, and her heart melted into a puddle. She had no reason to believe him, they basically spoke only very briefly, but she knew he wouldn't hurt her. He wasn't like males of Autumn Court. He didn't treat her like a nuisance, like someone inferior. His calm and quiet nature was like a balm, the promise of peace. That was why she agreed to go with him so easily.

Flying with him was another exciting experience. Despite of keeping her so close, he carried her with respect. He wasn't trying to touch her in any inappropriate way, yet he held her firmly all the time. Being scared of heights, Blaire spent most of it with her face buried in his shoulder. However, his comments on the changing surrounding were too tempting and she dared to look down once or twice.

When they landed he put her down, steadying her until he was sure that she could stand on her own. Blaire looked around. They were in the middle of a forest, no living creature and no buildings in the sight. She swallowed hard, starting to doubt her decision.

Azriel just chuckled, walking down the path. "This way."

She followed him, biting on her bottom lip nervously. "Where are you taking me to?"

"You'll see soon." He seemed to be in quite a good mood. He even started to hum some nice melody lowly.

They walked for few minutes when the trees finally parted and they found themselves on the shore of a mountain lake, surrounded by tall trees and high mountains. A gentle breeze lightly caressed the surface of the otherwise calm lake, creating small waves. The sky above them was clear, the most most beautiful shade of blue with a few fluffy clouds flying high above their heads. The fresh air filled Blaire's lungs while the singing of the birds and rustling of leaves in the treetops caressed her senses.

And in the middle of that stood Azriel with his wings slightly stretched out, tall, powerful and unearthly beautiful. The light breeze was playing with strands of his dark hair and hem of his T-shirt. His face was calm and posture relaxed, his eyes shone like liquid gold. The shadows that followed him on every step, were dancing around his ankles, calling her closer.

Blaire wished she had paper and pencil with her to capture this unique moment.

"Here we are," Azriel smiled brightly. "This is my favourite place. When I feel bad and need to think about things in peace, I like to come here." He looked at her out of the corner of the eye, waiting for her reaction.

However, Blaire was stunned, completely speechless. She could only stand there, admiring the view. Her eyes lingered on small details, committing them to the memory, so she would be able to draw this later.

"You don't like it?" he hid his face, turning away.

Blaire opened mouth, looking for the right words and her lost voice. "I love it. It's so.. perfect."

Azriel breathed out in relief and walking to the lake, he took off his shirt and then even shoes and trousers.

Blaire knew that she shouldn't gaze at him, but she couldn't take her eyes off of him. His body was a masterpiece, showing off even the muscles she didn't know that existed. Dark lines of tattoos swirled around his shoulders, curling across his chest and back, creating complex patterns. She wondered what's the meaning of them.

Meanwhile Azriel plunged into the water and began swimming toward the middle of the lake.

"Why don't you join me?" he called back. "Water isn't so cold. It's refreshing."

Blaire blushed, wrapping arms around her chest.

"I-I don't have a swimwear with me," she called.

Azriel stopped and turned to her, thinking. "You can use my T-shirt if you want. I won't look, I promise."

Blaire looked down at clothes he left on the grass. To be honest, she wanted to swim with him even though she wasn't a good swimmer. It took her only a moment to decide.

"Fine, so.. don't look, please."

He smiled and turned his back to her. She picked up his T-shirt and quickly changed. There were cuts on the back for his wings and overall it was so big that it looked like a dress on her, falling all the way down to her knees.

"Done," she called shyly.

Azriel again turned to her, swimming closer. His eyes little darkened as he took her form in.

"It suits you better than me. You should keep it," one corner of his mouth stretched into one-sided smile. "Come."

Blaire carefully stepped into water and slightly trembled when cool liquid licked her ankles. "It's a bit cold."

"Only at the beginning. Once you dip in and start to move, it's fine."

Slowly she swam closer to him, hardly holding her head above surface.

"I'm not good swimmer," she admitted, when he grabbed her elbows, helping her.

"It's easy. Try to lay down on the water. I'm here, no worry."

Hesitantly, she did as he said, his big warm palms under her back and thighs.

"That's it. And now relax and let yourself be carried away."

"How?"

"Don't think about it much. Just.. let it happen."

Blaire took deep breath and relaxed, clearing her mind. Before she knew it, she was floating in the water.

"See? Easy," Azriel smiled, gently caressing her cheek.

Blaire opened eyes just to find him holding both hands up. She panicked and dipped below the surface for a moment.

"Carefully," he again grabbed her elbows, pulling her closer.

They gazed at each other, their bodies slightly touching under the water.

"Thank you," Blaire breathed out, mesmerized by his dimly shining eyes.

"I did nothing," his cheeks turned pink, his gaze switching between her eyes and mouth.

Hesitantly he pulled her even closer and she welcomed it. Their chests were brushing with every breath, the wet thin fabric creating no barrier between them. Blaire rested her hands on his shoulders, lightly holding on him and his warm palms slid down to her hips. Now there was only an inch between their lips, the tension growing.

"If you don't want it, say something or I.."

"Kiss me already," she whispered out of breath.

His plush lips crashed into hers. Azriel stayed like that for a single heartbeat and then with a small moan he started to move. His kiss was sweet and gentle, but Blaire didn't want him to be gentle. Entwining fingers with his silky dark strands, she lightly pulled on them. A growl vibrated through his chest and he submitted, deepening the kiss. He tugged her to his strong chest and she moaned when their hard and soft parts met. The moment her lips parted, he lashed forward. His tongue slipped into her mouth, exploring and caressing. He kissed her hungrily, his hands sliding up and down her body, caressing and squeezing.

She didn't notice that she was unknowingly pushing him under the water, but he didn't seem to mind it at slightest, not until they both ran out of air. Heaving they emerged, splashing the water all around.

"That.. was interesting," Azriel panted.

"Yeah, very," Blaire agreed still out of breath.

"But maybe it would be better without the water next time."

"Definitely," she agreed and they started to laugh.

[kingstarkingslay]

It was well past midnight when Sirius and Remus found themselves tangled in the sheets, the faint glow of the moon creeping through the open window. The gentle hum of the night outside, the occasional hoot of an owl, and the rustle of leaves in the breeze filled the silence of the room.

Sirius, with his dark hair a mess from tossing and turning, was sprawled across the bed with Remus’ head resting on his chest. Remus, still wearing the remnants of his school robes, absentmindedly traced patterns on Sirius' chest, his heartbeat steady and warm beneath his touch.

"Y'know," Sirius murmured, voice half-drowsy but laced with mischief, "I could have been a great actor."

Remus snorted softly, not bothering to open his eyes. "Oh? Really? And what would your best role have been?"

"Obviously, I'd be the brooding, misunderstood hero," Sirius said dramatically, shifting his position so he could look down at Remus with an exaggerated pout. "You know, the one who gazes longingly out of windows and pines for lost love."

"You mean the one who spends most of his time getting into trouble and getting kicked out of classes?" Remus raised an eyebrow, unable to hold back a smile.

Sirius shot him a playful glare, reaching up to flick a lock of Remus' hair out of his face. "That was part of the charm, Moony. Gotta keep things interesting, y'know?"

"Right, right," Remus hummed, as Sirius ran a hand through his messy hair. "And if you were an actor, would I be your love interest?"

"Obviously," Sirius said with a dramatic sigh, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "You’d be the shy, intellectual type who doesn't realize how charming he is until the very end of the movie. You know, the one who wears glasses and reads a lot."

Remus’ grin widened as he tilted his head, trying to keep a straight face. "Are you saying I'm charming? Or are you just projecting your own fantasies?"

Sirius chuckled, the sound rich and warm in the stillness of the room. He shifted closer, pressing Remus against his chest, and placed a soft kiss on his skin. "Oh, I think you’re incredibly charming. You just need someone to bring it out of you. Someone... like me."

Remus’ heart fluttered at the simple, affectionate words. It was almost unfair how easily Sirius could make him feel like the most important person in the world with just a glance, a touch, or one of his teasing remarks.

"Alright," Remus said after a long pause, his voice quiet and thoughtful, "so, what happens at the end of the movie?"

Sirius tilted his head back slightly, looking down at Remus with those signature eyes that always made Remus’ stomach flip. "Well, at the end, I kiss you, of course."

"Oh, naturally," Remus said, trying to sound casual but failing miserably. He could feel his cheeks warming. "And then what?"

Sirius smirked, his hand sliding up Remus’ arm to rest over his heart. "Then we live happily ever after. But with a few more snogging scenes, obviously."

"I’m glad you're thinking about the important details," Remus replied, his lips twitching into a smile.

Sirius' grin widened, and without another word, he leaned down and kissed Remus softly, just a brief press of lips that felt like it could last for an eternity. When he pulled back, he didn't go far, his forehead resting against Remus' as they both closed their eyes, basking in the simple closeness of the moment.

"Just so you know," Sirius whispered after a long pause, his voice gentle, "I wouldn't mind living the movie with you. Maybe minus the brooding and the pining... just the snogging."

Remus chuckled softly, his hand drifting to Sirius’ face, pulling him even closer. "I think I can live with that."

Sirius broke the silence again, his voice low and teasing. "So, Moony, if we were in a real movie... do you think we’d be the type that gets a happy ending?"

Remus chuckled, a fond smile tugging at his lips. "Well, considering we’re already here... I think we’ve got that part sorted."

Sirius' grin was wide and goofy as Remus nuzzled into his neck. "Good. Because I’m not letting you go, even if the movie’s over."

Remus chuckled and pulled him in tighter. "I’m not going anywhere either, Pads. Not ever."

[joelsgoldrush]

wip wednesday: "lovers once a year" (dbf!joel miller)

hello to you, tiny people on my phone. reaching the end of this semester has thrown me onto a motherfucking rollercoaster. if i even think about the amount of finals i have to sit for, i'm afraid i'll tear up. so here i am, drifting away from real-life responsibilities </3 still working on this dbf!joel fic cause i haven't had much time to write lately, but i'm trying not to be too hard on myself. i really like how it's coming along. i'm close to finishing, though i'm not going to promise a specific posting date because i never seem to manage it LMAO

anyway, thank you to @elflutter @joelsdagger and @ovaryacted for tagging me!!!

No one could’ve ever said Joel was a great best friend. For one, he was terrible at remembering important dates. His mind just didn’t catch hold of details like that—never had, really. He wasn’t the affectionate type, either. At best, he’d manage a pat on the back or a firm handshake, maybe even a call on Christmas if he remembered. Emotional displays weren’t in his nature, far too used to keeping things at arm’s length. Luckily for him, Stephen never seemed to care much about these things. They’d been friends for over forty years—which is, well, a hell of a long time, especially considering each had gone off to carve out his own life. They’d trudged through both primary and secondary school side by side, and Joel felt Stephen’s absence like a hollow ache the day his friend left for university in another state. Technology eventually offered them more ways to connect, but it didn’t make keeping up any simpler. The years had tested them, and somehow, they’d held on to the quiet strength of their friendship—a bond they’d forged across decades and distance, held steady like the roots of an old tree. Stephen was the laid-back type, always down for anything as long as a cold beer was part of the deal. It was rare for him to lose his temper, having a way of letting nuisances slide. Joel could bend every rule, yet Stephen’s patience never wavered. He was unflappable, hardly bothered by Joel’s mood swings, which was what made them a match made in heaven. Nothing seemed to throw him off. Though Joel doubts Stephen would stay so calm if he knew what he’d done to his daughter. As mentioned, Joel’s not exactly what you’d call a good friend—particularly considering he’s slept with his best friend’s daughter. Just once, to be fair. One ephemeral, impulsive encounter. Right here, in this very house, exactly three hundred and sixty-five days ago.

AND

Apart from the glint in your eyes, he catches the persistent, quiet ache of want. He isn’t sure if it’s just physical attraction, if it runs deeper, or if that’s all it is for him, either. He doesn’t need to know. The simplicity of it all is a short-lived relief. It’s an easy escape, though, this bare minimum of understanding—you want him, he wants you. Let it be enough for one more moment, for tonight, just another memory he’ll have to lock away. Yet he’s aware, deep down, of his own pattern: promises broken just as easily as they’re made. He’s only fooling himself. The part of him that knows this isn’t something he’ll let go of so easily sits there, silently taunting him, daring him to make another promise he won’t keep.

tagging: @lubdubology @zloshy @princessanglophile @cavillscurls @guiltyasdave @tightjeansjavi @mrsmando - so sorry if you've already been tagged :( - and anybody else who feels like doing it!

[itsrogersandco]

Isabella could feel the sincerity from Noel and that gave her a huge feeling of positivity about the conversation they were having. This felt different from other dates which were fluffy and cute but always surface level. Instead this felt weirdly like it actually could go somewhere and that was a frightening and exciting prospect in equal measures. Her heart raced fasted when Noel leaned in and kissed her and in that moment she knew beyond doubt that when this ended it was going to hurt beyond anything she had ever known.

Slowly sitting back she lifted her drink and took a good swallow, rolling her eyes in jest at the question. "I'm not sure I've had enough alcohol for this," she joked as she closed her eyes and thought for a moment. "There's obviously been a few but probably the most embarassing was just after I started my first job in law. I was out of university and I had passed the bar exam and I was so confident. One day about two weeks into the job I was invited to join one of the senior lawyers to sit in on a negotiation. Now I didn't realise it at the time but they only really wanted me there because they wanted to give the effect of having this huge legal team working on the case where in reality there was only one, very overworked woman dealing with most of it. So I travelled to the other office with Robert, the senior partner and in the car he gave me a very brief outline of what was happening but pretty much told me to be quiet and not say anything. Well first we were kept waiting for ages and then got shown into this board room where I sat at the end and said nothing until about 2 hours in when a lawyer from the other side asked me a direct question. I hadn't been paying a huge amount of attention honestly and so I very much fluffed the answer and I could tell Robert wasn't happy but just after that they called a break and I ran to the restroom to take a moment. However the tap was really strong when I went to wash my hands and I got soaked. My white blouse became pretty much see through and I didn't realise and then I hadn't noticed that my skirt got caught up in my tights. It was actually one of the clients from the other side who told me but not before pretty much everyone in the room saw my panties. Let's say I was never taken to make up numbers again and I was ....encouraged to explore other employment opportunities by my boss after that!" Isabella chuckled at her own mishaps and looked over, "I think that gives pretty concrete proof that I am definitely not brilliant."

"What can I say, lesbians tend to have that intensity affect," they joked, probably laughing a bit too much at their own joke. "But I'm glad it's not scaring you away. I've been told I can be too much before," they admitted, their cheeks tinting pink at the admission. As cool and casual as Noel played it. At their core they were a softy, a creative romantic who wanted someone who wouldn't run away from how big their heart was. They had been burned a lot and it had made them turn inward, reserve more of it for themselves but the more time they spent with Isabella, the more they wanted to just tear those walls down. It was fucking terrifying and thrilling all the same. Without thinking too much about it, Noel leaned in to kiss her, sweetly and softly but lingering. When they pulled back, they took a deep breath and sat back to finish their food. "Okay, we'll take a break from intense feelings. Tell me the most embarrassing thing that's ever happened to you," they joked.

[bereft-of-frogs]

I was totally going to end this chapter on a cliffhanger but then I realized it was already over 5k and I'm not even close done, so the reader has been spared...

....probably....

[wherethegravelsthin]

greta gerwig has done it again (derogatory)

[not-neverland06]

broken promises

pt two

bodyguard!logan howlett x congressman's daughter!reader

a/n: the fact that he was canonically a bodyguard makes me absolutely insane someone congratulate me, I finally figured out how to make my own dividers Summary: He's learned from past mistakes that no matter how tempting the girl is, it's better not to get involved. He just needs some cash, he doesn't give a fuck how pretty you are. He doesn't care about you. He makes it clear he wants nothing to do with you besides seeing you sign his check. But, is that really all he wants? You're not blind to the way he looks at you. 18+ MDNI Shameless smut at the end, I'm not sorry about it at all.

Logan had gotten used to this. The long drawn-out wait to meet with the man who wanted to hire him. He always arrived right on time, not a moment earlier. They all had the same game they liked to play. 

The secretary would greet him, a pretty girl in her 20s that the men were screwing or trying to screw. Then they would make him sit in the lobby for half an hour. They’d apologize by pushing the blame on someone else, saying a meeting had gone on too long. But there wasn’t a meeting. There never was. 

They liked to make themselves seem more important than they were. It was a power game, an intimidation tactic that he had always scoffed at. He didn’t give a fuck what government ties they had or otherwise. He just wanted his paycheck. 

This one was no different. A congressman who had only recently begun to make waves when he started up an anti-mutant agenda. Ironic that he had specifically requested Logan for the very thing he was trying to eradicate. 

There was a buzz and then the secretary was picking up her phone. She spared Logan a fleeting glance before whispering something into the receiver. She looked over at him and he already knew what she was going to say.  “He’s ready for you now.” 

“Thanks, sweetheart,” she gave him a coquettish smile as he made his way towards the large office at the end of the hall. The door was closed when he reached it, three quick knocks and then a quiet Come in. 

The man didn’t even look up to greet him. He continued signing something on his desk. Logan took a seat in one of the chairs, waiting for another few minutes before he was deemed important enough to address. He received a tight smile and narrowed eyes as the man took in the way he was dressed. 

He never dressed up for these things. He’d learned a while ago that a suit wasn’t going to get him any further than his leather jacket was. Might as well be comfortable while talking to these pricks. 

“Had a phone call with an associate of mine. Ran on longer than I meant it to.” Always an excuse, never an apology. 

Logan scoffed and shrugged. “I was fine.”

The man sniffed, “I’m sure. Look, I’ll cut straight to the chase. You come highly recommended by my peers and I need help fast.” Logan nodded, motioning for him to continue. The man’s eyes lingered on his fists for a long while before he finished. “It’s my daughter. Things have been a little rough for her at school, for lack of a better word. Especially since this new campaign started. I just need someone to keep a closer eye on her.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed, “She a party girl or something?” He wasn’t sure he could handle another bratty daddy’s girl again. The last one had nearly made him blow his brains out. They always think flipping their skirts up will let them get away with more and he can’t stand it. 

The man’s face blanched and he shook his head so vigorously that his jowls moved with him. “Oh, no, not at all. But she’s,” he paused and lowered his voice. He leaned in closer to Logan and waited for Logan to do the same. He rolled his eyes but did it anyway. “She’s like you, you know.”

Logan shot him a grin, “You mean a mutant.”

“Lower your voice,” he hissed, face tightening up in anger. “But, yes, a mutant. And I need one to guard her.” Ironic, this man was driving a campaign to make mutants second-class citizens, and his daughter was one. But Logan needed a check, he didn’t give a fuck about the morals of it all. 

“Sounds good to me.”

“Perfect, you can pick her up from school for me.”

You had your earbuds in, head lowered while you made the trek across campus when you noticed him. He was difficult to miss, tall and buff. Very buff, you’re surprised that tank top of his hasn’t ripped every time he flexes. 

Your dad’s newest campaign has you hyper-aware of your surroundings. You can’t afford to let your guard down. Not after the last attack. 

There’s something about this man that tells you he isn’t someone looking to jump you, though. You’re not sure what it is. Every part of him screams danger, but not the type you’re looking out for. The cigar perched between his lips, the glistening muscles you want to bite, he’s trouble. 

When you spot him outside your lecture hall for the third time that day, you finally figure out what’s happening. Your dad had told you he’d hired someone new to watch over you at school. You hadn’t voiced just how against it you were, but you didn’t like the idea. 

You didn’t mind this guy, though. He wasn’t busting into your classes and embarrassing the shit out of you by making everyone empty their pockets like the last guy. He just lingered. You could deal with lingering. 

What you couldn’t deal with was the way he was leaning against his motorcycle, smirking as you slowly approached him. 

“Did my dad hire you?” You call out, tugging your earbuds out. “Who are you?”

He speaks around the cigar like it's second nature. “Your new bodyguard, sweetheart.” You suck in a deep breath when you hear his voice. He’s extremely attractive, you're surprised your dad would risk this. 

One of the other ones had kind of gotten a little obsessed, stalking you even in his off hours. You didn’t think your dad would want another pretty boy around you. Though, you suppose this one isn’t pretty. He’s extremely handsome, ruggedly so, very manly. Jesus, you might end up being the stalker this time. 

His lips curl up like he knows what you’re thinking about. You clear your throat, shifting your backpack higher up your arm. “You planning on taking me home on that?” You ask, pointing at his bike. 

He straightens up and shrugs. “Got a problem with the bike?”

You grin, “Not really,” but your dad will. “No, not at all.”

You walk towards him and he reaches out, grabbing your backpack straps and tugging you towards him. You stumble, hands bracing against his chest so you don’t land flat on your face. “Sorry, kid,” but he doesn’t sound sorry at all. He buckles the straps of your backpack together and tightens them, puffing smoke in your face while he does. “Don’t want this flying off.”

“Mhm,” you hum. You’re not paying attention at all. The only thing you care about right now is just how ripped he is under your hands. You’re not sure how long you gawk at him but he seems to be ridiculously amused by it. 

“Ready to go home, or what?” You jump back from him, brushing your hands off on your leggings and clearing your throat. 

“Yes, yeah.” You rip your eyes off his body and instead focus on the bike. “No helmets?” You ask.

“You heal, don’t you?” You nod and he shrugs. “Don’t need them then, do we?”

You can’t help the giddy grin on your face at that. It’s gotten tiring being treated like glass. You’re about to get on the bike when you finally process what he said. “Wait, how do you know I heal?”

He doesn’t respond verbally. Instead, his gaze darts down to his fists. Your eyes widen when you see the metal poking through the skin. Of course, your father would only tell another mutant about his abomination of a daughter. You scoff and roll your eyes. He’s such a fucking hypocrite. 

Logan climbs on the bike and you follow after him. You're hesitant to wrap your arms around his waist but he just reaches behind himself and jerks you forward. 

You suck in a sharp breath, pelvis tight against his ass while he squeezes your hands. “You want to go flying?” You shake your head and he chuckles, starting the bike and driving off without another word. 

Part of you loves the ride home, the other part detests it. For once you get to experience a little freedom. You’re not trapped in a steel box staring at the back of a car seat while the man beside you pretends he doesn’t exist. 

You can feel the wind in your hair, get a taste of real speed, and enjoy a moment uninterrupted by someone’s expectations of you. On the other hand, Logan does not respect speeding laws. And healing abilities or not, you don’t actually want to experience road rash. 

He manages to get you home in one piece, parking the motorcycle in the driveway and waiting for you to get off. But you can’t, your thighs have been clenching the seat so tight you think they might need to scrape you off. 

“Kid?” He mutters. You shake your head against his back, arms still strangling his waist. It was actually kind of fucking terrifying being on one of these things. You can’t tell if you loved or hated it. 

