#i wonder what he was thinking of doing when he was telling them he’ll get them out safely was he gonna turn himself in?
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beloveds-embrace · 3 days ago
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what if duchess!reader is kidnapped... just thinking..
I love your thinking 👁️👁️ fyi writing heavy action is not my thing at all as I’ve found out while writing this 💀 CW: sexual assault (not rape)
Dukedom au masterlist
The day had started like any other. You’d awoken to the soft, warm light filtering through the curtains, greeted by the warmth of your bed and the quiet hum of the household waking up around you. You were the only one still in bed; Johnny and Simon wake up the earliest every day, then Kyle, then John, and you deduce that you must’ve not had much to do on your agenda if they had let you sleep in.
Your heart sighed, happy. They cared for you so much, you adored them.
Everything was normal from then on. You showered and dressed, had breakfast with Johnny and Kyle, got stolen kisses from Simon and John.
Everything was normal.
Safe.
Until it wasn’t.
The memory of how it all happened is fragmented- too fast, too sudden. You’d gone to the gardens for a stroll, accompanied by one maid and a single guard, a routine walk to clear your mind, get some fresh air in such nice weather. But the ambush was swift. Shadows that hadn’t been there before moved, voices hissed sharp commands, and then- pain. A sharp, stinging pain at the back of your head before everything went dark.
When you awoke, you were bound. Cold stone walls and floors surrounded you, damp and suffocating, the air stale with the scent of decay. The faint flicker of candlelight illuminated the room, but no one was there at first. You couldn’t even tell how long you had been out. Fear threatened to choke you, but you forced yourself to breathe. To think.
John, Simon, Kyle, Johnny- they’ll save you. They will. That thought kept you from truly panicking, even if your heart thundered against your chest and your body trembled, tears in the corners of your eyes.
The news hit John like a thunderclap. His ears rang, and he almost didn’t believe the words at first.
“She’s gone,” Kyle reported, his usually calm demeanor shattered. His fists were clenched, slammed on John’s desk, and his voice shook despite his best efforts to remain steady. “The guards- dead. The maid survived, but barely. It was an ambush. Everyone is tightening up the security right now, but- they’ve taken her.”
John didn’t stop to ask questions. Orders were barked, search parties sent out, guards work at hard. Simon was already armored and saddling his horse before John had even finished speaking. Johnny abandoned his kitchen entirely, storming out with sleeves rolled up, his eyes sharp and lethal in a way no one had ever seen before. And Kyle was barely holding himself together in his anger, but there was a fire burning behind his eyes that promised hell for whoever dared lay a hand on you.
None of them stopped to think. None of them cared about anything other than getting you back.
You weren’t sure how long you’d been there, cold and the ropes digging into your skin painfully when the door creaked open.
The man who entered reeked of sweat and desperation, and his grin made your stomach churn. It took strength not to gag as he neared you, grimy fingers grabbing your chin roughly. “The Duke will pay handsomely for you,” he sneered. “And if he doesn’t… well, I’m sure we can find other uses for you.”
The smirk that (dis)graced his face then alarmed you, even more so when he reached to rip off the fabric of your dress, around your collar.
You flinchd, terror clawing at your throat. The tears rolled down your cheeks then, and yet he only laughed, his rancid breath wafting over your face.
“Wonder how much he’ll pay for you, eh?” He mused. “Pretty face and probably a pretty cunt too, don’t think the Duke will let ya go that easily.”
You forced yourself to speak calmly, even if your voice trembled. Shame clawed at you, at his words and the way he talked about you. “You won’t get a single coin from him,” you said, steadier than you felt. “He’s a man who doesn’t bargain with scum.”
The chair you’d been tied to groaned as you threw your weight sideways suddenly, toppling it over and surprising him just long enough for you to maybe- just- knock him out, something to get his hands off you-
But you didn’t have to.
Because then, there was shouting. The door burst open, and the first thing you saw was Simon’s familiar, towering frame filling the entrance. Blood smeared his armor, and his eyes through his mask- normally sharp and calculating- were wild with rage.
“Don’t you fucking touch her.”
The sounds of swords clanging rang out from outside, and your captor crumpled to the ground before he could even react and you were so glad it was too dark for you to see his blood coating Simon’s sword; the smell alone had you gagging. Though it was forgotten as Simon rushed to cradle you.
Then they were there- all of them. John’s hands shook with rage as he knelt beside you, pulling at your bindings with urgency. Kyle hovered just behind him, dagger stained, and Johnny was at your other side, pressing his hands to your face, whispering reassurances even as his voice wavered.
“You’re safe, love. We’ve got you. We’ve got you.”
The ride back home was quiet, save for your stressed weeping. They didn’t ask questions- not yet. Instead, they focused on keeping you warm, wrapped in John’s coat as Kyle’s arms held you steady in the carriage. Johnny never stopped touching you, even if it was just to brush his fingers against your hand.
They did not stop your tears; they let you sob it all out, as much as possible. The fear, the panic, everything, and you simply clung to them.
It was only once you were home, surrounded by the familiarity of your rooms and you were calmer, that the questions came.
“Are you hurt, my love?” John asked first, his voice gentle but commanding. “Did they…” He couldn’t even finish the question, his throat tightening.
“No,” you said quickly, voice hoarse, reaching for his hand. “They didn’t. I swear it.”
Relief flooded his face, but it was fleeting. Kyle had already left to prepare a bath, and Simon stood by the door like a sentry. Johnny sat at your feet, eyes locked on yours.
“Ye need to eat,” he suddenly said, as if being reminded. His face softened when he caught the way your lips twisted. “I ken ye probably have no appetite, but ye gotta hold something down, lass.”
They didn’t leave you alone that night. Not even for a moment, and they were the ones to help you shower and dress. They held you close, touches gentle, soothing. Simon’s dogs were there, as well, napping by the fireplace.
And when you woke up in the middle of the night, trembling from the remnants of fear, it was Simon’s voice that soothed you.
“You’re safe, darling,” he whispered against your hair, arms wound around you like a cocoon of safety and security. “No one will ever touch you again.”
You believed him. You did. And yet- you still clung to him, to all of them, desperate for any touch that would remind you where you are.
And they were all too willing to soothe your fears (they needed it as much as you did, anyways).
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yuwuta · 1 day ago
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YOU AND I TOGETHER, WON’T YOU HOLD ON TO ME — YUUTA OKKOTSU
cw mentions of children, pregnancy. so much of yuuta being happy and sappy :(( sorry i haven’t shutup about my little depressed lovesick boy making it out and living a full life. probably won’t anytime soon actually. satoru is alive and well in all my renditions of happily ever after and that won’t change either i fear  
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Yuuta talks about the future often. A future with you, and him, and your friends, and a family where you’re all together forever and he gets to love you until the end of time. 
Sometimes, you think he doesn’t realize what he’s doing—dreaming about forever with you; but you can never find it in your heart to break his illusion. The boy who used to dread his next waking moment is dreaming and dreaming and dreaming, and making all of yours come true. 
It’s quiet in this part of the Gojo compound. The gentle sounds of a stream running through the garden, and chirping of birds are the only noises that disrupt your daydreams. 
Or, perhaps, fuel them. 
“I hope our kids aren’t afraid of birds,” Yuuta muses, wide eyes looking past your face up to the tall trees, full of happily singing bluebirds, “There’s so many of them here.” 
You’re gentle when you stroke his hair, taking advantage of his head in your lap to pull the longer pieces out of his eyes. 
Your smile is giddy, unfiltered. “Kids? Plural?” 
Yuuta hums with smile. His eyes remain on the sky, chasing a pair of birds that flitter between long branches. 
“Yeah. At least two, so they don’t get lonely,” he says, “They’ll have us, and their cousins, and sensei, and our friends, but they’re going to need each other at home.”
Yuuta lets his eyes fall to you at the end of his sentence, a sparkling smile on his scarred lips. 
“I see,” you smile, “At least two so they can be friends.” 
“Best friends,” he revises your statement, “So they can train together, too, if they want to be sorcerers. Or not. It’s fine, either way.” He blinks, eyes warm, “I hear that four is the happy medium for a family, but I think three is going to be easier inheritance wise, if sensei is serious about making me clan head someday.” 
“Is that so?” 
“Yeah, but if a fourth comes along, I’m sure we’ll figure it out.” 
“I’m sure sensei will have made more than enough money for them by then.” 
Yuuta giggles, earnestly in your arms at that. “Of course he will.” 
You pause for a moment, committing his laugh to memory. His features flush slightly under your gaze, and you lean down to kiss his scarred forehead. You let your hands resume petting his hair, following in his gaze to look up at the birds. 
“Tell me more about them.” 
Yuuta doesn’t waste a moment, closing his eyes; letting you paint the picture in the sky for yourself as he talks. 
“The gap between the oldest and youngest is six or seven years. I think five might be enough, though. So, that means our middle one is about three when our littlest comes along.” 
“Unless a fourth happens.” 
Yuuta hums in agreement. “Unless a fourth happens. But we’ll have time.” 
You’ll have time, you nod. You have time now, you and him; all the time in the world. 
“A three year old and newborn sounds like a lot of work.” 
“Maybe. But we’ll also have a seven year old. He’s going to want to help with the baby, so we’ll have an extra hand,” Yuuta says, “And that’s not even counting sensei and the rest.” 
“He?”
“I think he’ll be a boy, the oldest. He might look like me, but he’ll act like you, so he’s going to be Kugisaki’s favorite.”
You find yourself choking out a genuine cackle at that. When you look down, Yuuta’s got a smile wider than yours. 
“He sounds wonderful. Like his father,” you confess, “But the idea of pregnancy thrice in a seven year span sounds exhausting.” 
“We can use surrogates. Or adopt. Or whatever,” Yuuta tells you, “Gojo-sensei will help us figure it out if we need help.” 
You have no doubt about that. And now, when you look back up to the sky, you can see vignettes of Gojo-sensei with your your seven year old on his shoulders, your middle child on his hip, and the baby gnawing at his legs. 
And then Yuuji is skipping into the scene, cooing at the youngest, picking him up and consoling him effortlessly. He carries the baby over to a crib with another crying newborn that looks eerily like Megumi, whose green eyes go wide at the stranger, then smile gummy as both babies reach for each other. 
Maki is there too, tapping your eldest on the shoulder with her staff and pretending not to have done it. Nobara holds up a shirt to the middle child, brassy in questioning Gojo why she told her that the baby would fit in this size that’s obviously too big, meanwhile the toddler ignores them both, fascinated with the marks on Toge’s cheeks as he plays peek-a-boo. 
It’s not hard to imagine. The scenes in your head aren’t wild fantasies or unattainable dreams—not anymore. 
“You want a big family.” 
Yuuta nods, reaching for your hand and pulling it away from his hair, and to his lips. “We have the resources for it now. Not just financially—we have time, and lots of friends, and lots of love.” 
Yuuta presses a kiss to the back of your hand, and you smile. He’s right, there’s more than enough love to go around. 
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im-so-normal-iswear · 3 days ago
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Hi.... can I ask for a shadow x reader who is afraid of them
A/n: this was a bit rushed.
Shadow x Reader Who Is Afraid of Him
When you first met Shadow, his presence was overwhelmingly intimidating. Its just everything he has going on. And honestly, you aren't entirely wrong to be scared of him.
Shadow isn’t oblivious to your fear. the way you distance yourself, voice dropping to a mutter when around him, etc. all of it is painfully obvious to him. At first, he’s indifferent. Your fear doesn’t bother him, he’s used to it. Most people fear him, so your reaction isn’t new.
Though, it comes to a point it starts to irritate him. When he approaches, you flinch. When he speaks, you stiffen. Even when he’s doing something as mundane as sitting quietly, you seem on edge. This begins to bother him in ways he doesn’t fully understand.
Shadow isn’t the type to openly comfort anyone, but he starts making subtle changes to his behavior around you. He softens his tone when speaking to you, ensuring his words aren’t as sharp. Approaches you more slowly, giving you time to adjust to his presence. If he notices you startle when he moves too quickly, he’ll try to keep his movements deliberate and less abrupt.
Despite his efforts, Shadow finds it difficult to change who he is. He’s naturally intense, and suppressing his instincts is frustrating for him.
He often wonders why he’s going to such lengths to make you comfortable. The realization that he cares about your opinion (about how you see him) unnerves him. It’s not something he’s used to.
Shadow begins observing you more closely, trying to figure out why you’re so afraid of him. I mean, hes supposedly fixed (to the best of his ability) everything that freaked you out about him. Why were you still scared?
He watches how you interact with others, noting the ease with which you speak to them, and comparing it to the guarded way you act around him.
He doesn’t understand why you treat him differently. Are you afraid of his power? His reputation? Or is it something deeper?
Though he has innocent intentions, you do notice him kind of stalking you, which does NOT help with your fears.
One day, Shadow decides he’s had enough of your fear and confronts you about it. His approach is… not gentle. "Why are you so afraid of me?" he asks, his tone as direct and intense as ever.
Your immediate reaction is panic, which only frustrates him further. He doesn’t mean to scare you, but his impatience gets the better of him. When he realizes he’s only made things worse, he backs off.
If anyone else notices your fear of Shadow and tries to tease you about it, Shadow shuts them down immediately.
He doesn’t care what others think of him, but the idea of someone making your fear worse infuriates him. He’s quick to silence anyone who dares to make you uncomfortable.
If you do start getting more comfortable around hin, hes secretly happy, nit tgat he will tell you, or show it at all. Hes still just look like hes silently brroding like usual. But is happy about it though regardless.
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sleepyparalysisdmon · 3 days ago
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SVT doing your makeup
Requested? Yes!
Request: ‘i love all your svt reactions!! could i request a fun one where svt gets asked to put makeup on their partner? who do you think would take it seriously and do extremely well? who wouldnt even know what half of the items are? i think the members would also find it fun to do hahahah’
Cannot help but do badly - Seungcheol, Jun, Woozi, Vernon
He really does his best when you ask, but he would prefer not to wear much for himself, so he’s not particularly skilled. You can tell that he’s not happy with anything that he does because he’s grimacing, particularly when he gets to the eye makeup, where the finer details matter. But he’d never turn down the opportunity to do something with you, even if he’s totally deflated when he’s done. He’ll sigh deeply and apologize while handing you the mirror. It’s… not great. But it’s cute that he tried. He can’t wait to help you clean it off, though, ready with the makeup remover and face wash. 
Purposefully makes you look like a clown - Jeonghan, DK, Chan
You feel like things are going well until he spends way too much time on the blush. Then you get a glimpse of the colors that he uses on your eyes, and you kind of wonder why you even have them because they don’t compliment you in the least. He’ll slyly grin when he announces that he’s done, presenting you with a mirror. Will absolutely snap a picture before you can stop him, giving you a big smooch on your lips that are painted in a color that does not work for you. When you glare and tell him you regret asking for this, he’ll relent, helping you clean it all off. I’m so sorry; he’ll never delete that picture. He has backups of it. 
Really tries and does decently - Hoshi, Wonwoo, Seungkwan
The epitome of focus. Picture them being inches from your face for the little details, tongue poking out in concentration. Then, he’ll pull back to look at his work and go back to perfect it. He gets the concept of all of the products and figures out how to use them relatively quickly. Does a little bit at a time to not overdo it. He agreed to this because he likes being close to you and spending time with you. But if you look pleasantly surprised by how great he did, he’ll scoff and say that he can’t believe you doubted him. 
Better at it than you could ever be - Joshua, Mingyu, Minghao
Are you kidding? You don’t do your own makeup half the time, anyway. If you grumble about doing it when you guys are getting ready to go out, he’ll sit you on the counter and do it for you from start to finish. If your eye makeup isn’t blending just right or your eyeliner is uneven, he simply takes the brush or the pen from you to help you with it. He does it with such a quick and careful precision that puts your own skills to shame. And throughout the day, if he notices something is smudged, he’ll delicately fix it for you. (As someone who loves the look of makeup but hates putting it on, this would be a dream.)
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ao3-rex1223 · 1 day ago
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𝐓𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐖𝐢𝐬𝐝𝐨𝐦 𝐈𝐕
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Pairing: DBF!Leon x Fem!Reader
Tags: vaginal sex, creampie, breeding kink, cunnilingus,
Summary: Leon is called away to a mission in Spain before Christmas and you wait anxiously to see if he'll make it home in time.
“I’m going to try my hardest to finish in the next couple days,” Leon reassures you over the phone. He’s been away for two weeks on a mission in Spain since a rogue military faction started snooping around for remnants of Las Plagas. You pace Leon’s living room; ever since you two got together, you spend a lot of time waiting at his place. You tell your parents your ‘house sitting’ since they still don’t know you’re secretly dating him, though sometimes you wonder if your father at least suspects and isn’t saying anything. He never questions what you’re doing anymore. As soon as you say you’re going to Leon’s, he simply smiles and nods, never pressing you for further details. 
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You flop onto his bed, twirling your hair in your fingers. “Think you’ll be home by Christmas?” you ask, hope rampant in your tone, the holiday only one week away. Your eyes glance around the bedroom you share with him more often than not, lingering on photos of you two placed in simple frames all over. You smile to yourself, feeling the warmth from the happy memories. 
“I wanna be there. I’ll do everything I can, baby.” 
“I’ll make sure your house is nice and Christmas-y for when you get home,” you promise, already envisioning so many decorations, it’ll be like Christmas threw up all over his house!  
I’m sure you will, sweetheart,” Leon replies with a chuckle. 
You hear gunshots ringing in the background, causing your heart to race wildly. “Leon!” you choke out, plagued with worry.
“I better go, baby girl,” Leon says suddenly. You can hear rustling, like he’s moving quickly. “Love you.”
“I love you, too, Leon. Please be careful!” you cry, tears pooling in your eyes. The line goes dead and, as always, you never know if it’s because he hung up or something awful happened. You won’t know until he calls again. It could be hours… It could be days. You take a deep breath and sigh, hands trembling as they hold your phone, eyes staring at the screen with Leon’s image and contact information still displayed. “Just come home,” you whisper to that digital picture. 
In an effort to distract yourself, you make a trip to the local hobby store to find some decorations for Leon’s house. Your mood lifts slightly as you wander the store, picking out every tantalizing Christmas decoration you see, filling the large shopping cart full before you’re even half way through the store. You glance down at your haul so far; reindeer, Santas, porcelain houses, lights, fake snow, candles, garland, nutcrackers, bows, stockings, ornaments, even a few gnomes dressed in holiday garb. You return your gaze to the aisles ahead…and then…in the distance, you spot an eight foot tall synthetic tree, decked out in colorful LED lights and your eyes shine like a small child padding down the stairs on Christmas morning to see all the presents that good old Saint Nick left for them. Beaming, you rush to the nearest employee and ask - no, beg - them to help you get one of those magnificent trees. The twenty something year old worker clearly suppresses an eye roll - not that you’ll let it get to you - and tells you he’ll ‘check the back’. After a few minutes, he returns and tells you there are no more of the trees you wanted in stock. “The closest we have in stock is a nine-footer,” he explains, his tone detached and apathetic, as though he'd explained the lack of stock a dozen times already today and couldn't muster any more effort.
Unwilling to let this Grinch steal your cheerful attitude, you gleefully exclaim, “Oh! I’ll take the nine-foot one, then!” You practically jump up and down. 
“Great,” the worker replies, coldly and turns on his heel, heading back to the stockroom. You bob your head and sing softly along with the Christmas music playing overhead. Finally, the worker returns with a flatbed carrying your beautiful tree. 
After struggling to get it into your car, eventually you strap it to the top and carefully drive back to Leon’s place with your massive purchase of holiday decorations. You link your phone to the stereo in his living room and start playing more Christmas music, along with which you are all too happy to sing. You immediately start putting up the nine foot tree. With tender, loving care, you add lights, ornaments, and tinsel. You string more lights along the mantle of his fireplace and garland on the banisters. The small statuettes you bought find places on his coffee table and end tables. 
Throughout the afternoon, you’re constantly checking your phone to see if Leon has called or at least texted. Nothing. You know he must be pinned down somewhere. He will always let you know he’s okay when he can. You clasp your hands together in a silent prayer for his safety. 
Meanwhile…
Leon forces himself to breathe quietly as militia men scour the decaying laboratory - the one that used to belong to Luis. He stays hidden behind a cabinet, clutching his handcannon in position to fire if needed, but he’s hoping to avoid a direct confrontation, not that it wouldn’t be the first time he’s faced down a hoard of enemies…and it wouldn’t be the first time in this location, either. Flashbacks from that day he came here to rescue Ashley Graham back in 2004 fill his mind. That was long before he met you, before you changed his whole goddamn life. Christ, he misses you. He misses the warmth of your body pressed against his; he misses your smile; he misses your laugh, your kisses, your warm, wet mouth around his-
“Hey! Check over there!” one of the men commands, pulling Leon from his reverie. Fuck, he thinks to himself as he hears heavy boots approaching his hiding spot. He cocks the powerful magnum, ready for a fight. Some big burly motherfucker pokes his ugly head around the corner of Leon’s hiding spot. He growls, bearing his sickly teeth which are quickly blown to pieces by the bullet fired from Leon’s weapon. Shit, can’t catch a break. Guess we’re doin’ this, Leon realizes. He pushes the large man’s limp body away and gets into position, ready to take out anyone else who dares come his way. Nothing, absolutely nothing, will keep him from returning to his girl. 
Back at Leon’s place, you decide to bake some cookies, hoping to have a nice treat for him when he gets back, as if you didn’t practically buy out the store’s entire stock of Christmas decorations. You inhale the warm, homey smell of the delicious dessert, soothing your weary heart, which still worries for Leon’s safety. You take a deep, centering breath, reminding yourself to trust in Leon’s abilities. 
Two days before Christmas, you finally hear from him. “Hey, baby girl. I'm coming home!”
You shriek with joy, jumping up and down in his living room. You spend the day meticulously cleaning the place, making sure it's perfect. 
And on Christmas Eve, near midnight, The door opens, his face marred by fatigue and restless nights, but still handsome as ever. The soft glow of the fireplace illuminates his features in a warm hue. “Baby…” he whispers, his voice barely loud enough to hear. Tears pool in your eyes, your nose tingling as emotion overwhelms you. You rush toward him and throw yourself into his embrace. 
Just like that, with the love of his life in his arms again, Leon feels whole once more. He crushes you against him, soaking in your warmth, soothing his aching soul. He buries his face in your neck, taking in your unique scent. It reminds him why he fights, why he continues to battle the evils of the world, because, as bad as things are, if he can make it a little better for you, it’s worth the pain and effort. For a while, you simply hold each other, the crackling of the fireplace and the quiet whispers of the cold winds outside the only soundtrack for your heartfelt reunion. When you finally part, he gently cups your face and presses his mouth to yours in a tender and passionate kiss. The softness of your lips is a balm for his wary heart. Your tongues slide together in perfect synchrony, a dance of love and devotion. 
You finally break for air, gazing with longing into each other's eyes. “I missed you so much, sweetheart,” Leon coos, his voice cracking slightly from the weight of all his emotions. 
“I missed you too, Leon,” you reply, pressing a delicate kiss to his nose. 
He smiles, his tense muscles finally relaxing after the long and grueling mission. “Hey,” he begins, his voice smooth like butter again, “got something for you…” He bends down to pick up a box with a bunch of holes in it. You look with curiosity at it, certain you hear it…whimpering? A giant red bow adorns the top. He holds the bottom while you lift the lid. Inside is a small, fluffy white puppy, looking up at you with innocent, golden eyes. It yawns, inadvertently showing off its sharp little teeth. Adorably ferocious, you think to yourself. 
“Leon…it’s…” You try to speak, but feel too choked up. Your hands carefully reach in to pick up the helpless ball of fur. Holding it in your arms, it sniffs you cautiously before licking your face, drawing out a genuine, joyful grin from your lips. 
“You remember me telling you about that dog that helped me out all those years ago?” Leon asks. After you nod in affirmation, gently scratching your new friend’s furry cheeks, he continues, “I found him again. Had a litter of pups around. This one was the runt; he wouldn’t do well on his own in the wild, so I brought him home. Thought he could keep you company while I’m away. Merry Christmas, baby.”
Tears fall down your face at the thoughtful gift. “Oh Leon! I love him!” you exclaim, kissing him deeply once again, your soft pup nestled between the two of you. 
After settling the pup - who you decide to name Buddy - into his new home, you and Leon share a bottle of champagne to celebrate his safe return. You clink your crystal glasses and snuggle together on the couch while Buddy snores softly, fast asleep on the recliner. 
Hearts yearning to share the most intimate of connections, Leon lifts you into his arms, bridal style, and carries you to the bedroom, the champagne glasses long since drained of their titular contents. He lays you on the bed with infinite gentleness and crawls over the top of you. He kisses your lips then peppers kisses all along your cheeks and jaw. He pecks a few more just below your ear before whispering, “I love you so much baby. More than anything. I fucking need you.”
You moan softly, cunt getting slippery with your essence, arousal growing, unobstructed. “Leon…I need you, too. I love you!” Tears pool in your eyes again as your feelings for him overwhelm you, yet again. 
He hums his approval at your response, hand gently lifting your shirt, grazing your perfect breasts as he removes it entirely. He growls hungrily as his eyes take in the plush mounds. “Missed these two, as well,” he adds with a smirk and kisses both breasts before taking one hardened bud into his mouth. 
Your teeth take your lower lip between them, biting gently as pleasure begins to fill you, originating from the gentle nibbles on your tits. You can feel his cock hardening, throbbing against your thigh through his pants. He sucks on the fat of your breasts, definitely intending to leave hickies there. Your hands reach down to tug at his shirt. His mouth releases you for mere seconds, long enough to whip his shirt off and throw it across the room. He continues to kiss his way down your taught stomach. His hands grab the waistband of your sweatpants and panties, pulling them down and off, effortlessly. “My Christmas feast…” Leon growls and pushes your legs apart. His thumbs part your wet folds and he looks hungrily at your glistening, pink sex. He licks his lips before diving in, hot, open mouthed kisses claiming your neglected pussy. Your hips roll in time with his expert licks, angling your clit toward his tongue. He closes his lips around your sensitive bundle of nerves, sucking on it like it’s a rare delicacy. Your abs tighten as your body begins to respond on its own, your back arching hard and your head digging into the bed. Your hands death grip the sheets, nails nearly cutting through the fabric, a mind numbing climax imminent. 
“Leon! I’m cumming! Fuck! I’m cumming!” you cry out, the pleasure worth the wait you had to endure while he was gone. Orgasm ripping through you, he pins you in place with his strong arms while he continues to lick you though your waves of euphoria. As you pant, gasping for air, he kicks off his pants and gives his aching dick a few strokes, precum leaking from the tip. He pushes your legs apart again, which practically fall open whenever he looks at them. 
“Can’t wait to be inside you again, sweetheart. Not at home until I feel your perfect cunt wrapped around my shaft,” He guides his throbbing cock toward your willing entrance, notching the tip past your eager barrier. He drops onto his hands above you, arms caging you in as he slides further inside, the familiar sensation of his thick length filling your tight channel and kissing the entrance to your womb like a warm embrace, a feeling of completeness. “Fuck…you’re so goddamn tight, baby girl. Never gonna get tired of this,” Leon purrs. His mouth connects with yours once more, pouring all of his pent up love and passion into the heated kiss. With tender thrusts, he begins to move inside you. Your eyes roll back in your head as his cock rubs your g-spot, teasingly slow. You moan and whimper, begging for more with incoherent babbles. “Yeah, baby girl. You want more? Want me to put a baby in you, honey?” His mouth returns to your neck, licking and sucking, his own arousal and need growing beyond his control. 
His words make you arch into him even more, the thought of him impregnating you is once again a potent aphrodisiac. “Yes! Please! God, I want it so bad!”
He groans at your impassioned affirmation. He begins snapping his hips forward hard, your tantalizing breasts jiggling with each movement. He withdraws nearly completely out before slamming back inside you again, driven by primal instinct, an innate desire - no, a need - to breed you, to watch your belly swell with his child, to claim you in every way imaginable. He laces your fingers together, pressing them gently into the mattress. His rhythm is frenzied and irregular as he begins chasing his own high. As you cum a second time, you tense, hard, then cry out as your walls collapse on his dick, sucking him in deeper. With a guttural, rough moan, Leon thrusts into you one final time, filling you with his hot, sticky seed. For a long time, he simply remains buried inside you, unwilling to sever the connection just yet. He pulls you with him as he rolls off of you, deciding to keep himself warm inside your delicious heat for the night. “Need you to cockwarm me, baby girl. Been too damn long.”
Your pussy quivers weakly as the last remnants of your orgasm trickle out of you. “Always, Leon. Merry Christmas, baby,” you coo softly, running your fingers tenderly through his hair. 
He closes his eyes as you caress his scalp and rub it gently. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” he replies, wrapping his arms tightly around you, pulling you close as he begins drifting off to sleep, comfortable and happy for the first time since he left for the mission to Spain. 
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Text
Merry Kissmas, Day 24—Christmas Eve
Arthur is pretty sure now. The events of the last three days have been enlightening.
Merlin feels it too.
He wanted nothing more than to tell Merlin that it was okay, that he had nothing to be sorry for, that Arthur wanted the second kiss too. And a third and a fourth and—
He heaves a sigh as he stands in his kitchen on Christmas Eve morning, waiting for his coffee to brew. There is no work today, but he’s going to Morgana’s Christmas Eve party tonight, which will be in the office, and Merlin will be there.
He didn’t get a chance to tell Merlin anything yesterday. It seemed far too private to say in front of anyone else, and he worried Merlin would be too afraid to meet him in his office again. He considered texting and that was how he realized he didn’t know what to say. Well. He knew what to say, but every way he could think to say it sounded weirdly pathetic. Then he started to doubt if it was the right thing to do at all.
Maybe this is just what it's like when you kiss someone every single day for twenty-three days. Maybe he would have fallen in love with anyone if he did this with them. He certainly didn’t expect to fall in love with Merlin of all people.
This is the doubt he’s been wrestling with, but somehow he knows it’s not true. Somehow he knows this is real.
He knows because of how he always looks forward to Merlin’s kiss. How he always finds himself smiling when he thinks about Merlin, which he does a lot now. The warmth that spreads through him whenever he looks at Merlin, his tousled hair, his ears, the line of his neck, his dirty shoes that are completely inappropriate for an office setting.
He supposes he’s always been a little bit in love with Merlin. But this past month has really brought it to his attention.
At a loss for what else to do, Arthur calls Morgana.
“Hey, Morgana,” he greets, “I was just wondering... is Merlin coming to your party tonight?”
“Yes, as far as I know,” she answers.
“So he hasn’t told you that he won’t be coming after all?”
“Why, is there some reason you don’t want him to come?”
“No, I want him to come. I really want him to come.”
“Is there some reason you think he won’t?” When he doesn’t respond, she continues, “Why don’t you ask him?”
“Er....”
Morgana sighs. “Does this have anything to do with the weird game you two have been playing?”
“How do you know about that?
“Gwen.”
“She told you?”
“I have a right to know when you’re making a fool of yourself.”
“I should never have done any of that stuff in front of her.”
“Oh, she told me about the ones you didn’t do in front of her.”
“Ugh. Merlin. Is there no such thing as privacy?”
“So what’s the problem? Have you fallen in love?”
Arthur is silent.
“Oh my god, you have. Oh, Arthur,” and a hint of humanity slides into her voice, underneath a thousand layers of irony and condescension. “What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know what to do.”
“Oh, that’s why you called, you want advice.”
“No, no I don’t want your advice.”
“My advice is simple: follow your heart. Do what it is that you want to do.”
“That’s your advice? Why?”
“Because, I’m pretty sure Merlin wants you as much as you want him and I want him to be happy.”
“You really think that?”
“Yes. For some reason, he really likes you. God only knows why.”
“Thanks, Morgana,” Arthur says, then his sincerity runs dry. “I still think this is a trap.”
She laughs.
He hangs up.
In his own shitty flat that gets shittier the longer he stays at Arthur’s flat, Merlin is also thinking about the last three days and dreading the party tonight. The difference is, he’s still thinking about it in terms of the game. There’s no way he can win, and he doesn’t want to anyway. He thinks a tie would be the most preferable outcome, but at this point, it doesn’t really matter.
Except that Arthur will be insufferable if he wins. And he’ll remind Merlin about it at every opportunity, driving the knife deeper each time. But still, he can’t seem to bring himself to care.
Let him kiss me , he thinks, brooding into his morning tea. I want him to kiss me .
He spends the day dreaming about what it will be like and planning his reaction to it. He has every intention of kissing Arthur back. He’s done that several times and nothing has come of it.
As he’s sitting there, spiraling inside his own mind, he gets a phone call from Gwen and immediately answers it, desperate for anything. “Hello.”
“Hi, Merlin, are you busy?”
“No.”
“Would you like something to do?”
“Yes, please. God, yes.”
“Wow. Okay. I’m helping Morgana decorate for the party tonight and we could use an extra set of hands. And someone taller.”
“I’ll be right there.” He hangs up, leaps off of his chair, and gets ready in minutes flat. He already has his outfit picked out: black jeans that he thinks make his arse look good and an “ugly” Lord of the Rings Christmas jumper with all four hobbits on it.
“That was fast,” Gwen greets him at the door. She’s wearing a red velvet off-the-shoulder dress with her hair pulled back at the nape of her neck except for a couple ringlets that frame her face.
“You look amazing,” Merlin says, taking her in.
“Thank you.” She looks down. “I like your jumper.”
“Thanks.” They hug, and her embrace fills him with a sense that maybe everything will be okay.
“We’re in here.” She leads him further into the building where the party will take place, in the employee break room on the first floor and the wide open space in front of it. It’s a mirror of the second floor where Merlin works and he can’t help but look at and notice all the places that look like the places where he and Arthur have kissed. The front door. The desk that looks just like his. The boss’s office to the side. The table. Against the wall. He tingles at the memories and it makes his heart hurt.
“Lance!” Merlin cries when he sees Gwen’s boyfriend helping Morgana with decorations.
“Merlin!” Lance cries, then comes over and gives Merlin a hug.
“Long time no see,” Merlin grins.
“Yes, too long.”
“Hi, Merlin,” greets Morgana, who is stunning as usual in a green dress, her glossy black hair cascading over one shoulder. She wraps her arms around him and he feels blessed by her presence.
“Wait, I thought you said you needed someone tall,” Merlin says to Gwen, glancing at Lance who is roughly the same height as Merlin.
“We could use two tall people,” she says.
“I can give you a boost and you can help me with these,” Lance says, holding up some artificial mistletoe sprigs.
Merlin looks annoyed at Gwen. “Seriously?”
“Sorry,” she winces.
Merlin shakes his head and turns to help Lance. After Lance gives him a boost and he hangs the mistletoe, he slides down in his arms and they’re left standing together underneath it, looking into each other’s eyes. Merlin blushes, then lets go of Lance, pulls away, grabs Gwen, and throws her into Lance’s arms.
“Hi,” she blinks, grabbing his shoulders.
“Hi,” he smiles, looking at her with the most loving expression.
Merlin watches as they kiss, his smile fading after a moment, wishing he could have the same thing with Arthur.
He feels Morgana’s hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, Merlin. I have a good feeling about tonight.”
“Oh yeah? What do you know about it?”
“I know.” And there is a strange twinkle in her eye that gives him an unfathomable sense of hope.
Arthur always arrives fashionably late to Morgana’s Christmas Eve party, but tonight he finds himself impatient and eager to get there, so, after delaying his arrival as long as he can stand, he shows up less than an hour after it ostensibly started.
It appears to be in full swing; there are many people there, most of whom he knows, but there’s really only one person he wants to see.
“Hello, dear brother,” Morgana greets in her sarcastically sweet tone, coming at him from the left and putting her arm around him, a glass of what is probably champagne in her other hand.
“Hello, Morgana,” he sighs, slipping his arm around her waist halfheartedly.
“Merlin’s over there.” She points with her glass and Arthur sees Merlin’s dark hair just poking out above the heads of some other people whose faces he tunes out as he hones in on Merlin.
His palms sweat and his breathing is shallow as he makes his way into the breakroom where Merlin is standing beside a spread of Christmas desserts and, to Arthur’s dismay, is talking to Gwaine, looking very excited to be doing so.
Merlin turns when Arthur comes close and immediately looks annoyed. “Oh, of course you’re wearing a Lord of the Rings jumper. And of course it’s that one.”
Arthur looks down at Merlin’s chest and notices he is also wearing a Lord of the Rings jumper. “What’s wrong with this?” he asks, indicating his own jumper, with the White Tree of Gondor on it.
“You’re wearing that because you fancy yourself Aragorn.”
“And you fancy yourself Frodo.”
“Frodo is the main character.”
“And Aragorn is the rightful king of Gondor.”
They stare at each other in hostility for a moment, before Merlin breaks it with a smile, and Arthur has to smile back. “It is a pretty cool jumper.”
“Thanks. I like yours too.”
“Thanks. Would you like something to drink?”
“Yes, please.”
“Hi, Arthur,” says Gwaine as Merlin turns to fill a champagne flute for Arthur.
“Oh. Hi, Gwaine.”
“Looking forward to tonight?”
“Yeah, it should be fun.”
“I’ll meet you under the mistletoe.” He winks.
“No, you won’t.”
“I’m sure someone will.”
Just then, Merlin hands him his champagne. “Morgana always has the best drinks,” Merlin says. “She has some new purple... punch or something over there.”
“What’s in it?” Arthur asks.
“I dunno.”
“Is it good?”
“I dunno, is it, Gwaine?”
Gwaine takes a drink from his cup. “Very.”
“A bit of advice, for both of you,” Arthur says. “Don’t trust Morgana.”
“I trust her more than I trust you,” Merlin says.
“Oh yeah?” Arthur says, and steps closer to Merlin, who shrinks away just visibly, and Arthur fights the need to back off because Merlin is being ridiculous. “What do you think I’m gonna do to you?”
Arthur sees Merlin’s Adam's apple bob as he swallows. “I dunno. What are you gonna do to me?” He stands up straighter, practically daring Arthur to kiss him.
Arthur barely manages to tear his eyes away from Merlin’s lips. “Nothing.” He steps back and turns toward the table full of Christmas treats. He picks something up without even knowing what it is and puts it in his mouth. A biscuit.
“Well,” says Gwaine. “I guess I’ll see who else I can trap under the mistletoe.”
Merlin is surprised by how normal his and Arthur’s interactions are that night. All his anxiety melted away when he saw Arthur and they fell into their usual banter. They are inseparable all night. They eat. They dance. They drink. But still, Arthur doesn’t try to kiss him.
Merlin can’t understand why. Arthur would win. He’s got nothing to lose and everything to gain. It’s like he doesn’t want to win. It drives Merlin mad, and he’s torn between drinking as much as he can and staying sober so he can enjoy Arthur’s kiss when it does come.
The night creeps by and still it doesn’t come.
Finally, a slow song comes on and people are actually slow dancing to it. Lance is of course a great dancer and Merlin watches him and Gwen for a moment before Arthur approaches.
“Are you going to dance with me on this one?” he asks, slipping his arms around Merlin’s waist.
A spark crackles through Merlin’s body at the touch and his arms are circling Arthur’s shoulders before he can stop them. “Yes,” he hears himself say.
Arthur smiles at him as they begin to sway and Merlin can’t help but smile back as it goes on. He closes his eyes and leans his forehead against Arthur’s. They are the only two people in the world and it feels so strange but so right, moving like this.
“What’s up with you tonight?” Arthur asks after long moments stretch out before them.
“What do you mean?”
“You haven’t tried to kiss me at all. You could tie, you know.”
“I don’t want to tie.”
“Why not?”
This is the moment. Arthur is so close and Merlin could tell him everything, but as he stands on the precipice, he finds he is too cowardly.
Merlin is driving Arthur insane . They are together the whole night, so close they are almost touching, then when they do eventually touch, Merlin won’t tell him what he wants. Maybe it’s all the other people around.
He steps away from Merlin before the song is over and gives him a hard look. Merlin looks surprised, apprehensive even. Arthur looks around for an escape route, sees a broom closet, takes Merlin’s hand, and drags him in there, closing the door behind them.
“A closet? Really?” comes Merlin’s voice in the dark.
“Hang on, I think there’s a light in here.” Merlin is leaning against the wall and Arthur has to reach behind him to find the switch. When the light turns on, he’s crowding Merlin up against the wall.
“What are you doing, Arthur?”
“You have not tried to kiss me all night. Why?”
Merlin’s look of indignation fades into something far sadder until he looks so completely miserable it makes Arthur feel like a terrible person for having done this to him. His arms are crossed, protecting himself from Arthur, but he goes slack, leaning against the wall, all possible traces of anger gone. “You know why.”
All Arthur can hear is his own breathing as he takes it in. He does know why. He’s known it for days. He feels it himself. Neither of them care about this stupid game anymore. It’s gone so far beyond that, it’s impossible to even remember what that was like.
Arthur closes his eyes, then opens them. “Let’s tie.”
“Hm?” Merlin’s brow quirks hopefully.
Arthur takes Merlin’s shoulders in his hands and leans even closer. “I don’t care about the game,” he says, his voice just above a whisper. “I just want you. Let’s tie.”
Then Merlin is leaning forward and Arthur has felt his kiss before, in fact, he’s felt this exact fervor behind it, but this time it is unbound by any pretense and Merlin tilts fully into it, grabbing Arthur and holding him close, so close it’s as if he can’t get close enough, their entire bodies pressed together in the closet, and Arthur finally lets himself go too, exploring Merlin’s mouth like he’s always wanted to and it’s warm, heat spreading like fire throughout his body at every contact point between him and Merlin. He pushes forward, crushing Merlin against the wall because he really can’t get close enough.
He has to pull away for breath and to look at Merlin, flushed and disheveled and beautiful in the harsh lighting.
It is far more than Merlin ever hoped for. Even with all the assurances from his friends and his decision to just let it happen and how seemingly romantic Arthur is being, his heart soars like he can’t believe when Arthur says, “I just want you.”
It is like a dream and despite how dirty it probably is in that closet, Arthur’s kiss is pure and right and sets Merlin alight his entire body over and there is nowhere he’d rather be than between Arthur and that wall. He tastes like biscuits and peppermint and champagne and love.
When Arthur finally breaks away, he is glowing. Even the fluorescent lighting loves him.
Arthur strokes Merlin’s face with his thumb. “You are so beautiful, Merlin,” he says breathlessly. “I’m sorry it took me so long.”
Merlin swallows. “Me too.”
“Now that it’s finally over,” he says, nosing Merlin’s cheek, “I wanna take you home,” a kiss to his jaw, “and I won’t stop until there isn’t an inch of you I haven’t kissed.”
“What? You don’t just say things like that.”
“I do now.” He presses closer to Merlin and a surge of arousal flows through his body like never before.
“Oh god, yes,” Merlin breathes. “Arthur. I don’t know if I can wait that long.”
“You’ve waited this long, what’s a few more minutes?”
“An eternity.”
Arthur kisses him again and it’s the first kiss that is free from the confines of the game. It’s strong and it’s sweet and so quintessentially Arthur. Merlin is thrilled yet not surprised at all that he knows it so well.
As they duck out of the closet, saying a rushed goodbye to the party in general, Gwaine can be heard saying to Gwen, “Finally.”
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something-tofightfor · 2 days ago
Text
A Wonderful, Awful Idea / 1
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Pairing: Pero Tovar x Female Reader (Modern AU)
Word Count: 10,196
Summary: Since meeting Pero Tovar through your friends William and Lin, you've wanted - and tried to get to know him. But he's always been less than enthusiastic about making it happen.
This Christmas, thanks to an assignment Pero and William take... everything changes.
Rating: M: language.
Author's Note:
I decided to write this last week and have worked on very little else since. I've always wanted to write for Pero, but have been really nervous to do so. He seemed like the perfect Christmas Grump to get the "discovering the true joy of the season" Hallmark-ish treatment. @oonajaeadira says that if he doesn't fight you the whole way when you try to write him, you're doing it wrong - and let me tell you, he's been a menace, so ... we'll see.
There are going to be three parts to this. The second is almost completely written, and the 3rd should be close behind. I'm sorry it won't be done by Christmas like I planned, but it is what it is.
The title comes from Dr. Seuss' How the Grinch Stole Christmas.
Thank you for reading, and happy holidays!
*dividers by @/strangergraphics
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“You want me to what?” You froze with one hand on a hanger, turning your head to look at your friend. “Repeat that, please.” 
“I think you should be Tovar’s date for the holidays.” Lin shrugged her shoulders, flipping through a rack of long sleeve, button down shirts. “He’s single and you’re single, you’ve said you think he’s hot, and you know what they do, so he wouldn’t have to lie about it.” 
You stared at her, dumbfounded, as Holly Jolly Christmas blared out through the store’s sound system. There’s more to it. “Tell me the truth.” You set the hanger back on the rack, stepping closer and crossing your arms. “Why does he need a date? Isn’t his work … private? Like, they’re not exactly supposed to be in the public eye, or -”
“That I can’t tell you. You’d have to talk to William about it.” She sighed, finally looking over at you. “But what I can tell you, is that I’ve been listening to my husband complain for a week that none of the women he’s reached out to will agree to do it because his best friend is kind of a grump.” 
“So why would I?” You scoffed. “Tovar is … I think we’ve spoken about twenty words to each other in the three years I’ve known you. He isn’t exactly friendly, Lin. Why would I want to spend the holiday season with someone that hates me?”
“He doesn’t hate you. He doesn’t really hate anyone, he just doesn’t trust people, and doesn’t know how to … be gentle about saying it.” She held up a dark blue shirt, arching a brow. “How’s this one for William?” 
“It’s a good color.” You sighed. “I think he’ll like it.” She beamed at you, draping the fabric over her arm. “Lin, this thing with Tovar, what is it? Really, I mean. Why are you suggesting this?” 
“Because you’re both my friends. And I think it would be good for you.” She moved closer, reaching over to take your arm. “And good for him, too. He’s like that movie, the one with the Grinch?” You laughed at that, and she joined you, her fingers curling against your sleeve. “He just needs to find a reason to soften up.” 
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Two days later, you were sitting in Willam and Lin’s lavishly decorated living room, waiting for him to come downstairs and talk to you. It’s just curiosity. You looked around the room, eyes lingering on pictures of you with the two of them, reminders of memories you’d made together on vacations and at parties. I just want to know what this is about. 
And when you found one that included Tovar, too, you lingered there, frowning slightly as you chewed on the inside of your lower lip. “Nobody should look that upset sitting in front of a Christmas tree.” William stepped into the room, holding two mugs in his hands. “Lin said you’d drink this.” He set one down in front of you and then sat on the chair next to the couch you were on. “Thank you for coming over.” 
“No problem.” Sighing, you reached for the mug and lifted it to your lips. He did the same, and then for a few seconds, William just watched you, a thoughtful expression on his face. I don’t like that look. “What’s this about?”
“To make a long story short,” he started, one side of his mouth twisted upward into a smile. “Tovar and I have a client for almost the entire holiday season that needs … extra protection.” That wasn’t a shock; they were in private security, and commonly took on high profile clients. “She’s got her own team, but they want local backup. Tovar and I will provide that, but to do so, and to make it look less… well.” He rolled his eyes. “Less like she’s got a ton of people surrounding her at all times and more like he’s here celebrating the holiday, the plan is for us to attend the same events like we’re guests. That way we can be there if necessary.” 
“Is Lin going with you?” He nodded. “Won’t you be distracted by her?”
“Yes and no.” He leaned in, linking his fingers together. “We’re supposed to blend in, but we’ll be connected to the main team at all times with earpieces.” He wet his lips. “Unless we’re actually needed, we’ve just got to be on-site.” It didn’t sound terrible, and you assumed that if the client was famous, the events would be fun - and probably have good food. “You would be there to keep him occupied. You’d be there to make it look like he wasn’t just hanging around and waiting for something terrible to happen.”
“As his date.” William nodded twice, eyes locked with yours. “Does he know about this?”
“Yes.” William blinked. “Lin suggested you last weekend as a joke, and he didn’t … he didn’t react the way that he has to other people’s names.” What? That made no sense to you. We’ve barely spoken. He’s never gone out of his way to talk to me. “It’s a paying job, of course. And it pays well, since it requires an NDA and multiple nights. I’ve drawn up the contract for you to take a look at. It’s standard, and what we’ve offered to other people in your position, but you can tell me what you think.” 
He shuffled a few of the papers on the table in front of you and then pushed a small stack at you, gesturing with one hand. He had it waiting? 
William stood, letting you know that he’d give you a few minutes to read over it in case you had any questions, and then left you alone in the room. “What the fuck?” You stared at the tree for a few seconds, thinking… and then picked up the contract and began to read. 
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When William came back into the room about fifteen minutes later, you’d pulled a pen from your bag and made notes on the papers, crossing things out and jotting down a few ideas. “I see you’re making changes.” He laughed, settling back into the chair. “Does that mean you’re interested?” 
“Only if they can be accommodated.” You handed over the contract and leaned back, taking a deep breath. “The timing of the events means I wouldn’t have to miss work to attend them, so there aren’t lost wages to make up for.” He nodded. “I’ll sign the NDA, but there’s no way I can accept the amount in there. That would make me feel like you were paying me to spend time with Tovar, and I don’t like the implication of that.” 
William raised his head to look at you and you were surprised to see an alarmed glint in his eyes. “That’s not what it is. You’d be paid for spending part of your day working, not just for -”
“I’ll accept payment in the amount of whatever costs I accrue for the job.” You held up a finger. “Clothes, shoes, transportation, if I needed to get my hair done or anything like that. If I had to make a donation to get into the party, I assume that it’d be a substantial amount that I’d rather not be out, but …” You swallowed, thinking of Tovar’s dark eyes. “Spending time with him isn’t something you need to pay me for, William. My pay can be TBD based on what I have to spend in order to meet the parameters of the job.” 
“Of course.” He kept looking through, and then laughed when he got to the end, where you’d scribbled a longer note. “Unfortunately I don’t think I can meet that request. You’d have to talk to Tovar about that.”
“I know. It’s just …” You looked down, picking at the cushion of the couch with one hand. “I just don’t know how we’re supposed to play it off like we’re dating if he won’t speak to me, William. I can only pretend so much when the other person acts like they’d rather be anywhere else.”  
“I’ve offered this job to two women already.” He set the papers down and reached up to rub at his jawline. “And they’ve both said no, because the amount I offered wasn’t worth it to have to deal with his moods.” He cocked his head to the side. “And you … are offering to do it for less, but only if I can promise he won’t scowl the entire time.”
“I am.” You gestured to the one of the pictures of the three of them. “There’s got to be more to him than that. I can see it in pictures and I’ve heard him laugh, William. I know it’s in there. Maybe it just needs an opportunity to come out.”
“It does.” He leaned forward, reaching out to set a hand on your knee. “He’s my best friend, and he’s been through a lot. I don’t blame him for a lot of his behavior, and I don’t think others would if he let them get to know him.” William sighed. “I’ll make the changes you’ve requested, and email you the new one to sign virtually. The NDAs will be signed as soon as the client gets here. But… how would you feel about meeting with us and Tovar for dinner?” 
“Why?” William raised both eyebrows, staring at you. “When?”
“Tomorrow? We’ve got plans already, and you’re more than welcome to come.” 
There was no reason for you to say no. You’d have to spend at least three nights with him throughout the course of the contract, and starting early - on a night with nothing to lose - would possibly help the two of you become more comfortable around each other. And I’d like that. “What time and where?” 
“I’ll have Lin text you.” He leaned back, tapping his fingers on the arm of the chair. “Excellent.” 
“Wait. William.” You released a slow breath, closing your eyes. “Maybe we shouldn’t tell him that you’ve already asked me. You know I said yes. But I think … it might be better if it seems like it’s a spur of the moment thing. That way I can see if … how he reacts when I’m right there.” He watched you for a few seconds, and you saw him narrow his eyes, lips turned down into a slight frown. 
“That might be a good idea.” He cleared his throat. “Ok. That’s what we’ll do.” 
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The restaurant that you met them at the following day was nothing special; just a local place that had - according to almost everyone that had eaten them - the best chicken wings in the city, and some of the coldest beer to go with them. 
But when you pulled the door open to step inside, you learned something else: they’d turned the interior into a winter wonderland for the holiday, complete with fake snow and hundreds of twinkling lights hanging from almost every available surface. Oh, he’s going to hate this. 
You found the table immediately, and were thankful to see that Lin and William were sitting across from each other, leaving the other two seats at the table open. She waved you over, and when you lowered yourself into the chair beside her, she reached over to squeeze your hand, giggling as she did. “I thought you weren’t going to come.” 
“I said I’d be here.” You said hello to William, too, and then gestured to the empty chair next to him. “Where’s -”
“He got a phone call.” William rolled his eyes. “He went to take it in his car.” It gave you a few minutes to prepare for Tovar’s entrance, and as you and the Garins looked over the menu and made small talk, you were thankful for it. 
The truth was that Tovar’s behavior toward you had always bothered you. 
Not because it made you angry, but because it was frustrating. You’d never given him any reason to avoid you, and had been nothing but nice to him since the first day you’d met. You understood that it wasn’t just you; he took a long time to warm up - even slightly - to anyone. While his personality was likely beneficial to the work he did, giving clients reassurance that he was focused on the job and didn’t allow distractions, it wasn’t as helpful in everyday life. And it can’t be good for his love life.
So when you knew that the two of you would be somewhere together, you needed time to prepare, because you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that it bothered you that he didn’t ever give you a chance. You didn’t expect to become best friends, but it would have been nice to be able to hold an actual conversation with him that didn’t feel like pulling teeth to get responses. 
You felt him before you saw him, his presence almost imposing as he approached the table and walked next to you to reach his seat. Even though William was still talking, your attention shifted. 
He wasn’t scowling when he dropped into the chair, but his face was impassive, his dark eyes darting around the room before they landed on your face - and then kept moving. “Phone call go alright, Tovar?”
“Yes.” He nodded, shrugging a shoulder at William. “Just business. They wanted to talk about the new client.” 