He lets out a rough sigh, forcibly moving your arms and then tugging you off the seat. Your legs are like jello while you try and straighten out. “Wasn’t so bad, was it?” He asks. You can’t manage much more than a strangled hum and he laughs. 

You turn to your front door and spot a leering face peering out the window. “Shit,” you huff. Your stepmother sees you spot her and disappears from view. You feel your hopes of ever getting back on that bike go with her. 

“You took her home on your bike!”

“Well-”

You flinch at the volume of your father’s voice. “I don’t give a fuck what your excuse is! I will not have my daughter seen riding that monstrosity! You are not to do this again, do you understand me?”

You don’t know what Logan says, but you’re certain it’s not the submissive Yes, sir your father is looking for. He continues shouting at him for another ten minutes. When you hear the door to his office open you scramble to look like you hadn’t been listening in. 

But you’re a bad actress and if his huff of laughter is anything to go by, Logan knows what you were doing. “Did you know that was going to happen?” He asks, pointing back to your father’s, now closed, study. 

You nod, pursing your lips with an apologetic smile. “If it helps, I was really hoping he wouldn’t do that.”

He shrugs, “I don’t really give a fuck how much he wants to scream at me.” It’s refreshing, to finally have someone in the house who doesn’t kiss your father’s ass. It makes you smile, a real genuine smile for the first time in a while. 

You stand from the chair you’d been sitting in, gesturing further into your home. “Are you hungry? I haven’t eaten all day so I was thinking about making something.”

The smirk drops from his face, expression suddenly serious. It makes you tense up. “Look, I appreciate the offer, but I’m here to get paid. I don’t want to be your friend, kid.”

You suck in a sharp breath, trying not to let the rejection sting. He’s a professional, it should be a relief after the last one. “Right, yeah, I’m sorry I didn’t mean it like that.”

He nods, “Right,” tone stiff. You stare at him for another awkwardly long moment before you finally turn on your heel and walk toward the kitchen. You rush there, speedwalking so you don’t have to look at him any longer. 

You open up your fridge, keeping your back to him for as long as humanly possible. You can hear him take a seat at the island, can feel the way his eyes bore into you. It’s a physical thing, his gaze, makes chills scrape their way down your spine. 

You make yourself a sandwich and finally force yourself to turn around. Like you’d expected, he’s already looking at you. Lips ticking up just slightly when you finally get the courage to look up at him. 

Logan feels a little guilty. You weren’t coming onto him earlier, you were being genuine with your kindness. He knows there were no ulterior motives to it and there’s a very slight part of him that feels bad for making you so quiet. “Why’s your dad so pissy about the bike?”

You’re a little startled by the question, after the comment he made you’d thought he wouldn’t want anything to do with you. You swallow down the rest of your bite and cough a little when the bread gets stuck on the roof of your mouth. 

“He doesn’t want me to crash.”

“But you heal,” he points out bluntly and you can’t help but laugh a little. 

“Yeah, that’s the problem. He doesn’t want me to crash and for someone to see that I miraculously healed. Having a freak for a daughter wouldn’t exactly help his campaign, would it?” You can’t even attempt to hide the bitterness in your voice. And you know Logan picks up on it because he doesn’t ask any more questions. 

Your gaze drops to your plate and you finish the rest of your meal in silence. Or, you try to. “Got any plans tonight?”

You chuckle and give him an odd look. “No,” you respond sardonically. “None at all, prepare yourself for a very boring job. I don’t even know why he hired you, I never leave the house unless it's for school.”

“Yeah?” he muses, but he doesn’t seem particularly interested. More like he’s talking just to pass the time. “I heard you’ve been having a hard time at school.”

You suck in a sharp breath, a sudden wave of anger roiling through your gut. The cabinets behind you begin to shake and you wince in embarrassment, tamping down on your powers before you accidentally blow up the kitchen. 

Logan watches the moment with subdued interest like he’s not all that surprised or impressed with the display. “Unless they were a PoliSci nerd, I was a nobody up until last year.” There’s no concealing the hate lurking within your words, “And then my dad took up this whole anti-mutant regime. Well, you can imagine how much the activists love me. I’ve just had a few incidents with some particularly passionate protestors.”

“Do you believe in it?”

Your eyes widen in surprise, you hadn’t expected him to actually continue the conversation. “What do you mean?”

He leans back, arms crossed across his chest in a way that makes his biceps bulge. He shrugs, “The anti-mutant regime, do you agree with it?”

You open your mouth, the perfected script almost rolling off your tongue. But this isn’t some politician's son you’re wooing. You’re not the perfect daughter, you’re in your own home, finally talking to someone else like you. 

“No.” You answer, voice strong in its conviction. “And every time I see one of his PAs running around with their little signs I want to ram the stick up their ass.”

He barks out a laugh, eyes crinkling up in amusement. “I think we might get along, kid.”

You try to ignore the way your cheeks warm at his words. You don’t want to be this affected by him, you’ve barely spoken to him. But this is the first person in a long time that you know with absolute certainty you can be honest with. He doesn’t care about protecting your political image or bowing to your father’s every whim. 

It’s a relief, like a constricting weight being taken off your chest. You give him an easy smile and get up to wash your dishes. His eyes are on you again but they feel less oppressive this time. You’ve already forgotten the rule he’s set in place, you’re not supposed to be friends. 

It’s going to be hard to remember that. 

Your father tightens his grip around your waist until you feel like you might squeal. “Smile, now.” You raise your hand, taking the stairs up the stage and waving out at the crowd that’s formed. It’s hot today, your makeup would be melting off if it weren’t for the artists who put it on for you. 

Always have to look good in front of the camera. All of you. Seeing Logan in a suit was certainly a surprise. You’re almost completely sure that your father had to give him a bonus to even consider wearing it today. 

He looks good, but you honestly prefer him in the normal beater and leather jacket. It’s something so uniquely him. This is just a reminder of your reality, that nothing around you is real. It’s all pretty lies wrapped up in expensive clothes. 

You have to bite your tongue and hold back a grimace when your father begins his speech. “First, we had to let them into our jobs. Now they’re in our schools! Our children aren’t safe, not when they’ve got loaded weapons sitting beside them! Because that’s exactly what they are, weapons of mass destruction that will take apart-”

“Fuck me,” you hiss under your breath. Your cheeks hurt from keeping this smile on your face. You’re struggling not to flinch every time the crowd surges up to agree with him, bigoted shouts making your ears bleed. 

Logan’s brows raise and he gives you a brief glance over his shoulder. Your face pinches in confusion only for a moment before you quickly correct it. Still, you keep your lips nearly completely motionless as you whisper, “Can you hear me?”

You dart your gaze back down to him and catch the barest of nods. Your smile softens, becoming something real if only for a moment. You don’t say anything else, you don’t need to. It’s just a comfort to know someone else is there with you, seeing through the painted faces and plastic smiles. 

There’s movement in the crowd. It cuts your father off midsentence. He peers over the podium, trying to get a better look at what’s happening. You hear someone scream and then the entire crowd is getting knocked to the ground. 

You jump back in shock, everyone on stage still. The security, however, is rushing to get to you and your family. It’s too late, though, there’s a mutant in the crowd and his eyes are set on you. “Fuck you,” he screams out your father's name and lugs something at the stage. 

You hear someone shout your name but it’s too late. Glass shatters against the side of your face. It takes less than a second for the pain to start. You can feel holes being burned through your skin, like living fire melting through your bones and gums. A scream rips out of your throat, your hands coming up to block your face too late. 

“Get her out of here!”

As agonizing as it is, you can already feel your skin working to mend itself. You can practically hear the flesh bonding back together. But the acid is dripping down you. It keeps moving steadily through your clothes and skin, your abilities on overdrive trying to repair the damage. 

You can’t focus on anything except the sensation of being burned alive. Suddenly, there’s an arm being thrown around your shoulder and you’re being lifted off your feet. Your skin scrapes against the rough material of someone’s blazer and it makes you grit your teeth and scream again. 

“I know, hold on kid, it’ll be over in a minute.” Logan rushes you behind the stage, where there are no cameras to watch you heal. You don’t know how your father’s PR team is going to spin this. Everyone saw it, saw the way your flesh bubbled and boiled. There’s no hiding the fact that half your face should be melted off. 

“Car,” you grunt out when he puts you on your feet again. 

His hands are clamped firmly around your shoulders, inspecting you for any further damage. “What?”

“We gotta get to the car,” the words are a struggle to get out. Your lungs constrict painfully in your chest while you force the rest out. “Can’t let them see.”

He looks pissed off that that's what you're worried about and not the fact that you were just attacked. Finally, after a minute of just staring at you, he nods. He wraps an arm around your shoulder and runs with you back to the limo. He throws the door open, pushing you inside and sliding in beside you. 

You take in a deep breath the second you’re no longer in view of the TV cameras. “Fuck,” you gasp out. Your dress is in tatters on your left side and you quickly cover your chest. You pray that you didn’t accidentally flash anything while you were still on stage. Your father would never forgive you for that. 

It’s silent in the car for a moment. You feel something being draped over your shoulder and look over to see Logan passing you his jacket. When he catches your gaze he gently grabs your jaw and titls your face towards his. 

His eyes rove over the left side of your face and he gives you a tight smile. “You’re fine, kid.”

You pull your chin out of his grip and pull his jacket closed around you. “See why my father wanted you around? How would he have ever explained his daughter surviving an acid attack?”

There’s something pinched in his gaze. A deep-seated irritation and something else you’re too tired to identify. He’s looking at you oddly and you wish he wouldn’t. You press your forehead to the cool glass of the window and slump against the car door. 

You don’t know when you fall asleep but by the time you wake up, Logan’s already carrying you up to your room. He sees you shift awake and places you on your feet. You steady yourself against the stair banister and walk the rest of the way to your room, trying to shake off the pain of the day. 

You look back just in time to see Logan at the front door. “Goodnight,” you call down to him. You know he can hear you, but he walks through the door without another word. You bite your lip, ignoring the sinking feeling of your gut. 

You toss your destroyed dress to the floor and turn your TV on. You surf through the channels for a bit before finding a clip of today’s incident. “-apparently part of a protest for mutants against the government. I don’t know Bill, they seem to just be proving everybody’s point. They are unsafe.”

“I agree, my thoughts and prayers go out to…”

You roll your eyes as they say your name. They’re saying it wasn’t acid, instead it’s some sort of chemical compound that causes extreme pain. Even you don’t believe that bullshit. You have a feeling your father is going to be looking for a new PR team tomorrow. 

Your attention is snagged by the replay of the accident. You don’t focus on the acid, you don’t want to. Instead, you see how quickly Logan rushed to your side. He seemed to be right there even as the acid was being thrown. 

Your brows pinch together and you glance at the jacket beside you. He’d forgotten to take it back before he left. You pick it up, eyes skating over the fabric before you find what you’re looking for. There’s a large hole in the right sleeve, acid having burned through it. 

You hadn’t even realized he was in pain. You know he can heal, but it doesn’t get rid of the fluttering feeling in your stomach. You’ve never had someone look after you like that. 

You grin to yourself, tucking the jacket in the back of your closet. You’re sure he wouldn’t want it back and you’re not planning on parting with it anytime soon. 

You’re on house arrest for a week after the acid incident. Which includes no school. Your father has to play into the idea that you’re recovering from the trauma and healing. You don’t know how much longer he’s planning on keeping you locked up but you’re going stir crazy. 

Not only do you not get to go to classes, but Logan isn’t around either. He doesn’t need to be, not when the only place you’re in is your room. He’s not a friend, he’s made that clear, but he’s something. And you are desperately craving that specific something. 

“It was a sickening attack against my daughter that my wife and I are still trying to recover from.” You roll your eyes as you listen to your father spew his bullshit to the interviewer in the next room. 

You’re not allowed to be out and about, of course. You can’t risk someone seeing you. But that doesn’t stop you from lurking. 

“It was an incredibly traumatic experience for her, I’m sure.” You grin to yourself, picking at your nails. You like this one, whoever the reporter is interviewing him. She hasn’t let him catch a break. Especially not when he tries to capitalize on your trauma. Even though he hasn’t checked in once with you. 

“Well,” he splutters for a moment. “Yes, of course,” he tries to sound humble but anyone can tell he’s just covering his ass. “And it just further proves what I’ve always said about mutants. They are animals, they’re not like us.”

You’d think at a certain point you’d go numb to it. You’ve been raised hearing this rhetoric from him all your life. But the sting never eases. That cloying ache in your chest never quite leaves you. Not when you know the only reason he publicly accepts you is for political gains. So everyone can see what a wonderful father he is and vote for him.

You feel sick to your stomach and you don’t think you can listen to much more of this. But right as you’re about to tap out a hand clamps down on your shoulder. You nearly scream but you catch a whiff of the man’s aftershave and your mouth snaps shut. 

You leap out of your chair and whip around, a grin plastered on your face. “Logan, what are you doing here?” You can’t disguise the giddiness in your voice. He might constantly be reminding you that you hold nothing more than a professional relationship, but you don’t give a shit. He’s a constant in your life and that’s rare for you, so you’ll latch onto whatever comfort you can find. 

His gaze briefly darts to the connecting wall to your father’s study and you flush. He’d probably heard all of that. You’ve never had someone see the side of your father that you do. There’s something shamefully embarrassing about it. 

He looks back at you and gives you a sly smirk. “Wanna get out of here?” You’d have to be an idiot to say no.

“Uh,” you can hear the music from where you stand across the street. You shuffle uncertainly on your feet beside Logan, glancing up and down the sidewalk like your father’s going to pop out of an alleyway. “I don’t know if this is such a good idea.”

Logan tugs his cigar out of his mouth. He’s leaned up against a lamppost and he’s watched you struggle for the past ten minutes. “Live a little kid, would ya?”

You look back at the dingy bar and grimace. “Okay, there’s a difference between living a little and having my face blasted on the news. How’s it going to look if I’m photographed at a bar while I’m meant to be healing?”

Logan points with his cigar to the entrance of the bar. “I can promise you, no one in there gives a fuck about who your daddy is.” Comforting, and a little humbling. 

You take in a deep breath and Logan must sense the change in your demeanor. He flicks the cigar to the ground, crushing it with the heel of his boot. He holds his arm out, “Ready, kid?”

You nod, hurrying to his side and slipping under his grasp. He lets his arm hang heavily around your shoulder, hand squeezing your bicep gently to try and quell your nerves. You’d be swooning at the touch if you weren’t about to throw up from anxiety. 

You used to have a life. Until your father had blown it up. You haven’t been around this many people in ages. Well, you haven’t been around people who are just having fun and not sucking up to every politician’s kid they meet. 

The music gets louder as you step over through the threshold of the bar. The soles of your shoes stick to the floor. People laugh loudly all around you, some of them shouting up at TV screens for whatever sport is currently playing. You’re sure half of them don’t even normally watch the game. They just need an excuse to get their wives off their backs. 

The thought brings a small smile to your lips. Logan glances down at you and frowns, “You are old enough to drink, aren’t you?”

You roll your eyes and move out from under his hold. “Yes, Logan. I’m going into a master’s program, my frontal lobe is fully formed.”

He huffs a little at the attitude, cheeks twitching with a suppressed smile. He nods towards the back of the bar, “Find a seat, I’ll get us drinks.” He walks towards the bar without another word and you resent him a little for it. 

Without him beside you, it’s like everything comes crashing down all at once. The songs playing grate on your ears. Every laugh feels like they’re screaming in your face. You’ve never been more in tune with your sense of smell and you hate it. 

Your hands tremble by your sides and you nearly miss the man in front of you spilling his beer down his shirt. It looks completely unnatural, the way it just flips out of his hand. And you know it’s your doing. 

You shove through him and his friends, running to the back and sliding into the first booth you see. You dig your nails into your palms, taking a few deep breaths to try and calm your heart rate down a bit. 

Logan slides into the seat across from you, placing a beer in front of you. It’s barely touched the grimy wood of the table before you tip your head back and drain it. You’ve never been a particular fan of beer or any alcohol for that matter. 

But right now you need a buzz before you accidentally level the whole bar. You slam the bottle back on the table, taking in a deep breath, and sitting back. Logan gives you a hard stare, glancing between you and the empty bottle. 

He clicks his tongue and stands up, “I’ll go get another one.”

You bite your lip and give him a sheepish, “Thank you.”

It doesn’t take long for the buzz to settle in. There’s a slight tingling in your legs and the tips of your fingers. It almost feels like how you get when you’re starting to get aroused. But you don’t know if that’s from the alcohol or the way Logan looks in his slutty little t-shirt. 

Definitely tipsy, you think to yourself, nudging your third beer to the side. 

“Always been a lightweight?” He teases, watching you with amusement in his gaze while he works on what must be his fifth whiskey. 

You shake your head with a soft smile. “No, I used to go out with my friends all the time.” You laugh a little at the memories and lean in a little closer like you’re sharing some horrible secret. Logan rolls his eyes but acquiesces, leaning in to listen to you speak. “We made up alter egos for our drunk selves. Wanna know mine?” You ask, wiggling your eyebrows at him with a stupid grin.

His brows pinch together and he frowns, “I don’t think so.”

You laugh and lean back in your seat. “You’re the worst!” He places his glass down on the table and fixes you with an odd look. You shift around uncomfortably, “What is it?”

“What happened to your friends? Why are you hanging out with me and not them?”

“Oh,” your gaze drops to the table and you suddenly find the stains on it very interesting. It’s practically abstract art. You swallow harshly around the lump in your throat and shrug. “Um, just all the stuff with my dad happened, and,” you shrug, “I don’t know. My life kind of fell apart.”

You try and shake off the funk, bring back the happy-go-lucky feeling you were in only minutes ago. “I had to move out of the dorms and head back home. My friends stopped talking to me. My boyfriend dumped me. It all just kind of blew up.”

Logan frowns and you swear he seems angry on your behalf. It’s a nice feeling, having someone care enough to hold a grudge for you. “You ever tell him how it was all affecting you?”

You snort, “Of course I did. He was overjoyed. He never liked my friends, especially not my boyfriend, they encouraged me to be too independent. He thought I was losing the values he raised me with. He just never cared to learn that I never agreed with them in the first place.”

Logan doesn’t say anything for a while and you let your gaze drift to the karaoke stage. Two women are singing a bad redemption of Led Zeppelin and it makes you smile. You don’t see the way Logan’s eyes linger on the curve of your lips and then drop to your chest. 

You never seem to notice how you make him squirm. There is something so interesting about you. Something so different from the families he worked with before. He doesn’t know if it's the whole mutant thing, if you two are somehow kindred spirits in that regard. He doubts it, he’s never really cared much about that. 

But he knows that there is something magnetic about you. It draws him in and makes him hate his own rules. He promised not to get involved with another client. It always ends messy, most times bloody. 

You turn back to him and smile. Your voice is a low purr as you ask, “You wanna get out of here?”

Of course, he’s never been one to follow the rules. 

“I am so sorry about this. Really.” 

Logan glares down at you while you straighten out his tie. You duck your head so you don’t have to meet his gaze and he lets out a long-suffering sigh. 

“Forget it, kid.” He says it with a smirk but it doesn’t make you feel any less guilty. 

This will be your first public appearance since the incident. It’s a gala, of course, because your father hates you. He’d demanded you find a date, someone to look pretty on your arm because he doesn’t want you talking while you’re there. You’re meant for pictures and nothing more. 

Considering the fact that no one wants to talk to you on campus, the acid incident not helping at all, you had no luck finding a date. You’d had to beg on hands and knees for days to get Logan to agree. 

You don’t know what it is that finally made him cave but you’re grateful for it. You think your father was expecting you to fail. To come crawling to him and be forced to go with who he wanted you to go with. 

You were not going to spend the whole night listening to some political major try and explain your own father’s campaign to you. You’d rather swallow acid than go through that for another night. Your father, of course, doesn’t know that Logan is taking you. 

You’re planning on ambushing him with it. He can’t do anything about it now. He wants you to have a date for some reason and there’s no way for him to find a backup now. You take a step back from him and turn to look in the mirror. 

Side by side, you do make an incredibly attractive couple. He looks amazing in his suit, his muscles just slightly pushing against the fabric. And as much as he hates the tie and constricting material, he makes it work. 

And you feel pretty for the first time in a long time. You actually got to do your own hair and makeup for once. You’re a lot less heavy-handed than the assistants your father hires. You feel comfortable in your own skin, finally, wearing the deep red dress your stepmother had gotten for you. 

“We look good,” you muse. 

Logan looks down at you and smiles slightly, “You do.”

You give him a confused grin, “I said we.”

He leans down, lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he whispers, “I know what you said, sweetheart.” Your heart nearly beats out of your chest at the proximity. Gooseflesh raises on your arms where he’s touching you and your knee buckles ever so slightly. 

You can perfectly imagine his husky voice whispering something much, much dirtier to you. He pulls back with a slight chuckle and forcefully turns you around. “Come on, kid, we’re gonna be late.”

He nudges you towards your bedroom door and you nod your head mutely. He keeps doing that to you. These little things that could be so easily dismissed as you reading into his actions. But you know, deep down, you’re not reading into anything. 

But you don’t know what to do with this information that he might possibly be into you. Or at the very least, attracted to you. He made it clear early on that he wants nothing but professionalism between the two of you, yet he continually breaks his own rule. 

Your father and stepmother are waiting at the bottom of the stairs for you both. Your stepmother smiles when she sees you but your father’s face screws up in anger. “Are you fucking kidding me? The goddamn bodyguard?”

You shrug and slip past him, already walking to the front door. “A date’s a date.” You pause and grin over at him, “What are you going to do about it?” It’s a taunt, one you don’t give him a chance to respond to. 

You’re already slipping outside and heading to the town car. Something about Logan being with you emboldens you to act in ways you never would. Even when he’s not there, when you’re just having family dinner and your father says something off-putting. You fight back, you don’t let him steamroll you and your opinions. 

You feel better than you have in ages with Logan beside you. Still, the ride there is incredibly awkward. 

The hotel is grand and luxurious. But they all are. You feel guilty complaining about your life when this is your weekend. What do you have to be upset about when you regularly stay in five-star motels and wear designer dresses without glancing at the price tag?

Sometimes you feel guilty around Logan. You wonder if he ever resents you for your privilege. You might be a mutant like him, sure, but you’ve never had to struggle to make ends meet. Or try and scrap together enough money to get your next meal. You’ve never had to worry about where you’re going to sleep next or if you’ll have a roof over your head. 

Your struggles have been so different that you worry if something ever did happen between the two of you, you might not work together. 

But those are spiraling thoughts for another time. Right now, you’re just trying to get through the front door without someone bombarding your father with questions on his stance about whatever. 

When it’s clear that he’s going to be there for a while, he sends you and Logan off to the ballroom on your own. You feel bad for your stepmother, having to stay behind and pretend she’s interested as they bore her with stories that have no real meaning. 

“Poor woman,” you mutter, watching her struggle to keep the smile on her face. 