William hummed but didn’t say anything else, instead reaching for the menu in front of him and opening it. To your surprise, Tovar pushed one of the two laminated pieces of paper toward you before picking his own up, though he didn’t make eye contact again. You felt Lin’s foot knock into yours and fought back the roll of your eyes - but the truth was that the single, simple gesture was enough to make you think back to what both she and William had said earlier. Maybe he doesn’t hate me. 
After the waitress took your order and brought out a round of drinks, conversation began again. At least for three of us. Tovar silently watched the rest of you talk to each other, two fingers tapping against the tabletop. There were a few moments where it seemed like he wanted to interject, but it wasn’t until Lin spoke to him directly that you heard his voice again. 
“Did you find anyone to come to the party with you, Tovar?” She rested her chin on her hand, her attention fully on him. “William said -”
“No.” He sipped his drink, brow furrowed. “I am going alone.” He spoke with an accent, each word punctuated with purpose. “Maybe I will be a third wheel for you two.” Did he make a joke? You couldn’t believe it, but when Pero continued speaking, you felt your eyes widen. He did. “I can spike the punch, or -”
“You know, there’s an obvious solution to you taking a date. We talked about it last weekend.” William turned slightly in his seat, gesturing at you with one hand. “I think all you’d have to do is ask.” The shift in conversation took you by surprise, but you figured there was no point in putting it off. Here goes nothing. 
“You do realize I’m right here, William?” He winked at you and then laughed, holding both hands out. “Is there a party I don��t know about, Tovar?” When you said his name, his gaze shifted to you, and instead of looking away immediately, he maintained eye contact. Oh. “Don’t let him put you on the spot.” Smiling at him, you reached for your cup again. “But -”
“For work.” He nodded once, and you caught the tightening in his jaw. “The client I mentioned earlier.” It was a start - full sentences were a change of pace, and you felt a shiver of excitement at the way he was looking at you; like he was actually seeing you for the first time. “William and Lin want me to take someone, but I have found no one to ask.” 
You focused on his lips as he spoke, the sound of his voice soothing. You liked hearing it - liked the cadence of it, and the sincerity in his tone. Maybe it’s a good thing he’s never talked to me before. “When is it?” 
“Christmas Eve.” Lin cut in, resting her hand on your arm. “And it’s really fancy. But there’s other stuff before then, too. The client they’re talking about, she -”
“She cannot know.” Tovar leaned forward, eyes narrowed. “The more details we give, the more dangerous it -”
“She’s not dangerous.”  Lin exhaled, waving one hand. “And if she goes with you, she’s going to need to know something.” 
“No one’s asked me to go anywhere.” You spoke quietly, looking between the two of them. “But I don’t have plans on Christmas Eve.” You cocked your head to the right, attention back on Tovar. “So maybe I could fourth wheel.” Lin laughed again, but neither Tovar or William spoke up. 
You’d done your part - admitting in a roundabout way that you were open to acting as his date… and it was up to him to decide whether or not he wanted to act on it.  If he didn’t, William would have to go over his head and force the situation, and that was the last thing you wanted. Giving him an option was one thing, but making a choice for Tovar? He’d never speak to me again after that. 
The thought made you uncomfortable, and you hoped that none of them could tell. 
Luckily for you, the food arrived then, giving all four of you a distraction - and William another opportunity to tease Tovar about the amount of wings in front of him. 
“What? I am hungry.” He huffed. “It is not my fault that you didn’t order as many.” That made you chuckle, and you caught the way he looked back at you briefly before you dropped your eyes to your own plate, lips pressed together. “And just so all of you know… I don’t share.” 
You laughed out loud then, looking up and meeting his eyes - and if you weren’t mistaken, you saw the most fleeting hint of a smile on his lips before he reached into the basket, picking up his first piece of chicken.
Maybe there’s hope for this yet. 
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All of you walked out into the parking lot together, William and Lin holding hands and you and the other man on either side of them. They veered off to the left after saying goodbye, William catching your eye and mouthing good luck before he turned away… which left you and Tovar alone. 
“I’m parked over that way.” You pointed. “So it -”
“I am too.” He gestured with one hand. “We’ll walk together.” It wasn’t much, but it was a start, and even though neither of you said anything as you approached your car, you noticed that he stayed closer to you than he had been before. “This is your car?” He stopped and pointed. “I remember it from William’s.” 
It stunned you that he’d paid enough attention to what you drove to remember which one was yours in the full lot, but you murmured in agreement, turning so that you could lean against the back end of it. “It is, yeah.” You eyed him, watching as Tovar stuffed his hands into the pockets of his dark gray coat, the ends of his hair blowing slightly in the breeze. “Have a good night, Tovar. Dri-” 
“Did you mean it?” He shifted from one foot to the other, eyes narrowing. “About going to the party?” 
“I did.” You nodded along with your words. “Lin mentioned it to me the other day while we were shopping, she seems excited.” 
“You would go with me?” He inhaled, holding his breath. “And stay with me at the party, like we were -”
“On a date?” You pressed your lips together, watching as he gave a single nod. This is hard for him. “I would. I know it wouldn’t be a real date, but… we could pull it off, Tovar. Especially if you had to do it for work.” 
“There…” He cleared his throat. “There are two other events that I need to be at, too. Would… could you …” He looked down and then away, turning his head to give you a clear view of his profile. You stared at it, trying to memorize the slope of his nose and the line of his jaw, Tovar’s mouth set into a pensive pout. “Lin will be with William, and I am supposed to…” He looked back at you. “Having someone with me would be good.” 
“Yes. On one condition.” 
“Go on.” He inched closer, the surprise evident in his eyes. “Please.” 
“I know you don’t like me much, Tovar, but … if we’re going to multiple places together, and we’re supposed to be together, I’ll need you to pretend like you want to be around me.” You gestured between you with one gloved hand. “This is the longest conversation we’ve ever had, and we met three years ago. I need more of this, and less of your two word responses and you looking like you want to snap at me.” 
“You think I don’t…” He lowered his head and swore, pulling his hands free from his pockets. “Alright. I can do that.” He held out a hand, waiting for you to take it. His fingers closed around yours, Tovar sighing as you shook hands. “And you should call me Pero. Tovar is what William has always called me, but …” He squeezed your hand again and then released it. “That does not sound right for a date.” 
You agreed - and wondered if he could see the surprise in your expression. No one called him by his first name; even Lin referred to him as Tovar. So I wonder why he’s … hmm. “Ok, Pero.” You bit your lip, watching as his cheek twitched at the sound of your voice. “What’s the first thing we need to be at?” 
“There is a charity event next week.” He reached up, rubbing the back of his neck. “And then a concert the week after, and the party on Christmas Eve.” This is spread out, Jesus. “If you give me your phone number, I can send you more information.” 
You agreed and he pulled out his phone, waiting for you to recite the number for him. You felt your phone vibrate a few seconds later as he confirmed that he’d sent you a message, and then Pero sighed, closing his eyes. “Will this make your job easier?”
“Yes.” He pressed his lips together. “And it will get William off my back, too.” You laughed, covering your mouth with one hand as you stared at him. Another joke? “It’s getting late. I should go.” 
It really wasn’t, but you understood that he was trying to end the conversation gracefully, and so you let him, looking down at your bag and digging for your keys. “Goodnight, Pero.” Fingers wrapping around the metal, you raised your gaze again, meeting his eyes. “I’m looking forward to next week.” 
That got you another smile, and it lingered for a few seconds before he cleared his throat and stepped back turning on one heel and heading further down the line of parked cars. He stopped when he was about ten feet away, looking back over his shoulder at you. “You’re wrong, by the way.” About what? He closed his eyes and straightened his shoulders before continuing. “It isn’t that I don’t like you, it’s… more complicated than that.” 
It sucked the breath from you, and all you could do was stare at him. What? Luckily, Pero didn’t say anything else before he resumed the journey to his car, leaving you standing behind yours. What just happened? 
You hurried to the door and then sat down, putting both hands onto the wheel after you started your car, fingers gripping it tightly. You had plenty of questions, and wondered if he’d actually answer any of them. I think he will. I think he… I think he does want to talk. 
You hoped that you were right. Reaching for your phone, you typed out a quick text to William. 
 Send over the new contract. I’ll sign it. He asked me.  
Whatever happened with Pero would likely test not only your patience, but your self control… and you couldn’t wait. 
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He texted you a few times throughout the following week, and while the messages weren’t quite friendly, they weren’t cold, either. 
He filled you in on the events, even though the information that William sent over with the contact did, too. 
The first one was casual, a charity fundraiser where the client would be in attendance and raising money for local organizations by hosting an auction and early dinner. 
The second event, the concert, would require you to go to a meet and greet with Pero, that one held in the club level of the venue, followed by attending the actual show as part of the crowd. 
The final event was a party on Christmas Eve, which was meant to welcome a mix of the people that the first two events set out to benefit, as well as higher-end donors and other people of the singer’s status. 
Each of the events was highly publicized, and people in your city had been looking forward to them for weeks, along with the boom in business that people coming in for the events would bring. You felt a surge of pride in the center of your chest that William and Pero had been chosen to act as local security. Even though you knew there wasn’t a high chance of anything happening where they were needed, you were certain that they could meet the challenge if necessary. 
But on the night before the fundraiser, you were anxious about the following day. 
It wasn’t the event, or that you’d be in the presence of a celebrity for a few hours. It was that during those few hours, you’d be one on one with Pero Tovar, trying to pretend like you hadn’t just started speaking actual words to each other. 
So before you could second guess yourself you picked up the phone and dialed his number, pressing the device against your ear as it rang. He answered almost immediately, tone clipped as he said your name. “You are calling to cancel.” 
“No. I… what?” Inhaling through your nose, you whipped your head back and forth, even though he couldn’t see you. “No, I was calling to see if … if you wanted to meet up tonight for an hour so we could talk.” 
“Talk? About what?” 
“About some of the basic things we’d know if we were actually on a date tomorrow.” You bit the inside of your lip. “Nevermind. We’ll just do a crash course before we go in to the fundraiser. Have a -”
“I’ll pick you up.” He coughed, and your mouth dropped open in surprise. “Send me your address.” 
You hung up moments later, typing out the information and pushing send. He replied that it would only take him about 20 minutes to get there, and you nearly dropped your phone. Oh, shit. 
There was no time to get ready - no time to do anything more than brush your teeth and check your clothes to make sure that you looked presentable, and pull on a pair of thick socks before you shoved your feet into boots. He’d taken you by surprise with his suggestion, but you were excited for the opportunity. And if he suggested it, then it means he wants to talk. 
Lights shining in your front window alerted you to Pero’s arrival, and after grabbing your wallet, keys, phone and a coat, you headed out to meet him, hurrying toward the passenger side of his car. 
Before you could touch the handle, the door popped open, and when you pulled it further, you peered in in time to see him sit back up, his right hand returning to the steering wheel. “Hi, Pero.” Climbing in next to him, you turned your head to look at him. “Thank you for coming to get me.”
“Sure.” He nodded, putting the car into reverse once you’d buckled in. “Where would you like to go?” You thought for a few seconds and then decided, hoping it was a good choice. 
“That 24 hour coffee shop would be good. There are tables and no one will bother us.” 
He agreed with a nod of his head, and for the few minutes it took to get there, you and Pero sat in silence. He paid attention to the road and you paid attention to him, watching him out of the corner of your eye as he drove. There was plenty that you wanted to say, but you didn’t want to distract him; it was likely a huge step for him to have invited you out, and you figured he was focused. We’ll talk over coffee. 
The parking lot was full, but he found a spot after only one circle through it. After crossing the parking lot to the entrance, you went to open the door. Pero inched forward and then reached past you, mumbling that he’d get it. Ok. That’s fine with me. You thanked him as you entered, going straight to the line to place your order. 
It didn’t surprise you when Pero ordered a large black coffee, but it did surprise you when he paid for both of your drinks, passing over a handful of cash to the barista and telling him to keep the change. 
And when you led him to a booth in the back, sinking down onto one of the plush cushions after taking your coat off, you waited until he was seated, too, to speak again. “Thank you. You didn’t have to -”
“We are supposed to be dating, right?” He blinked a few times, head shaking back and forth. “It’s just a coffee.” 
He was right - technically - but it was also something that he hadn’t needed to do because that night wasn’t a date. “I don’t want to keep you out late, I just …” 
“What do you want to know about me?” He wrapped both hands around his cup, and your eyes were drawn to them. Tiny scars criss-crossed his skin, the healed areas a slightly lighter shade than the rest of it. “Ask.” 
“When is your birthday?” You led with something simple, taking a sip of your own drink. “What’s your favorite food? Where are you from? Do you like movies or TV, and if you do, what do you watch?” He seemed stunned by your questions, and you wondered what he thought you’d lead with. “We obviously aren’t going to be one of those PDA couples, but is it alright if I touch your hand or your arm or -” 
“My birthday is in June. The 9th.” He narrowed his eyes. “I like all food, but if I had to choose a favorite, it would be sweet things.” 
“Then why did you order your coffee black?” Pointing with one finger, you cut in. “You could have added sugar or caramel or -”
“Because I always do.” He looked down and then back at you. “I was born in Spain, but moved to the United States when I was very young. I don’t watch many movies, but when I do watch TV, I like shows about history.” He paused. “And home improvement.” You smiled at that admission, thinking of Pero doing construction or household maintenance. “I live in a small house a few minutes from Lin and William.” 
“That’s good. It’s helpful.” You flattened one hand on the tabletop. “Would you like to know anything about me?”
“I already know some things.” His eyes flicked to the right and he lowered his shoulders, but when Pero looked back at you, you saw determination in them. “Would you like to know what I know?” Lips lifting into a smile, you gestured for him to continue - and he did. 
Pero knew your birthday and your parents names. He knew where you worked and where you’d gone to school. He knew what shows you watched, what you liked to eat, and who your celebrity crush was. How? How could he possibly know this? “Did you talk to Lin? Did she -”
“No. You put too much information online.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I just typed your name and things came up.” The matter of fact way he spoke to you made you laugh, but as soon as the sound erupted from your lips, he flinched. Shit. “You laugh at me.” 
“No, I just…” Sighing, you pinched the bridge of your nose. “Hearing it all laid out like that is … weird.” He spun the coffee cup between his hands, keeping his eyes on you. “It’s right, but it’s still…” You didn’t know how to explain it; the way he’d recited the facts to you, it just made you seem typical. 
“Why did you agree to do this?” He finally took a drink of his coffee, tipping his head back slightly and giving you a glimpse of this throat as he swallowed. “To let me pretend with you?” 
“Do you want me to be honest?” He agreed with a single yes, leaning back in his seat as he waited. Here goes nothing. “You’ve always been a mystery. We’ve been in the same place at the same time a lot since we first met, and I’ve always gotten the impression that you were just … uninterested in being friends.” He frowned, but didn’t interrupt. “I’ve tried. I don’t know if you realize it, but I’ve tried to talk to you. I’ve tried to get to know you, and you just…” Sliding your hand up and down your forearm, you finally looked away, staring at the table. “This seemed like an opportunity to make it happen. And that makes me sound like an asshole, but -”
“You are not an asshole. That would be me.” He cleared his throat and said your name, the frown gone from his face but replaced with concern. “Making friends is not easy for me, and so I made the choice to keep people away on purpose.” He gestured to his face, fingertips following the line of the scar that slashed across one side of it. “This makes it easier.” 
“Pero, it -” You felt your chest constrict at the thought that he viewed his appearance as a reason - and a way - to further isolate himself. “If I had my way, we would have had this conversation a long time ago.” 
“You did not ask.” He gestured to the scar again. “Everyone always asks. But even when we met for the first time, you didn’t mention it.” 
“Because that’s rude.” Tilting your head to the side, you chewed on your lower lip. “If you wanted to tell me or anyone what the cause of it was, you would.” That took him by surprise, and you could tell by the widening of his eyes that he hadn’t expected any combination of those words to come out of your mouth. But it’s the truth. “I’d love to get to know you. And if I can do that and help you with a job, that’s even better.” 
He stayed silent, turning his head toward the window. After a few seconds, you did the same. It was late but there were still people on the street, and since you’d gotten to the coffee shop, it started snowing. It wasn’t coming down hard; instead, the sky was spitting snow almost lazily, the flakes falling down to land on the existing piles from the previous snowfall. “Do you want to know why I said it was complicated the other night?” 
“Yes.” The answer was automatic, and through his reflection in the glass you watched as he straightened up, shifting until he was facing forward again. What is he going to say? You turned back, too, waiting. 
“It’s complicated because I want to know you. I have wanted to. But why would you want to know me?” He scoffed. “You know what I do for a living. What I have done, and how I have treated you. Every time you tried to talk to me, I had to force myself to remain quiet. If I answered you it would have encouraged you. If I encouraged you, it would be so much harder to -”
“Wait. Pero, wait.” Your heart racing, you leaned in. “Are you trying to tell me that this whole fucking time, you’ve been … you don’t hate me? You’re just … like this because you thought your interest had to stay one-sided?” It took a second but he nodded, the frown back. Oh, you silly man. You groaned and put both hands over your face before taking a deep breath. “Pero, I’m friends with William, too, and he does the same thing you do for work. Why would you think it’s any different?” 
“Because I’m dangerous. William does not like to get his hands dirty. I don’t mind.” You believed him - or at least believed that he believed what he was saying. “People look at me, and they see…” He gestured to himself. “It frightens some of them. Others just stare. But I use that to my advantage.” 
“Neither of those things apply to me.” It was your turn to frown. “Let me be very clear, Pero. I agreed to this, to help you, and expected nothing. I hoped, though, that at the very least, we’d come out of it friends.” His eyes were narrowed and he was scowling, but there was something new there, too, and it gave you courage to continue. “And I know that you do have to work while we’re at these events, but if … if you wanted to use them as actual dates? I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t say no.” 
 He blinked slowly, and the scowl morphed into a look of disbelief. “You wouldn’t?” Shaking your head, you waited, the moment stretching between you. If he denied you, you’d have to spend three nights with him knowing that you’d laid it out and he’d chosen to ignore your admission - and his own feelings. But if he agrees… “Give me your hand.” He flipped one of his over, holding it out to you, palm up.
It was the second time you’d touched him, but when you reached across the table and laid your fingers against his, you sucked in a breath. His hands were warm, and when Pero’s fingers curled around yours and pulled back toward himself, you looked up at his face. His lips were parted, and Pero was staring at your joined hands like he’d never seen anything like them before. “Pero?” 
“You can hold my hand.” He squeezed your hand, nodding. “Tomorrow? We will be walking around a lot, and it might look … strange if we didn’t at some point.” That made sense to you, and you told him as much. “I also…” He groaned, his thumb rubbing against the outside of your pinky. “Since I have to be alert, it might be easier if I put my arm around your shoulders, or -” 
You moved without letting him finish, pulling your hand free so that you could stand. He watched you intently, sitting up and leaning back against the booth. Is this a bad idea? Probably. Definitely. 
You’d made progress with Pero in the previous few minutes, and your action had the potential to derail all of it. But when you sat next to him and turned your head, arching a brow, you were confident. “You can try it out now.” Something flashed in his eyes then, and for a split second, you thought he was going to say no. 
Instead, Pero raised his arm and slipped it behind you and across the top of the booth. “You’re sure?” 
“Yeah, Pero.” You held your breath but didn’t look away, and then his arm went around you for the first time, the weight of it heavy across your back. You didn’t know if he did it on purpose, but when his hand settled against your  shoulder, fingers curling against it, he nudged you closer, your body pressed to his side. “See? That’s not so bad, is it?”
“Not at all.” It was the closest you’d ever been to him, and as you stared into Pero’s eyes, you realized that it would be easy to get used to being that close to him. “It has been a long time since…” He took a deep breath. “Since I have let myself touch someone like this.” 
It seemed unbelievable to you that someone who looked like Pero could be successful at keeping someone determined away from him. But look at how he’s been with me. And if what he said was true - that he worked hard to make sure no one got close - you had to assume that his behavior toward you had been less overt than with others. Because I’m friends with Lin and William. He knew he wouldn’t be able to get rid of me easily. 
“Can I ask you something?” It was voiced with reluctance, but the question was answered with a yes. Ok. Here goes nothing. Wetting your lips, you were emboldened by the way his eyes dropped to follow the movement of your tongue. “Why? Women like dangerous. They like dark, mysterious men. A lot of them like men they feel like they have to work on before they open up, and -”
“Is that what you are doing?” He leaned closer, searching your face and lowering his voice. “This because I am dark and mysterious? Because you want a challenge?” 
“Not entirely.” You drew in a shaky breath, knowing that he was aware of the effect he had on you in such close proximity. “I’m doing it because I think you’re worth it. Lin and William wouldn’t be friends with you if you weren’t, and -” 
“Liar.” He smiled then, the growl in his voice making you shiver. “You are one of those women that like to be challenged.” 
You groaned at his words, jabbing your elbow into his side and scooting away. Pero’s hold on you loosened as you stood, putting a hand on your hip. “Fine. I admit it. But, if you’d said no to this, or if you’d said yes but just wanted to keep things professional and focused on work, I wouldn’t have fought you.” You paused and then winked, relishing in the way he inhaled sharply. Gotcha. “I can take no for an answer, but I’m glad it doesn’t seem like I’m going to have to.” 
You sat again, reaching for your cup and taking a long sip. None of what had happened was expected - but things had gone much better than you’d anticipated. And that’s a good thing. Because now even if things are awkward, they’ll be awkward because we’re figuring it out, not because - “That is enough for tonight, I think.” He reached up, scratching the side of his head. “I have to meet the client tomorrow morning. Early. And then I have to come and pick you up, and -”
“Oh, you’re picking me up again?” He nodded, eyes locked with yours. “I thought I’d drive over myself, and -”
“No. We stay together.” His tone was firm. “The whole time.” Ok then. 
Raising your cup and tipping it in his direction, you gave him a wide smile. “Sounds perfect to me, Pero.” 
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While you got ready the following day, you replayed the end of your coffee “date” with Pero over and over in your head. 
You hadn’t stayed out much longer, but the drive back to your house wasn’t quiet. Instead, you talked the entire way. It was mostly about Lin and William, but it was still progress. And when he’d parked in your driveway, he’d paused before saying goodnight, followed by the sound of your name in a voice so low you barely heard it. 
He’d reached for your hand, fingers curling around yours as he lifted it to press a kiss to your knuckles. That took you by surprise, but instead of voicing that surprise, you only bit down on your lip and squeezed his hand back before letting go and telling him to let you know when he was on the way the following day. 
Compared to other first dates you’d been on, Pero’s behavior was tame. 
He’d made no move to actually kiss you, hadn’t even suggested a physical attraction or a desire to stay close after you’d moved to sit next to him and essentially forced him to practice putting his arm around you. 
But you went to bed feeling hopeful about the three dates you’d go on with him. You were interested in seeing if you could get him to open up more. You wanted more nights like the time you’d spent in the coffee shop with him, but with less distance between you. 
You’d always been attracted to Pero, and his attitude hadn’t done what he’d likely hoped it would. Instead of scaring you off, it made you cautious about the way you approached him, but no less interested. You weren’t hung up on him, but there’d always been a part of you that wondered what would - or could - happen if he let you in even a little. 
You’d asked Lin once during a girl’s night, the two of you wrapped in cozy blankets on her couch with snacks in front of you and a rom com playing on the TV, why he was so distant. She hadn’t been able to  give you an answer, aside from “he does it to himself”, but you’d seen the way her lips twisted into a frown as she spoke, sadness flitting across her features. You were curious about Pero’s scar, as you imagined everyone was, simply because of its position on his face, and how deep it looked. 
It wasn’t a lie that his demeanor was attractive to a lot of women; what you had lied about was the way you felt about it. He would be a challenge, no matter how you looked at it, but with anyone else, the amount of time and effort he’d put into trying to push you away would have been a total turnoff. But not with him. 
After gathering your things, you headed into your living room, sitting on the couch and checking the time. You expected his text within the following few minutes, but since there was nothing else to do, you leaned back against the cushions and closed your eyes. 
The event that day was the fundraiser, and with the advertising you’d seen for it over the previous few weeks, you knew it was going to be a lot. Pero and William’s client was a celebrity that also dabbled in singing, and the fundraiser featured items from throughout her career up for sale, along with opportunities to do things like attend premieres, have VIP at one of her future shows, and to meet - and spend time with - her and her costars on a set in the new year. 
It would raise a lot of money, but it would also bring a lot of people into the area - and the need for updated security wasn’t a surprise to you. And they’re the best. They probably won’t be needed, but they’re the best. 
Your phone vibrating startled you out of your thoughts, and after replying to Pero’s text - and confirmation that he’d be to you in under fifteen minutes - you stood and stretched, taking a deep breath. I can do this. 
Putting your boots on, you moved toward the kitchen and pulled your coat from the hook by the door. “I want to do this.” 
You didn’t give him a chance to get out after he parked. By the time he was reaching for his seatbelt, you were outside and almost to the passenger door. 
“Why will you not let me meet you by the door?” You laughed at his scowl, and when you met his eyes, you saw that for the first time, there was no weight to it. This is good. “Is that not -”
“I’m not that old fashioned, Pero.” You buckled yourself in, adjusting the strap. “There’s no reason  for you to get out of the car just to get right back in.” 
“Women.” He grumbled out the word, shaking his head. “Maybe it’s better I do not try to date. You are confusing.” It made you giggle, something you rarely did, and the sound caught Pero’s attention, his dark head turning toward you before he could put the car in reverse. 
“What?” You pressed your lips together. “Why are you looking at me like that?” 
“No reason.” He smiled then, the look in his eyes softening. “No reason at all.” 
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“Well that was a nightmare.” You and Pero were standing at one of the raised tables off to the side in the main exhibit room. “You have to do that every time you get a new client?” 
“Most of the time it happens before they get here.” He gestured to you. “But because you are a new piece of the puzzle, it couldn’t be done early.” Thank you, William. “They just needed to make sure you weren’t dangerous.” 
“Me?” You rolled your eyes and then let your gaze wander over the room as it filled. “I’m probably the least dangerous person in this room.”
“Not true.” He rested his elbows on the table, leaning closer. “There is more than one way to be dangerous.” You didn’t have time to question him about that, because the emcee stepped onto the stage and tapped the microphone at the podium. 
“We’ll be starting the bidding in just a few minutes.” He pointed at the table set up along the far left wall. “For smaller items on that table, you can check in with one of my employees to place a bid.” He gestured to the empty space beside him, a pristine tablecloth draped over a second platform. “And for the more valuable things, those will be available here, one by one.” The crowd murmured in agreement, and you watched as Pero looked around the room, too. 
He was alert, but in a way that still looked relaxed, and it was impressive. “I’m going to go and get something to drink, do you want anything?”
“No alcohol.” He looked back at you, shaking his head. “Not until later. Not until she is safely out of the building.” Agreeing, you left him to join the short line waiting for drinks. You hadn’t seen Lin yet, and wondered where she and Willaim were. Maybe back in the dressing rooms. That would make sense.  
You waited in the line, listening to the way people around you were chattering. They seemed to be having a good time, and excited about the fact that they’d get to bid on the items - and be in the same room as a celebrity. You didn’t blame them, it was a neat opportunity, but truth be told, you were looking forward to the time with Pero more. Even if he’s working. 
Carrying the drinks back to your table, you paused long enough to watch your date for a few seconds, relying on the people passing between you to keep you hidden. But when, moments after you stopped, his attention shifted and his eyes landed on you, you realized that there was no being stealthy when it came to him. 
He raised a brow but didn’t look away. I should have known better. You smiled at him and then started moving again, weaving through the crowd until you were by his side. “Nonalcoholic beer.” You set the cup down, glancing over at him. “For both of us.” 
He grumbled when he raised it to take a sip, and you watched his lip curled at the first taste of it. “People pay for this?” 
“They do.” You swallowed your own drink, sighing. “So what do we do now? Do we have to bid? Should we walk around and look at the stuff for sale?”
“We do nothing.” He trailed a finger through some of the moisture on the table. “I stay alert. William and Lin are back with her right now, and when she comes out to talk to the crowd, then I move closer so that I can keep my eyes on her.” 
“You said we stay together the whole time.” You frowned, elbowing him. “So that means I’m going with you when you get closer.” He was quiet for a few seconds, but then Pero’s shoulders relaxed and he lowered his head. 
“I did say that.” 
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The first portion of the auction went smoothly, and just after they closed the bidding to give everyone a chance to get settled for the main segment, you saw William and Lin step out from a set of doors on the right, his arm around her waist. 
“Look, there they -” You spoke up but were interrupted when Pero started talking, too, nodding his head. 
“Yes, I see you. We will move to the other side of the room now.” He’s had an earpiece in. I didn’t even notice it. 
That meant that William had been able to hear everything Pero had said to you - and likely most of what you’d said in return. You hadn’t had any deep conversations, but knowing that your privacy was limited changed things. So was he answering me with that in mind? Or was he … shit. 
To your surprise, Pero reached over and took your hand, hesitating only slightly before sliding his fingers between yours so that you could press your palms together. We’re holding hands. Actually holding… wow. “We will move to the chairs on the left. William and Lin are staying on the right.” He squeezed. “Are you ready?” 
You were, and as the two of you found a new place to sit, you paid close attention to the way he interacted with the people you passed. Pero didn’t speak to anyone but he looked at all of them, assessing the other attendees with practiced ease. You wondered what they were looking for - or if they expected there to be trouble. 
Pero waited until you were seated to take his place next to you at the end of the row, and you were disappointed when he let go of your hand to do it. While everyone was getting settled, you took a deep breath and leaned over, turning your head to speak into his ear. He sat with the earpiece on the other side. “Is this as awful as you thought it’d be?” He stiffened, but there was a minute shake of his head before he turned in your direction. 
“I never said it would be awful. Just … difficult.” He looked down, his eyes on your hands where  they rested on your thighs. “And it has been.” You frowned, thinking, and opened your mouth to ask him how. “It is starting.” He pointed. “I have to pay attention now.” Pero reached into his pocket and handed you a slip of paper with a number printed on it. “In case you want to bid.” 
“I’m not bidding on anything.” You took it, though, laughing quietly. “But -” But it will look less suspicious if we pretend. “Thank you.” 
For the next thirty minutes, you watched as item after item was brought out onstage to cheers and applause. There were three autographed scripts, a tour-used microphone, some wardrobe and prop pieces, and a handful of signed items both by their client and her costars and band. It was an impressive assortment of memorabilia, and when each winner’s name was called, you felt how excited they were. 
And when the auction shifted to the new items - the ones that would bring in the most money and had the most potential to cause trouble for Pero and William to step in and fix, you shifted slightly closer to him, your arm brushing against his. 
He didn’t say anything, but a few minutes in, Pero reached over and brushed his knuckles over the back of your hand briefly - the contact taking you by surprise. It was a good sign, you thought, as you glanced over and saw his lips twitch. And that’s almost a smile, which is even better. 
He stiffened slightly when the emcee announced a special guest to present the following few experiences, and even you felt your heart rate rise as the woman walked out onstage to a much louder chorus of cheers and applause. 
She introduced herself and said hello to a few people in the crowd, but then got right down to business, slipping into the persona that you were familiar with based on seeing her performances and interviews. 
You found yourself laughing along when she started the bidding on a visit to set, describing it as an opportunity to see her - and her castmates - make a mess out of their lines for the first dozen takes. And the laughter continued when she paused between items to tell a story about working on her first show, and how anxious she’d been, which turned out to be for nothing, because it had ended up being one of the smoothest filming experiences of her career. 
There were a few tense moments toward the end of the auction when someone stood up and shouted over the rest of the crowd that they loved her, and you felt Pero stiffen again, his body angled slightly toward the sound. But as soon as she responded, telling the man that she loved him, too, and thanked him for coming, he sat back down and Pero relaxed against his chair, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply. 
“We’re almost done, Pero. Couple more bids, and -”
“And then we can get out of here.” He sighed, nodding. “I know.” 
The night had passed much more quickly than you’d anticipated, and you were sad that it was coming to an end. As soon as the hammer fell on the last auction item - and the grand total of winning bids flashed on a screen behind the podiums, everyone started cheering again. You risked a look over at Pero - and then another at William and Lin - and noted that while both men were watching the stage, Lin was watching you, her eyebrows raised and a knowing smile on her lips. I’m never going to hear the end of this. 
The client was ushered offstage by a few men that you assumed were her personal security team, and once she was gone, Pero stood, reaching over to pull you to your feet. “Come on.” He tugged you toward the doors opposite the ones William and Lin had emerged from, and moments later, you were in the back hallways with the people behind the scenes. He kept holding your hand as you made your way back to the room you’d given the information for your background check in, fingers linked tightly together. 
The two of you joined a small group of others in the security room, and watched on monitors as the client’s team navigated her out the back entrance and into a waiting car. The moment it pulled away, another with her small entourage following close behind it, Pero breathed out deeply, his hold on you relaxing. “Night one, done.” 
It shocked you that they were getting paid to be bystanders, but part of you wondered if he and William preferred simple, safe jobs to the ones that required lengthy trips or the potential for danger. And so close to the holidays, he gets to stay home with Lin. “Do we need to meet with William before we leave, or -”
“No, I can take you home.” He flexed his fingers, his chin tilting downward as he realized you were still holding hands. Please don’t let go. Please don’t let go. He didn’t, pausing before he spoke again. “Thank you for -”
“Tovar.” William’s voice cut in, and you looked up in time to see him and Lin making their way through the room and toward you. “Good job tonight.” Pero nodded, immediately releasing your hand and crossing his arms, shoulders straight. “Lin and I are going to get something real to eat. Want to come?” 
You wondered if it was purposeful - if William was inviting Pero to see if he’d say yes for just himself, or if he’d invite you to go along. “We drove together, so I hav…” Your stomach dropped at his response, and you knew there was no hiding the disappointment on your face or the way you flinched at his sudden change in demeanor. “No. That is not …” Pero turned his body so that he was facing you and took a deep breath. “Do you want to go and get food with them?” 
“Yes. But only if -” His eyes widened and you watched his lips part, Pero clearly surprised by your reply. “Only if you want me to.” 
“I want you to.”
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Part 2 coming soon!
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babyflorencee · 1 day ago
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Just Pretending
Part two: Study buddy
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Nerdrry x Cheerleader!Reader
The next day, the halls filled with the sound of lockers slamming shut, overlapping conversations, and the steady rhythm of shuffling feet.
As Y/n walked through the hallway, her stomach twisted in a tight knot. The noise around her seemed so distant, barely registering as she made her way to her locker, the weight of what happened yesterday pressed down on her chest like a heavy anchor.
Her friends were already by her locker, laughing loudly as the sound bounced off the walls. Luke leaned casually against Y/n’s locker, his arms crossed, and a smug grin plastered on his face. He was telling a story, while the others were listening, occasionally laughing when he dropped the punchline.
When Y/n approached, they turned their attention to her, their smiles widening. “Hey, Y/n!” Ally chirped, her eyes glinting with mischief. “So, are you ready for our little plan?”
Y/n forced a smile, her stomach churning. “Yeah, I guess so,” she said softly. 
Luke’s grin widened, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “That’s my girl,” he said, throwing an arm around her shoulder. The gesture felt heavy, suffocating, as if it were meant to remind her of her place.
“It’ll be hilarious,” Taylor added, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “Can you imagine the look on Harry’s face when he thinks you’re actually friends?”
“Or more than friends,” Ally teased, her voice dripping with mock sweetness, as she wiggled her eyebrows. The group erupted in laughter again, their voices now starting to get on Y/n’s nerves.
She glanced down at her shoes, wishing she could just disappear. “Seriously,” Luke said, his tone sounding more demanding. “You better not back down at the last minute. We’re all counting on you to pull this off, got it?"
Y/n’s throat tightened. She wanted to argue, to tell him how wrong this all felt, that she didn’t want to do this, but the words stayed locked inside of her. So instead, she just nodded, her lips pressing into a thin line.
Luke smirked, clearly pleased with her silence. “That’s what I thought. Honestly, it’ll be easy. Harry’s so desperate for your attention, he’ll fall for it in no time. I bet if you told him to jump, he’d ask you how high.”
The group roared with laughter again, and Y/n’s chest tightened further. Harry didn’t deserve this. But what choice did she have?
“There he is,” Ally said, nodding down the hallway. “It's your time to shine.”
Y/n followed her gaze and spotted Harry standing by his locker. He was hunched over, his oversized sweater swallowing his frame as he fumbled with his books. His thick glasses sliding down his nose, causing him to quickly push them back up. He looked so out of place, so vulnerable, making Y/n’s heart ache.
“Go on,” Luke urged, his voice low and pointed. His hand pressed against her lower back, urging her forward. “Don’t want to keep him waiting.”
Y/n swallowed hard, her feet feeling like they were weighed down. She glanced back at her friends, their expectant faces urging her on. But Luke’s gaze was the heaviest, his expression daring her to defy him.
Taking a deep breath, she forced her legs to move. Each step toward Harry felt like walking the plank, the distance between them stretching endlessly. Her pulse pounded in her ears, drowning out the noise of the hallway. By the time she reached him, her palms were clammy, and her stomach churned with guilt.
“Hey, Harry,” she said, her voice sounding quieter than she intended.
Harry looked up, startled. His eyes widened behind his glasses, and for a moment, he just stared at her, like he couldn’t believe she was actually talking to him. “Y/n?” he stammered, his voice tinged with disbelief. “What’s up?”
Her heart twisted at the genuine surprise in his voice. She forced a smile, pushing down the guilt threatening to consume her. “I was just wondering… do you think you could help me with physics? I’m kind of struggling, and I heard you’re really good at it.”
“Physics?” He repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. “Well, I—I mean, sure. I can try to help, but... I’m not the best at explaining things. I just—uh, I kind of just read the book, you know?”
“No yeah, me too,” Y/n said, a faint smile tugging at her lips. She was fighting the nausea in her stomach. “But I’m completely lost, honestly, you would be doing me a huge favor.”
Harry's eyes flickered with a mix of hesitation and something else—something closer to hope, but he quickly suppressed it, as his cheeks flushed, and he ducked his head, a shy smile tugging at his lips. “So when do you want to start?”
“Maybe after school, if you’re free?” she suggested, hating how easy this was.
“Yeah, today works for me. Where do you want to meet?”
“Anywhere is fine. So just wherever works for you.” She said, offering him a kind smile.
Harry adjusted his glasses nervously. “Would you maybe, uh, want to meet at my house? Only if you’re comfortable with that, of course! It’s just quiet there, and I can spread out my notes and stuff. But no pressure! We can study wherever you’re comfortable with.” His words came out in a rush, his hands fidgeting with the strap of his backpack. He looked up at her briefly, then away quickly, his face burning red.
Y/n blinked, caught off guard, “Your house worked for me. Thank you Harry.”
His head snapped up, his eyes wide with surprise. “Really? I mean, okay! Cool. I’ll meet you at the bike racks after school?”
“Great, see you then.”
As she walked away, she could feel her friends’ eyes on her, their laughter echoing faintly in the distance. Her chest felt heavy, her guilt threatening to drown her. She had done what they wanted, but at what cost? She’d crossed a line, and she wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to come back.
***
After school, Y/n approached the bike rack with slow, measured steps, her heart pounding in her chest. Harry was already there, leaning against the post, fiddling nervously with the straps of his backpack. When he saw her, he straightened quickly, almost tripping over his own feet in the process.
“Hey,” he said, offering her a smile. “You, uh, ready?”
“Yeah,” Y/n replied, her voice warm as she returned his smile. She couldn’t help but notice how his cheeks flushed under her gaze.
As they started walking, the school faded into the background as they made their way toward Harry’s house. The silence between them felt a little awkward but not unbearable.
“Sorry you have to walk,” he mumbled after a moment, his voice barely audible. “I, uh, should’ve thought about that. You probably have better things to do than walk to my house.”
Her laugh made him pause, his shoulders tensing. He glanced at her, unsure if she was laughing at him, and his voice was full of uncertainty. “You’re not… laughing at me, are you?” he asked hesitantly. “I mean, it’s okay if you are. Everyone does…”
Y/n’s smile faltered at the vulnerability in his voice, and she immediately regretted making him feel that way. She stopped walking and turned to face him, her heart aching. She reached out and gently touched his arm.
“No, Harry,” she said softly, her voice warm. “I wasn’t laughing at you, I promise.” She looked him in the eyes, trying to show him that she really meant it. “I was laughing because I think it’s really sweet that you’re worried about something like that. Honestly, it’s not a big deal. And I walk home most of the time anyway.”
Harry’s gaze softened, though doubt still lingered in his eyes. “Oh… okay,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I just… I don’t want to be a burden.”
Y/n’s heart clenched at the words, and she couldn’t help but offer a small, teasing smile. “A burden?” she said, trying to lighten the mood. “Please, I’m the one who asked you to help me study for physics. I think that makes me the real burden here.”
Harry froze, his eyes widening as he blurted out, “No! You’re not a burden, not at all!” He fidgeted with the strap of his backpack, looking flustered. “I mean, I’m happy to help! I just— I really don’t want you to think I’m… you know, I don’t want to make you feel bad or anything…”
Y/n’s smile softened as she stepped a little closer. “Harry, seriously, stop. I’m the one who asked, remember? You’re doing me a favor.” She paused, her expression turning more serious. “You’re being kind, and I’m really grateful for that. Honestly.”
He looked at her, still unsure, but her words seemed to sink in, since his posture relaxed a little, and a small, awkward smile tugged at his lips. “Okay… well, if you ever think I’m being a burden, just let me know, okay?” he said quietly.
“I will,” she assured him, her smile bright. “But right now, you’re definitely not.”
His eyes searched her face, and when he saw the sincerity in her expression, his smile widened. “Oh,” he said softly, “That’s… good to know.”
The rest of the walk was calm, the silence comfortable between them. When they reached his home, it was a modest, two story house with a garden tucked in the front.
Harry unlocked the door and stepped aside, gesturing toward the living room with a nervous but welcoming smile. “Uh, you can sit wherever you want,” he said, his voice slightly higher than usual. “I’ll just grab my notes.”
Y/n settled on the couch, looking around. The house felt inviting, with mismatched furniture and family photos lining the walls. She could hear Harry rummaging in the other room before he returned, a notebook and textbook clutched in his hands.
He sat down beside her, keeping a respectable distance. “Okay, so… where do you want to start?”
“Anywhere, really,” Y/n said, her smile encouraging. “I just need help making sense of it all.”
Harry dove into an explanation about formulas, his voice gaining confidence as he talked about concepts he clearly understood. But no matter how hard she tried, Y/n couldn’t quite grasp it. She furrowed her eyebrows, staring at the equations like they were written in a foreign language.
“Sorry,” she admitted with an embarrassed laugh. “I’m terrible at this.”
Harry shook his head quickly. “No, no, you’re not terrible. I’m probably just explaining it. badly”
“No, you’re not,” Y/n said firmly, “You’re doing great. I think my brain just isn’t made for this.”
He smiled, looking down at his notes. “Maybe we can try again another day?”
“Yeah,” she agreed, relieved to set the book aside. “Let’s call it for now.”
Just as a comfortable silence settled between them, the creak of the front door caught their attention. An older woman with bright eyes and a warm smile stepped into the room, her face lighting up when she saw them.
“Harry!” she exclaimed, her voice full of excitement. “You didn’t tell me you had company over!”
Harry’s face turned beet red as he quickly straightened up, his eyes wide with panic. “Grandma, please—” he muttered.
“Oh, hush now,” she said, waving him off with a carefree laugh. She stepped into the room, her eyes gleaming as she turned to Y/n. “I’m so glad Harry finally brought someone over. You must be something special, dear. He never… well, he’s never really brought anyone home before. And just look at you! You’re so beautiful!” She practically gushed, her voice laced with enthusiasm.
Harry’s face turned a deeper shade of red, and he groaned, burying his face in his hands in a desperate attempt to disappear. “Grandma, please don’t—”
“Oh, stop it! I'm just trying to talk to your guest.” she continued, completely oblivious to his discomfort. “And you guys are studying together? How adorable you two are. Now let me tell you something, Harry’s a good boy, but, well, he’s a bit of a nerd. He’ll get all flustered if you compliment him, but trust me, he’s got a good heart, I promise.” She gave him a playful wink.
Harry was practically melting into the couch, his shoulders hunched in embarrassment. “Grandma! Stop!”
“Okay, okay. I know when to take a hint. So I’ll leave you two alone. Just don’t let him bore you with all that science talk, he can go on for hours, trust me.”
Y/n couldn’t help but laugh, her heart softening at how much his grandma clearly cared for him, even if it embarrassed Harry. “It was nice to meet you,” she said politely, her smile warm as she glanced at Harry’s flustered expression.
“You too, dear,” his grandma replied, beaming at her before turning back to Harry, sending him another wink, her grin never fading as she walked out of the room.
Harry, now redder than ever, dropped his face into his hands again, muttering something under his breath. Y/n smiled, trying to stifle a laugh, but her heart warmed at how much Harry’s grandma adored him.
When they heard a door shut, Harry sighed deeply, still avoiding Y/n’s gaze. “I’m so sorry about that,” he mumbled, his words tumbling out in a rush. “She, uh, she’s just… she’s always like that, and I know it’s super weird, and you probably think it’s weird, and I’m really, really sorry.”
Y/n’s smile softened, and she reached out to touch his arm lightly. “Harry, stop. It’s fine. She’s sweet. And honestly, it’s nice to see someone care about you so much. I think it’s really cute.”
“Cute?” he echoed, his voice cracking slightly.
She laughed again, nodding. “Yeah. It’s cute how much she loves you.”
Harry’s brow furrowed, but he didn’t press. Instead, he fidgeted with the corner of his notebook. “Still. I, uh, I hope it wasn’t too much.”
“It wasn’t,” she assured him. “Really. You don’t need to apologize for her.”
“Okay,” he said quietly, though he still looked unsure.
As the evening wore on, the sky outside darkened, and Y/n glanced at the clock on the wall. “I should probably head home,” she said reluctantly, standing up, stretching.
Harry scrambled to his feet. “Oh, uh, do you… do you have a ride?”
“No, but it’s not far. I’ll be fine,” she replied.
He hesitated, his hands gripping the strap of his backpack tightly. “Are you sure? It’s dark, and I, uh—I could walk you. If you’d want, I mean. I’m not trying to be weird or anything. I just—” He trailed off, his face reddening.
Y/n’s eyes widened in surprise. “You’d walk me home?”
“Yeah. I mean, if you’re okay with it. I—it’s just… it’s not safe, you know? At night. And—and it’s not far, right? So…”
She smiled, touched by his offer. “That’s really sweet of you, Harry. Luke’s never—he’s never offered to walk me home at night before.”
Harry’s expression turned thoughtful, then a little sad. “Oh. Well, uh, I just… it’s not a big deal. I’d just… feel bad, you know, if something were to happen.”
“Thank you,” she said sincerely. “I’d really like that.”
They left the house together, the cool air brushing against their skin. As they walked, Harry kept sneaking glances at her, his words stumbling over themselves whenever he spoke.
“So, uh, what… what do you like to do? You know, for fun?” he asked nervously.
Y/n smiled. “Well, you know I love cheering, but I’m also really into English. I love everything about it—reading, writing, all of it. There’s just something so magical about stories, you know?”
Harry’s eyes lit up. “Yeah. Yeah, I get that. Stories are… they’re like a way to escape, right? To be someone else for a little while.”
“Exactly,” she agreed.
“What’s your favorite book?” he asked, his voice steadying as his curiosity took over.
“That’s such a hard question. Probably Pride and Prejudice. What about you?”
“Oh, uh… maybe The Hobbit? It's kind of old-school, but I like the adventure stuff.”
“That’s a great choice,” she said, smiling. “I read that last year.”
They continued talking and laughing all the way to Y/n's house, the awkwardness from earlier melting away with every step. The air now feeling lighter, as though the weight of her guilt was slowly lifting, replaced with a sense of comfort she hadn’t realized she needed.
As they walked, Harry nudged her with a grin. "Come on, you can’t leave me hanging. There’s gotta be one embarrassing story that you’re not ashamed to share."
Y/n hesitated for a moment, a nervous laugh escaping her lips. She bit her lip, wondering if she should really open up. But something about the way Harry looked at her, so genuinely curious, made her feel like it was okay to share. Maybe it was the way he listened so intently, like he cared more about what she had to say than trying to make her look foolish.
"Okay, fine," she said, rolling her eyes but smiling. "So, in middle school, I had this huge crush on this guy, right?" She glanced at Harry, watching his expression carefully. "And I thought I was being all smooth when I passed him a note during lunch, but... uh, it ended up going to the wrong guy."
Harry raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Wait, so who got it?"
Y/n groaned, her cheeks flushing from the memory. "His best friend, Jake. You know, the guy who could barely spell his name right. He read it out loud, in front of everyone, and I was just... mortified."
Harry burst out laughing, and Y/n couldn’t help but join him. "I mean, I had no idea what to do," she continued, now fully embracing the humor of the situation. "Jake was reading it, all like, ‘Does this mean she likes me...?’ and I just wanted to die right there on the spot."
They both laughed for a good few moments, the shared humor breaking down the remaining barriers between them.
When their laughter finally faded, Y/n hadn't realized just how much she’d needed to laugh until now, how much lighter she felt. It was like something about being with him, telling him the story, had made everything seem less serious, less complicated.
"That’s the best thing I’ve heard all week," Harry said, still chuckling. "I can’t believe you lived through that."
"Well, I survived," she said with a sheepish grin. "But barely."
Harry kicked a stray pebble, then glanced over at her. "You know, it’s nice. Just... being able to talk to you like this."
Y/n’s heart skipped a beat. She wasn’t sure if it was the vulnerability of the moment, or just the simple sincerity in his voice, but it made her feel something she hadn’t expected. For the first time since the whole scheme began, she questioned if she could keep going with it. Maybe things don’t have to be complicated, she thought, but the thought quickly faded when they reached her doorstep.
She smiled awkwardly, her fingers grazing the door handle. "Well, this is me. Thanks for walking me, Harry. It… it means a lot.”
Harry gave her a small smile, his eyes soft. “Yeah, of course. Anytime,”
As she went inside, Harry walked back home, his heart feeling lighter than it had in years. But as Y/n closed the door behind her, a heavy weight settled in her chest. The smile that had lingered on her face faded, now replaced by a growing sense of guilt. She leaned against the door, her mind spinning, and for the first time, she felt like a stranger to herself.
She never wanted to hurt Harry, but especially not now. Not after seeing the way he cared for her tonight—offering to walk her home, patiently helping her with physics, showing so much kindness and thoughtfulness—only made her feel worse. Every word, every gesture he’d made had been so genuine, so sincere, and it felt like a slap in the face to what she was planning.
She hated who she was becoming, torn between her friends’ expectations and the weight of her conscience. The guilt gnawed at her, intensifying with every thought of betraying Harry’s trust. He deserved someone who saw him for who he truly was, not as a pawn in a cruel game. The realization that she was about to ruin something so real and pure made her feel like the worst person in the world.
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spineless-lobster · 1 day ago
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ALRIGHT LADS MERRY CHRISTMAS ITHACA SAGA’S OUT HERE ARE MY THOUGHTS
(Spoilers under cut of course)
1. The Challenge
PENELOPEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!! RAAAAGGGGGHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!
NOT HER SEEING THE STORM ODY RELEASED AAAAAAAAAAAAA
I’LL BE HERE BUYING YOU TIME‼️🔥💪
OUGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH ANNA ATE THE VOCALS SHE SOUNDS GORGEOUS!!!!!!!!!!!
I KNEW IT!!!!! I KNEW SHE’D BE SINGING “WAITINGGGGG” I KNEW IT IN MY HEART AND SOUL!!!!!!!!!!!
2. Hold Them Down
WHERE IS HE INDEED!!!!!!!!
Oughhhhhhhh ayron’s voice is making me FEEL things rn he makes it so hard to hate antinous 😭 (this sentiment will not be held for long)
“Hold him down ‘til the boy stops shaking” “only the ocean and I will know” okay idk if I’m insane or ovulating or something but like antinous is kind of a freak for telemachus like he’s a little too sensual about killing him idkkkkkkk
Okay okay now it is SUPER easy to hate antinous FUCK when he’s describing what he’ll do to penelope I got chills bro thank god he’s dead 😭
Again I HAVE to reiterate how AMAZING ayron’s vocals are in this song HE GIVES SUCH A GREAT PERFORMANCE!!!!!!!
3. Odysseus
Ohohohohooooo daddy’s home
The electric guitar that’s how you know you’re fucked
“I come back and find my palace desecrated, sacked like Troy” THE GASP I LET OUT AT THE NAME DROP!!!!! SICKENING!!!!!!
When he called telemachus “my boy” what if I started crying
“I. Have had. Enough.” CHILLS!!! CHILLS MOTHERFUCKER CHILLS!!!!!! ASKFJKSJFSKHFKSHDKFH WE HAVE WAITED SO LONG FOR THIS!!!!!!!!
THE ENSEMBLE SINGING “ODYSSEUS” IN POLYPHEMUS’ TUNE!!!!! HE’S THE BOSS NOW BITCHES!!!!!!!
“He’s aiming for the torches!” JUST LIKE SCYLLA!!!!! ODY IS PULLING A SCYLLA!!!!!!!!!
“You don’t think I know my own palace? I built it.” STILL ONE OF THE HARDEST FUCKING LINES IN THE MUSICAL BRO THAT SHIT MAKES ME INSANE!!!!!! INSANEEEEE!!!!!!!!
OPEN ARMS MENTION!!!!!!! We are NOT greeting the world with opens arms lads it’s fucking over. I love the way odysseus says “no” without ANY hesitation, he’s so tired of this song and dance HE’S HAD IT!!!!
TELEMACHUS!!!!!!!!!!!!! YAYAYAYAYAYAYYAY!!!!!!!
I wasn’t expecting him to relish in the bloodshed like he does in the odyssey because that’s just not how he is in the musical but it’s nice that he at least tried to stop them! You go little wolf!
“Where is he?” Being used to refer to both odysseus and telemachus is killing me slowly
“My mercy has long since drowned. It died to bring me home.” AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
FUCK DUDE!!!!! THAT WHOLE SECTION IS A FUCKING BANGER JAY’S DELIVERY IS ABSOLUTELY INSANE I CAN FEEL THE RAGE IN MY BONES MAN THIS SHIT IS SO FUCKING AWESOME!!!!!!!!