“You don’t call her mom,” Logan muses. You turn to look at him and he just shrugs. “Just a little weird.”

“Well, she’s not my mom.” His head tilts in confusion and you elaborate. “My bio mom left the second she figured out she gave birth to a mutant. We lie to the public, stepmom’s interfere with the perfect nuclear family ideal my dad’s pushing for.”

“If he cares so much about family then why don’t you have your dad’s last name?” A good question, one you had to field a lot when you first started school. 

You give him a sly grin, “Took my mom's maiden name the second I was eighteen, just to piss him off.” There’s no true reason behind it other than being vindictive and petty. “He’s been trying to get me to change it for years but he can’t force me to. Besides, I like having my name separate from theirs. Lets me pretend I’m not a part of the family. Don’t get me wrong, she’s nice and all, we just never really had the chance to bond.”

Someone passes by you. A couple you know you’re supposed to recognize but you can’t place their names. The man calls out your name, coming toward you with his arms open wide. You can see Logan tense up slightly beside you, bodyguard instincts coming out for a moment. 

You squeeze his hand briefly before stepping forward to hug the man. “So nice to see you, again.” You tell him. He grins and squeezes you a little closer to his chest than necessary. 

Logan clears his throat, glaring at the man’s drifting hands. Before either of you can react, Logan is pulling you back, hand resting lightly over the small of your back. He holds his hand out, forcing the man to shake his hand and take his attention off of you.

You can’t hold back the smile on your lips when you see how much smaller the man is under Logan’s intense stare. You’ve gotten used to the men at these events treating you however they want. They don’t see you as a human, you are your father’s accessory and their toy. You envy Logan for how easily he can dismiss these men, take away their larger-than-life personalities, and reduce them to the sniveling rats they truly are. 

He doesn’t even speak, simply tugs you towards the ballroom and away from the man’s wandering hands. You can’t help the stupid smile on your face while you look at him. He glances out the side of his eye and huffs, “What?” He snaps, tone impatient. 

You shrug and shake your head. “Nothing, you’re just…” You trail off, unsure how to continue. You don’t want to make him uncomfortable by telling him how you really feel about him. How deeply you appreciate him, how horribly you desire him. You’re afraid it will all just blow up in your face. That you’ll have truly been reading into everything and gotten his intentions all wrong. After all, he’s made it abundantly clear that there’s meant to be nothing between the two of you except a paycheck. 

You take in a deep breath, smile faltering, “Nothing.” You finally spit out, slipping out of his grasp and walking quicker towards the doors. His hand lingers on your back, fingers trailing slowly down your spine until you’re completely out of his reach. 

The chatter inside gets louder the closer you get to the entrance. You listen to the indiscernible voices, the quartet playing in the corner, and the clink of metal on the glass as they all eat. You straighten out your shoulders and put on your best smile, mentally preparing yourself to keep it stiff on your cheeks for the rest of the night. 

Logan catches up to you, the both of you stopping the second you see the inside of the ballroom. 

People Against Mutants

Evolution or Monstrosities

Parents for the Removal of Mutant Children

Your eyes widen as you take in the banners and signs hanging off the walls. More and more uncreative rhetoric all for the annihilation of mutants. Of people like you and Logan. Your smile drops immediately and you know you should have expected something like this from your father. He’d been refusing to tell you what this gala was for, saying offhandly he was just raising some money. 

You thought it was another charity. Not this. Not people, quite literally, calling for your head. For Logan’s head. You suck in a sharp breath and glance towards the silent man beside you. His jaw is clenched as he takes in all the finely dressed people around you. They’re all laughing and chatting like they’re not actively campaigning for the destruction of children. 

“Bar?” You ask, already walking towards it. 

“Sounds good to me.” His hand is on your back again and you’re grateful for it. The glower on his face, the attitude that screams I don’t belong here keeps people away from you. He shoulders through the men huddling around the bar, forcefully clearing space for the two of you. 

And when they turn around, posturing like they’re going to say something, he only has to look at them for them to retreat with their tails tucked. It’s ridiculously attractive seeing someone command these men so easily. 

“Whiskey,” Logan grumbles, he looks back at you and you slide beside him, leaning your elbows against the cool counter. 

“Just champagne, please,” you tell the bartender. He nods, quickly making your drinks and handing them to you. You turn with the flute in your hand, surveying the room. It feels less like a gala and more like a production of false niceties that will never end and never be genuine. 

“Don’t know how you deal with these fuckers all the time,” Logan mutters, glaring as a man slams into him and keeps walking without apologizing. 

You let out a short huff of laughter, “Honestly,” he glances over at you and you shrug. “I’ve got no fucking clue either.” He scoffs and takes a swig from his glass. But you can’t take your eyes off of him. You feel the words on the tip of your tongue, weighing you down until you feel like you have no choice but to spit them out. 

“You,” his brows quirk up and he glances over at you. You take in a deep breath and start over, nerves making your palms sweaty around the glass. “You make it bearable.”

Logan’s face falls and he sucks in a deep breath. You see the expression on his face, you know what he’s going to tell you. And you hate how apologetic he looks. You especially despise the way he’s making you feel pitied. He’s never done that before and you don’t want him to start now. 

“Don’t,” you tell him before he can say anything. You let out a self-deprecating laugh and place the champagne flute on the bar so you don’t have to look at him. “I know what you’re going to say, alright. So, just, don’t.”

Logan purses his lips and grabs your jaw. You try and jerk your face out of his grasp but he doesn’t let you, he forces you to look at him. He only lets go once you reluctantly make eye contact. You’re surprised by the look on his face. There’s no pity in his gaze like you’d expected. 

This is something else, something darker and more twisted. You can’t put your finger on what exactly you’re seeing but you know it makes your heart race and your thighs clench. “Listen, sweetheart, I-”

“What the hell are you doing?” You jump away from him but Logan just clenches his eyes shut with a short huff of irritated breath. You clear your throat and turn to face your father. He’s glaring between you and Logan, but smiles warmly anytime someone looks your way. “I didn’t bring you here so my contributors could see what a fucking whore you are for the help.”

“Dad!” You exclaim, eyes widening in horror. But Logan doesn’t seem bothered by your father’s words. If anything it seems to incense him, his hand drifting from your jaw to drape itself over the nape of your neck. You try not to show just how much the possessive grip is affecting you but you know they can both tell. 

Your father’s face pinches and he nearly stomps his foot as he looks between you and Logan. He looks like he wants to say something else but your stepmother, thankfully, calls his name. She waves him over towards her and you hold your breath, waiting to see what he’s going to do. 

He takes in short puffs of air, straightening out his suit jacket and glaring at you. “You’re not going to be a fucking wallflower all night, got it?” He doesn’t give you a chance to respond before he’s stomping off. He calls out a warm greeting to someone across the room and you feel like you can finally breathe again. 

You give Logan a tired smile and nod towards the rest of the party. “Time to mingle.”

He laughs, loudly, enough to make people’s heads turn. You can feel your skin heating up from embarrassment and flinch away from the sound. “Sorry, kid, mingling ain’t part of my contract.”

Your jaw drops as you glare at him. “Are you serious?”

He turns back to the bar, flagging down the bartender for a refill. “Deadly,” he tells you firmly, barely looking at you. You roll your eyes and walk away from him, glaring at his back the whole time you do so. 

He thought coming to one of these things, being stuffed in a scratchy suit, would be his worst nightmare. He was proven wrong when he heard them talking to each other. Bitching about golf and their mistresses wanting more attention. Their kids nagging them and their wives being bitches. 

All of it made him want to down a whole bottle of whiskey and then blow his brains out. His worst nightmare turned into ever having to hold a conversation with one of these pricks. 

Then, he turns around, surveying the room for wherever you were lurking. He expects you to be by your father’s side or hiding somewhere in a corner. Instead, you’re standing close -extremely close - to some pretty boy. 

His hand is on your waist and you’re laughing at whatever boring fucking story he’s telling you. Logan tries to pick up on your conversation but there are too many things happening at once already. His senses are on overdrive and he’s already struggling against a migraine. 

He feels something brewing in his gut, something he’s been trying to just shove down for months. He doesn’t know what it is he hates about this picture but it makes him sick to his stomach. He hears something crack and looks down to find the glass of whiskey split on one side. 

“Shit,” he hisses, slamming the glass on the bar behind him. He shakes his hand out and tries to unclench his fists but it’s hard. He couldn’t have possibly been standing here long enough for you to suddenly find the love of your life. Why the fuck are the two of you so close?

This was so unlike you. Rarely did you ever have something good to say about the men you would encounter at these things. He’d heard you bitch about it enough times. Something about this isn’t adding up and he doesn’t know if it’s his own jealousy or intuition. 

Still, he finds himself pushing away from the bar and stalking towards you both. Closer, he can finally see what the problem is. Your hands are on the guy's chest but you aren’t leaning against him, you’re actively trying to push him away. 

It makes Logan’s blood boil, jaw clenching as he tries to keep himself at bay. He didn’t want to cave some kid’s head in in the middle of the gala. But the closer he got the clearer he could hear your hissed warnings to take his hands off of you. 

Logan finally reaches you and the look of sheer relief on your face makes him want to bring the claws out. He’d love to see that smug smirk ripped off his face, but he holds back. If only so he doesn’t traumatize you. 

“Alright, bub, hands off,” he warns. 

“Why don’t you just leave us alone?” He had to give it to the kid, he’s got balls. Rarely did anyone ever buck up to him like this. Normally, he might entertain him a bit, drag this on longer than necessary to get a kick out of it. 

But he still hasn’t taken his hands off of you and Logan’s not interested in fucking around tonight. Without a word, he grabs the kid by the collar of his jacket and tosses him away from you. 

He lands roughly on the floor with a loud gasp and people turn to look. Logan pays no mind to the onlookers. He places his hand on your back and leads you out of the ballroom, unwilling to have eyes on you for the rest of this conversation. 

“Logan,” you start, tone nervous. 

“Don’t,” he snaps. He regrets it immediately from the way you jump in surprise. He lets out a rough sigh, running his hand down his face, and walks through the first door he finds. “I’m sorry, kid, I just-”

“Logan,” you cut him off. The tone of your voice is enough to get him to finally look at you. Your arms are crossed and you’re glaring at him. “Why the fuck did you drag us into a closet?”

His brows furrow in confusion and he glances around, finally realizing what he walked into, “Fuck,” he hisses. He gropes blindly around the room for a light switch. There’s a small click and then an unflattering fluorescent light is shining down on you both. He’s managed to drag you both into a small, incredibly cramped, cleaning closet.  

You’re grimacing as you push a few mops away from your head. You look over at him and something about the look on his face must be funny because you start to laugh. “What were you thinking?”

Your smile makes one curl up on his own lips. He can’t help it, something about you eases a bit of the tightness constantly lurking inside him. “Thought it was one of those stuffy conference rooms.”

You scoff and reach for the handle, “Just a stuffy closest, good going, Logan.” You roll your eyes and tug on the knob. Your brows furrow together as you jiggle the handle every which way, desperately pulling on it. 

“Move over,” Logan mutters, nudging you to the side. He wraps his hand around the handle and yanks on it, expecting the door to swing open. When it doesn’t his face falls. 

“Did you miraculously unlock it, genius?” You demand sarcastically. Logan feels his shoulders tense up, frustration levels steadily rising. He’s already got a shit temper, he doesn’t need you adding to this. 

“No,” he snipes, “but I don’t see you coming up with any wonderful solutions.”

You throw your hands up in the air, wincing when your elbow collides with the shelving unit behind you. “I didn’t drag us into this mess! Why did you even come in here?” You demand and he can see how angry you are. 

It shows in the way you tapped your heeled feet against the floor and glower at him like he’s the bane of your existence. He doesn’t know what happens, what comes over him, or why this is the moment he chooses to break his rule. 

Your back slams into the shelves behind you and you gasp as he surges towards you. His hands come up to cup your cheeks and before you get a chance to question him, his mouth is covering your own. Logan buries his hand in your hair, ruining the perfectly styled curls. You don’t seem to mind much if the way you arch into him is anything to go by. 

His tongue runs across the seam of your lips, tasting the cherry-flavored gloss you’d applied earlier. He wants to devour you. Consume you body and soul, take everything you have to give, and then keep going. He doesn’t want to stop, but he’s not sure he wants the first place you have sex to be in a janitor’s closet. 

He pulls back, tugging you back when you try to chase his lips with your own. “Shouldn’t do this here,” he mutters. He’s struggling to hold back. And when you look up at him, lips swollen from his kiss, and you mutter why, how is he meant to resist?

He tugs you away from the shelves, pushing you against the door so he doesn’t have to see your face twist up in pain every time the corner digs into your lower back. Your hands drop down to his belt, lips desperately carving a path down his neck. 

He’d laugh at your eagerness if he wasn’t just as desperate for you. He reaches for the hem of your dress but it’s one of those floor-length gowns with no slits. He struggled for a minute before getting too impatient and just muttering, “Fuck it.”

You gasp when you feel the metal of his claw against your leg, eyes dropping down to watch as he makes himself a slit. He slices the fabric along your thigh and then just rips it. “Logan,” you hiss as he hikes the silk over your hips. 

“Something wrong, sweetheart?” You glare at him, eyes darting between him and his pants before you finally shake your head. He laughs slightly, hand drifting under your dress and reveling in the way you shiver under his touch. “Yeah,” he whispers, “that’s what I thought.”

His fingers move gently along your thighs, easing you into his touch. You let out breathy whimpers, tucking your face in his neck the closer he gets to your core. He lets his hand drift lower, searching out the band of your underwear. 

He’s pleasantly surprised when he’s met with nothing but you dripping for him. “Shit, you’re not wearing any underwear?”

You freeze and keep your face stubbornly buried in his neck. Logan laughs slightly, tugging you back and forcing you to look up at him. You mumble something under your breath. It’s said so quickly he can barely understand you. “What was that?”

“Ugh, god, Logan.” You groan and let your eyes drop down to his shirt, fiddling with the end of his tie. “I was hoping this would happen.”

When he doesn’t say anything your face shifts, worry gnawing away at you. You glance up at him and are surprised by the intensity of his gaze. He’s staring down at you like he wants to eat you whole. His pupils have consumed all the color of his eyes, there’s nothing but want on his face. 

“You wanna know why I agreed to come with you, kid?”

Your mind is completely dulled just by being this close to him. It takes you a moment to process what he’s saying before you nod your head. “Why?”

The look on his face reminds you of a wolf guarding its territory. It’s predatorial, animalistic, it makes you want him even more. “I didn’t want any of these little boys getting a chance to have their hands on you.” His gaze drops down to your lips and he leans in until your breaths are mingling together. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted you.” He dips his head down and his kiss isn’t as intense as it was the first time. His lips move lazily over your own, tongue stroking against yours like he’s savoring the taste. 

You can taste the whiskey he’d drank earlier, can still smell cigars on his breath. It should be revolting, you’ve never liked kissing smokers. But there is something so intoxicating about him. Everything he does is enchanting to you. 

It’s a naive train of thought but you trust him wholly. He could do whatever he wanted to you and you’d let him willingly. His hands continue their exploration down your body and you can’t help but arch into his touch. His fingers stroke languidly over your center and you moan into his mouth. 

Your lips part with little gasps and your head thunks loudly against the door. Neither of you notice or care, you’ve all but forgotten the gala outside. The government employees and rich socialites that you’re supposed to be entertaining. 

And when he slips a finger inside you, you don’t care who hears you call out his name. The rough pad of his finger creates a feeling you’ve never been able to produce on your own. There’s something so exhilarating about this whole situation. 

Stuck in this tiny closet, no air to breathe but each other’s. No room for anything other than your bodies pressed as closely together as possible. You're completely surrounded by him and you never want to leave. 

“Logan,” you gasp out his name and shove at his shoulders. He momentarily stops his ministrations, giving you a worried look. “Please, I just want you.” You tug at his wrist, hissing when his fingers leave you with a lewd pop. 

He looks hesitant, but you can see the way he’s straining against his boxers. You let your hand trail down his stomach, palming him through the thin fabric. His hips buck into your hands and he lets out the most attractive noise you’ve ever heard. You’ve always liked guys who aren’t afraid to be vocal. 

“Fuck, you’re gonna be the death of me,” he whispers. He swats your hands to the sides, tugging his boxers down and squeezing your hips hard enough to bruise. “Come on, up.”

You jump and he slings your legs around his waist, lining himself up with your entrance. He drags you slowly down his cock, resting your back against the door and giving a hesitant thrust inside you. 

You can’t help the low groan that leaves your parted lips. It’s like you’re full of nothing but him. You’d been mentally prepared for the stretch he would present, but you probably should have given him more time to warn you up. 

You don’t care though, this is all you’ve been craving for months. To feel nothing, taste nothing but him. You’ve been praying that he feels the same way you do, and if the look on his face is anything to go by, he does. 

He looks completely wrecked, head resting on your shoulder while you both take a breath. It’s overwhelming, this feeling of finally having what you’ve always wanted. Someone you can give yourself to completely and still feel safe with them. 

You drag your hand up his back, burying it in his hair and reveling in how soft it is. You tug him back by the roots, tilting his neck until he’s forced to look at you. Your gaze drops to his reddened lips and you smile at the gloss you’ve smeared across his chin. 

“Come on, Logan, don’t tell me you’re all talk.”

His eyes narrow but you can see the amusement swimming within them. “You’re gonna regret that.”

“Oh, yeah?” You goad, grinding your hips down against his and biting your lip hard enough to draw blood. You’re trying not to make a noise, trying to make sure he doesn’t see just how much he’s affecting you. But you can already feel your orgasm forming, it’s a low tingle in the tips of your toes, a burning hot desire rushing through your thighs as you clench around him. 

“Yeah,” he promises, thrusting sharply into you. This time the moan is forced out of you, your lips parting unbidden as you slump over him, burying your face in his neck. He doesn’t waste any time, using your hips as handles to pump you over his cock like you’re nothing more than a toy. 

The door rattles behind you, each thrust of his hips makes it shake in its frame. His hands fist the back of your dress, grip so tight you think it might tear. You don’t care. He could rip it off of you and you’d walk outside naked right now. 

You don’t care what happens, not when he’s beside you. There’s a feeling of security that comes from being around Logan and you can feel it in this moment. You trust him to take care of you in every way. 

Maybe you shouldn’t. After all, you two haven’t known each other long. But there’s not much you’re worried about when he’s moving steadily inside you. You can taste the desperation you share for each other in each pump of his hips. 

He whispers it into your ear while you claw at his back. The shelves around you shake and you worry you might bring them down if you can’t rope yourself in. But you can feel the wave building in the back of your throat, your vision blurring as you tighten your legs around his waist and begin to match his rhythm. 

“There you go,” he mutters, pinning you to the door and keeping your hips still while he moves inside you. “Come on, I can feel you clenching around me, sweetheart.” He manages to hold you up with one hand, the other diving between your legs to rub tight circles around your bundle of nerves. 

It doesn’t take much longer for your muscles to seize up, back bowing as you clench desperately around him. “Oh, fuck, Logan,” you shout his name, and his hand quickly comes up to smother your cries. He squeezes your cheeks until your eyes snap open and he drags you down to meet his gaze. 

“Don’t want to lose my job, need you to be quiet for me,” he grunts out, his tone breathy and strained. He loses his rhythm, movements speeding up erratically while he lets out low groans and whispers of your name. You almost cum again when he finally finishes inside you. 

Your limbs are twitching in overstimulation by the time his hips still. You feel completely boneless, body slumped lazily in his arms. He wraps both arms around you, squeezing you a little before slowly lifting you off of him. 

It’s a relief of pressure when he pulls out. His cum leaks out of you, dribbling down your thighs and dripping onto the floor of the closest. Your face screws up at the feeling and you internally cringe. No condom was probably a stupid call.

But you don’t really want to think about the repercussions right now. Not when he’s stroking your hair and rubbing a soothing hand down your back, waiting until you can form a coherent sentence before he lets you go. “Alright?” He asks, voice bordering on something smug. 

“Mhm,” you push away from him, legs shaky as you try and straighten out your dress. It’s a loss cause, trying to hide what happened in here at all. You’ve got a tear going up to your hip and you’re pretty sure there are holes in the back. Logan’s tie is gone and you don’t even remember taking that off. His shirt is completely wrinkled and your lip gloss has stained his face. 

You’ve both got horrific sex hair and the room reeks of it. You don’t know how you're going to sneak out of here. You still try and relax your hair, patting down the flyaways while Logan retucks his shirt. 

It’s silent between the two of you, heavy but not awkward. You don’t think either of you knows what to say now that you’ve physically acted on what you want. A sudden thought hits you, makes your heart clench painfully and your tongue ties up in your mouth. 

He’d confirmed that he wanted your body. That he desired you sexually. But you don’t think he actually said anything about a real relationship. There would be problems, of course, your father for one would have a lot to say about it. But you don’t care about that. You don’t care about any of the consequences, you just want to be with him. 

You open your mouth to ask him what he wants when the door swings open. Both you and Logan whip towards it. But where you look like a deer caught in the headlights he looks like the epitome of male pride. 

Especially when he realizes it's your father on the other side. “Dad-” You start, but you have no idea what you could even say. Your dress is in tatters and both you and Logan are still mussed up. There’s no hiding what happened here. 

He doesn’t let you finish, holding up his hand. His voice is eerily calm as he says, “I thought I heard something banging around in here.”

“You did,” Logan scoffs, crossing his arms and glaring at your father. You feel your heart jump to your throat, staring over at him with a horrified look on your face. How could he think that was okay to say? It was so dismissive of what you believed had happened. 

This was more than just a quickie in the dark to you. This meant something, but you’re seriously starting to doubt that it was the same for him as it was for you. And that just makes you feel like the stupid little girl everyone seems to believe you are. 

Your father says your name but you can’t bring yourself to meet his eye. “You’re feeling sick,” he tells you, no room for argument. “Your date had to take you home. It was just too much too soon after the incident at the rally.” When you don’t say anything he shouts out, “Understood?” That makes you jump. 

“Yes,” you clear your throat and face him. “Yes, understood.”

Your father has made his stance on mutants clear. He hates them, despises them to their very being, and wishes he could kill every last one. And as much as you were raised with those ideas, they were never truly turned on you.

But he’s looking at you right now like he wishes you were never born. You feel like shit on his shoe. Something to be hidden away and buried. It makes your shoulders slump like a hundred pounds was just tossed onto your back. 

You try to run past him but he jerks you back, fingers so tight around your bicep you feel the skin tear. You gasp in pain but don’t say anything, too afraid to argue. “Put his jacket on, I won’t have you looking like a whore.” He releases you with a rough shove and storms off. 

You can feel something burning at the back of your eyes. A moment later Logan drops his jacket over your shoulders, pulling you back into his chest and running his hands over your arms. “Come on, kid,” he mutters. There’s something resigned in his voice that makes your heart drop, “Let’s get you home.”