The use of “drowned” is SO CLEARLY a reference to poseidon I’m going to throw up
The screaming. All I hear are screams…
Fuck dude… just… fuuuuckkkkkk
4. I Can’t Help But Wonder
I’ve daydreamed so much about the father-son reunion I’m gonna cry
Ough poor telemachus finally meets his father and he can only worry about if he’s worthy enough to live up to ody’s legacy. And THE FIRST thing ody does is tell him how strong he is FUCK ME DUDE 😭😭😭
“Used to say I’d make the storm clouds cry for you” obvious reference to his whole shebang with poseidon
“Used to say I’d capture the wind and sky for you” WINDBAG MENTION!!!!!!!!
“Held you in my arms prepared to die for you” something something I see you draw your final breath, something something get in the water, something something…
“My son, I’m finally home!” THE WAY YOU CAN TELL THEY’RE HUGGING HERE BECAUSE OF THE SWELL OF MUSIC ARE YOU KIDDING ME ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS RIGHT NOW????? OUGHOGOUOGOGOHOHGHHHHHH
THEY’RE HARMONIZING IM GOING TO SOB IM GOING TO COMMIT CRIMES!!!!!!!!!
ATHENA!!!!!!!!!
My god odysseus learning ruthlessness and athena learning empathy and then uniting and realizing that, while empathy should always come first, unfortunately the world we live in sometimes we have to use ruthlessness in order to survive. And the best we can do is foster future generations that hopefully will not have to go through the same terrible things we have. Ough…
“There’s this girl I have to see” I’m like 80% this is referencing that cut song where ody asks athena to help him court penelope… I hope I’m right because I’ll cry if I am
5. Would You Fall In Love With Me Again
I’m tweaking our rn btw in case you were wondering
The instrumentals are so beautiful I literally CANNOT
The door opening sound effect is so simple but so effective alisjfkshfkshdidjjd
Once again I need to express how much I truly believe the odyssey is a metaphor for ptsd and how it changes a person and the relationships they have
ODYSSEUS SINGING “WAITING” YOU HAVE TO STOP I CAN ONLY TAKE SO MUCH 😭
Fuck the chorus is so beautiful I don’t even know what to say about it I’m so overwhelmed with emotions. Ough. Just… odysseus on his knees begging to be loved the way he was, and penelope knowing her answer only if she can really trust the man in front of her. Fuck… what the hell…
The olive bed… THE OLIVE BED!!!!!!!!!!
Once again I need to emphasize how ETHEREAL anna’s voice is!!!!!!!
THE JUST A MAN INSTRUMENTALS JORGE YOU CANNOT DO THIS TO ME!!!! ITS NOT ALLOWED!!!! YOU CANT FUCKING DO THAT!!!!!!
They’re harmonizing… they’re singing “I love you” and they’re harmonizing… I. I need a moment… I just.. give me a second… please can I have some time to myself? I just really need to… die, I think…
The final words of epic being “I love you” I am literally going to end my own life ITS SO BEAUTIFUL
This song makes me want to rip out my still-beating heart and eat it bloody and raw. In like a good way!!!
shoutout to the only straight couple ever. I love you odypen…
And thus, our journessey comes to an end. It’s over but it’s not over and I think that’s the only comfort I have right now
Now do you’ll excuse me I’m going to go lay face down in a creek forever
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ruanbaijie · 3 months ago
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我马上带你们回家,带你们回家……
SNOWFALL 冰雪谣 (2024) 1.13
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tonycries · 6 months ago
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FIVE! - C.K.
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Synopsis. Five hours - it’s all it takes for Choso’s baby fever to take over. After all, you’d look so pretty with his kid - five of them, in fact.
Pairing. Choso Kamo x Reader 
Content. MDNI, fem! reader, established relationship, unprotected, bréeding, Choso with rings + a tongue piercing, creampíe, mentioned kids, cúmplay, he goes feraI, oraI (fem receiving), Itadori family shenanigans (mild spoilers for unc-kuna), overstím, fíngering, pet names, swearing.
Word count. 5.9k
A/N. Will I ever write a Choso fic without the Itadori family? No absolutely not.
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4:37PM.
“Ooo, Cho can we check that place out?”
And, listen, just because Choso would give you the moon right along with his heart doesn’t exactly mean he’s jumping with joy when he follows your gaze to that gaudy little shop tucked away in a corner of the mall. Flashing a loud, glittering sign reading, “FORTUNES: FIND YOUR FUTURE!”
Traitorous memories flash through his mind with each step you drag him closer. Of all those fortune shops he’d frequented years ago, trying to figure out whether you’d say yes to a date - before even thinking of actually asking you. 
He won’t ask anything, Choso reassures, stepping through the heady, curtained doorway. Probably not anything, he’s musing, pulling out his wallet to pay for your session. Well, maybe some things, he concludes, eyeing the sprightly old woman that takes a seat opposite you two, peering down at her dramatically large glass ball on the table. 
But that doesn’t mean he’ll-
“Babies.”
“Huh?”
“Yes.” the woman gives a solemn nod. “Five of them.”
Both of you let out a squawk of surprise, much to the amusement of the fortune teller. And Choso can feel his palms getting sweaty against your own as he manages to croak out a low, disbelieving, “Five?”
All but toppling out of his seat in suspense as she takes a moment to scrutinize her orb once more. And, surely glass balls can glitch, right? Mix up fortunes or something? Because while he knows you’ll be by his side in this life and every other one after - kids were a whole other responsibility that neither of you had talked about, yet.
At least, that’s what Choso was trying to convince himself right before the woman lets out a thoughtful hum, “Well, you-” pointing a wisened, accusing finger right in his flushed face. “-want more - about eight - but, of course, your future wife says no.” Gesturing to your giggling figure, “Honestly, young man, learn to keep it in your pants, the poor dear!”
Shit, he was going to run away, do something to end up on the national news - and judging by the way you squeeze his hand, you could tell, too. 
Subconsciously, Choso’s eyes scan the wall for any hidden cameras, wondering what type of strange prank this was. It had happened once four years ago - and just-so-happened to be what made him give up and finally ask you out - but, hey, it made for a pretty great first date story, right?
Finding none, he sighs, barely opening his mouth to ask before she plows on, “And of course there’s only so many your uncle can piggyback at once, right? No matter how much that grump says he doesn’t like it.”
Right.
Of course.
Oh god, he thinks he could faint. 
Choso doesn’t dare say anything for the rest of the session, nor does he look directly in your eyes. Save for that one time to admire your delighted laugh when the fortune teller prattles on about how your kids will “fight his needy self for your attention.”
Not until the two of you are stepping back out into the too-bright mall, your fingers intertwined with his, voice sweet in his ear as you continue with your forgotten mission to find the good brownie mix for the family dinner tonight. 
“Eyes like yours and hair like mine.” You sigh, repeating what you’d heard mere minutes ago. Hooking a finger subtly into his belt loop, smirking, “Sooo, five, huh? You’re this worked up over that?”
“N-no.” Choso replies hastily, but the heavy gulp he takes is a dead giveaway he can’t stop thinking about tiny combinations of the two of you running around. Face too-hot, hands jittery, brows furrowed as he decides for the second time in his life that, yeah he’s never stepping foot inside a fortune shop again. 
You notice - of course, you do. 
Especially when he pulls you into the nearest changing stall, knuckle-deep inside your drenched panties, rings cool against your cunt, lips kissing at your throat. Ignoring your teasing complaints about “getting late”, despite how you’re letting him have his way. 
He feels the vibration of your voice under his hot tongue, laughing - even when he gives your pretty clit a little pinch. “Five.”
And through it all, he can’t help but think - hypothetically, of course, that he hopes they all have your laugh.
---
7:16PM.
Honestly, the one thing that made the Itadori residence more of a home to Choso was having you there. Even when you’re standing with him outside the front door, letting out a sigh as you glare at your sad excuse for brownies.
“Ugh, Cho, we totally burnt them.” you grumble up at your boyfriend. “Your dad is gonna hate it and Sukuna’s gonna make fun of me and-”
“Sukuna can try.” Choso hits the doorbell once more, sure that the ruckus inside was too loud to even think over. “And he probably will.” Before turning back to your adorable pout, and ah he can’t stop himself from cupping your face, smoothing over that furrow in your brow. He leans in to give your lips a chaste peck, “But, he’s still gonna steal some. N’ dad’ll love it, and you already know gramps is gonna sneak in some even though his doctor told him not to.” He’s getting out through kisses, pulling your giggling face closer to his. “And we’ll be lucky to get any before Itadori inhales them.”
He ends his little speech with a slow, lingering kiss. Sliding his soft lips across your now much happier ones. Dancing a hand down to pull your hips closer, murmuring throatily, “N’ most of all, I’m gonna love ‘em, baby.”
You gasp at the feeling of his long fingers pressing just at the hem of your panties through your dress, “You’re- you’re too much.” You hiss, but it comes out more breathless than you intended. “But, the brownies really are-”
Slam!
“Yeah yeah, Jin, the brats are finally here, jus’ fucking on the porch!” 
If there’s anything Choso’s learned from all the times you’ve had dinner with his family, it’s that 1. Yes, the brownies - as burnt and questionable as they were - will always turn out to be a hit in the Itadori household. 2. You were really, really too perfect for your own good, even amidst the chaos. 
“Oh no, let me.” you flash Jin a beaming smile, taking over the well cleared-out plates to the kitchen. Only to be followed by an enthusiastic Yuji almost tripping over his own feet to help you out. 
“You got a good one there.” Choso snaps out of his soft stare to whirl around at where his grandpa was seated next to him. He tips his head over to where you were chattering animatedly with the younger boy taking your load of dishes. “Real lovely. Though, the desert I’m assuming you helped out with.”
Jin pipes up, “Bah! I thought that liquorice was great.”
“They were…brownies.” Face burning, he stammers, knowing full well that you were the one that forgot them in the oven. “And uh y-yeah, you got me…”
And, of course, because it’s a family dinner, Sukuna has to lean over to rile him up. Interjecting teasingly, “Then you best wife that cute lil’ thing up before those baking skills of yours make ‘em run off n’ find someone that can bake.” He smirks devilishly, eyes flitting to the view of the kitchen, “And…”
“And?”
“-is fuckin’ great with kids, too.”
Several things happen at once - the words are barely out of Sukuna’s mouth before he’s being swatted over the head. Hard. After all, being the nicer of the two doesn’t make Jin Itadori forget his roots as the older brother.
And Choso’s jaw is dropping into a soft oh! Not at the unusual display of strength, no, instead it was at the heavenly scene before him.
He swears, the lights grow just a bit brighter and the world becomes a little rosier at the sight of you teaching an eager Yuji the correct way to scrub strainers. Gently guiding the boy until that confused furrow between his brow disappears. “Yeah, just a bit more on the side and you’re done!”
He gives you a very soapy high-five, “You’re literally a lifesaver, Kugisaki was just making fun of me for this the other day.” Moving onto the rest of the workload, “‘Can’t do shit’ gonna show her, seriously. Thank you mom- uh-”
Yuji freezes. You freeze. And it seems that everyone in the world might’ve frozen, except for Sukuna who was still rubbing that bump on his head. 
And you, of course, promptly cutting off the flurry of apologies that looked like they were about to burst from Itadori’s lips. Smiling at the flustered boy softly, “Well…good job, Yuji.” you bump his hip. “And now onto the blender.”
“AW, MAN.”
Suddenly, everything was normal again. Except for Choso - definitely not Choso. 
Mom? 
So utterly, completely not Choso when everyone’s still talking downstairs, and he’s not. Making some cheap excuse about a ‘bathroom break’, which really didn’t explain why he covertly drags you behind him by the hand. All but shoving you into his childhood bedroom, shutting the door as quietly as he could without alerting anyone of your tryst. 
“Ch-Cho-” you squeal when he pushes you against the wall, dropping down to his knees with a fervor that makes you wince. But if it hurt, then Choso doesn’t show it - doesn’t show anything but pure need when he bunches your dress up at your waist. Soft tongue darting out to glide along your drenched slit, “What’s gotten- hngh- into you?”
The only response you get is a murmured growl of something you can’t bother deciphering. And he doesn’t give you any other, either - sluggishly nudging away your panties to admire your glistening cunt. 
So close. Just hovering over your puffy folds, smiling at the way they only get wetter at his hot breath, “Five.”
Too close. Glossy pink lips falling slack to wrap around your clit and-
KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!
Though, it was more of a bang. And an even louder voice from outside, “OI, you brats better be decent, gramps found some dusty old albums n’ wants you two down.”
---
9:02PM.
“Awww, this is from his first fight with Yuji- yes, Choso so what if I took a picture?” Jin excitedly points to a photo on the page, “Yuji was the one with a bruise, but Choso was the one bawling.”
You titter at the glossy picture, a confused-looking Yuji as a toddler, being smothered by his older brother in a hug - big, fat tears running down his pouty cheeks. Adorable. And somehow that encounter with the fortune teller today rings in your mind - wonder if your kids would have those same eyes?
“As cute as ever, huh?” your gaze dances across all the gems of childhood on the page. 
“Disagreed.” Sukuna leans over, no matter how much he’d like to pretend he wasn’t interested in these albums. “Look how attached the lil’ anklebiter used to be.” A painted nail pokes at one of Choso on his uncle’s shoulders, tiny fists happily gripping onto pink hair - much to his disgruntlement. “And then I look over at him now and-” He glances over at the man in question, very much unamused. “Well. That’s disappointing.”
Choso rolls his eyes, “What’s disappointing is how you’re this old but still can’t find a-” 
“Ooo look this is from when he’d run away during bath time!”
That album is snatched so fast out of Jin’s hands that you wonder whether it might just be your imagination. But you look over at a red-faced Choso, seeing him hold it way above your heads. Muttering out a hasty, “I think that’s enough photo time.”
Amidst the collective groans of disappointment - even Sukuna lets out a low huff, you hadn’t gotten to those ugly matching Halloween costume pictures yet - only Yuji speaks up, “Do you think I’d be like that, too?”
Sukuna scoffs, “What? An emo bastard? Might just work out for ya, kid, the dumbass look isn’t doing you any favors.”
Yuji juts his chin in indignance, “No- we already have Fushiguro for that.” Tilting his head over to the album still tight in Choso’s clutches. “Do you think your kids would like me? Would I be that cool favorite family member?”
“No way, brat. It’ll be me.”
Choso’s grandpa also chimes in as well, “Huh? No, I’d be the favorite.”
“Gramps-”
“Says who?”
“DISRESPECT TO YOUR ELDERS!”
“Hey!” Everything turns to Choso, startled at his sudden outburst. Tension crackling as he pokes a thumb at his chest, “I’d be their favorite. For all five of them.”
And you knew a fist or two to be thrown, hell, you half-expected the album to be used as some type of weapon. Because before you knew it, Sukuna was on Yuji, and both Yuji and Choso were on Sukuna. Falling to the floor in a tangled pile while his grandpa sat on the sidelines, chanting an elated, “Fight! Fight! Fight!”
Ah, it’s times like this that you wonder how Jin Itadori really had the patience. Because with all the grace that was lacking in the current scuffle on the living room floor, he claps his hands loudly. “Alright. Perhaps Choso’s right, that’s enough photo time for tonight.” He plucks the album out of a dazed Choso still gripping onto it, before moving to walk out. “And for the record-” Flashing you all a devious smile which suddenly had you remember that shit, him and Sukuna were twins, after all. “-I’d be the favorite.”
The arguments that followed were ones you had to record on your phone to giggle at later. And, yet, through it all, the only thing you could truly focus on were Choso’s words - all five of them.
Fuck. You were truly, irrevocably so fucked, and one sideglance at the pretty pink blush burning at the tips of Choso’s ears told you he wasn’t faring any better. 
You jolt when his hand wraps around your waist - nothing out of the ordinary - but what was was the way he strayed past their usual perch at your hip, trailing slightly above to just caress your stomach. Something so electric in those eyes when they catch yours briefly. 
All five of them, huh?
---
9:37PM. 
SLAM!
“Cho, why’d you-”
“Shut up.”
You don’t know what’s hitting you first - his lips crashing against yours, or the realization that this was Choso. Dark eyes half-lidded, skin burning, breaths heaving with the fervor he was drinking you in with. 
“What-” you yelp when he pulls away lazily to suck on your lower lip. “What got-” Only to come clashing back down again, drawing out all the air in your lungs as he blindly shoves the two of you against the nearest wall. “What got into you this- mmpf-” And again it’s like Choso didn’t want you to talk - could bare another word in your sweet voice for fear of poking some deep, visceral part of himself awake. 
This time, not even daring to break the kiss, he pants into your open mouth, “Shut up.” So bruisingly sloppy, “Please.”
And oh he was so very determined to have it that way, because all you can do is let out breathless gasps when his hands dance down your body. Handling you so rough with the way he snaps the neckline of your cute lil’ dress, kneading your breasts, your hips. Everywhere and anywhere he could reach until he makes his way down to cup your already-damp cunt through your panties. “-because tonight m’gonna have her talking.”
Choso pushes his hips against yours with a strained grunt. Lips curling into a sinful leer when all you can do is gasp at the outline of his thick erection through his pants. Grinding down onto his palm subconsciously, dragging your sloppy pussy. 
“Shit.” Choso immediately brings his hand up to admire - now all glistening with a sheen of your syrupy slick. Looking you right in your glassy eyes as he pops a wet finger into his mouth. His own rolling to the back of his head, “Oh shit.”
Oh, he was going to enjoy this. So very, very much.
“Turns out…” he trails off, cutting himself off by dropping to his knees. Hard. Large hands groping your ass closer to his greedy mouth, “-she says we got some unfinished business.”
You whine when Choso hooks an index underneath the mound of your drenched panties sliding it along your puffy folds. All the way up until he was nudging at your pretty clit, then down, down, down until you were just coating his fingers. 
“Ngh- Cho-” your knees weaken, when his hot breath hits your pussy. And he notices - of course he does. Circling his muscled arms around your legs to hold you up, “Oh my god s’too much.”
Too much? He’s barely even getting started. And he tells you that - slurs it between his sharp canines biting down on the thin fabric of your panties. He tugs with his teeth, “M’gonna- fuck you smell so heavenly- m’gonna ruin you.” 
You whimper in disbelief. Knowing he was too entranced with your cunt to tease you again, you mewl, “Wh-what’s got you this- fuck- worked up, Cho?”
The only response you get is a throaty growl - like the mere idea of the answer to that has Choso losing his sanity. 
And, honestly he feels like he’s lost it already. Instead, taking his time to watch the way your slick beads through the see-through fabric with each passing second. Breaths coming out in little puffs as he pulls your panties back every-so-slightly and-
“Fuck!”
And then he’s pulling - ripping your poor panties to shreds. Cock twitching wildly at the strings of slick connecting your pussy to the fabric. Mouthwatering. 
Your panties lay in tatters on the floor. The cold air hitting you right along with his steady stream of saliva. Once. Twice. Smearing it across your folds with his thumbs as Choso repeats a single, jagged whisper, “Five.”
But you barely even have the time to register his response before he’s diving nose-deep into your dripping cunt. You don’t even know if he took the time to breathe - hell, he was kissing your puffy folds like he didn’t need to breathe. 
“Shouldn’t have taken me to ngh- that fortune shop.” his lips mesh sloppily with yours. “Shouldn’t have gone to dinner, too.” Licking down your folds, the cold metal of his piercing making your head spin. “Fuckkk we shouldn’t have. Ohhh we shouldn’t have- ”
He can’t help but let out a guttural, fucked-out little grunt at the sight. Looking right up into your glassy eyes as the tip of his nose bumps against your throbbing clit. On purpose. 
You buck your hips deeper into his pretty face, mewling. “O-oh. Fuck- fuck fuck fuck-” Letting him lick so filthily all over your clit - your folds - just barely dipping into your hole like he couldn’t decide. And it finally sets in that just maybe you weren’t getting off easy this time. “Five?”
And fuck you can feel the way Choso grins against your pussy, wrapping his now-glossy lips around your clit to suck so harshly.
“Mhmmm.” he moans, cheeks hollowing as he tugs on your poor, ravaged clit. Rolling his tongue - the ball of his piercing - right across the sensitive bud in just the way he knew you liked. “Shouldn’t have put those thoughts in my head, baby.”
Oh.
Oh, shit. Five. 
You definitely weren’t making it out alive today.
The same sentiment seems to ring in Choso’s pussydrunk head as he pulls away with a lewd squelch to grin up at you. So fucking pretty with his eyes miles away, hair messily framing his smudged eyeliner. Lips all puffy and glistening, your slick covering the lower half of his face, his chin - some even on his jaw like Choso was trying to get messy on purpose. “Ya finally got it, baby? I could feel her gettin’ wetter.”
You did. How could you not?
You jump when Choso reattaches his lips, this time bullying his tongue past your folds, into that first, feeble ring of resistance. Stretching out your sopping entrance on his tongue in persistent, rough pushes. “Seems she hngh- really likes the idea, hm? Of me breeding this lil’ cunt?” he moans, muffled with the way he was thrusting his tongue deeper and deeper with each second. Roaming for those cute sensitive spots he knew so well, “N’ who am I to say no to the fuck- mother of my kids?”
“There! Oh my god there-” you cry when his piercing just hits at your g-spot. “I-I thought you ngh- didn’t want kids, Cho–”
As if to prove you wrong, Choso’s only curling his tongue deeper into your walls. Squeezing past your walls to fuck you exactly the way he wanted to with his aching cock right now. Hitting that magic spot again and again and-
“Oh yeah? Seems-” Like he was fucking addicted, Choso surges forward again. And again. And again and again so deep that you could feel the curve of his chin, each and every movement of his jaw. “Seems the last five hours were a bit- eye-opening. Fuck- you’re squeezin’ me s’fucking- mmf- tight”
And it was true - your walls were milking Choso’s tongue so hard you half-lucidly wondered whether it didn’t hurt. Whether his tongue wasn’t cramping up at this point, lips aching. 
But if they did, then Choso acted the exact opposite. Nails leaving neat little patterns on the plush of your hips as he makes you ride his face harder. 
“Cho!” you buck your hips wildly when that wasn’t enough for your needy boyfriend either. Big, fat tears of overstimulation rising up to your eyes when he swipes his thumb across your pulsing clit. Rings cold against your cunt when he starts to draw urgent, messy little circles in time with his tongue.“Oh fuck-” 
“Five.” he’s spitting into your cunt when your thighs start trembling beside his head. Jaw sagging open so lewdly as he gets faster - sloppier. Fuck any rhythm or reason. “Five.” he moans, sounding as strained as you felt - as taut as a tightrope right now with each drag of your sloppy cunt over Choso’s ravenous mouth. Greedier - letting your slick run all the way down his wrist now with how messy he was getting. “Five.” he whispers, when you finally cum. 
And shit, you’re such a vision when you do. Tears springing to your eyes, fingers tightening on Choso’s hair. Letting out such cute sobs of his name, hips moving out of control all over his mouth while he still pulls and pushes his tongue into your gummy walls. Fucking you so obscenely through your high. 
“Yeah? You all done with the first one, baby?” he rasps, giving your sensitive cunt one, last peck at your delirious nod - and another extra, just to watch you squirm. “Then-” Choso does the same up your body, pressing his lips to your stomach, “-you can-” the valley of your breasts. “-take responsibility.”
That’s all it takes for Choso to easily throw you onto his sculpted shoulders like some ragdoll. Taking long, urgent steps towards the nearest flat surface - that just so happened to be your couch. 
“Cho- slow-” you squeal when he throws you onto the cushions. “-down.”
And he does anything but. Barely paying attention to your zipper when he pulls off whatever’s left of your dress, throwing it god-knows-where behind him. “I’ll buy you a new one when we go pregnancy shopping.”
Choso lets out a long, strained groan when he unbuckles your bra. “Gonna be so pretty as a mama.” Large, soft hands coming to knead and guide your pretty nipples into his mouth, “Gonna be- fuck- so pretty with these all full.” 
And you can only watch, jaw-dropped, as Choso sucks on your tits. Eyes rolling to the back of his head with how harsh he was - as if he was trying to get out milk. Needing to feel it - to taste it on his tongue. 
“And this- oh this-” A hand sneaks its way down to splay out over your stomach. Pressing down, hard. “So round and full with my kid.” He manages to grit out over the metal clinking of his belt, “They’ll look at you and all they’ll see is me.” He pauses, feeling something crinkle in his pocket - a shiny condom. One that Choso chucks along with your dress, “Fuck, they’ll see me. Know how I ruined you. Me me me me-”
Fuck- 
You’re so caught up in Choso’s sinful little mutters that you barely even noticed he’d pull down his pants - just enough for his rock-hard erection to spring free. And he looked so painfully hard, such an angry red at his weeping tip, leaking all the way down, down, down those prominent veins. 
Twitching upwards at the mere sound of your voice, “Why don’t you p-prove it then, Cho?”
You broke him. You were sure you broke him. 
The words have barely left your lips before Choso’s fist is squeezing at the drenched base of his cock. Angry. Desperate. 
All but cumming on the spot when he glides his fat head along your slit - letting your cunt drool all over him before-
“F-fuck-”
“Shhh baby, I know I know.” his mouth crashes against yours in a messy, open-mouthed kiss. Sucking on your tongue while he bullies his massive cock into your snug cunt. Inch by fucking inch. And whatever’s remaining of Choso’s sanity knows he should slow down, let you breathe, maybe stretch you out more - but how could he when he physically can’t. “Fuck- too- too good. God, I have t-to do this more often.”
Your raw cunt too heavenly that he genuinely can’t stop his hips from splitting you apart deeper, from spreading your thrashing legs so far apart it burned.
From feeling the way you’re torn between taking more and flattening your feet to push away- Letting out a strangled groan, “No no no no no- don’t you take this pussy away. How else will I breed her?” He runs his delirious mouth, strong arms just dragging you across the couch back onto his mean cock. “Need this- need this so bad. Fuck-” Choso throws his head back as your cunt sucks up his leaky tip. “-oh god think m’gonna die if I don’t get to breed this pretty pussy. To give her my kid.”
Pushing in small, sharp jabs to bully himself inside, having your puffy folds bulge so obscenely around his cock. Quivering and struggling to take him all. Not even a quarter of the way in yet he was pushing in and out in and out in and-
“Oh- please-” you claw down his toned back, his waist, onto the biceps that were pushing your knees up for easier access, all the way until they were at your tits. Folding you into a tight mating press, “Cho–”
Ah, that little nickname always did things to him. And Choso nuzzles the crook of your neck gently - the exact opposite of his hips, leaving faint, dark streaks of eyeliner on your skin. “What is it? What do you hngh- want, baby? I’ll give ya anything.”
And maybe you were a mastermind. Maybe you were an idiot. Because you hum into his ear, sending goosebumps rising down your boyfriend’s spine, “Wan’ five of them.”
If you thought you broke him before then you fucking ruined him now.
Because in one, harsh thrust he’s bottoming out - feeling like he was pushing all the way into your lungs, your hazy brain. And the stretch - fuck. You could feel each and every dip and curve of Choso’s girth, thrumming against your plushy walls. Still pushing inside you despite bottoming out, stretching you out like such a slut. 