The walk through the lobby feels like you’re walking through a dream. You’re not completely present for it, or the ride home. Your mind and your heart are warring and you feel like you’re going to be torn apart if you keep lingering on what just happened. 

You just can’t understand how you could go from having everything you wanted to feeling like the scum of the earth in less than two minutes. Logan doesn’t speak as he drives you home. His knuckles are turning white around the steering wheel and you’re afraid to even try and start a conversation. 

You don’t want to hear him tell you that he didn’t desire you past your body. You don’t want to discover that you’re just another notch on his belt. He seems to do this a lot, sleep with the girls he guards. The idea of just being another job, another fun night, makes you absolutely disgusted with yourself. 

When he pulls into the driveway of your house you both just sit in the car. Neither of you knows what to say. And the air between you is so thick with tension you feel like you could choke on it. You stare down at your hands, fingers fiddling with the ripped seams of your dress. 

You pick at the threads and feel his stare on you. You can’t do this. You can’t deal with the possibility of rejection. Not after what happened between you and certainly not after what your father said. 

You undo your seat belt and Logan watches as you go through the movements of getting up. His eyes never leave you and it’s like a physical caress, his stare. Normally it would make you warm inside, comforted by his presence. But right now all you can feel is the chill of where his cum has dried between your legs and the icy-hot stab of nausea in your gut. 

You throw the door open and you’re nearly out when he calls out a quiet, “Goodnight.”

You don’t look at him, you can’t. You slam the door shut and walk silently to the front door of your house. You don’t look back, don’t respond, you just slip inside your house and finally let the weight of the night come crashing down on you. 

You don’t cry until you hear him pull out of the driveway. 

Your father and stepmother usually stay at the hotel the night of a gala. Most nights you come home and enjoy the house to yourself for once. Tonight, you’re woken up by the front door slamming so hard your walls shake. 

You can faintly hear your stepmother’s voice trying to console your father. She’s muttering something to him you can’t make out. You shoot out of bed, running to pull some sweatpants on. After you’d cried yourself out you’d taken a shower. 

You’ve scrubbed your skin raw but you swear you can still smell him on you. You rush to your bedroom door, turning the knob quietly and slowly peeking your head outside. Your father’s at the bottom of the stairs, the second he spots your open door he’s screaming your name. 

Your stomach twists painfully and you can feel panic starting to overwhelm you. Your hands shake and your legs are stiff as you slowly step into the hallway. You’re a grown woman. You shouldn’t feel like this because your dad is going to yell at you. 

But he’s been so good at forcing you to rely on him. At forcing you to bend and break to fit his beliefs and mold. You don’t know what to do if you’re not striving for his approval. And right now it’s very clear that he’s never been more disgusted by you. 

If the look on his face isn’t enough to twist the knife deeper, his words are. “I have never,” he screams at you. You take a step back, keeping the stairs between you, refusing to meet him in the middle. “Been more embarrassed to call you my daughter. Do you have any idea how humiliating that was for me? Do you know how many people saw you being dragged outside like a fucking whore off the corner?”

You clench your eyes shut, turning your face away from him as the shame becomes a physical thing inside you. You can feel it making its way up your throat. Because he’s right. Tonight you were nothing more than a slut without any self-respect. 

But you’re also pissed off. You’re fucking enraged at yourself for being so stupid as to ever believe Logan wanted you for anything more than your body. You're mad at Logan for knowing how you feel about him and taking advantage of it. And you’re so fucking tired of doing everything you can to make your father proud and it never being enough. 

“Have you ever once asked me what I want?” You raise your voice, screaming down at him with a ferocity that surprises even you. His eyes widen, frame trembling with unreleased rage. You plow through, not stopping because you know if you do, you’ll never get this out. “No, you haven’t. Not once. Because you don’t fucking love me! And it has taken me years to accept that, to finally realize that you’re incapable of loving anyone but yourself.”

You gasp, the noise wet and painful as something warm trickles down your cheek. You stare down at him with your eyes wide in realization. “It’s so clear to me now, I feel like an idiot for missing it for so long. You never loved me. You’re incapable of it!” 

You’re embarrassed at the way your voice cracks. As much as you want to pretend you’re stronger than him, not afraid of him. There’s still a little girl inside you who wonders why Daddy doesn’t love you. 

“I don’t give a flying fuck what you want, Dad. I don’t care what you want my life to look like or if I embarrassed you. I’m glad I did, glad someone finally saw a sliver of the truth you try so desperately to hide-”

“Enough!” He shouts and it startles you so bad that you jump back, your abilities reacting and a vase behind you flying off the shelf. You duck as glass shatters across the stairs and floor. You glance at the scene with shocked eyes, looking down at your father to see that he’s not even a little bit surprised. 

Instead, he just looks so deeply disappointed that it makes you shrink into yourself. The anger within you is extinguished in a second. He rubs his face, shaking his head and turning his back on you. “Dad?” You call out, voice trembling. 

“Go to your room,” he tells you quietly. “I don’t want to look at you anymore.” You hover by the top of the stairs for a moment, not quite believing him yet. And when he realizes you're still there, that you’re not taking him seriously, he finally looks at you again. 

“I wish every goddamn day that those doctors had just put you down. I’d rather have a dead daughter than one like you.”

You stand there, stunned, even after the rest of the house has gone to bed. You clean up the pieces of glass while you try and swallow down your tears. Let the sharp edges dig into your skin and tear until you can feel any type of pain besides the one inside you. 

A week of solitary confinement. You’re surprised that you haven’t just been kicked out of college. You’re sure that your father’s many donations to the university are the only thing stopping your professors from dropping you from the class. 

You don’t care if they do or not, though. You never actually care about what you studied. You’d just always hoped that it would be a way for you to escape the tight grip around your neck your dad has on you. 

You’ve figured out that no matter how hard you fight, you’ll never escape him. He hates you and yet, he can’t let you go. You’d laugh if you weren’t busy wallowing in your depression. 

Someone keeps leaving food by your door but you can’t find it in yourself to be hungry. You’ll nibble on something, but you feel like you’re going to throw up when you so much as breathe the wrong way. 

You haven’t heard from Logan since that night. You knew your father would fire him the second he woke up. But you’d held out hope - foolishly - that he might still try and reach out to you. You have this childish image in your head of the prince coming to rescue the princess from the dragon. 

But you’ve been naive your whole life, you don’t want to keep going down this road. You don’t want to keep expecting the best of people and live your life in perpetual disappointment. 

You haven’t seen or spoken to your father since that night. Wordlessly, he’d banned you to your room. No one’s said it, but you know you’re not allowed to come out. You don’t know when he’s going to deem you useful again and drag you back out into the public eye. 

Contrary to his belief, no one had seen you leave that night with Logan. You hadn’t been in any tabloids or shitty news articles. Besides emotional estrangement from your father and losing the only guy you’ve ever really liked, there were no consequences to your whorish behavior - as your father so lovingly puts it. 

You roll over in your bed and picture yourself taking a shower. It feels like such a workout but you can’t stand lying in your sweat and tears for much longer. With a long drawn-out groan, you throw yourself out of bed and enter the bathroom connected to your room. 

You know you’ll feel better afterward, but everything besides sleep sounds like too much work. Still, you force yourself inside and finally clean the grime of laying on your ass for a week off. 

You walk naked through your room, making a beeline for your dresser. You feel a little better after washing yourself off and moisturizing. But not much. Physical health can only do so much for how you feel inside. 

You hope this will blow over soon, you’re not sure how much longer you can take feeling so awful. You hate pitying yourself, and that’s exactly what you’re doing right now. You huff irritatedly, digging around your drawers for your favorite shirt. 

A hand clamps around your mouth, rough and big, yanking you back into a muscled chest and keeping you quiet. You still try and scream, hands clawing at the skin of their hand until you feel blood. 

“Fuck, quit that, would ya?”

Your erratic movements slowly come to a halt. You still feel your heart pounding against your chest, adrenaline warming your blood and making you feel like you're on fire from the inside out. But, you recognize the voice, recognize there’s no danger to the situation. 

That doesn’t make you any less pissed off. When Logan is sure you won’t keep attacking him, he lets you go slowly. You immediately whirl around on him, uncaring that you’re still naked. Energy moves quickly through you, becoming a physical thing under your skin. 

He smiles at you and you push the energy out, throwing him across your room. He flies into your bookshelf, crashing to the ground with a loud slam. “What the fuck are you doing?” You scream at him. 

There’s no one home right now, luckily, or else you both would be screwed. He shakes his head off, brushing pieces of wood out of his hair and slowly getting to his feet. “Well, I was coming to say hi-”

“You say hi by ambushing naked girls?” You interrupt, grabbing the clothes closest to you and pulling them on quickly. 

Logan rolls his neck out and shrugs. “No, that was just a plus,” he gives you that insufferable smirk and you want to scream. 

This is the first time you see him in a week since you had sex together and your father officially disowned you. And this is what he’s leading with? Seriously? “You’re a real fucking prince, Logan.” You shake your head with a scoff and glare at him.

He narrows his eyes, looking to be in disbelief at your attitude. “What happened?” You expect to hear irritation in his tone. Anger that you’re being such a bitch right now. Instead, he sounds concerned, like he can see right through you. 

You hate that. You used to love having someone who could see past all the pretenses and walls, but it just hurts now. “Nothing,” you tell him, unable to hold eye contact any longer. “Look,” you take in a deep breath, and your brows furrow in confusion. “How the hell did you even get in here?”

Logan doesn’t look like he wants to drop the topic just yet but he relents. He nods towards your window and you fix him with an astonished look. “I climbed, I didn’t want your dad to risk seeing me on the security cameras out front.”

You feel suspicion brewing inside you, tone turning defensive. “Look, if you came here because you want to fuck again, I suggest you go find another girl. I’m not interested anymore.”

“Well,” he scoffs, “I find that hard to believe.” How easily he just dismisses your words. Like they hold no real importance. It makes you want to scream. Instead, you just flick your wrist, throwing him into another wall. You don’t know how you’re going to explain these holes in the wall to your father but you don’t really care. 

“Enough,” he snaps, brushing himself off and glaring at you. Your lips curl up in amusement, the first thing you’ve felt besides anger and depression for the last week. “Look, I was coming here to get you the hell out, kid. Clearly, I’m not wanted.”

He walks towards your window, intent on climbing back down the side of your house and leaving. You almost let him, if only to see him scurrying down the wall. Instead, you take a step forward and stop him with a small, “Get me out?”

He sighs, running an aggrieved hand over his face and propping the other on his hip. “Yeah,” he mutters. “Look, I can’t stand the thought of you cooped up in here, isolated from the rest of the world. It’s not fair, I was gonna see if you…” He trails off and roughly swallows. 

Your interest piques. Whatever is this hard for him to get out has to be interesting. “Logan,” you call his name softly. “See if I what?”

He huffs out a rough breath, turning around and staring you down. There’s something in his eyes, something reflected in yours. He’s looking at you the same way you always look at him. “You wanna come with me, kid?”

Well, you’d have to be an idiot to say no. 

You don’t leave a note. You don’t give them any clues or hints as to where you might have gone. They can draw their own conclusions about what happened to you. They can tell the news whatever twisted lies they want. 

You don’t care, that’s not your life anymore. Your life is packed away in a backpack in the back of Logan’s trailer. Your new life is in the passenger seat beside him. You’re equal parts terrified and excited to figure out what you’re going to do with the rest of it. 

a/n: can you tell I know fuck all about politics?

Also, smut, wow, this was hard and rough to write. I don’t know why it’s such a struggle. I just feel guilty writing such dirty words, it’s absolutely diabolical that I have no problem being crazy over a guy whose age gap with me is the same age as my parents, but I can’t write smut.

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

General Taglist: @evasmlp

Logan Taglist:  @nonamevenus @smexy-bucky-waifu @wh1sp♡

[ozzgin]

I just finished playing Firewatch and the cozy, lonely vibes gave me another monster idea! You got a summer job as a fire watch for the closest National Park. All you have to do is to sit in your tower, and...watch. For fires. Sounds boring? Worry not, your supervisor is there to keep you company over the radio. Content: gender neutral reader, monster romance, obsessive behavior, suggestive ending

"And? What are you running away from?"

"Excuse me?"

You raise your eyebrows at the unexpected question coming from the radio. The deep voice belongs to your supervisor, the man who'll guide you throughout your stay at the National Park.

"No one picks up an isolated job in the mountains out of sheer desire. Especially someone as young as you." He chuckles briefly, then resumes in a more professional tone: "My apologies. You don't have to answer that."

What a strange way to begin the conversation, you think to yourself. Yet this nonchalance and casualty is all you have for the following months. The other watchtowers don't talk much, if at all. You're entirely alone in the wilderness, save for the mysterious man on the radio.

Slowly, you begin to warm up to his chatty nature. He likes to ask a lot of questions. A terribly curious individual, though you can understand his reasoning: he's been working for the Park for over a decade. How does one survive without another human being?

He never leaves his tower, and thus you've never seen his face. He's content, you're indifferent. Occasionally, he'll mention sketching you to pass the time.

"How would you describe your eyes, (Y/N)?" he'll ask between his pencil scribbles. "I see. I'm sure they're beautiful. Why are you suddenly quiet? Have you forgotten how to take a compliment? I'm just messing with you, kiddo."

You haven't witnessed a single fire since coming here, despite the torrid summer heat. Your days are spent hiking without aim and talking to your supervisor.

One morning, you wake up to the grating beep of the radio instead of your alarm. You pick up the small device with an irritated grunt.

"Would you like to meet?"

You need a moment to process the words. Are you finally going to greet the one man who's kept you distant company for weeks? Intriguing. You mumble your agreement, still half-asleep.

As you make your way down the hill, you notice a supply station covered in moss and overgrown vegetation. You check your map, just to be sure. There shouldn't be anything here. What a peculiar thing to stumble upon. You approach the old wooden box and lift the lid carefully.

The musty inside is filled with rows of newspapers and some scattered notes. You pluck one newspaper out, and rest your eyes on the first headline.

"National Park is saying goodbye to its employees. The area will be permanently closed after the devastating fire."

You gawk at the title, then at the photographed location.

It's your watchtower.

You scramble to read the rest of the paragraphs, words slipping behind in your frantic search. This forest has been sealed off for years. You recognize the name of your supervisor in the report: a father of three, loved by everyone, died tragically before a rescue team could reach him.

"Found anything interesting, kiddo?"

You turn around with mild hesitation. Whoever this impersonating maniac is, or what he wants, is rather irrelevant at this point. You're trapped alone with him.

Across from you stands a creature, resembling a chimera more than a human being. Long, grotesque limbs ending in black claws, hollow eyes, and mangled rows of razor-sharp teeth put together in a grin. Monstrous.

You're out of breath.

"That looks great", the creature remarks cheerfully.

"Don't use my voice to talk. It's embarrassing to hear myself like that", you lecture it as you spread out the food onto the picnic blanket.

It switches back to the supervisor's soft, masculine tone.

"Sorry, I did not mean to make you uncomfortable."

The monster extends one bony hand over your head, fanning out the fingers and dragging them across your hair in gentle strokes. What a precious little human you are.

You did not run away. A terrifying thought: losing you after all the time spent together. It didn't want to chase you down and make it even worse for you. But you stayed, you truly did.

"By the way", you say as you bite into your sandwich, stretching out your legs. "Is it you who prevents the fires? Usually it's a common occurrence here, especially in summer."

You recall the scorching flames from the newspaper.

"Yes. To keep you safe, you understand."

"Not only did you lie to me about the job, but you kept me out of work, too", you whine. "I got bored to death! Days on end!"

You're suddenly pushed down into the blanket, and you stare into the spiraling, empty sockets, confused.

"I can entertain you to your heart's desire, (Y/N)."

Its snout widens in a flirty smile, releasing a bizarre succession of clicks. Is it laughing in its natural voice?

You blush.

"I suppose there are some ways..." you suggest cheekily, unbuttoning your shirt.

[More Monsters] | [More Original Works]

[sunsburns]

good luck, babe!

pairing: tashi duncan x fem!reader x patrick zweig x art donaldson

summary: patrick zwieg invites tashi duncan and art donaldson to join him at your engagement party. you think they came to celebrate you and your new chapter and put the past behind you, rebuilding lost friendships, but tashi hopes to stop you from marrying a man you never wanted.

—or: the trio crashes your engagement party

word count: 10k+ (i have a serious problem)

contains: SMUT 18+, smut with a lot of plot, post-challengers movie, fluff & comfort, angst, tashi’s pov but lowkey get's mixed up around the end, foursome, oral (fem receiving), oral (m receiving), p in v, unprotected sed (wrap it before yall tap it), homewrecking, cheating but also not cheating but also a worse third thing, three-way make out, four-way make out, dom!tashi, patrick being nasty, art being a loser, no use of y/n, situationship that lasts 13 years.

author’s note: this fic is based on this request with inspo from the greatest song on earth: good luck, babe! it was supposed to be a quick smut blurb but at this point, you all know i can’t write smut without some kind of angsty plot. everyone is super messy and there is some of the dirtiest smut i’ve written so far (it’s only going to get worse from here). this one is a roller coaster.

It didn't make sense to any of them, how you could've possibly ended up with him. 

Tashi remembered him from Stanford vividly. He came from a white-collared family, with daddy's money that bought him everything he could've ever asked for, yet he still wanted more. He played golf and polo and even dabbled with tennis but never had enough guts or skill to take it seriously. But his dad funded most of the programs and events at the school, so everyone had known him, his charm, his family, and his inability to stick to one thing even outside of sports. He clung onto a new girl every other week, a new girl wrapped around his finger only to be ultimately tossed aside like the rest of them.

"What a dick," Tashi remembered you saying once, stabbing your fork into your salad while glaring daggers at him from across the cafeteria as he bragged loudly to his fan club about how he beat you in a game of tennis. 

Which he didn't. 

You let him win. 

His parents had been paying you to coach him, paid you extra every time you let him win a set or two against you, even if it was off the record. God knows you needed the money.

"I think I'm gonna quit." You said, turning back to glance at Tashi.

"About damn time," she snickered, shaking her head. "I told you you're wasting your time with him when you could be doing something better. Like training with me."

You had rolled your eyes and poked her arm with your fork, "If I'm still trailing after him this time next week, shoot me in the head and put me out of my misery."

Almost thirteen years later, you're walking around with his ring on your finger at your engagement party. A party where your fiancé announced your upcoming retirement after a tennis career run that Tashi would’ve killed for: a six-time US Open winner; two-time gold medalist at the Olympics; and brand deals that would ensure you and the next four generations of your family lived happily under your trust fund.

Clearly, you weren't marrying him for his money.

It made Tashi anxious, because, in some way, she could see that the marriage you will have with your fiancé is far too similar to how Tashi's would have been if she and Patrick stayed together. 

Okay, maybe that was a reach.

Or maybe it's how it would've been if neither of you had gone up to Art and Patrick's hotel room that night. Or maybe it would've been Tashi's ring on your finger instead.

She couldn't shake the bitter taste in her mouth as she watched you laugh with him, your eyes lighting up in the way they always did when you were truly happy. It used to be her who made you smile like that. She remembered the late-night practices, the shared victories, and the quiet moments shared in the comfort of her dorm room. She remembered the promises you both made and dreams of dominating the tennis world together.

But she shouldn't dwell on the past, she shouldn't think about what-ifs. At least that's what Art tells her with a hand on her shoulder. Tashi glances at his hand, noting the wedding band that rests on his finger. The squeeze he gives is meant to be reassuring, but instead, it feels suffocating.

"I'll never know how he bagged her," Patrick tuts from her other side, a drink already in his hand. He holds it close to his mouth, biting the rim of the glass before taking a swig, his eyes never leaving you. His gaze is shameless, tracing the way your dress hugs your curves, how your hair shines under the chandelier lights, and the way your lips move as you speak.

"Lucky, lucky man..." Patrick shakes his head, a bitter edge to his voice.

A waiter passes by, offering hors d'oeuvres, and Patrick takes enough for the three of them for himself, setting his empty glass on the platter. As he stuffs an appetizer in his mouth, he begins to walk away, his eyes fixed on you.

"Where do you think you're going?" Art asks, his hand slipping from Tashi's shoulder.

Patrick spins around, mouth full, and shrugs. "To congratulate the future bride."

Art and Tashi stand there, watching, almost dumbfounded when they see Patrick sneak up behind you, wrapping his arms around your middle and lifting you into the air. You shriek, champagne spilling from your glass, but once you see who it is, a wide smile breaks across your face.

"Patrick!" Tashi can hear you from across the hall. Patrick lifts you again, hoisting you into the air. You wrap your arms around his shoulders as he spins you around, your laughter ringing out—a sweet melody that draws the attention of everyone nearby. "You made it!"

Tashi feels a pang of surprise. 

You and Patrick had been in closer contact than she imagined. It stings, a reminder of the distance that had grown between you after her injury, much like the distance that had grown between Art and Patrick. She never knew you had turned to Patrick for comfort. Though it made sense—Patrick was the one you invited, not her, not Art. Patrick was the one who had to ask if he could bring two guests instead of the traditional plus-one. 

But surely, you must have known that if you invited Patrick, Tashi and Art would come too, right? 

Right? 

The question churns a pit of dread in her stomach as Art starts to lead her closer to you out of courtesy.

Patrick's arms are wrapped tightly around your torso, his hand resting too low to be innocent, but you seem happy nonetheless. Happier in Patrick's arms than in the arms of your future husband. You embrace him close, the ring on your finger glimmering under the chandelier lights as you hold onto the back of his neck, your laughter finally subsiding as the spinning stops.

As Tashi and Art approach, the reality of the situation hits her harder. She's watching from the outside, a spectator to your happiness, feeling the sting of what could have been. She forces a smile; your engagement to the worst person in the world can't possibly be the thing that makes her break. Not after everything she's built since she started coaching.

Art tries to catch your eye, offering a polite smile once you let go of Patrick. "Hey."

"Hi," you say breathlessly, a bright smile across your face while Patrick swings his arm over your shoulder. You seem happy, almost relieved that Tashi and Art were here as if you doubted their attendance. "Wow, it's been so long. You guys look great."

"Thanks," Tashi finally says, the words weighing on her tongue like lead.

"You look beautiful," Art tells you, and it's rushed as if he's been trying to keep it to himself but couldn't help it once he was close enough to you.

Before you can get a word out, another arm wraps around your waist, discreetly pushing Patrick away from you to slide into your side. Patrick lets out an annoyed groan, stepping aside as your fiancé squeezes you tightly and says, "She does, doesn't she? Hey, killer."

You turn to him, about to say something, maybe greet him back, maybe introduce him to everyone. But he doesn't let you, he's leaning closer until his lips lock with yours. It takes you by surprise—you flinch at first before finally letting him kiss you properly, his hand cupping the back of your neck, pushing you as close to him as humanly possible.

Art lets out a low, awkward sigh while watching it happen before him, and Patrick rolls his eyes, stepping back in search of a waiter for another drink.

He holds onto you like you're a prize he's won. Almost as if he's been competing with everyone in the world to finally hold you and show you off. As if that's all you had to offer.

You blink, clearly embarrassed, as you clear your throat to disperse the awkward tension in the air. "These are some, uh," you stumble over your words before nodding towards Art, Tashi, and Patrick, "some old friends from college. I'm sure you remember—"

He's interrupting you again, reaching out with the hand that's not on you to shake Tashi's hand. He holds it tightly, his thumb pressing against her wedding ring. "Tashi Duncan, how could I ever forget? Still beautiful as ever."

She has to force herself to smile, for your sake. "Good to see you too—"

"You know," your fiancé starts, cutting her off, "I still remember the time you told me to suck a bag of dicks 'cause I took up your court time. Best day of my life."

"Yeah," Patrick laughs. He's found another glass of champagne to sip on, and it's by his lips when he says, "who doesn't love getting cussed out by Tashi."

You wince. "Patrick—"

"No, no. He's right. It's one out of a million. I took it as a compliement," your fiancé says, glancing at Tashi again, his eyes darting up and down, lingering on her wedding ring once more before she finally pulls her hand out of his grasp. He spots the arm Tashi has been clinging to. "Art Donaldson, I'm a big fan."

Art stiffens as if taken by surprise. "Really?"

Your fiancé is nodding, and when Art glances your way for a split second, he tugs you closer. "You're incredible. Watching you play, it's like, woah! He's killin' it out there. Too bad you've retired though, would've loved to see you play longer."

There's a faint redness to Art's face when he nods. "Oh, thank you."

"I've always wondered if I'd turn out the way you did if I stuck to tennis." Then he laughs, nudging your side. "If only this one put me to work like Tashi did to you, maybe we would've competed in the US Open a few times."

You snort and shake your head, the idea of watching the two of them even standing on the court together amusing you. "You couldn't beat Art if you tried."

Your fiancé shrugs. "Maybe Patrick."

"Stop kidding yourself. You can't even beat your nephew and he's twelve."

He hums, turning so that he'll face you. He holds your waist with both hands, caressing you gently. "You sure know your way into a man's heart, baby," he says lowly before kissing you again. It's rough and messy, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth. You shriek and press your hands against his chest. He doesn't let go immediately, peeking a glance towards the trio while kissing you.

Tashi feels a knot of disgust tightening in her stomach. The audacity of him to touch you like that in front of them, as if he’s marking his territory, sets her blood boiling just a little bit. God, did no one teach this guy any kind of etiquette?

She catches Art's expression out of the corner of her eye—his jaw is clenched as he turns to look away. Patrick's lips curl in a sneer, the glass in his hand trembling slightly. He fights the urge to throw it.

Your fiancé reaches down and gropes your ass over your silky white dress before finally separating from you.

You stand there, looking flushed and embarrassed, letting him whisper something in your ear before he walks off, joining a group of men who whistle and catcall at him as he nears them. Each jeer and hoot feels like a slap to the face.

"Uh, sorry," you apologize, unable to meet their eyes as you blindly wipe at your chin to fix your lipstick. "That was... I don't know what's gotten into him. He's not usually like this. He's, uh... he's great."

Patrick scoffs, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Yeah, real great."

Tashi can’t help but frown, her heart aching as she watches you fumble. "You can't possibly want to marry him," she wants to say, but the words get stuck in her throat. She can't bear to hear the answer, especially if it's the one she fears.

Art steps forward, his face a careful mask of neutrality. "If you’re happy," he says, but there's an edge to his tone, a challenge. The unspoken words hang heavily in the air: "Are you?"

You nod quickly, too quickly, as if trying to convince yourself as much as them. "Sure, sure. I mean, what’s not to be happy about? His family loves me. I'm retiring this year, and gonna spend more time with my family. Hopefully more time with some old friends?"

"Old friends?" Tashi repeats, the words tasting bitter on her tongue. The casual way you say it, as if years of distance and silence can be bridged with a few meetings, stings more than she cares to admit.

"Yeah, before I get busy with the baby."

"Baby?" Patrick's voice is sharp, almost disbelieving. "You’re pregnant?"

"What? No!" You quickly sputter, shaking your head. Then you pause, a thought crossing your mind and you lighten up a little bit, a hopeful smile gracing your face, "But I do want kids one day. I want three."

"Does he want kids?"

"We've talked about it, but he shuts it down all the time."

"You poor thing." Patrick puffs out, pinching your arm before reaching for your hand and leading you toward the bar. "Let's bring this conversation outside, ladies. I need a smoke. And you all need a drink stronger than his champagne."

The idea of fresh air and a strong drink is appealing. After grabbing a bottle of finely aged wine, the four of you make your way to the garden outside the grand hall. The shift from the stuffy indoor atmosphere to the cool night air is a relief.��

The moonlight casts a silvery glow over the meticulously maintained garden, illuminating the path with a soft, ethereal light. You glow in your pretty white dress, the fabric shimmering as you take a seat on a patch of grass near the rose bushes. The scent of roses mingles with the crisp night air, creating a tranquil yet poignant backdrop. You glance up at the three of them who stand there, watching you.

Tashi raises a brow as you take a long swig of the wine. She didn't remember you to be much of a drinker. 

"It's not that big of a deal," you say, passing her the bottle when she finally sits next to you. 

It's as if her movement had woken the two guys and then Art takes a seat on your other side while Patrick lies down on the grass a few feet away to light a cigarette. 

You pout, "If he doesn't want kids, then we won't have kids."

"But you want kids," Tashi reminds you, but it's more of a question as if she's wondering if that's truly what you want. Don't get her wrong, Tashi loves being a mother, she would kill anyone for Lily, but you wanting kids barely before confirming your retirement threw her off a little bit.

"Of course I do." You hiccup, reaching for the bottle again. "I'm not getting any younger. It's just... he'll come around."

"And if he doesn't?" Art asks, his voice gentle but probing.

"Can we not talk about that right now? I just want to get shitfaced and party."

"Now we're talkin'!" Patrick interjects, his grin wide as he takes a drag from his cigarette. The embers glow briefly in the dark.

"Come on, everybody gather." Patrick flicks his cigarette off to the rocky pathway and snags the bottle from Art's hands. He raises it, nodding at you with that same smirk he's had for years. Snarky, cocky, and yet endearing. "To celebrate new beginnings. Even if your future husband's a dick and can't make you cum nearly half as hard as I can. Good luck, babe."

The rest of you all make a noise of annoyance, rolling your eyes. "Seriously?"

"Shut the fuck up, Patrick," Art scoffs, though there's a faint smile tugging at his lips as you let a giggle slip out past your fake annoyance.

Patrick's smile only widens at the sound of his friends' protests. It reminds him of the good old years when his biggest worry was which shorts he'd wear to his next game. "Cheers!"

As the bottle is passed around, Tashi can't help but feel a pang of nostalgia mixed with bitterness. The comradery of the past clashes painfully with the reality of the present. Is this how things are going to be like now? Is this night a call for a truce, waving the white flag so that all of you could be friends again, now as adults, making plans for brunch and getting the kids together for birthday parties?

You take another sip from the bottle, your gaze drifting towards the moonlit sky. "To new beginnings," you repeat softly, though the hope in your voice is tinged with uncertainty.

Tashi leans back, her eyes lingering on you, a mix of longing and regret pooling in her heart. Art sits quietly beside her, lost in his thoughts, while Patrick’s laughter rings out, masking deeper sentiments beneath his forced cheerfulness. The chatter and music from the hall spill into the garden, the warm lights casting a golden glow over the scene. Patrick talks animatedly about the seasons he thinks he has left in him, and to Tashi's annoyance, you encourage him.

She shakes her head at the way Patrick's eyes light up, glancing at her with a knowing look. Despite her irritation, she can't deny the comfort of slipping back into their old dynamic.

Suddenly, Art hums thoughtfully. He has been mostly quiet, listening to the conversation with occasional quiet laughs. Now, as he puts down the empty bottle of wine, he looks at you, his eyes more alive than they have been in a long time. "I had a burger for the first time in years," he announces, a smile spreading across his face as if he is proud of it.

You gasp, perking up as you reach over to hold his hands. "How was it?"

"Amazing," Art says fondly, "like heaven inside a bun."

"You should've seen him," Tashi smirks, shoulder to shoulder with Patrick, playfully kicking Art. "He was drooling just looking at the menu."

He rolls his eyes, "I wasn't drooling." When you fall silent, he looks at you again, frowning. "You haven't had one in a while, have you?"

You shake your head, "No, I think the last time I had one was when we graduated."

Patrick scoffs, "Bullshit."

You laugh, "It's true! I've been very strict with my diet. And now that I've retired... I don't know..." You shrug, suddenly getting shy as Art starts tracing stars against the back of your hand. "There are so many options, I wouldn't know where to start."

"It doesn't have to be anything fancy," Tashi says.

"Pretty sure I saw an old diner on the way here," Patrick suggests. He stands, stretching and groaning before bending over to take Tashi's hand and help her up.

You sputter, watching them all start to stand before you. "Shut up, we're not driving, you're drunk."

"But sober enough to see how badly you want this," Patrick teases, waving a finger near your face and smirking. "You're drooling."

"No, I'm not!"

"Sure you are," Art joins in, pulling you up to your feet. He swipes a thumb at your chin, "Look right there, by your lip."

"Oh," Tashi grins, "I see it."

"Shut up, Tash, no you don't." The words fall from your lips before you can stop them. The old nickname fits too smoothly as if it hasn't been years since you've called her that. Tashi smiles, feeling like a teenager again, messing around with you. She starts to walk off, Art and Patrick following her while you stand there, dumbfounded and a little breathless from their teasing.

"Where are you going?"

"To get a burger?" Tashi shrugs, and she smirks at you, a mischievous smile that makes you wonder if any of you have ever grown up at all. "You coming or what?"

You try to be reasonable, "I can't just leave."

"We'll bring you back before anyone notices," Patrick bargains, jogging back to your side and taking your arm to lead you to the exit. "Lighten up, when was the last time you had some fun?"

You don't even look back.

You find yourself laughing, nodding as the four of you make your way out of the garden. The moonlight guides your steps, casting long shadows on the path.

The walk is a blur of laughter and shared stories, the kind of carefree joy that you haven't felt in years. Before long, you arrive at the diner. The neon lights buzz softly, casting a nostalgic glow over the parking lot. You can smell the greasy, comforting aroma of burgers and fries even before you step inside.

The few people in the diner stare, watching as what seems to be a runaway bride and three wedding guests stumble and giggle over each other, lips a little purple from the wine you've all had and ordering burgers to go.

Once you have your food, you all find yourselves sitting on the curb of the diner's parking lot, the warm night air wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. Patrick hands out the burgers, his eyes twinkling with a mischievous light as he makes a show of presenting yours to you. "First bite in... how many years?"

"Too many," You take the burger with a chuckle, unwrapping it and taking a bite. "Oh my God," you mumble around your mouthful, "this is amazing."

Tashi watches you, a soft smile playing on her lips. "Told you."

Art takes a bite of his own burger, nodding in agreement. "There's nothing like it."

You shake your head, going in for more, "This is the greatest thing I've put in my mouth."

Patrick, already halfway through his, lets out a loud laugh, "Yeah, I bet."

The parking lot felt like a little bubble of the past, untouched by the years that had separated you. It was strange how easy it was to fall back into the rhythm of your old friendships, how natural it felt to banter and laugh as if no time had passed at all.

Tashi rolls her eyes, though you don't even seem phased by Patrick's joke. "I can't even get mad," you say, swallowing, "I feel like I'm eighteen again."

"Tell me about it," Art agrees. Then he pauses for a beat, chewing on her burger a little slower before turning to you. "You know, this reminds me of that time... when, you know."

"Oh," You snort and nod, scrunching up your face at the memory. "Yeah. It kinda does."

"What?" Patrick looks between the two of you, raising his brow in interest. "What time?"

"It was a long time ago," you tell him.

"Like back in Stanford," Art explains, and then he points between Tashi and Patrick with his burger, "when you two were still a thing."

Tashi sits up straight now, her full attention on you and Art. "Oh, really?"

"It was that time Patrick came for a surprise visit in the middle of our girls' night," you say, nodding your head at her, hoping she'd catch up with the memory. "And you kicked me out of your dorm so you and Patrick could... you know."

Tashi nods. "Have some alone time." She finishes for you.

She remembers that night well: you were both nestled in the haven of her dorm room, the soft glow of the television casting gentle shadows on the walls as the movie played on. You were curled up under her covers, your bodies intertwined, legs tangled together in a comforting knot. The world outside ceased to exist in those moments, leaving just the two of you in your little cocoon of comfort.

Tashi can still feel the sensation of your fingers running through her hair, the tender, rhythmic motion soothing her in a way nothing else could. The warmth of your touch lingered on her scalp, your fingers traced lazy patterns, and she remembered the way her body instinctively relaxed into yours.

But then came the knock on the door, and she felt her heart jump at her throat as she swung her legs out from under the covers and padded softly to the door.

When she opened the door, there stood Patrick, his presence almost surreal. He was holding a bouquet of carefully picked-out flowers, their vibrant colours contrasting sharply with the dim light of the hallway. His smirk was both nervous and charming

"You kicked her out?" Patrick gasps, and Tashi gives him a blank stare. He's acting as if he wasn't even there, as if he didn't stand by her desk while watching her scramble to clean up the mess the two of you made in her dorm and shove you out the door before locking it.

Patrick shrugs, that stupid smirk painted on his lips again before he finishes his burger. "Would've let you stay if it were up to me," he tells you, "The more, the merrier."

"No way," you poke your tongue at the inside of your cheek. "She wanted you all for herself."

"Please, I would've been too distracted with you to even give him my time of day," Tashi admits. "I did you a favor, Patrick. Saved you from blue balls."

He holds a hand to his heart. "I'm so honored."

"But anyway," you start, "while I was walking back to my dorm I bumped into Art, who got stood up on a date."

Patrick blinks, turning to Art. "You got stood up?"

"Was it that girl from marketing?" Tashi asks.

Art's cheeks start to turn red, the flush growing from his neck and up to his ears at the attention. "Yeah, she, uh, she bailed on me last minute."

"I remember you telling me the date went well," Patrick says. "That you guys went out late, bought takeout... you made out in your car," Then, to fuck with him, he adds, "You came in your pants 'cause she kissed your neck. Remember?"

"And that did happen," Art confesses begrudgingly, glaring at Patrick while Tashi laughs. "It’s just... it wasn't with her..."

"It... it was me," you admit.

Tashi wishes she could say she's surprised, but it's nearly impossible because anyone who knew you back in college knew very well about the big crush you harboured for a certain blonde. She knew the way you swooned after him, even if you never tried to admit it because it was too embarrassing.

"Wait, so," Tashi starts, poking at your side and drawing a nervous giggle from you. It makes her smile. "Is Art that guy you told me about, with the puppy eyes and pretty smile?"

"Okay," you puff out, blushing, "I did not say puppy eyes."

"You think I have puppy eyes?" Art asks you, his gaze softening.

When you take a few seconds too long to answer, Patrick claps his hands together and swings his arm over yours and Art's shoulders, pulling the two of you closer to him. "Aw," he teasingly coos at the two of you getting all flustered, "you think he has puppy eyes."

"It was so long ago," you say, running your hands over the soft fabric of your dress. "I don't even remember."

"I'm so sure you don't," Patrick hums, a knowing look in his eyes before he presses a sloppy kiss against your cheek.

You groan, shoving your hand in his face to push him off before you stumble to stand on your feet again, wiping your cheek from his spit. "You're disgusting," you huff, but there's no real bite in your words because there's a faint smile threatening to appear at the corners of your lips. 

You stand there for a beat or two, brushing off your dress and feeling the weight of the night settling in. You stare down at the three of them sitting on the curb, the neon lights of the diner buzzing behind you. You can see the hall where your engagement party is from where you stand; you almost don't want to go back.

"Okay," you tuck your lower lip between your teeth as you hesitate, "this... this has been fun."

"Don't leave yet," Tashi says while Art's smile drops, his face falling in disappointment.

"Yeah," Patrick rushes to stand, reaching for you, "the party was just getting started."

"I really have to get back," you step away. "If anyone finds out I left, I'll hear about it for days. This has been great. Like, seriously, I don't think I've ever laughed this hard since before..." You trail off, your tongue getting tied as you glance at Tashi, then at her knee, covered by the length of her dark purple dress. You clear your throat. "Well, uh, I better go. But thank you again, for the beer and the burgers and the memories. I hope you guys can make it to the wedding."

You start to walk away before they can say anything. Like, on purpose, as if you know that if they tried to make you stay and ditch your party, you would. You would cave to their defences.

The sound of your heels is deafening. Tashi watches you go, she watches how you wrap your arms around yourself, and it all feels too similar to how she watched you go all those years ago and never chased after you. 

"Don’t marry him," Tashi stands from the curb. She's shaky on her feet, taking long strides to walk past Patrick and hoping to catch up to you. She sees you freeze in your steps, barely out of the parking lot. You turn to look at her quickly, face falling in shock at her demand.

"What?" Your voice is quiet, hoping that your ears are betraying you.

Tashi slows down once she is close enough, the distance between you is almost nothing but the gap feels like miles. The red and blue lights from the neon sign blend into a deep purple against your skin, casting an ethereal glow that makes this moment feel suspended in time. She watches your face, sees the way your brows knit together, the flicker of anger and confusion in your eyes.

Her heart is pounding, the blood rushing in her ears almost drowning out her voice. But she forces herself to speak, her voice low and urgent. "Don’t marry him," she says again, each word feeling like it's being ripped from her chest. Her resolve, which had held firm all these years, finally crumbles.

Getting Patrick back into her life had been one of the most complicated, tangled pains she had ever undertaken. The late-night calls, the awkward meetings, the painstakingly slow rebuilding of trust between herself and Art. 

None of it had been easy.

Yet, even with Patrick back, there had always been something missing—a void that only you could fill.

She looks into your eyes, her gaze unwavering, despite the tears welling up. "Please," she pleads, her voice breaking. "Please, don't marry him." The words hang heavy in the air, a desperate plea that carries years of longing and regret. She knows that having you back won't make up for the lost time, and won't magically fix all the mistakes and missed opportunities. But she can at least try, can at least fight for the chance to make things right.

"Tashi, you can't possibly be asking me to—"

"It’s not worth it," she tells you anyway, her voice trembling with the weight of unspoken truths. She knows it’s a risk, a gamble she's taking by laying her heart bare, but she can’t hold back any longer. The years of resentment, of silent longing, bubble to the surface, fueled by the sight of you with someone else's ring on your finger. It's a bitter pill to swallow, the realization that she resented you not for leaving, but for never coming back. 

Why didn't you come back?

Tashi's words hang heavy in the air, a desperate plea born from years of unspoken desires and regrets. "Both of you want different things anyway. You don't love him," she continues, her voice raw with emotion, "it's not gonna last. One day you're gonna wake up in the middle of the night and realize I'm right. You'd hate to admit it, but I will be right. I am right. He doesn't deserve you. He's no good for you."

You scoff, "And you are?"

"You said it yourself," she presses on, her voice barely above a whisper, "You've never laughed the way you do with us. And you kept in touch with Patrick, so that's gotta mean something." It's a feeble attempt to grasp at straws. "Marrying him will just be another excuse, another stupid reason. I thought you were better than that."

Then she remembers that night before you left for London, back in 2012. It's like a distant memory now, a flicker of what could have been. The air was thick with anticipation, the tension palpable as you stood on the precipice of something new. She remembers the way your eyes met hers after your exchange with Art at the hotel bar, a brief greeting with an old friend, both of you at the peaks of your careers. It is a silent exchange of longing and regret. For a moment, it felt like time stood still, like the world was holding its breath, waiting to see what would happen next.

She remembers the smell of your perfume, the bitterness of the drink you were having and how she could taste it when she kissed you; tongue running over your teeth, nails clawing at skin, hair tangled between fingers, hot breaths and unkept promises and false apologies and a night of regret.

And then the morning came, and with it, you had to leave. And she never stopped you.

"Tashi… I can't just throw this all away for you. For any of you. You were the one who told me to leave."

"I know."

"Because you know everything, right? Because you know he's not good for me, you know it all."

"I know you."

"No, you don’t," you say, your voice tinged with hurt. "Not anymore.”

Tashi huffs, shaking her head before she reaches out, cupping your cheeks gently in her hands. Her lips hover over yours for a moment, a silent plea hanging in the air between you. She waits, her heart pounding in her chest, for you to make a move—to kiss her, to push her away, anything.

You gaze into her eyes, tears glistening in the dim light, before finally closing the distance between you. The kiss is tender, and bittersweet, a culmination of years of unspoken longing and regret. It's a brief moment of solace amid chaos.

Your hands dig into the nape of her neck, where the short ends of her dyed hair tickle the skin of your wrist. The heat of your engagement ring nearly burns her, the edge of the diamond scraping against her skin.

When you pull away, breathless, Tashi fears this will be the last time she will see you. 

"Tashi, this doesn’t change anything," you say, your voice trembling.

"It changes everything," she whispers, her fingers tracing the line of your jaw. "You know it does."

But you step back, breaking the contact, the distance between you growing with each passing moment. "I have to go," you murmur, the weight of the decision heavy on your shoulders. "I need to think."

As you walk away, Tashi watches you go, her heart heavy with uncertainty. She clings to the memory of that fleeting moment, a glimmer of hope in the darkness. 

Back in the hotel room, an uneasy silence settles among the trio. Tashi steps out of the shower, her mind a whirlpool of conflicting emotions. The press of your lips still lingers on her own, a persistent buzz that crawls under her skin. 

As she rubs lotion into her arms, she takes her time, methodically moving over each inch of her skin as if she could somehow rub away the confusion and yearning. She finishes her skincare routine, staring at herself in the mirror, almost meeting the eyes of the eighteen-year-old girl who had her whole life ahead of her. It's a constant chant in her head not to dwell in the past. 

She has to focus—she needs to find a way to pull Patrick Zweig out of the top 200 ranks and get him qualified for the US Open by the time the next season starts.

Speaking of the devil, when Tashi steps out of the bathroom, she finds Patrick lounging on the loveseat by the open window. Naturally, his shirt has found itself a home on the floor, and a cigarette dangles from his lips.

He perks up when she walks out, sitting up to greet her, "Don't beat yourself up."

Tashi rolls her eyes and climbs into the bed, letting herself sink into the soft comforter. "Shut the fuck up, Patrick. And put that shit out."