It was all Choso could do to echo, over and over like some type of mantra. “Finally- Five, huh? Five- Fuck!” Leaving little bruises on your thighs from spreading them apart so hard. “Gonna give you five- fuck- five.”
Each word was punctuated by a long, mean thrust, not daring to reel back until Choso could feel his fat head kiss your poor cervix, and his heavy balls smack against your ass. 
It was starting to take a toll on your ability to speak in coherent sentences - as expected, of course. 
“Oh- ngh- Cho, s’too deep. Too- ah-” you blubber tearily, heels digging into his shoulders. And he only fucks you harder into the couch. Bouncing you so rough on his swollen cock. 
“Too deep?” Choso mutters, sounding genuinely surprised. As if to confirm for himself, he trails up a hand to feel for where he knew he was leaving loving little marks on your cervix. Pressing down. “How are ya- hah- how are ya gonna let me breed this cute cunt if even this is too deep, huh?”
You don’t have the ability to answer even if you wanted to - because Choso starts to toy with your still-sensitive clit. Sending flashes of white-hot pleasure with each roll of his ringed thumb over it. Tiny, incessant circles.
He coos over your lewd ah! ah! ah! “Awww. My baby can’t s-speak anymore?”. The curve of his dick fucking you so dumb, massaging your tight walls, hitting sweet spots you didn’t even know you had. “S’alright, jus’ let me hah- take care of it, okay? Jus’ let me paint this oh- heavenly pussy white.” Choso’s knees dig into the cushion as he angles his hips ever-so-slightly to hit that one-
“Fuck! Oh fuck- Cho–”
Found it.
“C’mon, baby.” Choso moans into the valley of your breasts, hips out of control now. Free hand coming up to squish your cheeks together, forcing you to peer into his dark gaze. “L-look at me. Fuck- look at the future father to your kids.”
All while his thick tip hit your g-spot over and over and- 
And oh how he loved how fucked-out you looked already. Capable of only giving him bleary, cockdrunk heart-eyes as he milks himself on your sloppy cunt. He couldn’t think straight - doesn’t think he’s been able to since five hours ago. 
Since he’s been wrecked with thoughts of how he’d do their hair and you’d pick them up from school. And how Yuji would be the best uncle and- Fuck, how he wanted those five kids with you - maybe even more- 
“More?” you gasp. And Choso lets out a guttural groan when you clench so sinfully around him in surprise. Fucking you so filthy, “M-more kids?”
Choso only drawls out a low, “Mhmmmm.” Pinching your clit faster between two fingers to shut up those cute whines because shit- he could cum from just how tight you were squeezing him. But refuses to before the mother of his kids. “Ya don’ ngh- wan’ me to? Don’ want me to fuck a baby into you?” 
You’re crying out harder when he speeds up. Rocking your sloppy cunt so harshly, making sure your poor pussy will remember him for a long, long time. Just trying - needing - to make himself cum. To fill you up with his seed till you can’t take it anymore. “I- ngh- do!”
And it takes everything in Choso to pull away from your ravaged tits, connecting his sweaty forehead with yours. Whispering, “How many?”
“As- fuck-”
“Mhm?”
“As many as you want- hngh-”
That’s all it takes for Choso’s body to bow, teeth digging in right above that rapid pulse on your neck so hard you wondered whether it drew blood. Hips stuttering, giving your sensitive spot one last, harsh kiss.
This time, when you cum you see white flashes behind your eyes - or maybe that was just Choso. Because the sight of you falling apart on his dick was all it takes for him to as well. Hard. Almost painfully so. 
Eyeliner running down his cheeks now with each thick, hot rope of seed he was filling your snug cunt up with. Those cushions below the two of you the last thing on his mind right now as he holds your trembling hips still, fucking his cum deeper and deeper.
The hand on your stomach pushes down, watching awe-struck at how your bloated cunt just coats him in cum. Dribbling down the side of your puffy folds, forming a creamy ring at his base.
“Oh!“ your jaw falls slack at how animalistic it felt. At how slutty your overfilled pussy felt, drooling all down your legs - and his. Onto Choso’s painfully squeezing balls as he fucks you like an animal. Again. And again and-
Again. He was speeding his hips up again. 
Then it’s like something snaps - Choso’s restraint, your sanity, and the couch. Fuck, his hips were so harsh that the couch was sagging entirely too much on your end.
This time, wrangling your legs around Choso’s waist, lifting your limp body up into Choso’s arms before you can react - squirming at the way he still doesn’t bother to pull out. Letting your cum gush all the way down his still-hard dick. 
Hands spreading your puffy folds apart, making such a mess of cum down below as he drags himself across your walls. Like he was marking you from the inside out - and he was.
“Didn’t think we were ngh- done, did you?” Choso’s lips graze your swollen ones. “After all, I did promise five.” Softly pooling a stray tear onto his tongue, piercing burning into your heated skin. “N’ we gotta practice for that, too, right?”
---
“The photo albums, really? Honestly, dad, you might as well have just gone and just outright told them.”
The older man only waves a hand dismissively, turning back to his favorite late-night show, “I’m not getting any younger here. N’ I’d like to see some grandkids before I see the pearly gates.”
Jin only sighs, but doesn’t disagree - after all, he couldn’t deny his father what he himself has been dreaming about ever since Choso finally plucked up the courage to actually ask you out. Yet he persists, “But honestly, Sukuna - you were teasing him a bit too much.”
Sukuna grunts, “Teasing? What teasing?” Crossing two big arms across his chest, “From the way they ran outta here, I suspect he should be thanking me.”
“Well, the true MVP - as the kids say - is this one-” Grandpa Itadori points at a rather oblivious Yuji. ‘Real nice improv to the plan, kid.“
Who only shakes his head before looking around the room for any answers, “Huh, wait. What plan? Did I miss some plan?”
“Ahem- no. Nothing.” Jin coughs, swiftly moving along the conversation above Yuji’s confused protests about what secret plan there was and why. “But, really, it should be that fortune teller you hired, Sukuna. Bit over-the-top honestly, but Choso was telling me all about her and you must’ve gotten a real convincing actress.”
Rolling his eyes, “Huh, I didn’t hire her, I thought that was the ol’ man’s work?”
“Now why would I go looking for actresses, my wife would just haunt me from the grave.”
The silence that follows is a heavy one as it slowly dawns upon everyone in the room - except for a still-floundering Yuji - that this was in no way a creative improvisation to the aforementioned plan. Not at all, really.
Oh. 
Wow. Five…really?!
“GUYS WHAT WAS THE PLAN?”
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A/N. This got wayyyyyy longer than I expected lmao.
Plagiarism not authorized.
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luveline · 1 month ago
Text
𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐬
You’re in love with Spencer from the minute he gets you in his bed. [4k]
c: fem/afab. smut mdni, p in v sex, oral, fluff, aftercare, early intense feelings, spencer in sweetheart mode, flirting.
˚ ༘ ೀ⋆。˚⋆
It’s a cold day in November when you see him across the bar. He’s sitting at a table of friends drinking from a tall glass of coke. He’s normal. Non-imposing, undeniably cute, laughing with a smile that shows his teeth. His tie is to his belt and his suit jacket’s been thrown over the back of the chair. 
He looks like he might have fun with you, if you can catch his attention. Something about him seems… eager to please. 
You watch him, and you watch his friend. He seems more your usual type, muscled, confident. He’s the key. You let your gaze linger on the curly-haired boy until the friend glances your way. You give him a look. Hey, who’s your friend?
You look away once you see an arm rise. There’s elbowing, arguing. You sit relaxed at the bar and twists your straw through cherry spritz, ice cubes tinkling. After a minute you think, Oh, come on. After two you worry you aren’t his type. 
Then comes salvation. The curly haired boy slots between your seat and the next, beckoning the bartender forward with a nearly perfect, “Excuse me?” 
“Right there with you.”
You wait. He seems cute, but you’re not trying to take him home if he doesn’t have the chops for it. And not because you see yourself as some deadly thing to be pleased, but you can’t spend another night fluffing someone else’s feathers. 
“Hey,” he says finally, surprisingly without the nerves you’d read before. He must’ve breathed through them. “How’s it going?” 
You lift your gaze from the dark purple of your spritz. The first thing you notice are the beauty marks you couldn’t see before, along his cheeks and hiding among a light shadow of stubble. “Hi, handsome,” you say softly. You can’t imagine him liking a firm touch, but that might become more apparent later on. “Nothing’s going on, I suppose I was just waiting for you.” 
“Yeah?” he asks. 
“Mm-hm.” 
He puts one arm on the bar. You let your eyes dawdle on his hand. “Are you here alone?” 
“I was with a friend,” you confess, lifting your gaze to his, making steady eye contact for as long as he’ll allow you to. His gaze flits to your mouth as you continue. “But she met somebody. I was told not to wait up.” 
“So you’re in need of company?” 
You tip your head to give him the best glance at you, all eyes and gentle smiles as you nod. “Would that be you?” 
“What are you drinking?” 
“Cherry spritzer.” 
“Can I buy you another one?” 
“Just one, please.” You believe in the overarching reach of sexuality, of being with someone, but you don’t believe in drinking and sex, nor allowing a man to pave the way. “This is my first. If I have more than that I’ll be too tipsy to do what I want tonight.” 
“What’s that?” he asks. 
You tap your nose. The boy —the man— to your delight, seems to like the gesture very much. 
The bartender approaches. Your unknown, lovely looking man asks for a coke and a cherry spritzer, extra cherries, though you didn’t tell him too. He nods to your little plate of cherry stems and asks, “Can you tie a knot?” But before you can answer, he adds, “I’m good at it.” 
Spencer proves to be good at a few things. Kissing, touching, his face in sweet places and his spit-wet thumb to a nerve. One moment you’re sitting at the bar wondering if he’ll take you home and the next you’re taking a taxi, you’re lying in his bed being stripped of your stockings, being laid on top of. You didn’t know he had it in him, this sweaty, adoring kissing in the dark; there’s a difference between kissing for hunger’s sake and kissing with love, and for some strange reason Spencer doesn’t seem to know the difference. 
“Have we met before?” you ask, the ache between your legs sharper than ever as his hand flirts with the boundary of your stomach and the apex of you, begging to go back there and prolong what he’d started. 
“No.” His lips are on your neck, kissing as he slips a finger behind your ear. “I’d remember.”
His chest pushes into yours again, triggering a breathy gasp as the button of your nipple takes the brunt of him. He turns your face, that flirting hand abandoning your wanting cunt to squeeze at your sides, your ribs, the soft hill of your breast. 
“Do you wanna cum again?” he asks softly. The best part is that he’s earnest, not a second of bravado in it as he lays his lips against your cheek. 
You could. He’d done stuff with his mouth you’ve never experienced before, fingertips teasing your wetness as he told you something about tantrics and pleasure, his hand under your knee, holding you open. You’d felt so suddenly out of control and —and honestly, you’d thought yourself half in love with him for the way he was kissing you alone. No shyness, but softness. No rushing, no annoyance when it took you time to tip into pleasure. He’d been delighted when you seized, had sat up to draw the climax out with circles, matching pace to your rising chest. 
You slip a hand into his curls and treat him with the same sweetness he’d given you, kissing him like you love him: for whatever time this is, you really do. He’s the prettiest boy you’ve ever fucked. All it took to meet was a snowstorm and a need to escape the rigid cold. 
“I think you should fuck me now,” you say, scratching his scalp lightly, not so frantic, no more pulling. “Please.”
He kisses you, kisses your jaw, and doesn’t pretend he isn’t eager as he snatches the condom from the dresser. For a while things are giggly and breathless, nervous for a pause, then achingly tight. You stay and Spencer wraps his arms behind you, kissing your neck as you let your leg fall to the side. 
“When did you tell me your name?” you ask, breathless again as his kiss matches his rhythm, slow grinds of his hips, flirting as his hand had been, just a few inches from filling you completely. 
“I don’t remember,” he says through a kiss.
“Spencer.” 
“Yeah?” 
“I just thought I’d try it,” you say, covering your eyes with your hand as his hips flex and he touches that worst part of you over, and over, and over. 
Spencer turns your face to take your hand, slowing to a crawl. He checks your gaze, and sinks into you again. Slow fucking, long kisses, his hands rubbing up the juncture of your neck and down again, then stroking your arms, comfort for a pain you don’t feel. 
“What do you want me to do?” he asks quietly. 
“Just this.” 
“No, but what do you want?” he asks, lips pulled into a smile that didn’t quite make it into a laugh. “What feels best? I can get you there again.” 
So you end up more on your side than your back. He helps you lift a leg over his hip and then he’s back to kissing you senseless. You can’t think of anything but being kissed, being fucked, it doesn’t just feel like an okay pastime with a vaguely handsome guy heightened by a drink, it’s fucking with intent. He curls an arm behind your back to hold you against him and he lets you have everything. 
Something must give you away, a shaking leg, the way you breathe; he knows you’re ready before you do, kissing down your chest as his hand sinks between your hot thighs. Slick or not, he finds where he wants to touch, your eyes filling with heat as he slows. 
He draws it out. The second his lips find your chest you trip into cumming for the second time. You hadn’t realised he was close but you cum and he quickly follows, his nose at your collar. He sounds insane. Beggy, breathy moans, a shade from laughter.
“Can I keep going?” he asks just under your ear. 
You can’t say yes fast enough. He’s kind, ignoring your desperate tone. 
You don’t count the number of times you fuck that night. It’s not clear, really. They aren’t separate occasions. You come down and he’s stroking the skin of your neck as you catch your breath, drawing lines down your arm, murmuring, “You okay?” as you nod and slip a hand behind his back. 
He hugs you like he’s known you for years. When you kiss his blushing chest, kiss downward, he turns breathless. It goes on like that for a while. Afterwards, he situates himself between your legs and lets his weight force your thighs into your abdomen, just enough to feel the pressure, searching kisses pressed to your knee. 
It’s not that you fuck all night, it’s just different than before. And when he encourages you under his sheets to lay behind you, there’s a part of you that wants his hand to stray between your legs again, no matter how tired you are. 
“I’d say sorry for keeping you up, but you sounded like you liked it,” he murmurs in the dark, wrapping a solid arm around your stomach and pulling you tightly to him.
You have no regrets. For perhaps the first time ever, it feels as though all your gasps and teary sighs were adored, and not just smugly kept. “You didn’t notice me falling asleep?” 
He laughs at your teasing, his breath kissing the back of your neck. “When did that happen?” 
“…I don’t want to fall asleep, now.” 
“You don’t have to… I can make you a cup of tea, or…” He draws another line down your arm, ending in a swirl before your elbow. “You could shower.” 
Both sound nice, but no. Your legs are still weak from being held, the ache of a good fuck taking home in your stomach. Truthfully, nothing could make you wanna leave whatever it is he’s doing to you now. The shape of his lips warms your shoulder. 
“That was amazing.”
“You’re amazing,” he says, wrapping you up all over again. He can’t decide how to hold you. You grab his hand and keep it there under your breasts, letting your eyes flutter closed. 
How can he say that? He has this strange way of touching that’s making you feel yards prettier than you usually do, and he’d just fucked you like a dream. You couldn’t manage that sort of pleasure alone. 
“Where have you been hiding?” you whisper, toying with his fingers. Might as well do everything you can while you can. 
“Nowhere.” 
“So where have you been?” 
He takes a breath. “Turn around?”
You begin turning and he takes you like a dance, leaning in slowly to kiss you, until his smoothness gives way to a smile. He pulls back. In the barest lick of light from the window, you can see a blush spreading across his nose. 
“Sorry. I should ask, I shouldn’t just kiss you,” he says, cupping your cheek. 
How might you go about marrying this boy? You decide to play it cool, kissing him until you fall asleep in his arms, your lips still parted for another lazy press of his as he pulls the sheets over your shoulders. 
You wake to something new. There isn’t a man against you hinting for a morning tryst, nor an empty bed, a note to let yourself out when you’re ready. There’s a real, gentle hand on your neck. It slides to your shoulder and rubs. 
“You okay?” a voice asks. 
You force your eyes open, blurry vision further occluded by a face. 
His hair is damp. Like he showered a while ago. Spencer’s hand travels to the back of your neck and touches accordingly. “I wouldn’t have bothered you, but it’s almost one. I was worried you might be sick.” 
You close your eyes, smiling, better when he scratches the back of your neck with short nails. “I was up late.” 
“I know, I’m  sorry.” 
You wait for him to tell you why you have to leave, any manner of excuse, but nothing comes. 
“So are you? Okay?” he asks gently. 
“I’ll leave soon.” 
“That’s not what I’m trying to say. If you’re not sick, you can go back to sleep.” 
“And just lay in your bed all day,” you murmur, disbelieving. 
“If you wanted to. Or… you can shower, and I can make you something to eat.” His thumb takes to your cheek. One night stand sex can’t be something he does often, or there’s a real possibility that he’s the first man to ever do it right.
His eyes are so much bigger than you realised. “Do you wear glasses?” 
He stammers, embarrassed, “How would you guess that?” 
You raise a hand to his face and draw a short line against his nose. “You have the marks here. Were you reading?” 
“Just while I was waiting for you.” 
“What do you do?” 
“What?” 
“I didn’t ask what you do, I don’t think we managed to ask each other much of anything,” you say, rewarded for your vulnerability with a chest-aching smile, his canine teeth peeking from under his lips. He still looks kissed, lips a shade of sore you’re sure you’d see on yourself in the mirror. 
“I work for the government,” he says, catching your hand to cradle your wrist, “for something called the behavioural analysis unit.” 
“Like, statistics?” 
He lets your hand fall against his chest, a thin grey t-shirt under your knuckles failing to hide the shapes of him, of which you’d explored at length last night. You kissed as much of his chest as you could and it hadn’t felt like enough, Spencer leaner than you’d realised with a stomach on the soft side, easy to kiss relentlessly. 
Your mouth is drying thinking about it. Spencer watches you wordlessly, before saying, “I guess it is like statistics, especially for me. We try to think about serial criminals in terms of their motives. It’s an attempt at math for something not usually quantitative.” 
“And you’re good at it.” 
“I’m good at math, yeah.” 
“Probability of a,” —your breath betrays you, slightly too hopeful as it catches— “morning kiss if I brush my teeth first?” 
His eyes light up. He leans down carefully, and gives you a chaste, firm kiss. 
You forget that you’re naked, not worried about being shy. The sheets fall away from you as you lift up to meet him. He holds them to your naked waist, the other hand skirting just below your breast. You wish he’d touch you like he did last night, but he isn’t so forward. His kiss is kind. You frown as he pulls away. 
“I had a really great time, last night,” he says, tip of his thumb setting your nerves aflame as it drifts over your skin. “Really great.” 
“Me too.” 
“And you’re okay?” 
“What do you mean?” 
“Nothing hurts?” he asks. 
“No, of course not.” Your confusion clears. “No, you weren’t like that. I think my legs might be aching but that’ll go away in the shower.” 
“I can run you a bath, if you want. It’s a half bath so you might not be able to stretch out, but it’ll help.” He gives you a smile. The familiarity between you doesn’t want to ebb. 
“Shouldn’t have showered without me,” you say, soft, lest playful be something he doesn’t want on a new day. 
“My hair was greasy. Someone kept touching it.” 
You sit up. Spencer’s hands fall to yours.
It’s hard not to play with someone’s hair when it’s in their face, and when they’re trailing kisses in warm places. He doesn’t blame you really, you can see it in his eyes. 
For a pause, you just sit. 
This is nice. Not being thrown out, left with that aching gap in your chest like you gave something you hadn’t intended when it started. Sex will never be easy again, you realise, not when you know it can be good. 
“You’re not working today, are you?” you ask. 
“No, why?” he asks in turn, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. 
“Maybe we…” He waits. He’s pretty enough to force your hand. “We could get to know each other,” you say, gaze taking refuge on his hands. “If you want to.” 
”Really?” 
“I’ve never had that with someone. Maybe we’re, I don’t know, compatible in more ways than one.” You remember yourself, lifting your head, startled by the sheer want in his expression as he holds your fingers. “You’re handsome, and you seem kind. We could have fun.” 
“We could have so much fun,” he says, that flushed blush already spreading across his nose again. 
You draw a line up his chest. “I might need help getting my back, in the shower. That’s not a tight squeeze, is it?” 
“We might have to stand very close.” 
You giggle wildly as he pulls you up, worse when he drapes a sheet over you worrying about the cold. It’s treatment you could grow used to. 
— 
Spencer’s trying to figure out how he got here. You, across the bar sending him looks —Derek swore you were— and the second he got to your chair he realised you were out of his league, but he had nothing to lose beside his pride. 
Then there was you, in bed, pulling on his tie murmuring sweet somethings, sweet pleadings, really, taking another kiss as he moved as you asked. 
Then you, the morning after. You’d slept for long enough to scare him, but when you woke you were exactly the girl you’d been the night before, only slower. Ever so slightly bashful. We could get to know each other. 
Spencer’s not sure how he managed it, but you don’t go home. And on Monday you go to work and come back. On Tuesday he meets you outside of your building to take you for dinner, and you come back with him again, another night up in his arms, tangling his hair with enthusiastic fingers. The sex is good, it is, not just ‘cos his past catalogue of lays were with women who wanted casual experiences solely, or those few times with Ethan where it ended too fast and left him useless. You fuck him like you love him. It’s crazy, except he’s acting the same way. 
When you’re not fucking you’re in his lap, or sitting at the coffee table with your face on his thigh driving him crazy, or you’re laying with your feet tucked under him telling him something about you. He is desperate for the details. 
Like, this is it. You’ve pulled your chair as close to his as humanly possible and thrown both legs over his, basically sharing his seat as you laugh around a messy mouthful of Thai noodles. 
“Don’t look, I’m being disgusting–”
“You’re never disgusting, let me–”
He’s heard you pee. He’s kissed you all over. The human aspects of you don’t bother him. 
“Spence, can you–”
“It’s going up your nose–”
“–stop, holy s–”
He pinches your nose clean. “Tada. Kiss now?” 
“You wanna share?” 
“Yes!” 
“No.” You press your hand to your mouth before he can lean in.
He lets you swallow your mouthful. Your ankle is cool in his hand. When people talk about love, it’s about meeting someone, the dates and the phone calls, the big questions. Spencer didn’t know you could do it like this. Every time you go home, you’re asking if you can come back or pestering him to come your way. 
“Can I kiss you now?” he asks imploringly. 
“No, we’re done kissing for a bit. I want another one of those massages.” 
He can’t joke about it or he’ll turn crimson. You enjoyed a polite leg massage, until he got to your thighs, and things got out of hand. 
“No massages.” He taps you under the chin, letting his hand travel wherever it wants over the side of your face. 
“Fine, no massages. Unless you want one?” 
“No, we agreed tonight we’d just– sleep. My boss is onto me.” 
You wink involuntarily as he cups your cheek, his fingers pushed lightly over your eyes.
You aren’t fiends, but finding someone who matches as you do makes it hard to abstain from the fun. Last night was tame, though; he’d made sure you were happy and fallen asleep to grateful neck kisses. Tonight, he won’t say no, but these all-hours affairs have to stop. Derek’s suspicious of him, Hotch has the situation entirely sussed, he's sure, and Spencer’s sixty percent sure Rossi saw you both outside of Quantico tonight kissing against a toll booth.  
Not that it matters. Spencer has a good feeling you’re not a fling. 
“I got you some stuff earlier,” he says. 
You pull his hand from your face and ask, “What stuff?” 
“Like, stuff you need here. I don’t know what you like, but there’s a cleansing balm– are you allergic to chamomile?” You shake your head. “Um, it might be weird, I got you underwear, just ‘cos of the situation yesterday–”
“I liked wearing boxers, they were snug in a certain region is all–”
“–and some shampoo. That sort of stuff. Just so you can stop suffering with mine.” 
“You know what shampoo I use?” 
“I deduced it.” 
“Ah, yes, mister profiler,” you mumble, bending into your knees to hold his face. “If I hadn’t looked you up online I’d think you were a stalker. How can you guess my favourite ice cream flavour when I never told you?”
He smiles shyly. “I just can.”
“Is there anything else you’ve guessed about me?” 
“Every meal with you takes a half hour. You’re easily distracted.”
He laughs as you protest, “You’re distracting! You don’t need to guess that.” 
“You distract me, too.” 
You gather yourself up and stand over him to kiss his nose. “Spencer,” you whisper, your fingers sliding into his hair, “thank you. You don’t have to buy me stuff, I could’ve just gone home.”
“I don’t really want you to.” 
You raise your head to see him eye to eye. “I don't want to either. This is… I like you.” 
He hums, wrapping his arms around you. The hugs are rarer than kisses, but only because you’ve shared so many of the latter in the dark. He’s been thinking of kisses as the extension to fucking, that they’re okay as long as it’s done in bed, but the more time you stay, the more kisses you’ve shared for no reason at all. You kissed his cheek on the train earlier and he felt it like a shock, tipping his chin down to peck you on the lips, your arm curled behind his back as the traincar rattled over a bend. 
“I like you too,” he laughs. 
“Yeah?” 
“Yeah, of course I do.” 
“Not just…” 
“It’s not just the sex,” he says, waving his hand behind your shoulder as you curl into him all over again. It feels amazing. 
“Should we go out, then?” 
“We do.” 
“No, should we date? We could be partners, officially.” 
Spencer can’t take it, scooping you into his lap, though you do sit obligingly on his thigh. He shifts to take the weight. 
“Please, let’s be partners,” he says softly. 
“Maybe we shouldn’t, it’s still soon.” 
“Five days and counting. That’s longer than some marriages, you know.” 
“Maybe we can be, like, tentative boyfriend and girlfriend. If you change your mind, no hard feelings.” 
“And if I don’t?” he asks. 
“Then we get married in Vegas.” 
“You could meet my mom.” 
“I’d love to meet your mom.”
“Do you really wanna be my girlfriend?” he asks. 
“I mean… there’s not such a big difference in dating and what we’re doing, right? This is relationship stuff, we just sort of skipped the awkward first dates.” 
“We did,” he says, failing to hide his grin. 
You stroke his cheek with your nose.
Your attempt at abstinence doesn’t last, but neither party is to blame. You have to celebrate somehow. So you finish your takeout dinner and wash dishes bumping hips. He locks the door for the night and you, giggling, struggle to change his A/C. When he drags you by the sleeve to the bedroom, he doesn’t intend on jumping right into it, and for a while he doesn’t. You lay on top of him between his parted legs and he spends a sluggish hour stroking your hairline, listening to you talk. But his devotion turns to your ear, and he’s kissing behind it, and you’re hitching yourself up his chest soon enough. 
“That cherry spritzer was worth it, huh?” you ask lowly, scratching his jaw as you sit over him.
You really are pretty, amplified by your syrupy smile. 
“I guess that depends what you think. Was I as good at making knots as I promised?” he asks. 
“I can’t remember.” 
“I can remind you?”
“That might be prudent, Dr. Reid.” 
“I never should’ve told you about that,” he murmurs, your lips atop his, ready to be parted. 
“I would’ve found out eventually. I’m gonna find out everything about you, honey.” 