"I'm just saying," he shrugs, taking one last drag before flicking the cigarette out the window, grinning when he hears Tashi scoff. "She's a stubborn little shit," he says as the hotel door clicks open and Art walks in. Patrick hums, "Probably only marrying him to piss us off anyway. Been trying to talk her out of it for months. Never listens."

"She might listen to Tashi," Art says, turning to his wife with a hint of optimism in his voice. "Lily's asleep, by the way."

"Right, because my word is stronger than both of yours," Tashi retorts, pulling the blanket over her legs.

Art and Patrick glance at each other before nodding, "Yes."

"Well, yeah."

They all sit in silence for a while, each lost in their own little bubble. The hotel room is quiet except for the faint hum of the air conditioner and the occasional rustle of the bedspread. 

Art joins Tashi on the bed, absently flipping through the channels on the television, the remote clicking softly in his hand. Beside him, Tashi pretends to read a book, her eyes scanning the same sentence over and over again without really absorbing the words. Meanwhile, Patrick rummages through the mini fridge, the sound of bottles clinking and wrappers crinkling breaking the stillness.

A quiet knock on the door makes the three of them freeze, their heads snapping up in unison. They exchange hesitant glances, each wondering if they imagined it. Then three raps against the wood sound again, more insistent this time. Patrick scrambles to the door, Art and Tashi close behind him, their curiosity piqued and their hearts pounding.

Patrick swings the door open, and there you are, a sight for sore eyes. You're still in the same dress, though one of the straps has fallen off your shoulder, and your makeup is smudged around your eyes. You hold your phone close, dropping it from your ear.

"I tried calling," you say, turning your phone so they can see Patrick's contact, a simple 'pat' with a cute tennis ball emoji next to his nickname. "You never answered."

"My phone died." He shrugs.

You let your hand fall to your front, where your fingers pull on each other nervously. Tashi can't help but notice the lack of a ring on your finger all of a sudden. She raises her brows at you, a knowing look flashing across her face before she tells you, "Something's changed."

You roll your eyes and step into the room, sliding between Art and Patrick easily. "A lot has changed." You walk until you reach the middle of the room. 

It's a big hotel room, not nearly as big as the ones Art and Tashi are used to staying in, but big and luxurious nonetheless. You fit in perfectly with your white gown and styled hair, a vision of elegance even in your dishevelled state.

You turn, facing the three of them again. "I hope whatever offer you guys were hinting at earlier still stands... I don't exactly have anywhere else to stay, unless I want to hear my mother telling me how she was right the entire night."

Tashi smirks. "You know I'm about to tell you the same thing too, right?" She closes the space between the two of you, tucking a fallen strand of hair behind your ear. Her nails brush against your jaw in a feather-light touch until her fingers pause below your lips.

"Yeah, I know."

You don't seem too upset about it. Instead, you're grinning, letting Tashi push her thumb between your lips. The gesture is intimate, charged with unspoken emotion. You're standing face-to-face when she says, "I told you so."

She leads you to sit on the bed, and you let her, nearly tripping over your heels before you land on the soft duvets. Tashi leans down, her nose brushing against yours, and you swallow your heart racing.

"You were right," you murmur. It's hard to maintain eye contact when your skin is buzzing with heat and when there's so much going on in the depths of her eyes that it dizzies you. "I hate it, though."

Her nose is cold against yours, a sharp contrast to the warmth of her breath. You let your eyes fall shut as she slowly traces patterns under your chin, pressing her thumb harder into your mouth before pulling it out. She catches the side of your face with it, making a mess with your spit.

She smiles, "I know you do."

Instinctively, and embarrassingly, there's a shiver rolling down your spine.

Tashi releases a small chuckle, and then, after a final moment, her lips fill in the small gap between you both. You sink into it immediately, heart rejoicing as her lips, warm and smooth, explore your own.

It's a little fumbly, nervous and making you tremble under her hands. Tashi loves every second of it. Her fingers grip your face tighter, mouth pressing to yours with more hunger as you wind your fingers into her hair and sigh. Between gasped breaths and soft sounds of enjoyment, she slips her tongue along your lower lip, and so you open your mouth a little wider.

Tashi ends up straddling you, making out like you're both teenagers again, putting on a show for Art and Patrick. The exhilarating butterflies twirling in your stomach match the memories, too. 

You moan softly as she pulls away from your mouth, her attention shifting to your neck. As you watch Patrick and Art make their way to sit next to you on the bed, the bed dipping, you tilt your head to the side and open up your throat to Tashi. You whimper as you feel her lips drag over your exposed skin. She nibbles and sucks until she finds the sensitive part that makes you cry out.

"Fuck," you whimper. You tug on her air-dried curls, coaxing her back up to your lips so you can enjoy the feeling of her mouth on yours. Tashi sighs, and you can feel her smiling into it while beckoning Art and Patrick to join in.

Their lips are on you in a split second, with Art pressing soft, ticklish kisses against your collarbone, and Patrick sliding his tongue from your shoulder to the back of your ear. He's moaning at the taste of you, sucking a bruise under your jaw while digging his hand into the back of your hair. 

He slowly starts to bring his sloppy kisses to your mouth, lips brushing against Tashi's and your own before she draws back. You whine, pouting as you watch her take a few steps away before making herself comfortable in the cushioned seats by a small dining table. You can't pout for too long, because now Patrick is kissing you, tugging softly at your hair until your back arches.

His tongue presses against yours, pressing as far back as he can reach, swallowing your every moan and whimper. You bring your hand up to scratch at his beard, then run your nails over his scalp. This is when Art starts to get a little bolder by running his hands up and down your thighs, pulling and pulling the long skirt of your dress until he reaches the end of it and he can touch your skin and take off your heels, tossing them aside somewhere.

Patrick traps your lower lip between his teeth, watching it bounce back into its place as he leans back just the slightest bit. You break apart with a whimper. Your half-lidded eyes meet his, then flick down to the trail of spit strung between your glistening lips. He stares at you, cheeks a little red as he smirks, "I've missed this. Missed you."

You smile, breathless as Art's hand makes its way up higher and higher and closer to your heat, his mouth is relentless with its attack at your neck. He grinds his crotch against the side of your leg and you cradle the back of his head with your other hand.

"You saw me last week, Patrick."

"Last week?" Art pulls away. His lips are parted, eyes a little dazed but focused enough to stare between you and Patrick in confusion. Tashi smirks from where she sits and shifts in her place.

"We're not all perfect, Art." You groan, rolling your eyes as Patrick laughs, reaching over you to start pulling down Art's pants who shifts in his place to let him. Once they're off, he looks at you, and it's embarrassing how fast you tangle together, melding together into a pathetic heap on the bed for Tashi and Patrick to see. 

Your lips move in tandem, his soft, pouty lips slitting against yours with ease as you lead his hands to your chest and shove them under your dress.

Art squeezes and fondles your breasts over your bra, his hips jerking against your leg again, almost desperate as his boner presses against the fabric of your dress as it has fallen down again.

Tashi startles you as she settles behind, one knee on the bed while her other long leg steadies her on the carpeted floor below. You let her tilt you backward, parting you from Art and she draws you into an upside-down kiss. The salacious kiss leaves your legs parting for the two men beside you. 

Patrick makes quick work of taking that damn dress off of you and you sputter out a pathetic moan when Art's soft hands tease your hardening nipples once Patrick gets half of it off.

Your dress eventually falls into a heap on the floor in front of the bed, you’d matched with it a white paired set underneath. 

"No fucking way," You peek one eye open slightly to see Patrick scowling while Art runs his hands everywhere he can reach, across your stomach, your thighs, under your boobs, down your back. 

Patrick tilts his head and groans, "I can't believe you wore this shit for him."

Your hand cups Tashi's jaw to deepen the kiss as you both ignore Patrick, only Art snorting out a laugh as he tugs his shirt over his head. 

Patrick slots himself between your open legs, stopping just a breath short of your aching cunt to nip teasingly at your soft inner thigh before dragging his mouth up to your neck again. He revels in the moans he's able to draw from you as he finally comes to caress your face. 

You pull away from Tashi and gasp in a breath. "Kiss me, Pat," You bite your lip, feeling your heart race as he eyes you up so openly. 

"Beg me," He counters with a quirked brow, challenging you. 

Your nose crinkles, "I'm not doing that."

"I'm not kissing you, then."

"Shut up and kiss her, Patrick," Tashi groans, attached to Art. She holds his face the same way she did with you, pulling him closer and letting the man crawl to her. But she's glaring at Patrick with venom behind it you know she can’t mean when she's trembling under Art's gentle touch as he slips off her silky nightgown.

"Come here," You beckon Patrick closer with a fiendish look in your half-lidded eyes.

"Yes, ma'am." Patrick nods, dazed as he obliges. "Anything you want, beautiful," His voice slightly slurs as the space between you diminishes once again. "I'll do anything for you," His husky voice drapes around your name like velvet as it's whispered against your plush lips.

Your hands easily find themselves tangled in Patrick's curly hair and tug him to your lips with aching want. You dive in immediately, lips meshing against and, eventually, catching against his chapped lips. 

A moan escapes from your throat and he uses it as an opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. From there, it's another flurry of saliva, tongue and entirely too much white-hot pressure building below. 

When you break for a breath, a string of saliva stretches between each of your red, puffy lips. Patrick groans at the sight and pulls you in for a slower, raw kiss that leaves you slick and trembling for more. When you pull apart again, Patrick plants a sweet kiss on Art's mouth before focusing back solely on you, his hand slowly approaching your white thong.

When he starts to rub, you moan into his mouth and start trailing your hand to his crotch, palming his dick. Patrick reciprocates easily and tugs at your lower lip with an impish look in his eyes. 

Lips attack your neck again, pulling you higher up on the bed. You hear pants and clothes being shed from every angle around you before you're surrounded again, hands everywhere.

While Art pulls Patrick into a kiss, Tashi cups your face again and draws you into a gentle one as you settle between her legs, your back to her chest. You rest your head on Tashi's shoulder as you heave out another breath, her hands travelling from your navel to tracing shapes on your clit, over your wet panties, spreading your legs apart with her own. 

"Please, Tash," you whimper as her fingers curl around the edge of the fabric and tug so it strains against your leaking cunt perfectly. She then decides to skim a whisper of her touch against your pulsing ache. 

You gape as Patrick wraps his hand around Art's dick, stoking it, and he lets out the prettiest little whine. Patrick slowly works his way down Art's body, running his tongue between each curve of his muscles, collecting the sweat that's been building on his skin before wrapping his mouth around him, taking all of it in one insatiable bob of his head.

Tashi's nails tickle lightly up your stomach, then in the valley between your breasts and then back down again. It has you spiralling, arching your back as she presses a kiss at your neck.

"You're being so good," she coos into your ear. Your name is only a breath out of her mouth, and she's edging your clit with a gentle roughness that could only come from a woman of her calibre. Tashi pulls your panties aside and flicks and flits about your dripping cunt like she already knows how to make you come undone.

It makes you tremble. You'd sworn up and down earlier about how Tashi didn't know you anymore, and here she is, proving to you that she still does, that she knows every curve and divot of your body, that she still knows what makes you whimper and twitch.

Your hand quickly reaches behind you, between the heat of your back and her body and finds her clit and you try to emulate how she's making you weak. Each quiet gasp you earn from her has you moaning back tenfold under her saccharine trance and she quickly starts pumping two fingers into you.

One particular flick of Tashi's thumb on your clit coupled with her lips gliding against and sucking your own in a wanton kiss sends you over the edge. You moan and cum, back arching as you relentlessly force Tashi's hand against your cunt, searching for more delicious friction. 

She takes you all, and lets you ride it all out on her fingers while swallowing every moan you let out in a lewd, wet kiss. Art and Patrick moan appreciatively at the two of you, then focus back on each other.

Before you're able to come down from your high, Art's shoving his come down Patrick's greedy throat. He swallows it all, pulling off Art's red-tipped cock with a vulgar pop that creates a trail of saliva in its wake. 

Patrick smiles down at you and leans closer, and you think he's about to kiss you but then he swerves and kisses Tashi instead, who removes her hand from your cunt and slowly works it up his thigh until she cups his balls and gives them a gentle squeeze. He moans into her mouth, winking at you amid his impromptu make-out session you were tempted to join.

You shimmy back and turn on your stomach, positioning yourself between Tashi's long tanned legs. "Can I eat you out?" You ask while kissing up her leg, and you want to hear how much she needs you. You bite at your bottom lip as you nuzzle into her juicy cunt. "Tashi?" You look up at her from where your face is pressed against her. Her sweet smell makes you sigh as you tease your tongue with her hip bone. "Please, Tash, let me taste you." 

"Yeah, go for it," Comes her breathless plea.

You finally pull her lips apart, revelling in how she squirms against your hold on her hips. 

You're on your knees, trapped arching between Tashi's long legs when you hear Art clear his throat. You give one long lick up Tashi's twitching cunt before turning around with her slick dribbling down onto your chin to where Art has sidled up behind you.

Art crawls closer to you, "Can I touch you, beautiful?" He tilts your chin up as he awaits your answer. 

When you nod, he easily descends upon your lips, placing a sure hand behind your head as he deepens the kiss into something absolutely filthy. As soon as you break apart, he kisses your shoulder, then down your spine.

Tashi guides you back to her. You allow her nails to tangle in your locks as she forces your head back down against her arching hips.

"Shit," Patrick huffs, rough hands reaching for the globes of your ass while Art's smoother ones trail up your spread, inner thighs. Tashi tugs at his dick a little harder, which has him panting against her lips.

Tashi gasps as you flick at her clit then quickly move to tease her entrance with the tip of your tongue. You flatten your tongue, dragging it across her length and repeat the motion until she whines for you to stop. 

You slurp the combination of drool and slick as you pull away with a pussy-drunk smile. She meets it with a panting, dazed one and removes her hand from your hair to push her own out of her eyes while Patrick sucks at her neck.

"Ah!" You startle forward into Tashi's tits as Art finally breeches your entrance with his index finger. 

"Eat our girl out, Art," Tashi motions for Art to lie down under your spread form to get a better angle. You can't deny that the new nickname drives you a little crazy. "Show her she's ours."

Art's soft hands draw another moan out of you as they assuredly grip your hips to keep you in place while he unleashes teasing licks against your pussy.

Tashi draws you back to her. You'd know that look anywhere—she's ready to cum.

"I want you," Her breath hitches around your name while your tongue steals the rest of her coherent words until she's a withering mess under your touch. 

Her pornstar-worthy moans ring out across the room like a beautiful symphony. Tashi's wanton noises coupled with the wet whines you're unleashing against her folds until the two of you create the lewdest duet this hotel's ever heard. 

She arches against the bedframe as she tells you her near release, tugging at your hair as she draws closer and closer to the edge.

Panting, she draws you against her lips for a sloppy, uncoordinated kiss. 

"Fuck, Tashi," You groan against her plump lips, feeling your own impending orgasm drawing near. "You're so fucking hot, I-"

She cuts off your rambling with another wet kiss. Her tongue flicks out to tease yours before sucking it into her mouth with a lewd slurp. Your hand works alongside hers to leave her shaking and whimpering against your lips as she comes undone by your hand. You smack her cunt lightly, eating the groan she feeds into your open mouth as she rides it out.

Tashi eats your moans as they echo against your messy tangling of lips and tongues.

Art's fingers start to pick up a pace as Patrick, feeling left out, starts thrusting his throbbing cock in the middle of your sapphic kiss with Tashi. You eye the two with half-lidded eyes as you share Patrick's cock with her. After only a few moments in your mouth, Patrick pulls out and releases across Tashi's and your expectant tongues.

"So fucking good to me," Patrick pants as he splatters the last of his come across your faces with a shaky groan. "Best fucking orgasm ever, swear it," He says as he encases his lips around yours, swapping his cum between your mouths before moving to Tashi to do the same.

Art moves out from under you, offering your knees relief as he lays you back against Tashi's stomach to fuck into you.

It's a slow and cruel pace, only made crueller by how Patrick and Tashi touch you like they already know where you want to be touched. Each brunette takes a side, Patrick sucking your tit into his mouth while Tashi's mouth draws you in for a kiss. Her nails tickle at your other erect nipples until you're arching off of her and into Art's thrusts, making him whimper.

"Just like that," Art whines your name. "You're so fucking tight."

It's when Patrick and Tashi move their attention down to your clit that you know you're fucked. Patrick spreads your folds with two fingers, watching as intensely as Art does as his cock disappears in and out of your hole.

"He could've never made you feel like this, right?" Tashi rasps. "He has no strategy, no real game. Just a fucking waste of space. Could never make you feel this good, this loved."

You don't need her to say his name, you know what she means. You're panting, shaking your head against her shoulder. "Never."

"Told ya," Patrick laughs into your skin. "Make her cum, Art. C'mon, man." 

"Fuck- please," You whimper, nodding. "I need to come, baby-" Without warning, you arch off of Tashi. Neither she nor Patrick stops their jerks against your clit as you gasp, eyes rolling back in your head with the thrum of a second wave creeping up on you with a steady building heat. Waves of pleasure roll over you as the tantalizing sensations become too much. You come loudly, arching pathetically off the bed as you desperately reach for Art, to hold him.

You're wriggling in Tashi and Patrick's arms as Art pulls out and releases across your expanding and retracting stomach as you pant out the remnants of your orgasm. 

"Shit," He moans, and his voice sends waves of aftershock across your body while his steady hands draw you against his naked chest for a toe-curling kiss.

You'd never been happier to have invited Patrick Zweig to your engagement party.

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[buckyalpine]

You know who'd talk you through it? Bucky. Bucky would talk you through it. I'm feral therefore this is feral. I always say I'm sorry after writing shit like this but this time I'm genuinely sorry, lost sight of the plot.

18+ af, minors dni

I'm gonna finish a wip, I swear, but just imagine for a moment, Bucky being intimate with the most soft shy little bunny ever and learning what she likes based on all the pretty moans and squeals he can pull out of her. He gauges what she's into based on how fucking soaked his balls get from the way she drips on him. Her pussy gets so tight around his dick and he knows whatever he's doing is working because she

She was too scared to tell him anything about what she liked so there was a lot of experimenting in the start. He took it soft and slow at first, basking in how warm her body felt against his, relishing in those quiet sighs she makes when he rolls his hips. For a while he thinks that's as vocal as she gets until a slightly harder thrust of his cock makes her squeak, her cunt clenching around him. His eyes widen at this new found discovery, thrusting harder and harder each time, that squeak turning into a slutty moan.

So she can get louder...

It's become a game for him, talking you through every single orgasm he pulls from you, growing more and more feral over how vocal you are when he does something new.

"Mmph, fuck yeah, that's it baby, moan f'me" He coos as he fucks his fingers in you faster while kneeling in front of you, his own knees keeping yours apart. He's truly playing with your body to his own delight having you naked, legs spread far apart with your pussy on display for him. He loves fingering you because he gets to look at your entire body whither beneath him. Little does he know how crazy it makes you because while he towers over you, eyes raking over your pleasure consumed form, you're admiring him right back. His thick pink cock is so full and hard standing achingly tall. His balls look deliciously heavy and you love the way he uses his knees to keep you spread because he ends up showing off even more of his sac and you are rightfully obsessed.

Your clit makes him drool. It's so perfectly sensitive and he's perfected licking, rubbing and sucking it till your gushing on his face and pulling his hair.

"Y'like that huh baby" He whispers to himself when he rubs faster and you start to claw at his arms, your back arching off the bed, moans growing louder. He watches your reaction like a predator watching it's prey waiting for the perfect moment to let you fall.

"Y-ess" You manage to cry out but Bucky thinks you can do better.

"Y'know what m'gonna do now bunny?" He knows you can't answer but based on the way your clit is throbbing against his fingers your attention is 100% on him. You loved his dirty talking and he's going to keep going until the sheets need to be changed. "M'gonna lick and suck on that pretty little clit of yours, you like that, don't you?"

You frantically nod and he lets out a breathy chuckle, his own cock getting wet at the thought of tasting you.

"Lookit what you do to me" He pulls his hand away making you look down so you can see him squeeze his cockhead, smearing his arousal onto your swollen bud, tears falling from your cheeks from how erotic and dirty he was. He rubs his tip all over not bothering to muffle his own whines and whimpers, "M'so fuckin' sensitive here baby" He'd never miss a chance to edge you both, your most sensitive parts rubbing against each other until he's done teasing. "See how wet you make me bunny? You're not the only one who gets soaked baby, shit you make me so wet"

You can see clear sticky webs clinging from his cockhead to your clit as he continues to tap and rut himself against you, "Don't worry baby, I'll clean up the mess I make"

He goes down between your legs, starting off with tentative licks like a kitten. That's before he lets those pouty lips of his seal around you, suckling with needy gurgles as if he were drinking milk. He groans at the taste of his own precum he marked you with, your taste combined with his makes him nearly cum.

"O-OOH-" The squirm of your legs are held still by his arms. He doesn't know how anyone other than you can look so adorably sweet and slutty at the same time with your eyes rolling back, jaw slack, sinful sounds filling the room, your white cream making a mess on the sheets. His dick is dripping and while he'd love for you to finish on his face, he knows that's not your favourite way to cum.

No.

Your loudest moans are when your filled with his cock while he plays with your clit with his lips by your ear.

Favourite position? You're not picky but he knows the ones you love the most. Your pussy gets so tight when he puts you in the sluttiest ones.

"Good girl, good fuckin' girl" He whispers tugging your earlobe between his teeth while maintaining a brutal pace, the sweat slicking his chest hot against your back. You're kneeling while he fucks you from behind, holding your body up, one hand wrapped around your throat while the other holds your hip. He wasn't sure how you'd feel about being choked until you squirted on him the first time he did it. "You love my fat cock don't you bunny, slut for big dick-" He brings his hand down to slap your clit making you sob, your wetness squirting onto the sheets, body limp in his hold, "Baby, you're soaking my balls, should make you suck them clean"

You moan louder.

Bucky smirks.

He's going to keep going.

"You like that don't you, you wanna lick my balls clean angel? Empty them first and then get down and suck 'em. Suck my cock, drink up all the cum that's still dripping after I cum in you"

That's all it takes. You're cumming without warning but Bucky's gonna make your orgasm last minutes if possible, his dirty talking getting filthier with each clench of your pussy.

"M'gonna be all sensitive for you angel, y' know how hard m'gonna cum for you? Gonna keep on cumming until I'm all empty"

"You're such a slut huh, you'd suck my cock even if it was soft-oh shhit baby-you like that too? You like me turning soft for you? You want daddy to get subby for you baby, hm?"

"I-I-Oh god James!!!" You whine and desperately try to fuck yourself back on him to prolong how good he's making you feel, all these feral thoughts too much-He reaches to pinch your clit, now rolling it between his fingers and you nearly pass out-

At this point anything he says doesn't matter. Maybe it happens. Maybe it doesn't. He just says anything and everything that clouds both your fantasies that make you sob and sob from overstimulation.

"I can be subby for you bunny, y'know that. Tell daddy what you want, you can have anything y'want"

"Love when you lick my balls, clean my cock. Shit, y'know I'd let you touch me anywhere baby"

The very thought of what that entails sends you into a second orgasm.

"s'that it? You wanna taste daddy, bunny? Touch me where no one else has? Hm? Just my bunny putting her cute little tongue on my-

"FUUCCCKKKKKKK" You fall forward and love being smothered by him, lying flat on your tummy while he mounts you from behind letting his full body collapse on you.

"So little under me, no where to run, you make me wanna breed you when you're like this baby, wanna give you all of my cum.

"Bucky-Buckyy!" Your muffled screams and taut body have him pounding you harder, your orgasm squeezing cum out of his body even though he want's to hold it. You make it impossible He's still gonna talk you through it all while falling himself.

"I know, I know baby, feels good-s'good-oh God you're milking my cock bunny-fuckk" His hips stutter to a grind, "Shit I can't st-top, God y/n please-want it-need you" He's babbling at this point, the both of you utterly gone, floating in bliss. He's going to clean and take good good care of you, making a mental note of what he did to get you scream this time. He smirks to himself with his new information, next time he'd be more than happy to see you lose yourself while you play with and lick his-

Alright, that's enough.

[ja3hwa]

♡ 𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐬 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐧 || 𝐉.𝐘𝐇 ♡

【Synopsis】 : a new book shop had opened on the block, and a certain marfia leader was interested in the sweet little owner.

『Word count』 : 9.01k

-> Genre: Mafia. Smut. Romance.

Pairing: Perv!MobBoss!Yunho! X Librarian!Reader

[Warnings] : Pervy Yunho. Like I mean this man is so horny for the reader it's crazy. Really shameless flirting and a lot of flustered most likely cringe moments but it's fine… I promise. Mention of criminal activity. Yunho is a classy criminal, what can I say. Swearing. Tension. Inappropriate thoughts. Strangers to Lovers?? Domestic play. These two already act like an old married couple, confirmed. Making out, oral(f). Fingering. Edging. Dirty talk. Unprotected sex.

Author note: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY DARLING YAYA!! I hope you enjoy this little treat. This is plot heavy. I'm so sorry. I don't know why I had such bad word vomit. May or may not end up writing another part, we’ll see ahh. Ah, i love you ♡ @skteezcursed ♡

Also this is not beta read so please be mindful of any mistakes ♡

Networks: @atzhouse @wonderlandnet @illusionnet @cromernet

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“I’m just saying why can’t you get one of the field boys to do it. You got a meeting in thirty, and I don’t see how explaining to them you were ‘out for an errand’ will solve your tardiness.” The driver scoffed yet again as he took the next right towards the new shop that had just opened a few weeks ago in town. A little book shop. There hadn’t been a proper book shop in this part of the city in years, and Yunho was immediately interested in it.

“Like I said, I want to see this place for myself. I don’t need one of those knuckleheads barging in like they own the place. And none of those bozos will ever say a word. I could be a day late, and they’ll all pretend they were just early.” Yunho rolls his eyes, taking a sip of his whiskey. He felt tired just thinking about that meeting. The one he’s been putting off for months. “Stop here.”

San sighed in defeat before taking a spot on the busy road. No one seemed to bat an eye as a black Chevy Suburban rolled up, but then again, most people on this side of town knew exactly who the car belonged to. “Meet me back here in twenty. Go grab us a coffee or something.”

“Wait but, Sir. You can't just—” Yunho slammed the door to the car. “Leave…”

-

The little bell on the top of the door rang cutely as Yunho entered the quiet establishment. There was barely anyone in here, if not no one at all. Perfect. He thought, given he wanted to be able to meet you in peace. And there you were, casually placing books in their rightful places on the shelves. You are wearing a cute sundress with an apron over it. There’s a little sun pattern all over the fabric, making it match with the pastel yellow ribbon in your hair. You were the most beautiful thing Yunho had ever laid eyes on. And the first time he noticed you were in the cafe, a few shops down. You bought a hot chocolate and a blueberry muffin. He still remembers the smile on your face when you took that first sip, getting a little foam moustache as a result.

He wanted nothing more than to kiss your sweet face then and there. So naturally, he looked you up. Finding out you had opened up this vintage-urban store. You had moved from outta town, but no one knew where, and your family and history was a mystery. Even to him and his beast detectives. You were no one. And that made you even more interesting. “Come on..just..g-go.”

You were on your tip toes trying to reach the top shelf to put a book back but you being forgetful, left the stool in the back closet and you had decided it was too much of an effort to go back and get it now. You jumping was what you resorted to. You looked like a rabbit in Yunho’s eyes. A sweet little rabbit that’s breast bounced perfectly with every hop. The scrunch in your nose and little tongue poking made him wonder what your face would look like if when you were fucked just right.

His feet moved swiftly until he was flush behind up. You felt his broad chest before you heard him as he softly grabbed the book from your delicate fingers and placed it where it needed to be on the shelf. But what ultimately caught your attention was his smooth voice. “Looked like you needed some help, doll.”

Oh right then and there you felt your life was about to change very dramatically and oh, how it did excite you. “T-thanks.”

“Anytime.” His deep voice spilled in your ears like butter, and his cologne danced around you making the outside world cease to exist. He was walking sex on legs, something out of a dark romance novel and you knew exactly who he was. “So, have you got any book suggestions?”

Your smile grew when he asked the question but Yunho was cringing inside. That was really the best he could do. He’s been watching you for weeks and that was all he could mutter up. You on the other hand, chirped, plodding off deeper into the store. Yunho followed as he watched you scanning the shelves, your fingers tracing the spines of multiple books as you passed them, your mouth quivering out the titles of each one. “Here we go!” You grabbed a black book off the shelf. It had a red misty design all around it with bold white lettering in the centre. It looks magical, like you. “This is one of my favourites. But be warned, it’s a lot of info dumping at the start. But the ending is worth it.”

“Thanks doll. What is it about?” Yunho’s smile makes your heart shake, your fingers grazing his as you hand him the book. Your throat became dry, unable to think of the right words to describe the novel…”Oh it's fantasy…”

You snapped out of your brain as you see the man scanning the blurb on the back, his smile growing into a sly smirk as he read some of the words, Romantic, erudite and suspenseful. You put your jittering hands in the pockets of your apron as you tried your best not to blush. “Y-yeah.. yes. I. It's really good. It’s got witches and vampires, all sorts of creatures.”

Your little ramble caused Yunho to smile ear to ear. The way your face slowly lit up the more you spoke about it, the dramatic movements of your hands as you used them to further express your emotion. He had come to the conclusion you were the cutest thing on the planet. And he would do anything to protect that. “Well I’ll definitely give it a read, sunshine.”

Your like deepened the shade of pink upon hearing the cute nickname that slipped from the tall man. You felt like your legs were slowly turning to jelly at the thought not only was he hot as all fuck, but he was in fact a reader, like you. “T-Tell me what you think when you finish it.”

“I shall.” His remark was quick, the smirk making your heart race. When was he this close to you? Was he always this close to the point you can smell his cologne mixing with the whiskey on his breath. You gulped, watching his eyes scan from your eyes to your lips, before letting his own by swiping his tongue across his bottom lip. “I needed to speak with you about something as well.”

His deep authorial voice rattled in your mind, suddenly shaking you from your fantasy, making you remind yourself who exactly was standing in front of you. You nodded with a small ‘of course’ before walking towards the front counter. Yunho followed you as he spoke, “I’m assuming you know who I am…” his throat felt dry at his own words.

“Everybody knows who you are, Mr Jeong.” Your words seemed flattened, almost worried. In truth you were scared, but the murmurs that circled when you first entered the city was not something you took lightly. The cruelness people spoke off. The ruthless man known as the Viper. Mr Jeong Yunho. Too young to be a mafia lord, yet here he stood, powerful, feared and wealthy. “I suppose you were here originally for business then...”

Yunho watched as you took out the logs of the shop, no longer making eye contact with him. Of course you knew who he was, why was he so stupid in thinking he could pretend for one single moment to be someone else. To be a normal guy that could sway the sweet sunflower that owns the book shop. A fantasy, he thought, one that won't come true. “I protect these shops on this street. And I was wondering if you would be interested in getting into the same agreement.” he bit his tongue, trying his best to be professional.

“And what do I have to do to get this sort of treatment…” Your hands were shaking more than you’d like them too, not wishing to look into his cold eyes. But his eyes weren't cold, in fact they were swimming in conflict. He didn’t need anything from you, just like the other shops. No, he protected people that needed it and in return he asked for their favour. Nothing more nothing less. But he didn’t want a favour from you. No he just wanted���

“A smile.” Yunho said sternly.

“W-what?” You finally looked up at him to see a soft smirk on his shaded pink features and then he replied again..

“I want you to smile.”

-

You couldn’t help but yearn for Yunho every time you opened your shop. Waiting for him to walk in through those doors like he did almost two weeks ago now. you still remember the butterflies in your tummy as he said his goodbye…

“Like that.” Your smile grew bigger as he stepped closer to the counter. “It suits you so much.” He picked up your hand gently before placing the softest kiss on your knuckles. You swore your heart stopped at that moment. “I’ll be seeing you, sunshine.”

And with that he left, leaving your blood rushing to your ears and a hefty tip on your counter.

“Hey, so do I sort the biographies by title or by author.” The young worker so reluctantly hired comes rushing in from the store room, his shirt on the wrong way and his laces barely tied… his mother had practically begged you to give him work since he was almost twenty-three and still without job experience. And now you can see why no one wanted to hire the poor thing. He wasn’t the brightest.

“Uh yeah. By author and make sure they are put in the end row by the nonfiction section, please.” You pinched the bridge of your nose as you watched him stumble away to the back of the shop, his laces making him side step.

And then you heard a crash. Followed by a quick, “I’m okay.”

“Are you sure?” You felt like you needed to ask.

The young boy rounded the shelf, looking back at you with a face as bright of a pink as the poor flowers he was holding. He had broken another vase... perfect.

“Just put it in the back.” You scratched your chin sighing as he repeated over and over ‘I’m sorry’ while cleaning up the what you’d count as the fourth vase filled with flowers. You shook your head, looking back at the receipt logbook again, going over all the money you’d have made since opening. It was surprising, to say the least, the amount of people that have purchased or borrowed books in such little time made you giddy. You felt a sense of accomplishment at the idea people were reading. The sound of the doorbell chimed, shifting your attention to a possible new customer. “Hello, how can I help…”

“Hey Sunshine.” Yunho’s face beamed with happiness upon seeing you. His casual wear catches you off guard. He almost looked normal and not some big bad mob boss who could get away with your murder. “I’ve read your book.”

“Y-yunho.” You perked, closing the logs before quickly rounding the front desk until you were almost inches from him. Close enough to smell his gorgeous cologne. “That didn’t take you long…”

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck, reminding himself he had spent hours reading the book when he should have been working. But who was going to yell at him for it anyway? No, he needed to finish the book quickly so he could have something to talk about. “No, I fell in love with it on page one. And besides, the quicker I read it. The quicker I could come back here and ask you for another.”

Your face blushed as he took a step closer. You gulp at the proximity, practically feeling his body heat. His on hand leaning on the counter behind you, closing the distance. "D-do, you have any in mind..."

Yunho watched your eyes flutter close, taking in his aura. He couldn't help but smirk at how much he affected you. Infecting your perfect little innocent act, because from what he read in that novel, he knew you were the sunshine he depicted you as, no, there was a dark streak inside you, and he wanted desperately to draw it out. "I was curious if you got something more spicy. Hmm."

"S-spicy!?" You gasp, opening your eyes to gaze into Yunho deep ones, his pupils blown out, almost consuming all the chocolate in his eyes. His smile only grew, placing his other hand on the other side of your body, now trapping you between his large body and the counter.

"Oh, I know you've got ideas, baby. That book wasn't as innocent as you remember, hm." The tilt in his head made you dizzy. His face inches from yours. If you wanted, you would only need to move an inch to close the gap. To finally feel those lips you'd been dreaming about for the past couple of weeks.

"I could give you some suggestions..." You whispered your breath, mixing with his. Yunho bit his bottom lip, inching closer and closer until his lips graze yours and just enough to—

"I think I lost the log book again in the...." The young boy, frozen, almost dropping some of the books that he held tightly in his hand. Yunho sighs, reluctantly pulling away slowly. You looked down at your feet, feeling like your heart was going to jump right out of your chest. "S-sorry."

"It's okay, George. Just.. Did you leave it on the desk in the back again?" You answered the poor boys' question, making his face light up with cringe. He muttered to himself before scurrying off towards the back room. You look back at the man still caging you against the counter, but his gaze was elsewhere. On the young boy, in fact. Yunho could explain it, but he knows that kid. He's seen him somewhere. His face is so familiar yet lost. "Are you okay?"

Your little murmur caught the mob boss's attention, turning his attention to you once again. He cleared his throat before standing up straight, almost making himself bigger than normal. His gaze still flickered to where the back room was. His gut told him something was wrong, but he couldn't figure out what. "Yeah, don't worry, sunshine." He finally looked back at you, gifting you one of his award winning smiles, "I'm good."

"Well. I should be getting back to work." You felt a slight twinge of embarrassment circle in your tummy. Getting caught in the arms of a man like Yunho but being caught almost kissing him. That was a scandal and a half. Argh, you can practically hear all the old bettys in the street gossiping already. You go to turn away from him, but his hand grips your upper arm, swinging you into his chest. His free hand grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him.

"Let me take you out." He smirked.

"A date?" You questioned.

"Yes. I like you, sunshine. If that wasn't obvious enough." He could see your ears start to turn pink as you tried to look everywhere else. Your heartbeat was ringing in your ears, feeling an overwhelming sense of every emotion under the sun. He leaned closer until his lips grazed your ear, whispering, "Think about it. I'll come back Friday afternoon before you close, and you can tell me your answer."

He lightly kissed your cheek before letting you go, walking out another thought. You just stood there, shocked, thrilled and absolutely terrified.

"You can't go."

"What?" You knitted your brow as you turned to George standing in one of the aisles. He jumped, changing his expression from a plan and cold expression to one of bewilderment.

"Uh, what I mean is you shouldn't. He's not a good man." You can see his grip on the books tighten as he grits his teeth. Your expression stayed the same as you turned your back to him, opening the logbook to where you were before.

"I know who he is." Your words were cold, blunt, almost shocking the young man. He was taken aback, to say the least, but then again, he expected your response. In fact, he hoped for it.

-

Through the following days, you found yourself staring at the clock, waiting, begging for the day to end. You wished desperately for it to be Friday every time you woke up. It was finally Thursday when your craving died a little. An old lady had come in to return a few books, and she had said a fine looking man had asked her to give you a piece of paper. A letter. To say your heart nearly jumped through your throat would have been an understatement. "Hey, George. I need to do some paperwork, watch the store."

"You've never let me work the regis—." You didn't even let the poor boy finish his statement as you sped off towards the back room. Your shaky fingers locked the door as quickly as possible before you practically jumped into the swivel chair. ‘Open it’ you told yourself ‘it has to be from Yunho’. Your smile only grew bigger at the voice singing in your head. You open the paper and see it's written in the most beautiful hand writing you've ever seen. It read;

To my sunshine,

Even though our interactions have been brief, I have to confess that crossing paths in your bookshop was not the first time I've noticed your beautiful presence. I first saw you in the cafe, three shops down. The way you were lost in your book while sipping on your hot chocolate made me want to dive into your mind and see its wonders. Curious what could be lying within… You’ve been on my mind ever since. I have found I am unable to sleep at night without the thought of you. Call me old-fashioned with this letter, but I needed to get this off my chest without blabbering like a fool in front of you. I can't wait for our date tomorrow that I know you’ll say yes to. But until then. A gift…

You look at the bottom of the page and note there is a phone number. If the confession of love wasn't enough, him giving you his number was certainly going to kill you. You had already planned to say yes to his date but now an idea sparked in your mind. In truth, you have found feelings towards Yunho, like you had been made for one another. No amount of time, whether little or long it was, you know your feeling would stay the same. So you wanted to take the reins for once, even if deep down you knew you wouldn't be able to hold them for long.

Sunshine// I got your letter. I want you here out the front by 6 pm, wear something casual.

You left no room for argument as you shut your phone off and held your head high. George’s expression of unpleasantness couldnt… wouldnt, stop you from the growing butterflies in your gut. You were finally going to be happy, and Yunho was the one going to give it to you.

-

You swore it wasn’t this cold yesterday afternoon, the keys almost sticking to your ice cold fingers. You checked the locks to the doors one final time before letting out a sigh of relief and nerves, ready to call it a night. “Well hello, Sunshine.”

You turned with a smile, seeing the man of the hour. He was wearing a less-fancy dress suit. No tie, or cuff links. You couldn't help but giggle. “I said casual wear Yun…”

“What do you mean love? This is casual.” He chuckled, taking two large steps to you, closing the gap. His hand snuck around your waist, squeezing the flesh on your hips. “Where are we off to tonight?”

“A surprise. So you’ll just have to trust me.” You giggle, your palm resting on his chest. You could feel his heart racing a million miles, yet he looked so composed. But then again in his field of ‘work’ he needed to show almost no signs of emotion.

“I’d trust you with my life.” Yunho had never used those words so lightly, but it was the truth. He couldn't explain it but he could easily lay his life down for you. You could crush it if you wished and he wouldn't say a thing. You blushed at his confession, reaching on your tiptoes you kiss the rugged man's cheek, before pulling away towards the street.

“I loved your letter by the way.” And with that you turned to start walking, letting Yunho trail after you like a love sick puppy.

“Just this way…” Yunho followed you curiously as you weaved through the streets. There were no restaurants or diners around in this area he knew of and given he owned half the city he should be aware of almost everything. So where on earth were you taking him? You turned your head over your shoulders spotting the confusion on his face, you couldn't help but giggle at his wide boba-like eyes. You outstretched your hand, waiting for him to take it. Yunho swore he felt his heart stop when he locked his fingers with yours. Yunho has never put this much trust in a person before and yet he has found himself being led by you through the front door of an apartment complex and up three flights of stairs before coming to a stop at a door that read 117. “I..”

All the words you had prepared to say had suddenly flown out the window as you slotted the key into the lock. Yunho’s smirk grew as he watched your brain scramble, finding enjoyment in watching you squirm. “And here I thought you had an innocent date planned. But my cheeky little sunshine just wanted me all to herself, hmm?”

“N-no!!” you whipped your head to his direction, leaning against the door with blush riddled on your cheeks. “I-i just wanted to make you a home cooked meal. I-i prefer cooking over going out.” You dipped your head to the ground feeling a little ashamed of your introvertedness. Bringing such a dangerous man home wasn't exactly the thought that crossed your brain when you thought of this evening. In truth you were only thinking about treating him to your cooking, something you took pride in. “I’m not very good with other people.”

He brought his hand to your chin, lifting your face up so he could look at you in the eyes. There was no judgement in his soft gaze, heck even his killer smirk was now only a small simple smile. “As long as I'm with you, we could be doing anything, besides…” He leaned down to give the side of your face a kiss before whispering, “I’m not one for crowds either.”

You gulped, nodding slightly as you turned back to open the door. Yunho’s gaze shifted from yours as soon as he heard the creek of the wood, finally getting a peek inside your little place you call home. Your place was riddled with a vintage, cottagey-like aesthetic. It was like Yunho had stumbled into a fairies hut that was hidden away in the woods.the smell of your salt lamp was strong but not as strong as the calming lavender. He felt like the air around him was giving him the warmest hug. Everything was soft, cute, and dainty… just like you. You lead him deeper into the apartment, letting him take the lead once you get to an archway. It led into the lounge room he found, spotting the emerald couch and various bookshelves encasing a tv cabinet. “Uh..I… make yourself at home, i just got to put away some things and i’ll start to prepare dinner.”

You scurried off before he had the chance to protest, not that he would have that is. He was almost scared to take a seat, his black on black attire completely stuck out to the surroundings. Slicked back hair, expensive accessories, shoes worth more than most of your furniture… He was so out of place. Taking a seat he felt himself sink into the cushions. He was being bombarded by plushies falling onto him as he shifted to get comfortable. Everything smelled like you, sweet, sugary, a hint of freshly baked goods and old books. He couldn’t help him, leaning down he brought his face to a blanket you use regularly when lounging on the couch. He took a deep inhale. ‘God help me’ he'd think to himself as his fingers tangled in the soft fabric, feeling his hips twitch at the thought of your scent round him. Paint him as a pervert, he didn't care, all he cared about in this moment was the feeling of you. Craving, begging to see if he could have you as more.

A loud clunk caught his attention, making him snap out of the haze clogging his mind. He’s never sat up quicker, swiftly moving towards the kitchen to only find you with a pot on the ground and the lid firmly in your hand as if you were using it as a shield. “Whoops…” was all you could mutter, feeling like your nerves had been shot from the loud noise. Yunho scooped up the pot, trying to see if you were okay only to see your face completely red. The same red as the tomatoes on the counter. “I can't stop my hands shaking,”

You tried to laugh it off lightly at how nervous you were with such a man like Yunho being in your house. You were starting to regret bringing him here and wishing you just sucked it up and took him to a restaurant instead. Yunho's free hand placed itself on your upper arm, gently rubbing up and down on your soft skin before giving the flesh a squeeze. He hadn't even realised you were dressed in something different, another sundress, but this one was black with lace accents on the hems. the ribbon holding up your hair matched it accordingly. “Hey It's okay. Just take a deep breath, baby.”

Him calling you all these pet names weren't helping but you obeyed him as best as you could nonetheless. “I just feel a little silly bringing you here. You know since we barely know one another and I don't want you to get the wrong impression…”

“And what kind of impression would you be giving me, hmm?” He didn't mean to come off as teasing but his deep tone caused him to always sound alluring.

“I..uh. That I wanted to just get you to my place to sleep with you. Cause that's not the reason i just really dont l-like—” you stopped rambling as soon as your eyes met Yunho’s. His dark blown out gaze causes your words to get caught in your throat.Yunho had put the pot down a while ago, his spine straight as he stepped closer. You instinctively took a step back and then another before your hips made contact with the counter. Yunho placed a foot on either side of yours and his hands on the marble behind you. You were caged.

"And what if that was the reason? Would it be so bad?" It was like his voice got deeper, more sultry as he took a deep grumbling breath, taking in the scent of your perfume and shampoo.

"I j-just don't want to ruin anything we could have." You whispered, your eyes fluttering close. But Yunho simply stared holes into your flesh, like he could see straight to your soul. This cute little thing in front of him wants more than a hookup? Wants to actually get to know him? He doesn't know if he had just won the jackpot, or this was, in fact, a cruel dream he hadn't woken up to yet.