Spencer lets his eyes shutter closed. Me first, he thinks, giving in to another endless kiss. He has the advantage, after all. 
˚ ༘ ೀ⋆。˚⋆
thank you for reading!! if you enjoyed please consider liking reblogging or leaving a comment/reply it makes my day and I am so grateful<3 
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classyrbf · 5 months ago
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YOU'RE PREGNANT! — JJK MEN
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SYNOPSIS...how the jjk men(toji, gojo, geto, nanami, choso) act when you’re 9 months pregnant and ready to pop
INFO...jjk men x fem!reader, fluff, comfort, reader is pregnant (obvi), mention of mood swings, cravings, emotional reader, jjk men being great dads
OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated
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TOJI
toji has already dealt with this kind of thing before when it came to megumi, but it’s been so long that he’s almost forgotten what it was like. You’re waddling around the house, a stank look on your face as you stare at him. “Yes?” He questions, eyebrows raised. “I want food,” you simply answer. “Okay, what do you want?” He asks. And when you tell him you’re not sure, he lets out a long sigh because he knows this is gonna end in you getting emotional. You’ll complain your back hurts, your feet hurt, and then you’ll end up cursing him out for putting a baby in you. So all he does is walks over to you, and hugs you because he’d rather do that than get into a stupid argument about food. “Toji!” You cry into his arms. “I’m just so hungry and I don’t know what to eat!” You sniffle. To help with your problem, he starts listing off every fast food restaurant and food he could think of in hopes you’d find one appealing enough. “Chinese food?” He shrugs. You gasp with excitement. “Ugh, yes! Me and the baby could go for some orange chicken!” You smile. Toji just chuckles, “making the call right now, sweetheart.” He watches as you waddle over to the couch, smiling like a kid in a candy store.
GOJO
ever since he found out you were pregnant, he was at the stores buying whatever supplies he saw, doesn’t matter if you needed it or not. And till this day, when you’re about a few weeks from popping, he’s still buying the baby things. “What do you think of this, eh?” He smirks, holding up a onesie that says “my dad is the best”. “You’re gonna spoil her rotten, is what I think,” you groan as you reach into the bag to see what else he bought for your daughter. “More toys?” You hold up a fake set of plastic keys. Gojo snatched them from you. “I’ll have you know that she will be learning life skills at a very young age, thank you very much,” he scoffed. All you did was laugh, shaking your head at him in disbelief. Your daughter’s room was filled to the brim with clothes, toys, blankets, you were starting to wonder if you had any more room. “I can already tell she’s going to be a daddy’s girl,” you said with a sigh, rubbing your belly. “Yes she is,” Gojo leaned in towards your very plump belly, “isn’t that right?” He placed a kiss on your stomach.
NANAMI
nanami is the type that doesn’t let you do a damn thing by yourself. You’re reach for something to high on the shelf, he’s sprinting towards you, ready to be at your service. “Be careful,” he says, rubbing your back. “Kento, I got it,” you chuckle. His eyes are always on you, watching your every move. Especially when you’re in public, he hates when people get too close to you. He knows others don’t watch their surroundings and could easily bump into you. “Ken!” You shout from the bedroom. “Yes?” He peeks his head around the corner. “Can you help me get my shoes on, I can’t even reach,” you pout. Within seconds he’s on his knees, slipping on your sandals, and tying them around your ankle. He will even go as far as to paint your toes if you forgot because he knows how much you hate not having them done. Like I said, he won’t let you do a thing by yourself. “Thank you, Ken,” you kiss his lips.
GETO
geto literally pampers you. I’m not saying he acts like nanami, but I’m saying that he makes your pregnancy as comfortable as possible. “Sugu, baby, can you rub my feet? They’re swollen.” You frown. “Of course.” He grabs the lotion and casually massages your feet while you’re both watching a movie, and literally over the course of your pregnancy he’s become the best masseuse ever. He’ll also randomly creep up behind you and wrap his arms around your waist before lifting your belly, feeling the weight off of your back. “Feel better, mama?” He kisses your cheek. “So much better.” You nod, closing your eyes as you embrace the moment. You’ve even found it hard to shower while being pregnant and geto takes it upon himself to help you, albeit jumping in the shower with you or sitting on the edge of the tub while you’re in the bath. “Is the water too hot?” He rubs the soapy water over your shoulders. “It’s perfect.”
CHOSO
I’m sorry but choso is clueless. Not in a bad way, but in like a panicky way. You’re an emotional wreck through your pregnancy, moods swings like crazy. “Can you just get out please?!” You’re annoyed with him, bothered about the littlest thing ever and then in the next two minutes you’re walking out the room just crying and apologizing to him, kissing his cheek. He has no idea what the hell is going on, and you’d think he’d learn after nine months, but no. All he can is just sit there and comfort you. “It’s fine,” he assures. He gets your favorite food that you’ve been craving for the past two weeks, eating it non stop and then within a split second you’re gagging, pushing the food away. “Oh my gosh, Choso! Please throw it away, it tastes so bad.” You gag again. “But…I…you were just eating this yesterday…?” He’s says, confused before throwing the bowl of food in the garbage. Quite literally doesn’t understand anything, just confused to all hell, but he’s trying his best.
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not-neverland06 · 4 months ago
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you're not her
The 'Worst' Logan x fem!mutant!reader
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a/n: really wanted to write for the worst logan so I found a streaming site so I could finally watch the new Deadpool movie (yay pirating) (this is totally hypothetical and a joke to the feds lurking) I was going to just read the wiki plot but I don’t think that was going to cut it Again, using the same superhero name/powers. It’s not an OC I swear, it just makes sense in comic book movies to have some alternate name and I’m not creative enough to come up with multiple different supe names. Summary: You hate him, you really fucking hate him at first. He’s cruel and constantly reminds you that you’ll never be the hero he knew. You’re not her and he’s made that abundantly clear. But what are you supposed to do when he’s suddenly your new roommate and you have no choice but to wake up to his face every day? I feel sad because I don’t think I did the angst justice with this one. But if I keep staring at it trying to fix it, then I’m never going to post it. (This is a long one guys) Angst with a happy ending (because I’m a little bitch) Makeout scenes and smut towards the very end 18+ MDNI
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You don’t know how you got here, but you know you’re mad at whoever dragged you into this shit. You don’t think it would be wild to assume it was Wade’s fault. Usually, when something goes wrong in your life it’s on him. 
What you do know; you look like shit. Wade and Wolverine are both standing over you in their awesome ass uniforms and you’re still in your fucking pajamas. How are you supposed to be badass and save the world in pants that have Spiderman’s face plastered all over them?
“I’m gonna fucking kill you, Wade,” you growl at him. 
He places his hand daintily on his chest and waves you off, “Save that for the bedroom, pookie.”
You grit your teeth and glare up at him, Wolverine gives him a similarly disgusted look. “Fuckin’ ridiculous,” you grumble under your breath. You get to your feet and brush yourself off, finally looking around and taking in wherever the fuck he’s dragged you. “Where are we?”
“The void,” Wade responds, voice ridiculously dramatic. You look around and throw your hands up in defeat. 
“What the fuck, Wade? Why did you drag me with you into this?” You look over at the Wolverine beside him. He hasn’t stopped glaring at you both and his claws are out, clearly ready to just eviscerate you. “Who the fuck is this?”
“Okay, wow, language, Flux. I’m disappointed in you.”
“Eat me-”
You’re cut off by the knock-off Wolverine standing a few feet behind you both. “Flux?” He demands, voice so low you almost can’t hear him. Both you and Wade’s heads whip around to face him. Thus far he’s been relatively silent, you nearly started to wonder if he was mute. 
“It’s her X-Man name,” Wade tells him, gushing like it’s some big deal. “Impressive, huh?” You don’t bother correcting him that it was your X-Men name. Can’t exactly call yourself that if they booted you off the team for being a crappy superhero. 
Logan snorts and shakes his head. He stalks towards you and you nearly fall over in your attempt to scramble back from him. “You,” he demands, claws pointed at you threateningly. “You’re Flux?”
Wade hisses, watching as Logan swipes out at you. “Alright, peanut, let’s put the claws away and take a deep grounding breath.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Logan snaps at Wade. He turns to glare at him and you take the opportunity to scramble behind your friend for protection. At least if he gets stabbed, he’ll heal. “You,” he scoffs and it trails off into a laugh. There’s no humor behind it, he's just a dick. “You are a fucking joke compared to my Flux.”
The ground underneath you rattles, pebbles bouncing off the cracked desert and ricocheting off their boots. Wade quickly moves away from you, shoving you forward so he’s not in the line of fire. “Yeah, well you’re just an alcoholic fuck who could never hold a candle to my Logan.” 
You can feel energy brewing at the tips of your fingers, waves, and waves of hate building up within you. The man across from you feels the shift, the static suddenly permeating the air around you both. You let your power build and build…
The pebbles drop back to the ground and you stumble back from Logan, nose bleeding from overextending yourself. “Shit,” you mutter, wiping at your face with the back of your hand and shaking your head. 
Logan laughs again, it echoes through the stormy sky and you wish you had any control over your powers so you could just send him flying. Or, better yet, turn his bones into liquid and flip him inside out. “Oh,” he lets out a long exhale, glaring at both of you. “This is fuckin’ ridiculous.” The faux smile drops from his face and he raises his voice just loud enough to make you jump, “Just one big fuckin’ joke!”
You have about five seconds to dive to the side before Logan is lunging at Wade. “Wait, wait, wait we can talk about this!” Wade shouts, but it’s too late, he’s already on the ground getting his head caved in. 
You let out a rough sigh, stumbling off to the side. You’re drained from that shitshow of powers. You barely made a few rocks levitate and you feel like you’re going to pass out. You walk away from the two men and throw yourself on the ground, trying to reorient yourself while they fight like wild animals. 
You can hear them in the background, stabbing and shooting like they’re aiming to kill. Too bad neither of them can die. It’d save you a hell of a headache.  They run past you, Logan’s got his claws buried in Wade’s gut while Wade’s desperately firing off his gun into Logan’s chest. 
Your head rolls weakly to the side and you mutter out a pathetic, “No, stop. Don’t kill each other.” As expected, neither of them listens to you. They keep fighting, showing no signs of stopping. 
There’s a moment of silence after about ten minutes of nothing but grunts and insults. You peak your head up in interest. Logan got his claws posed over Wade’s throat. You wonder if decapitation would actually kill him or if he’d somehow manage to survive that. 
Wade doesn’t seem interested in testing out the theory, “They can fix it!” Wade shouts, “They can fix your timeline. I just need your help saving mine.”
Your eyes widen and you meet Wade’s masked gaze over Logan’s shoulders. The white slits widen and he minutely shakes his head, telling you not to say anything. Like, maybe, that neither of you has any fucking clue if the TVA is capable of even fixing timelines like that. 
You know Wade is desperate when he makes that promise. It’s the only reason he would say something so stupid. It’s a blatant lie, one pulled so far out of Wade’s ass you’re genuinely surprised that Logan can’t smell the bullshit. Whatever happened in his universe must have been horrible for him to ever believe anything that comes out of any Deadpool’s mouth. 
It’s a long moment before Logan finally pulls his claws out of Wade. Your friend slumps forward in relief as Logan stalks away from him. You glare at Wade from where you are on the ground, “That was fucking stupid,” you snipe at him. He gets to his feet, walks over to you, and forcefully yanks you to your feet. 
“Not a goddamn word,” he warns, but you aren’t exactly threatened by him when he's got three holes in his head from Logan’s claws. Still, you hold your hands up and acquiesce, following after him as he chases down Logan. 
Your mind is still fuzzy when you are captured by Cassandra. You're recovering from overextending yourself, eyes blurring and limbs going limp like jello when her army of henchmen circle you all. 
You finally feel yourself starting to come back to your body when you wake up tied to Johnny. “And,” Wade draws the word out, waiting until you lift your head to finish, “there she is! Happy you could join us, princess. Mind turning these ropes into dust for me?”
You groan and let your head slump onto Johnny’s shoulder. He smirks and glances down at you. “Oh fuck off, both of you. I can’t do shit right now and you know it, Wade, I’m drained.” 
Logan is glaring at you, but there’s less hate in his glare and more confusion now. “Can you do anything?”
You narrow your eyes at him, lips screwed up while you try to decide if he’s being an asshole or genuine. “Hard of hearing or something old man? I’m drained,” you reiterate, your tone a little too bitchy. 
Logan narrows his eyes, grunting something foul under his breath. Wade interferes before you can piss each other off anymore. “She had an accident, her brain’s a little broken now. But it’s fine! Whose isn’t?”
You huff and throw yourself back against the cage you’re all being transported in. You feel eyes on the side of your head and slowly look over to see Johnny grinning at you. “Hey, you know I’ve met one of your variants-”
“Don’t give a fuck,” you interrupt. You hear Wade snicker under his mask, giving you an encouraging thumbs up even with his hands bound. You were both a little disappointed it wasn’t Captain America lurking under that cloak. But at least this guy isn’t such a prude he won’t cuss. 
For the next five minutes, you’re on the receiving end of a very enthusiastically vulgar rant about just what a cunt Cassandra Nova is. He’s still not even finished by the time you reach the gates to her lair.
Your eyes widen when you see all the people lurking around the walls. Most of them you recognize as people you’ve put away or killed in your world. But there’s something just minutely different about them than the version you faced in your timeline. Their eye color or outfit is always just slightly off. 
The familiar faces are almost a relief. But there is nothing comforting about knowing you're outnumbered two hundred to four. The cage is tipped over and you go rolling out, you grunt as Johnny’s elbow digs into your ribs. 
Before you can even attempt to shove him off, the ropes are whipped off of you and you’re dragged by an invisible force across the ground. Rocks and sand scrape across your tender skin and bury themselves deep in your pores. You hiss in pain when you finally come to a stop and your body is your own again. 
A groan slips through your parted lips unbidden as you struggle onto your knees. Your pajamas are ripped practically everywhere and you feel like you might as well be naked at this point. You really wished that you at least had a chance to change before you were kidnapped to another universe. 
The woman you presume to be Cassandra Nova is currently fucking Wade’s skull with her freakish telepathy fingers. Johnny’s a pile of guts and bones on the floor and you have no fucking clue where she flung Logan to. 
You get to your feet, shaking your head and reorienting yourself. In a second she’s in front of you, head tilted to the side while she regards you curiously. “Woah,” you jump back, glaring at her outstretched hand. 
“Careful,” Wade warns her breathlessly, still clutching his head. “Flux here has a pathological fear of bald people.”
You nod, “It’s true, you can imagine how strained my relationship with your brother was.” Cassandra circles you, a devious tilt to her lips. Your eyes track her, unwilling to take your gaze off her for even a second. You feel like a rabbit, facing down a fox that’s made its way into your burrow. 
“Curious,” she mutters. “I’ve seen quite a few of you down here before. But,” she chuckles and before you can move her hand is shoving its way into your brain. You scream, there’s an agonizing burn as her fingers probe under your eyes and dig through the deepest part of your subconscious. It feels like someone’s taking a shovel and ripping up your worst traumas. “None of them have been so weak.”
Wonderful, even she wants to insult you. You can feel the way she’s plucking through your thoughts, tossing aside the ones she doesn’t like. Images of your childhood are flashing across your vision. You can no longer see the world around you, it’s like every one of your worst memories is being played on a projector. 
“Ah,” she clicks her tongue and jerks your neck around until you’re looking at something you’ve tried to forget for years. “Here it is. How easy it would be for me to simply unblock those powers of yours.” She smiles, her face appearing before you and blocking out the bloodshed. “It would make this far more entertaining for me, what do you say?”
Your teeth are clenched so tightly you’re surprised they haven’t cracked yet. It’s hard to get the words out when her fingers are still dancing through your skull. “Fuck you,” you finally spit out. She releases you suddenly, and you surge forward with a gasp, clutching at your skull desperately. 
You half expect your brains to begin leaking from your nose and eyes. But nothing happens, despite feeling incredibly violated, everything is still in its proper place. Cassandra walks past you like everything is fine and dandy in the world. “Well, as much as I would love to see those powers of yours in action again, Flux, I’m afraid Alioth must eat.”
Before you can ask what she's talking about there’s a loud rumble. Like thunder cracking through the sky and land, the ground underneath you shakes. Cracks form under your feet and the henchmen around you all start desperately racing for cover. 
You turn around, staring wide-eyed at the purple cloud of death and destruction steadily moving across the sky. A face breaks through the clouds, grinning down at you. Purple lightning hits the ground and the villain next to you explodes into nothing but dust. 
“Shit!” You shout, turning around and running to try and avoid getting zapped up next. There’s no coming back from this one. Once this monster gets you, not even god could save you. 
Suddenly, an arm wraps around your waist, lifting you off your feet. “No time for consent, we’ve got to get the fuck outta here!” Wade shouts in your ear. Logan is standing next to some robot leg, ripping out cords until a jet on the back fires up. Wade leaps onto the boot, wrapping an arm around Logan’s legs as you’re all shot into the sky. 
You’d scream if you weren’t trying not to throw up. You hurtle through the sky at speeds that have your skin nearly ripping off your skull. The rocket on the back of the leg starts to sputter out. The flames flickering out and then back to life. It steadily begins to drop until you’re plummeting headfirst towards the ground. 
Wade wraps himself around you, tossing himself off the boot so he can brace your fall. You hear and feel nearly all of his bones break under your weight. For a moment it feels like you’re laying on warm jello as you try and catch your breath. 
“Nailed it,” he mutters weakly. You’re pretty sure he can’t breathe, a rib having pierced his lung in the fall. A shadow looms over you and you glance up to find Logan glaring down at you. You stare at him apprehensively, half expecting him to unsheathe his claws and just end you right here. 
Instead, to your surprise, he holds a hand out. You look at it with suspicion, glaring back up at him. “Fucks sake,” he mutters. He reaches down, roughly grabbing your hand and jerking you to your feet. You feel the warmth of Wade’s blood on your back and grimace. 
“Thanks,” you mutter, still not entirely trusting of him. 
He purses his lips into a thin line, backing awkwardly away from you. He just nods and starts surveying the land around you. It feels less like trying to figure out where you all landed and more like awkwardly avoiding eye contact. 
The whole interaction leaves you feeling odd. “Well, that was as awkward as two virgins on prom night,” Wade loudly announces as he jumps to his feet. You whip around and send him a dirty look but his attention has already been snagged by something else. Lately, you’ve been considering grounding up Adderall and slipping it into his breakfast, you think it might do him some good. 
What’s got to be the fugliest dog you’ve ever seen in your life bounds towards Wade. He drops to his knees, ripping off his mask and opening his arms wide to the mutt. You grimace, taking a step back when she starts licking his face. “Oh, that’s just wrong.”
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Thankfully dogless, you steal Nicepool’s Honda Odyssey - much to Wade’s chagrin. Logan’s in the front seat, Wade beside him. You’re sitting in the back, rubbing your temples and trying to get rid of the raging migraine you’ve had since Cassandra finger blasted your brain. 
You’ve been zoning in and out of the conversation happening in the front seat of the car. But Logan suddenly slams on the brakes and you go hurtling forward. Without even looking at you, both their arms shoot out, blocking you from flying through the windshield. 
Your face scrunches up as you look at both their arms, it feels like being saved by an overbearing soccer mom. “Buckle up, princess,” Wade tells you. He shoves you back into your seat and you look between the two men suspiciously. 
“Did you just say if?” Logan growls, glaring at Wade. Your face drops, finally realizing what you’d missed. 
Wade lets out a weak chuckle, “Slip of the tongue?” Logan growls and the claws come out. Wade raises his hands, “Okay, let’s put a brake on the crazy train. I wasn’t lying it was just an educated,” for the first time in your friendship Wade is actually speechless. You’re shocked by the silence. Until, of course, he runs his mouth again and comes up with the lamest cop-out you’ve ever heard. “It was an educated wish that they could fix your timeline, alright?”
Logan doesn’t give much of a warning except a low growl before he shoves his claws deep into Wade’s thigh. “You motherfucker!”
“Hey!” You shout, jumping forward and ripping Logan’s claws out of Wade’s leg. “Look, we’re trying to save our whole fucking universe. Can you blame him for lying?” You regret opening your mouth pretty much immediately. 
You should have just stayed out of this, it wasn’t any of your business. And if they wanted to be two dumbasses and fucking tear each other apart then so be it. But you never should have drawn attention to yourself. 
“Shut the fuck up,” Logan shouts at you. It’s so startling, coming from him. You’re still associating him with the man you’d looked up to growing up. Your Wolverine was a hero. He was the reason you wanted to be an X-Man. And they look exactly the same, it’s nearly impossible for you to separate this one from the one you knew. 
But it's easier now. Because the man you’d known would never be so cruel and jaded to the world. Not like this. “Why the fuck are you even here? You’re just some watered-down knockoff of a real hero. You are nothing, you’re worth nothing. It’s a fucking joke that you’re alive and the woman I knew is buried six feet deep. If there was anything right in the world you would be in a grave somewhere crawling with maggots.”
Your eyes water without your permission. You don’t know this man. Yet, he has the face of your greatest hero and the man who you’d grown up hearing stories about. It’s like facing everything you’ve ever wanted to be and having it shout your deepest fears and insecurities back at you. He’s just confirming something you’ve known for years. You never deserved the title of being an X-Man. You never deserved the uniform or anything that came with it. 
Your breaths are coming short and fast, it feels like your lungs are constricting. You worry you won’t be able to get air in but he doesn’t care. No, he keeps going. “You follow this fucking clown around and you contribute nothing to the world. You’re never gonna save your fucking timeline. You can’t even make a few rocks float.” It’s not the words that hurt you next. It’s the way he says it. “You’re pathetic.”
He spits them at you. There’s venom lacing his tone like he’s seen into you and knows there’s nothing in you to offer. For the first time in a long time, you feel seen and you hate it. Because he’s looking past the sarcasm and the faux confidence you carry yourself with. 
He sees the empty husk of a woman you truly are and he’s forcing you to face it with him. It causes you physical pain, to know that everything you’ve ever feared about yourself is true. You don’t have anything to say to him, you can’t. 
Your lips tremble and you feel so fucking small. You can hear your parent's voices in your head, screaming at you and wishing you were never born. They’d rather have a stillborn than a fucked up mutant for a daughter. You see the way even other kids at the school would hide from you. You were made wrong, even as a mutant you were never truly accepted. 
Logan’s face drops ever so slightly at the prolonged silence in the car. Even Wade isn’t speaking, he’s just staring at you both. “I,” he starts, but Wade cuts him off. 
“I’m gonna hurt you now.” Wade’s never been one to let people run over you, even when you might just let yourself fall into the background. You shouldn’t be surprised when he draws a knife and stabs it into Logan’s throat. 
But the arterial spray that follows catches you off guard and suddenly your tears are dried. Instead, you’re throwing open the car door and diving out before one of them crushes you. You make it out of the car just in time, Logan having thrown Wade right where you had been sitting. 
Music starts up in the car as a result of their fighting. Divorced dad rock and the sounds of their, borderline, sexual grunting are your soundtrack for the rest of the night. You curl up at the base of a tree, waiting for them to be done with each other. 
Logan’s words continue to echo through your head. And the longer you linger on what he said the angrier you get. Not necessarily at him, but at yourself. You’ve let yourself linger in self-pity and wallow in regret for so long. 
You look in the mirror and you no longer recognize yourself. He’s right, as much as you hate to admit it, you’re a fucking joke. You toss your head back, slamming it against the trunk of the tree hard enough for it to hurt. 
There’s this manic, cloying feeling tugging at your chest. It’s like someone’s sitting on your ribs, crushing you until you can’t breathe anymore. You keep throwing your head back, letting the pain distract you until you feel warm blood leaking down the back of your scalp. 
“Shit,” you hiss, hand coming up to cradle the back of your skull. You wince when you feel the split in your skin. The blood leaks over the tips of your fingers, running through the cracks of your palm. 
You force yourself to relax, to move your head away from the tree. As you go to stand up, possibly to get Wade and Logan to quit their fighting, you notice something odd. The air around you is still, you can no longer hear them grunting or groaning as they rock the Honda. 
Leaves are suspended in the air. They’re not trembling from the breeze, they’re completely frozen. You take a step forward and gasp when you hit something solid. The air in front of you has solidified somehow. 
The realization dawns on you slowly but surely. This is you, you’ve done this. Manipulated everything around you on an atomic level. You’ve turned something you shouldn’t be able to feel into something you can touch. Frozen the world around you. Whatever Cassandra had done inside your head, it had knocked something loose. 
You haven’t had this wide a range of control for years. Any attempt to do something like this has been met with nosebleeds and long periods of blacking out. Elation fills you, the hurt from earlier is nearly gone. 
You glance through the wall of air and try to see if you can still see the Odyssey. To your horror, it’s gone. You wave your hands and the air returns to normal. The leaves drift back to the forest floor and you run back to where you’d left the two men. 
There are tire tracks dug deep into the mud. You know Wade wouldn’t willingly leave you behind, not here. You don’t know if Logan’s just kidnapped him or if someone else has. Whoever was driving was clearly in a rush to get out of here. 
You must have missed it all while you were having your meltdown. “Fuck,” you shout, your voice echoing into the branches above. You take in a deep breath and start walking. Hopefully, you can catch up to them before whoever has them does serious damage. 
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You make it to a weird cave/hideout area. The Odyssey is parked outside and when you peek through the broken windows you find the interior completely destroyed. There’s blood soaking through every surface, anything and everything has been smashed and bent the wrong way. 
You don’t even know if this is from Wade and Logan or whoever had snatched them. Shaking your head you back up and slink towards the entrance of the den. You can hear shouting inside, it sounds like Wade, but you can’t make out what he’s saying. 
You haven’t seen action for a long time. At least not any that you could actually contribute to. It feels a bit like riding a bike. You’d practiced on your way here, making things around you float or eradicating a few trees into nothing but dust in the wind. But this is different. 
Your friend (and Logan) are inside, possibly being tortured. Maybe even dead. Though, you seriously doubt the universe is going to be that nice to you. You let the energy build in your arms, it’s like a warm tingling feeling. It shoots down to the palms of your hands until you feel static in the air. 
You take a step inside and spot three people. Each of them is decked out in weapons. One of them turns and spots you. “Who is-” 
You don’t let him finish, throwing your hands out and slamming them all into the wall so hard the whole interior shakes. Dirt rains down from the ceilings while their faces contort in pain. You run inside, spotting Logan and Wade. 
You shoot Wade a big grin but he throws his hands up and shouts, “Read the fucking room!” Your brows furrow and he points emphatically at the people you’re holding, “Good guys!”
“Oh shit,” you release them immediately, a guilty look on your face. “I am so sorry.” Logan cackles in the back, doubled over laughing while the three people in front of you brush themselves off. 
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You don’t want to be out here with him, but it’s better than being in that cave with the others. Laura walks past you, sending you an uneasy smile. You’d noticed her sitting beside Logan and decided they probably needed a few moments to themselves. 
They were finished now, though, and he had the only bottle of liquor left in the cave with him. You trudge over to him, leaves crunching under your boots. Elektra, after that horrific introduction, had given you a uniform a different Flux had left behind. 