"Trust me, darling. Nothing you can do will ruin anything between us..." he leaned down to your ear, "Even if it's sex."

You choked when you heard him groan that unruly word. Your hand clapping over your mouth to hide your gasp. Never in your life have you been put into a situation quite sultry as this one. The men you’ve dated were only stereotypical, self-centered or mama’s boys. Worse if they were all three. But Yunho was different. He is no gentleman but yet, if you asked for the moon he would do anything to give it to you. He is not a nice man but if someone were to hurt the old lady that runs the little shoe shop down the street he would not be afraid to kill the fucker who did her wrong. He is not a lover but he’d be damned if he didnt wife you up the moment he could. Yunho was different and that's why you had quickly fallen for the man even if those around you did not approve. “W-what if I were to ask for more tonight. Not just dinner…”

Yunho’s heart stopped, he was sure of it. His body moving closer his lips inches from your own, “I would give anything your pretty little heart desires… all you gotta say is, please.”

You opened your eyes to see his dark ones locked on you. Moving your hand slowly, you snaked them gently around his neck, feeling his soft locks tangle between your fingers. “Please…” His lips locked onto yours, stealing the yelp from your throat. His hands that were gripping firmly on the counter now tugged at your hips, bringing you flushed against him. You could feel his body heat pool where you needed him most. You’ve never been kissed like this before. The softness with pure desperation lingering. It was as if your nerves exploded with little fireworks across your spine as you shiver under him. “Y-yu..y..” He was quick to swallow your cries, using his leg to spread your thighs more so he could easily slip between them.

“If we keep going, We aren't having dinner.” Yunho groaned against your tongue, pulling away with a tug on your bottom lip. He could hear a slight ring in his blushed ears, feeling his whole body shaking, craving to keep going. But he needed you to take the lead. Tell him what you wanted… for now.

“My bedroom is the first door on the left.” Your smile seemed to be contagious as Yunho couldn't help but give you a cheeky little smirk in return. He wasted no time in taking a hold of your lips again, but this time he took a step back, letting you both shuffle ungracefully towards the hallway. You huffed as you almost tripped, giving up with the kiss. You grabbed a hold of his hand that was still tightly against your hip, intertwining your fingers withs his. You both stood there for a moment. Nothing but battered breath and racing heart beats could be heard. It was like the world had ceased to exist around this very moment. His hazy gaze travelled from where you were both connected, up your soft arms, until he reached your lips. They were swollen, puffy and pink. Beautiful… Yunho thought. Everything about you was simply beautiful.

You gave him a soft smile, one he has never seen ever pointed in his direction, and with your hands tightly interlocked, you lead him slowly into your bedroom. A shy grin decorated your features. Something that Yunho's dark stare didn't linger from, as if he needed to map out every curve and twist to keep it perfectly accurate in his mind for years to come. From the intense gaze, you look away and towards your bed.

As soon as you opened the door, Yunho was met with the sweetest scent. It was so much stronger than the one that painted your apartment. Strawberries, vanilla, and brown sugar. The room wasn't much different from the rest of your place. It was neat, tidy. But there were blankets and plushies galore on your bed. Like a little nest to keep you safe from the outside world. The bedding was a forest green that matched the similar greens on your desk that sat in the corner. You, of course, had a bookshelf in here, too, filled with a number of different kinds of novels. Yunho reminded himself to bring up the one you recommended to him when you first met.

"Cute..." Was all he spoke, making your red face become even more hotter. You turned back to him, seeing his gaze glued to you, eyeing you with a devilish smirk. "...Just like you.”

Yunho lowered himself to place his lips on yours in another heated kiss. His hands wandered lower and lower, making your own fly to grab his shoulders. He backs you up slowly, step by step. Your hazy mind was too focused on the deepening kiss to notice any movement. It wasn't until you were suddenly startled by the edge of the bed hitting your thighs that you pulled away from the man in front of you. Yunho didn't hesitate to push you back gently. The little yelp that escaped your throat would have sounded pathetic if in a different scenario, but Yunho couldn't help but groan in response to the sound. Before you could protest anything, Yunho quickly stifled any noise as he followed you to capture your lips once more in a fierce kiss.

Teeth clashed against each other, and tongues danced like there was no tomorrow. It was like Yunho couldn't get enough of you. He needed to taste you in every way possible. The whimper that slipped from him as his mouth ventures lower to your jaw, biting and lapping at your skin. Then the same is done to your neck, your collarbone, all the way to the part of your breasts that was exposed by your sundress. You gasp, tipping your head back onto the plushies behind you while your hands loosen from the fabric on his shoulders.

Yunho suddenly stopped, his dark gaze looking up at your flushed expression. You're as red as a tomato with glossed over eyes, and God is it a delicious look on you.

"Such a pretty little thing." He groans, his voice all but a hushed whisper, slowly snaking his hands to your knees, playing with the lacy hem of your dress. "May I, Sunshine?" You nodded while biting your lip, a little too enthusiastically, shifting a little side to side. You tried to ease some of the ache between your legs.

“Use your words, Darling,” He grins, his touch unmoving.

“Please Yunho,” you finally squeak out. He shifts his body lower until he is snuggly between your legs. The sight of him looking at you through his lashes while his tongue coaks a thin layer of spit on his lips was enough to make you wet. You shiver as his large hands run from your knee, up your thigh, under your dress before returning back to your knee, tantalisingly. As if marvelling at what was before him. What you were gifting him. He does it again, this time letting his finger tips linger a little bit longer on your inner thigh before pulling away completely, leaving a thrilling chill to run down your spin. “I need you…”

His ghosting hand places itself back on the soft parts of your thighs, squeezing as he heard those three words slip from your pretty mouth. “You need me, sunshine? Need me to take the ache away? Tell me what you need, baby.”

“I want you to taste me…” You felt shy whispering such filth but Yunho on the other hand, simply raised an eyebrow at your daring comment. It was something so daring it brought a smile to his older features. His little sunshine wasn’t innocent and he was slowly drawing the darkness out. His thumbs hooked on the edge of the dress hesitating before pulling the fabric up, agonisingly slow.

“Hmm, I knew my girl had a dark side.” He spoke with a lightly chuckle escaping his reddened lips from him biting them in anticipation. My girl…those words played in your head on loop, like your new favourite song. My girl. Argh you would never get over him saying that. He hikes your dress up higher to reveal your cute purple panties with a deep wet patch on them. You’re soaked right through. It was like he couldn't help himself, taking his pointer finger he pressed firmly on the patch watching the fabric stick to your core. He couldn't help but groan, “All this talk and here you are…dripping.”

Yunho dragged you underwear down your thighs. The cool air that crept from your bedroom window immediately hits the warmth of your core below. His fingers snatch the fabric clean off your legs, flicking them off to the side somewhere before his lustful gaze finally sets on the prize he had been yearning for ever since he first met you.

He swipes his thumb over your aching cunt, collecting some slick with his finger. It sent a jolt through you, your thighs twitching without your control. He coated his fingers more, watching your juices spill down his digit onto his knuckles. He does it once more for good measure, this time rubbing over your clit to earn himself a delicious whine from you. You grip at the bedsheets, widening your legs further for him unconsciously as he continues to play and rub at your clit just right. "Fuck...Yun."

"That's it sunshine, feeling good?" He chuckled watching you flinch as he pressed harshly on your clit. He snaked closer before his face was inches from you. He blew onto your wet lips, causing a gasp to leave you, but the gasp quickly turned into a high-pitched whine as you suddenly felt the warmth of his mouth upon you. He begins to lap up your pussy all the while still harshly circling your clit, moans escaping your parted lips. The noises turned into something desperate when the thumb was replaced by his firm tongue, pressing down and licking at your swollen bud, again and again. Yunho groaned against you, bucking his hips into the mattress at a stuttering pace. You took notice of his whine, feeling another one while he ground his hips just right against the sheets.

"Please, yuyu, t-that. I..ah."

You've never had any man pay this much attention to you before, let alone find enjoyment in eating you out. You can feel yourself becoming absolutely soaked just under the sensation of his mouth. Your legs quiver and shake, unable to control your movements as you feel yourself tip closer to the edge.

You try to take a deep breath. Feeling yourself already so close has made you feel slightly embarrassed. But as he sunk his long finger inside of your cunt, all the nerves seemingly washed away. Another one slid in easily and "Nh-ah YUNHO!" He curls them upwards, right to the spot that sends a spark of electricity crackling through your core.

He begins a steady rhythm along with his tongue continuously lapping your clit like he was a starved man taking his fill of a goddesses nectar and you're unable to control the noises and pants that fall from your throat. You grip one hand into the sheets as flies to grab the back of your thigh. lifting your leg up further to give him more access. You need more. You craved more. You've never felt this good before, and your being was demanding to be selfish for once.

He added a third finger as if he knew you needed something more. It made your head slam into the pillow behind you, turning to almost shout into the soft cushioning, muffling yourself for your poor neighbours. He works up a good rhythm, finding what buttons to push, succeeding in getting to know what your body wants. Groans from him and other lustfulled sniffles fill the room, as your thighs clamp down around the mob boss's head, keeping him where he is.

He could barely breath as your hips buck against his soaked face. But he couldn't care less. In fact, he would be happy if he died like this. In between the legs of his best girl, his pretty little sunshine. You felt like you were about to explode but the euphoria didn't last long as Yunho used his free hand that had been holding onto your outer thigh to pull your legs apart, holding them in place so he could sit up slightly. "You close, baby? Do you need to cum?"

"Yes!" You answered in a choked whine needing to feel his mouth on you once again.

"Yes, what sunshine?" Normally, he would be one for punishment, and given you kept breaking rules, he was most certainly craving to punish you. But it decided to let it slide this one. He has more than enough time to mould you and shape you into his perfect angel later. But for now, he'll see what type of filth he can draw from you.

"Yes, please, Yunho." Your glossed eyes finally opened for the first time in what felt like years, your tears clouding most of your vision but you could still see the darkness in Yunho's gaze and how his chin was dripping with slick. Your slick.

He drove his fingers deeper, his knuckles brushing your walls as he slammed his digits in a calculated thrusts. Harsh, slow, and powerful. You become louder, needier, and you can’t get your breathing under control. You’re teetering right on the edge. Ready. Right there and then...

He stops.

His glistening face had the cheekiest, wet grin across it like he felt proud of edging you. You on the other hand looked almost shocked panting louding, heart beating in your ears with flush brilliant red cheeks. You lick your lips as you run your hand over your mouth before raking it through your slightly dishevelled hair. Your eyes grew narrow as you stared at the man between your shaking legs. He holds your thighs apart so you can’t clamp them shut to try and stop the intense tingling between, causing you to huff in frustration.

“Don’t need to ruin the fun now, princess,” he inquired as he stood up off the bed, towering over your weak looking frame. The moon light that was pooling in the room caused his shadow to engulf you, covering your body in his darkness. He looked powerful. He looked dangerous. Like the man everyone warned you about. The feared mafia leader of the Destiny clan. He pulls you by your ankles, yanking you until you were sitting on the edge of the bed. His hand gripped the back of your neck gently bringing your face to his so he could kiss you. But you kept your hand over your mouth, your other hand coming to place on his chest, holding him firmly in face with a hidden smirk.

“You are a cruel man.” You gestured to him not letting you finish, but in truth, the word cruel hung in the air like thick tension. Cruel. A word he was sadly used to. But not in this kind of way. It almost delighted him. You felt your heart jump as he raised his brow, coming closer so that he’s only a hair’s breadth away from the back of your hand. His dark eyes roam over your face, taking in every detail.

“Hmm why? You taste so sweet,” He bit his lip, “I want you to have a taste?” He mimics what you asked prior. You swallowed thickly with wide eyes nodding shyly. Slowly, you moved your hand away as he paused for a moment, just to see your flustered face once more. “Cute…”

He dives in, kissing you, lapping at your lips. His teeth nibbling, and his teeth clashing against yours. You could taste the muskiness of yourself on his tongue, the sweetness that lingered. You deepen the kiss, allowing his hand on the back of your neck to hold it still in place, giving up any power to give him everything of your being. Your hands shift to his shirt, catching the hem between your finger tips before tugging at the fabric. He seemed to get the gist as he pulled away for only a mere couple of seconds to pull his shirt off, snatching your lips against his once more.

Your fingers trace his body with your sight, feeling all the bumps of scar tissue and muscle. More proof of his status, of who he really was. But yet you still couldn’t pull yourself away. You’re not sure if you ever will. “Yu..” You huffed against his lips, “Yun I..”

He pulls away, letting his nose rub against yours while his eyes stay tightly sealed, taking in the moment like he was never going to be able to get it again. “What is it, my sunshine.”

“I need you… please.” You voice was barely above a whisper, only you and him being able to ever hear your little plea. His smile. His addicting smile made the butterflies in your tummy swoon. His hand that was firmly on your neck slid down until it found the zipper to your dress, playing with the metal between his digits.

“Can you stand?” He gently asked, waiting for you to nod a small ‘yes’. He helped you stand, the backs of your thighs still tightly against the edge of the bed, as if they were helping you stand. He finally pulled away, letting your eyes wander down his toned, damaged chest. He had tattoos up both arms, one of his right peck and one faintly sticking out on the top of his low slacks. You licked your swollen lips unconsciously as you gawked at him. Yunho on the other hand couldn't help but grin sinisterly at your reaction, delicately grabbing the zipper on your dress, he unzipped it until the straps of your dress loosened and fell from your shoulders.

The fabric pooled at your chest, your arms tightly holding it in place. “I…”

“Are you okay, love?” Your eyes snapped to his deep chocolate ones when he called you ‘love’, feeling your nerves crackling like fireworks. He tilted his head to the slide marginally, his smirk fading to a simple smile but his eyes never dimming their darkness. His hands gripped tightly onto his belt, unlooping it before throwing it somewhere in the room. He had made you watch his every move as he unzipped his slack unhurriedly. He could see the darkness begin to cloud your colourful eyes, your pupils growing large as the fabric fell to the floor, leaving him in his boxers. “Your turn.”

His voice somehow got deeper. His fingers gliding along your goosebumped skin. You took a deep inhale through your nose before letting your dress drop, pooling at your ankles. "Fuck..."

"Yun..." You dont even know why you called his name, but he was immediately on you, his one hand resting on your bare hip while the other effortlessly unhooked your bra in one quick snap, watching your plump breast spring free. He almost bent you in half when he brought his face to your tits, taking a deep breath, smelling your perfume on your sweaty skin. His tongue licked along the valley, groaning as he latched his mouth to your left nipple. "Fuck yuyu, nargh."

Your hands tangled in his hair as you feel back, dragging him with you as you fell on the bed with an 'oof'. He used his strong arms to throw your body upwards until your head hit the pillows, not leaving your breasts alone. He painted every part of skin he could with beautiful purple marks. Neading your chest, tugging on your nipples and wetting every surface. You could lay here and suck your tits for hours if you let him. But he knew you needed more. He needed more. Feel what it's like to be inside you.

"Such perfect tits. A pretty body. Everything about you is perfect sunshine. Hmm. My perfect girl." His praise made you whimper, a tear creeping out the corner of your eyes. You've never had someone say such kind things to you, praised you the way Yunho has been. For a cruel man, he was the kindest person you've ever met.

"Yu..yunho, please. I need you inside me." You whispered, tugging his head up by his hair so his lips were inches from your own. He gave you a small peck before sitting up slightly so he could wrap his legs around his waist, sliding the tip of his cock along your folds.

“Whatever my girl wants, she’ll get.” He sunk inside your soaked cunt inch by inch, bit by bit, until he bottomed you out. He shivered at the feling of your warm walls clenching tightly around him. His eyes squeezing shut and face burring in your neck. He could feel the coil in his gut already tug. he was going to cum any second and he felt embarrassed how quick you’ve made him feel like he had died and gone to heaven. “Fuck sunshine, you feel so nice. You’re pussy is sucking me in ngah.”

“Yunho please move.” You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, grinding upwards onto his public bone, feeling the friction ease the ache only just. It was like a switch went off when Yunho heard your little plea, snapping his hips into yours are such a pace it caused the air to be snatched out of your lungs. If you werent being fucked by the inch of your life you would of felt sorry towards your neightbours as a string of cries, swears and pet names bounced off the thin walls of your bedroom. Yunho drug his nails in the soft flesh of your waist, surely creating deep indents that you’d been flaunting for days to come.

You’ve never felt such a connection to another person before let alone a man. You were brought up with the idea that love didn’t exsit. That it was only a dream that settled in the books you’ve read. But the way Yunho made you feel, the way he made you want to feel. It was like you were in those books you’ve read.. “Yu..Yu I—”

“It okay baby. Let go. I wanna feel you cum around my cock.” He sat up just slightly grabbing both of your wrists he held your hands above your head, lacing his fingers harshly around your appendage. Bending one of your legs over his shoulder, he jackhammered into you at a sped that was just what you needed, feeling his waist grind on your clit, giving you the right amount of simulation to let go. “That’s it, darling.”

Your foggy eyes, riddled with tears, stared up at Yunho’s never leaving his gaze. He watch every detail your face made as you came crashing down from your high. The way you brows cross, you mouth hung only ajar and savlia dripping down your chin. You were the hottest thing he had ever laid eyes on, he was certain. “Fuck, sunshine, can I come inside you. Can I feel this pretty pussy up?”

His eyes begun to flutter closed as he felt a rush of need spill down his spine. You whimpered out a daring ‘yes please’ making him bust his load deep inside you, coaking your walls before some of his cum leaked out around his cock that stilled in you. Clouds daced around you, the softness of air tickling your sweaty flesh. Every nerve in your body was on an all time high and it was all thanks to the dangerous man above you. Yunho had let go of your wrist, kissing each one tendly. You simply lazily watched him, basking in the moment, never wanting it to end.

-♡

[littlelamy]

Could you write a Rafe x reader fic where reader says she wants to spend more time with Rafe, but he gets upsets and says something mean in the heat of the moment. Reader is upset and stops "bothering" him and initially Rafe doesn't realise it, but he figures out you're ignoring him

Maybe with a fluffy HEA ending, but if you want to keep it angsty I'm also all for it (:

hope you like it! ⭐️ it was a quiet friday night when you finally found the courage to bring it up. things with rafe hadn’t been the same for a while. he was always out with friends or buried in work, his phone practically glued to his hand. you could see him drifting further and further away, and it left you feeling like an afterthought. you missed him, missed the little moments when he’d look at you like you were the only person in the world.

so, you decided to say something—softly, carefully—as the two of you sat on the couch with takeout boxes scattered around you.

“hey…baby,” you started, keeping your voice light. “i was thinking… it’d be nice if we could spend a little more time together, you know? just us.”

rafe barely looked up, shoveling food into his mouth. “what’re you talking about?” he mumbled through a bite. “we’re together now, aren’t we?”

you forced a smile. “yeah, but… i mean like actually spending time together. like doing something fun. or even just… talking.”

he let out an irritated sigh, setting his food down with a clatter. “are you serious right now? i’ve got so much shit to deal with, and you’re really gonna start whining about ‘spending time together’? Jesus, can you just not be so goddamn needy for once?”

the words hit you like a punch. you froze, staring at him, trying to process the fact that he’d actually said that. rafe’s face was already turned away, clearly oblivious to the way his words had cut through you.

you felt your throat tighten, but you managed to swallow back the hurt, forcing yourself not to react. the last thing you wanted was to give him more reason to see you as a burden. so, you nodded, blinking down at your food, even though you suddenly couldn’t eat a bite.

“sorry,” you whispered, more to yourself than to him. but rafe didn’t hear, or maybe he just didn’t care enough to ask you to repeat it. he’d already gone back to his phone, acting like the conversation had never even happened.

that night, you made a decision. if rafe wanted space, you’d give him space. you stopped asking him to go out with you, to spend time together, to do any of the little things you used to enjoy. when he came home late, you didn’t wait up. when he sat down on the couch, you found something else to do. if he wanted room, you’d make sure he had more than enough of it.

at first, rafe didn’t seem to notice the change. he thought you were just busy with work or hanging out with friends, maybe that you’d taken his words to heart. it wasn’t until a few days had passed that he started to feel the shift, the strange, nagging quiet in the air whenever you were around.

you were no longer the warm, lively presence you used to be, filling the silence with laughter, stories, and little gestures of affection. instead, you felt distant, almost guarded, your movements careful, like you were tiptoeing around him. you didn’t smile at him the way you used to; you didn’t light up when he came home. you’d become polite, restrained, keeping just enough distance that he felt it even when he didn’t want to.

one night, rafe came home late, expecting to see you in the living room with a book or a show. but the lights were dim, the place eerily silent, and when he checked the bedroom, you were already asleep. he stood there for a moment, feeling an odd pang of emptiness. he brushed it off, but as the days went by, the feeling gnawed at him more and more, leaving him with an ache he couldn’t ignore.

finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. one night, he found you alone in the kitchen, stirring a cup of tea with your gaze far away. he leaned against the counter, crossing his arms as he watched you, his expression unreadable.

“are you avoiding me or something?” he asked, his tone sharper than he’d intended.

you looked up, a flicker of surprise in your eyes before you masked it with a tight smile. “no, i’m not avoiding you, rafe. i just… didn’t want to bother you.”

that word—bother—hit him hard, dredging up the memory of his own callous words. he felt something twist in his chest as he realized what he’d done, how his careless anger had made you feel so small, like you didn’t even deserve to be there.

“fuck,” he muttered, raking a hand through his hair. “look, i’m sorry, alright? i was a complete asshole, princess. i was stressed, and i took it out on you, and i shouldn’t have done that.”

you shrugged, your face guarded, unreadable. “it’s fine. i get it. you’re busy, and i didn’t want to get in your way.”

“Jesus, stop saying that,” he mumbled, stepping closer, his voice softer now, almost pleading. “you’re not in my way. you’re the only person who… who makes all this shit bearable. i just didn’t see it until you started pulling away.”

for a long moment, you said nothing, just staring at him, weighing his words. finally, he took a tentative step forward, reaching for your hand. when you didn’t pull away, he felt a flicker of hope.

“let me make it up to you,” he whispered, his voice rough. “i’ll cancel my plans this weekend. we’ll do whatever you want, i swear. just… give me another chance.”

your gaze softened, and a small, hesitant smile crept onto your lips. “alright. one chance.”

he pulled you into his arms, wrapping you up in a tight embrace, his relief flooding through him. you relaxed into him, and for the first time in days, you felt the warmth return, that aching void in your chest slowly filling up again.

“i’m sorry, baby,” he murmured, his voice low, genuine. “i swear, i’ll never take you for granted again. you mean too fucking much to me.”

you let your head rest on his shoulder, feeling his heartbeat steady beneath you, his arms strong and comforting. and as he held you there, you felt the hurt start to fade, replaced by a quiet, growing hope that maybe, just maybe, things would be different this time.

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