She was long gone, killed by Cassandra years ago, but she’d conveniently been your exact size. The uniform is nearly identical to the one you have buried under your bed. Black leather with a dark purple X going across your chest and matching purple seams. You’d never wanted something ridiculously flashy. Just something that people would see and associate with the X-Men. 
Because that’s all you’d ever wanted to be; a hero. It feels like a pipe dream now. If your pajamas weren’t so destroyed you would have just stayed in them. You don’t feel like you deserve this uniform, not when the woman who’d worn it before you had actually been a hero in her timeline. 
“Don’t want company,” Logan snarks, without even looking back to see who’s coming up to him.
You take a seat on the lawn chair closest to him and snatch the bottle of whiskey from his hands. “Good,” you tilt your head back, downing as much as possible. It burns the whole way and you revel in the slight tickle in the back of your throat. 
“Alright,” Logan mutters. He gently takes the bottle back from you, giving you an aggrieved look when he sees just how much you’ve stolen. He looks back into the fire and sighs, “Look, I’m not interested in hearing about your sob story or why you’re suddenly drinking all my liquor-”
“Gambit’s liquor,” you interrupt, not bothering to look at him. “And I’m not looking to dump my sob story on your lap. I just want to sit in silence and that’s impossible because Wade hasn’t stopped running his mouth since we got here.”
He looks a little surprised by the brusque way you dismiss him, “Alright,” he mutters. He takes another swig from the bottle and you both stare silently into the fire. It’s like that for a while, you don’t bother keeping track of time. 
All you hear is the crackling of the flames. All you can feel is the way your eyes burn from staring into the fire and watching sparks pop off the logs for too long. The breeze rustles the trees, makes the leaves shake free and dance around the logs of the fire. 
He breaks the silence first, to your chagrin. “About what I said,” he clears his throat uncomfortably, still refusing to look at you, “back in the car.”
“Don’t,” you snap, voice low. “Just,” you let out a long breath and shake your head. You finally look over and meet his eyes. He does actually look sorry, but you don’t want to hear it. “Just don’t, I deserved it all right.”
“No, no you didn’t.” You open your mouth to argue but he gives you a firm look that has your jaw snapping shut. “I was wrong, I don’t know you. And if my Flux had ever heard me talking to you like that she would have melted my fucking spine.” He laughs a little and you feel your lips twitch up slightly. It’s the first time you’ve seen him look anything but angry. 
Curiosity loosens your tongue and knocks you out of the dazed stupor you’ve been in. “What was she like?” You ask, tone earnest. “Your Flux, I mean, you make her sound so amazing. I just can’t,” you trail off, but the look on his face tells you he understands your unspoken words. I just can’t see myself as a real hero. 
He groans and leans back on the log he’s resting on. He stretches his legs out in front of him, the liquor bottle placed on the forest floor. You’re surprised, you figured the thing was glued to his hand. 
“Well,” he reaches up and scratches at the scruff of his chin, a wry grin on his face. “She was always giving me shit, never let me get away with anything.” You unconsciously lean forward, drawn into the endearing way he begins to describe this other version of you. 
It’s not ridiculous to assume this variant meant something to him. He’s got a shine to his eye that you haven’t seen in the whole time you’ve been together. His gaze has been empty, closed off to anything and everything. But now, his eyes are crinkling at the corners, there’s an easy smile on his face that you can’t miss. 
“Ah, she was fucking feisty. And strong, she was so strong. She was always a better hero than I was. She lived for that shit,” he trails off and shakes his head. You can see you’re losing him and you don’t want this to end. You’re in your own little bubble right now, getting to pretend there’s a version of you out there somewhere that actually lived up to her potential. 
“Her powers,” you blurt out, desperate for something to stop him from retreating back into his mind. “Did she have, um, good control over them?”
Logan nods, eyes darting down to the bottle of whiskey before flickering back up to meet your gaze again. “Yeah, Charles trained her, she was right up there with Jean. She could have,” he stops and suddenly you feel guilty for making him talk about this. You can see the tears in the corner of his eyes, the way the whites of them go red. “She could have been great.”
“I’m sorry,” you whisper, “I didn’t mean to pry.” But you did. You were being selfish and forcing him to talk about it even though you knew it would hurt him. 
“Look, kid, she would have liked you. I’ll tell you that much,” he says reluctantly. Like the words hurt to force out. You suppose he isn’t used to being genuine with anyone. 
You shake your head and look down at your hands. “I appreciate the thought, but I doubt it.”
Logan grabs the bottle again, gulping it down like it's water. His words have a slight slur to them as he speaks again. “I think I would know, bub. ‘Sides, you made it into the X-Men, tells me what I need to know.”
You scoff and fix him with a sardonic look, he raises his brows in question and you roll your eyes. “They’ll take fucking anybody. And I still wasn’t good enough for them.”
Logan shakes his head and frowns. “If what I saw in there,” he points back to the den and you feel your cheeks warm as you remember what you’d done, “is any indication, then I’m sure you were plenty good.”
You lean towards him, elbows braced on your knees. He follows suit, leaning so close you almost want to back up. The proximity flusters you slightly but you shake the feeling off. “You don’t even know me and the first real thing you said to me was that I’d be more useful as fertilizer.”
He sighs, face screwing up at your harsh words. He runs a hand over his cheeks and groans, “I didn’t mean it like that.”
You lean back in your chair and idly twirl your hand through the air. The leaves around you lift up and flutter through the air above your head. Logan watches and you turn back to him, waiting until his eyes meet yours to speak again. “Yes, you did. And you were right. I’m fucking useless, powers or not.” The leaves drop, a few fluttering into the fire. “We’re irrelevant, Wolverine, two washed-up X-Men who never looked good in the uniform.”
There’s a twinge of hurt on his face but you can’t make yourself feel bad about it. Since he’s such a fan of brutal truth, you’re sure he can handle it. 
You watch as the leaves curl up at the corners, the fire burning them straight through the middle. You get to your feet and move past him. You’re nearly back to the den when he calls, “The suit looks right on you,” over his shoulder.
You pause at the threshold of the door. He’s already drinking again, staring into the fire and watching it burn. You take a few steps towards him, staring at his broad back. “What happened to her, your me?”
Logan looks down at his hands, his ring finger specifically. You wonder at the significance of the movement, what exactly you’d meant to him. “She married me,” he mutters, voice cold and closed off again. 
“Goodnight, Logan,” you whisper, finally walking inside the den. 
You miss the small goodnight he sends back to you, finally turning around only to watch you leave. 
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There had been a very clear plan set in place. Get Juggernaut’s helmet, put it on Cassandra, and then kill that psychotic bitch. Which is why you’re so confused when you’re standing knee-deep in guts and watching Logan and Wade leap through a portal above you. 
You don’t have time to feel angry or even hurt that they left without you. Laura is grabbing your arm and you’re both running for your life, trying to escape Alioth again. You run into Cassandra’s lair ducking into one of the rooms and dragging Laura with you. 
You’re both holding your breaths and praying that he’s sated by the others still outside. After a few minutes, the cracks of thunder stop and you risk peeking your head outside. The clouds have retreated back to their usual spot in the middle of the void. 
You take in the carnage of Cassandra’s evil lair. Most everybody is dead. You only have to skirt around a few people to get back to the Odyssey. 
You throw yourself in the driver’s seat and sink back against the bloodstained cushions. You let out a relieved breath and look at Laura, “What do you do to entertain yourself around here?”
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You acclimated to the idea of being stuck in the void pretty quickly. There wasn’t exactly a lot waiting for you back home. Besides, Laura was nice enough. You had food, beer, and company. You didn’t really need much else. 
You’re pretty sure if you linger too long on the thought that Wade left you behind you’ll fall into a depression that you’re never going to be able to claw your way out of. So, you forced a smile on your face and played cards. Nothing else to do but wait to die of old age or for Alioth to kill you. 
Of course, your plans had to be ruined. There was an odd rush of air against your back and then a slight whoosh. Laura glanced over your shoulders and her brows furrowed, you turned around to find three armored men waiting behind you. 
“Flux,” the man glanced from you to Laura, “X-23?”
“Laura,” you both correct at the same time. 
The man gives an aggrieved sigh and holds his arm out, “Come with me, please.”
You stand up, energy tingling in the palms of your hands while you regard them suspiciously. Laura comes up behind you, claws out and glaring at them. “Why should we?” You demand. 
Barely a second later you hear the most insufferable voice in the world. “Hiya, peanut!” 
“Wade,” you hiss. You follow the armored men through an oddly shaped portal and find Wade standing beside a shirtless Logan, smiling proudly at you. “You fucking left me,” you hold up your hands and his eyes widen. 
His hands quickly come up, trying to assuage you, “Hold on now-”
You throw him back, his body hurtling into a nearby building and caving in the wall. Logan watches it happen with a small smile, “Been wanting to do that for a while.” 
Once Wade had recovered he filled you in on everything that happened. TVA did a general clean up and then you were standing in front of your apartment door, keys in hand like nothing had happened. 
It was so bizarre, going from a mission to save your timeline and then you’re expected to just go about your life. You stay standing in that hallway for you don’t know how long before you hear someone behind you. 
You jump and drop your keys when Logan clears his throat. “Shit,” you hiss, whirling around and glaring at him while your heart races. He chuckles and bends over to grab your keys for you. 
“Sorry,” he mutters. This is the most relaxed you’ve ever seen him, covered in blood and in a borrowed shirt. “Uh, Wade doesn’t have enough room at his place. Told me I should come over here.”
You look over his shoulder and see Wade peeking his head out of his doorway. He catches your eye, sending you a thumbs up. You almost smile but then he makes a phallic gesture with his hands, pointing at Logan and humping the air. You glare at him and he quickly backs into his apartment, but not before sending you one last encouraging shit-eating grin. 
You look back at Logan and he’s waiting expectantly for your answer. “Yeah,” you take your keys from him and unlock the door. “I’ve got a spare room but there’s no bed in it right now.” Your eyes widen when you see the mess that is your apartment. 
You quickly rush through, picking up empty take-out boxes and dirty laundry and shoving them into your room. He’s smiling at you when you come back and it's slightly off-putting. “Um,” you gesture towards the couch awkwardly. “You can take the sofa tonight and we’ll look at setting you up with something more permanent tomorrow.”
“Thanks,” he hovers by the armrest and you engage in the longest stare-off of your life. Neither of you says anything for a few suffocating moments before he gestures at himself. “Shower?”
“Oh,” you snap out of your stupor and nod your head. “Yeah, right, of course.” You show him down the hall, “Here. I’ll go get you a towel.”
You rush towards your linen closet, leaving him behind in your bathroom. You grab a few clean towels and then figure he might want some clothes as well. You grab some pajamas that Wade’s left over when he’s crashed before. They’ll probably be a bit tighter on Logan, but you wouldn’t mind seeing that. 
You walk back to the bathroom and the thought of knocking doesn’t even run through your head. It should, honestly, but you’re already so thrown off by him even being here. You walk in and immediately gasp and drop the towels. 
“Oh, I'm sorry. I’m so sorry.” He’s standing naked before you. Clothes discarded on the floor behind him. Everything on perfect display. Your eyes land on his abs, noticing a few prominent veins leading down-
You cover your face and turn around. “Sorry,” you mutter again. God, you’re such an idiot. You still haven’t even left. You’d just been shamelessly ogling the man naked and you don’t even have the decency to walk out. 
You really can’t help it though. It’s been such a clusterfuck, the last 72 hours. Your brain is fried and Wade’s little show hasn’t helped you at all.  
You hear Logan laugh behind you. “It’s alright,” he mutters. Something warm ghosts across your arm and you jump slightly. His hand firmly grasps your bicep, gently tugging your palms away from your face. 
You risk a glance over your shoulder and nearly gasp at how close he’s gotten. He's towering over you, something in his face you can’t place. “It’s alright,” he whispers again and you find yourself nodding without really thinking. 
He’s got both hands on your arms now, trailing up and down. The touch is so featherlight you can barely feel it at all. You don’t even realize how he’s gently coaxing you closer until you trip on the towels at your feet. 
You startle, looking down at them and moving to kick them aside. But he stops you, his finger nudging your chip up so you’ll look at him again. There is such blatant want painted across his face that it makes your heart skip a beat. Your breath catches in your throat when he wraps an arm around your waist and drags you closer. 
You can feel all of him. You can feel just how much he wants you. It catches you off guard, this sudden display of attraction. You don’t know where it’s coming from, what’s brought it on. But you can’t find it in yourself to care. You’ve been so lonely for so long. You just want to bask in the fact that he looks absolutely starved for you. 
No man has ever looked at you with such heartbreakingly yearning eyes - like he’s been looking for you his whole life. He dips down, lips ghosting gently over yours. Your breaths mingle together, you can nearly taste him. 
It’s unclear which one of you moves first, who pushes closer to the other. But it doesn’t matter because the second you put real pressure behind the kiss he’s all over you. One of his hands drifts down to your ass, squeezing the flesh there and dragging you closer, grinding his hips into yours. 
You moan at the feeling, your arms wrap around his neck and you press yourself even closer. He groans against your lips at the first swipe of your tongue. You part with a gasp when he picks you up, practically tossing you onto your sink. Your legs spread instinctually, making room for him as he slots himself between them. 
It’s odd, feeling so vulnerable even when he’s the one who's completely naked. It still feels like he’s holding all the power. 
His lips are moving frantically over yours like he’s terrified you’re going to disappear the second he lets go. You can taste something desperate on his tongue. Something deeply rooted inside him that you can’t identify. 
One of your hands drifts from his neck, trailing over the muscles of his chest. Your fingers carve a path down his abs, relishing in how muscular he feels under your palm. Your hand reaches his pelvis, nearly wrapped around him when he jumps back. 
He grabs your wrist in a grip so tight you know there’s going to be a bruise. A pained gasp slips out and he releases you immediately. “I’m sorry,” he mutters. “Sorry, I can’t.” He won’t look at you now, backing up towards the shower and shaking his head. “This was a bad idea, I can’t do this.”
You shake your head, slipping off the sink and hiding your bruised wrist behind your back. “No, sorry, I shouldn’t have moved so fast.”
You feel too ashamed to meet his eye. He kissed you but you feel like you’ve forced yourself on him somehow. It’s a nauseating feeling and you want nothing more than to run back to your room and hide. 
He takes a step towards you, something pained on his face. “Kid-”
You just shake your head, step out of the bathroom, and grab the handle of the door. “Sorry,” you whisper again, closing the door behind you. You lean against the cool wood, trying to catch your breath. 
Your hand drifts up to your lips, still tingling from how desperately he’d kissed you. It doesn’t make any sense. He came on to you, he threw you up on the sink, and made out with you more passionately than any man ever has before. So why are you the one who feels dirty?
You rush down the hall and into your room, slamming the door behind you. You dive under your covers, closing your eyes even though you know you won’t sleep. No, your shoulders are tensed up to your ears and your bones are vibrating with an energy you need to release. 
You’re completely tuned into the other person lurking in your apartment. You can hear as he starts the shower, how he talks quietly to himself sometimes. Then when he gets out you can perfectly picture what he looks like while he’s getting dressed and it only makes you feel worse. 
You listen as he leaves the bathroom and pauses in the hall. You can see it in your mind’s eye, how he stares at your door. He walks towards it and lingers for a minute before cussing quietly and heading back into the living room. 
You suddenly remember that you didn’t lay sheets out on the couch for him. You feel guilty, but there’s not one part of you that will be dragged from this bed and face him. Not now, at least. 
He’s up for a little while longer, getting water. Turning the TV on and off. Rooting through your cabinets looking for booze you know you don’t have. Finally, he settles on the couch. You’re awake for another hour, unable to relax until you’re completely sure he’s asleep. Even as you drift off and your body finally relaxes your mind doesn’t. You keep seeing that stricken look on his face and it makes you sick to your stomach. 
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It’s the smell of pancakes that wakes you up. You’re not sure when you finally managed to pass out last night but you know it was late. Which is why you’re so pissed off that you’re being forced to get up at seven in the morning. 
You’re used to being able to sleep in a lot later than that. You’re already in a pissy mood from last night and it only gets worse as you trudge around your room getting ready. You’ve never been more thankful to have snagged one of the rare two-bathroom apartments in the building.
You don’t want to have to share a bathroom with Logan. You don’t even want to use the other one after what happened last night. It’s too embarrassing and painful to think about. The emotional whiplash of feeling so desired and then absolutely hideous is making your head spin. 
You’re sure it was all just a problem on his end, but it really doesn’t make you feel any better. When you can’t stall any longer, and you know that Logan has heard you get up, you slip quietly out of your room. 
The curtains in your living room are open and he’s in the kitchen fucking around with your stove. The news is playing quietly on the TV and you’re astounded about how little he’s done and how much more homely your apartment feels. 
It’s never really been home to you. Not after you were booted from the X-Men. But he’s somehow made it ten times cozier than it ever has been. You almost resent him a little for it. 
“Morning,” he grumbles from the kitchen. “Coffee,” he motions behind him and you see a steaming cup already waiting for you. You silently slip behind him, grabbing the creamer from the fridge and pouring it until you’re sure it’s sweet enough to not actually taste the coffee. 
“Thanks,” you mutter, moving to sit at the table. You keep your eyes trained on the TV, pretending to pay attention to the news so you don’t have to look at him. He bores his eyes into the side of your head until you feel like you’re going to have holes in your temple. 
When you can’t take it anymore you finally look over at him. He doesn’t smile, his face barely even twitches, he just looks back to his pan and continues scrambling some eggs. “Didn’t know you cooked,” you offer up weakly, already growing anxious from the silence. 
It feels wrong, to be walking on eggshells in your own apartment. He grunts and shrugs, “Not really cooking. You had the mix in your pantry,” he tells you brusquely. His tone borders on rude and you scoff. 
The audacity of this man to have an attitude with you in your apartment. He was the one who threw a hissy fit last night. You roll your eyes and go back to the news, all it tells you is that the world is just as depressing as the inside of your apartment is right now. 
You notice out of the corner of your eye the way his shoulders slump forward. He leans against the oven, seeming not to care if he burns himself. You suppose it doesn’t matter, he’d just heal. “Sorry,” he mutters. It sounds like it pains him to say the words. 
“Whatever,” you mumble under your breath. You take a long sip of your coffee, slurping a little so you have something to fill the atmosphere. 
He puts some food on a plate and brings it over to the table for you. You usually don’t eat breakfast, preferring to just skip the meal and eat a bigger lunch. But it feels too bitchy to say that to him, so you just accept the food with a strained smile. “Thanks.”
He sits across from you, glaring down at your table like it insulted him. You drag your fork against the plate, letting the scrape of metal against porcelain drown out your worries. Finally, he looks at you. “Look, about last night.”
You tense up. You want to interrupt him, to stop him from explaining. You know it’s just going to hurt your feelings, whatever he says. Whether he tells you it was a mistake or he just realized he’s not attracted to you, either way, you’re fucked. But, it’s also kept you up all night so you just shut your mouth and let him speak. 
You keep your gaze trained on your plate, unable to fully face him. He lets out a long sigh and clenches his fork so tight you hear the metal bend. He drops it to the table and clenches and unclenches his fists a few times. 
“I just couldn’t kiss you, not when I wasn’t doing it for the right reasons.”
Your brows furrow in confusion and you finally look up at him. “What?” You demand, disbelief coloring your voice. 
His eyes are boring into yours, an intensity behind the stare that leaves you feeling a little shaken. “You look like her,” he whispers, and the grief is so thick in his voice it makes your throat tighten. He pauses briefly before continuing. “There are,” he clears his throat like he’s trying not to cry. It makes you lean back in your chair, arms crossed over your stomach uncomfortably. 
“There are a few differences, obviously. You’re not a carbon copy. But your mannerisms, your attitudes, you’re so similar. And I,” he shakes his head and gives you one of the most genuinely apologetic looks you’ve ever received. You can tell he really does feel guilty for projecting on you but it doesn’t make you feel any less uncomfortable. “And I just wasn’t doing that for the right reasons. I was pretending you were her and that’s just not fair to you.”
You lean your elbows on the table, head falling into your hands. You let out a rough sigh and groan in irritation. You knew the reason would hurt but you didn’t think it would be this bad. You feel gross, icky under your skin knowing that he was pretending you were another version of yourself. The version of yourself you’ve always wanted to be; the hero. 
But you also feel such a deep sadness and sympathy for him. He’d briefly mentioned that he was married to this other you. You can’t even begin to imagine what it would feel like, to see your dead wife’s face staring at you and she doesn’t even know you. 
“I,” you don’t even know where to begin. You struggle to say anything for a minute and you both just stew in the tense silence. You take in a deep breath and look up at him. You do what you always do, forcing a smile and shrugging it off. “I appreciate the honesty, really.” You stand up, bringing your still-full plate into the kitchen and busying yourself with cleaning up. 
“Clearly,” you snap, your voice crueler than it should be, “It was a mistake. We’ll just have to make sure it doesn’t happen again, right?”
Logan sits silently at the table. He looks like there’s more he wants to say but you don’t give him the chance. You can’t take it. You finally thought someone had wanted you for you, flaws and all. You’re a fucking idiot, he barely even knows you. Whatever connection you thought was there was just brought about by your own loneliness. 
“I gotta get ready for work,” you tell his back because he isn’t looking at you now. 
He nods, scraping his fork across the plate as he aggressively cuts into his food. “Right.” You wait for him to say anything else but he doesn’t. 
You walk past him and head back to your room. You don’t even have a job, you don’t have to work. But you still grab your purse and head out of the apartment. Pretending you do just so you don’t have to look at him anymore. 
You really should have let him finish, though. You should have let him keep talking to you. Let him explain how as much as he sees her in you, that’s not why he wants you. He wants you for you. Because as similar as you can be, you’re still a completely different person from who his late wife was. You’re someone strong and incredible and he genuinely wants you. But he can never really let himself be happy. 
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It takes a few days for you both to ease up around the other. The incident in the bathroom is never brought up again. You take him shopping for clothes after a few days. It feels wrong to keep giving him Wade’s hand-me-downs. You would have had your friend take him, but you don’t trust Wade’s sense of fashion at all. 
After that and getting lunch together while you were out shopping things got a little easier. You bought him a bed for the spare room because you felt guilty seeing him all cramped up on your tiny couch. 
You don’t initiate any physical contact with each other. The closest you’d gotten was your hands brushing when you both reached for some popcorn at the same time on movie night. But you hadn’t really minded that bad. 
Eventually, he starts to feel like a real roommate and a friend. He lets little pieces of himself slip out. Slowly opens up about his past. You haven’t made any existential discoveries of course. But he tells you stories of what his X-Men were like. 
You try not to dance around the topic of his wife, you don’t want him to think you’re avoiding asking about her. But you also don’t want him to think you’re obsessed with discussing her. 
He’s right, you two weren’t carbon copies of each other at all. You might share a few things in common but the more both you and Logan learn about each other, the more clear it is how different you both are from your variants. 
Sometimes you think he looks at you like he’s really seeing you, not her. But you can never be sure and you don’t want to put much strength behind the thought in case you’re wrong. You hate the idea that when you’re thinking of nothing but him, he’s just seeing her reflection on your face. 
There’s nothing you can do about it but it doesn’t stop the hurt. 
Tonight, at Wade’s suggestion, you’re both up on the roof waiting for a meteor shower that you’re ninety percent sure is never going to happen. You’re also one hundred percent sure that Wade just tricked you out of your apartment so he could have sex in it. He and Vanessa don’t really get a lot of time alone with Blind Al around. You’re already mentally preparing for the absolute fuck storm you’re going to have to clean up after.  
There’s a light nudge on your shoulder and you glance over at Logan. He’s got the whiskey bottle outstretched towards you and you take it from him with a smile. One thing about being his roommate, your alcohol tolerance has skyrocketed. His liver might regenerate, but you’re pretty sure if you keep going down this route yours will give out in a few months. 
“Think this is actually going to happen?” You ask, pointing up toward the clear night sky. 
Logan chuckles and shakes his head. He stretches out in your flimsy lawn chair and you try not to let your gaze be drawn to the sliver of skin peeking out from his shirt. “Probably not, but I don’t mind being out here.”
There’s an unspoken, with you, that makes you smile. You meet his gaze, his eyes soft as he watches you. “Me either.” You lean back in your chair, pulling your legs up onto the seat and huddling under your blanket. “It’s peaceful.”
You drink together in silence for a little while longer. Then you have to tap out, you don’t want your brain getting too foggy. Tonight is nice, you want to remember it tomorrow. To your surprise, he caps the bottle and places it to the side. You don’t mention it but you do feel like you’ve noticed he’s been drinking a little less. The dark circles under his eyes seem to be easing away ever so slightly. 
He looks over at you with an odd light in his eyes. You shift uncomfortably under his stare when it lasts a little longer than it usually does. You chuckle awkwardly, “Do I have something on my face?”
There’s a soft uptick to his lips as he shakes his head. “No,” he mutters, looking back out at the night. “You mind if I ask you something?”
Ominous, but whatever. “Sure.”
He still doesn’t look at you and you worry slightly about whatever it is he’s going to ask. He doesn’t ease you into it all, “Wade said your brain was broken?” A laugh springs out of your throat from how brusque that was. He rolls his eyes. “Fuckin’ idiot mentioned it in the void, been wonderin’ about it.”
“It’s fine,” you tell him. You’re relaxed enough that you don’t mind answering. You don’t want to pop the soft bubble you’ve managed to create around each other. “Here,” you hold your hand out for the whiskey bottle. He gives you an apprehensive look before handing it over. 
You unscrew the cap, “This,” you say and point your hand at the glass. The liquid inside lifts into the air and you freeze it before dropping it back into the bottle with a splash, a simple little party trick. “This used to be enough to put me in a coma for two days. That’s what he meant. Something happened to me and I just couldn’t do it anymore.”
Logan’s eyes widen and he shakes his head in disbelief. You laugh a little, “I assume your wife never had problems like that?”
There’s always a fond smile when you mention his wife. Whether the memory is bittersweet or not. “She wasn’t perfect, much as I thought so. When she used her powers too much she,” he trails off and looks down at the floor. You frown, ducking your head down so you can catch his gaze. 
“You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to,” you promise quietly.
But he shakes his head and gives you a weak, tight-lipped smile. “No, I want to. And I don’t want you to think you’re the only Flux who struggled. When she used her powers too much she would deteriorate. Parts of her would just disappear, I don’t even know how to describe it. They were destroying her from the inside out.”
You let out a low whistle, eyes widening slightly. “Well, maybe I didn't get the short end of the stick after all.” It’s quiet and for a moment you worry your humor was ill-timed. 
But he lets out a rough laugh, “No, I guess not.” He takes in a deep breath before looking back up at you. There’s no distant sadness in his eyes like there usually is when you bring her up. It seems to only be a familiar ache now, rather than something fresh and bleeding. “But what happened to you? Why couldn’t you use your powers?”
“Oh,” you look down at your lap, picking at the strings of your pants. It would be unfair to have him talk about his wife and then wimp out when it was your turn. 
“Um, There was this mission. A bunch of kids, mutants, were being held in this warehouse. It was actually pretty normal, just go in, retrieve them, and bring them back to safety. I must have done a dozen of these before, but, I don’t know. Something was this different this time around.”
You can still hear them screaming. In your mind, you hear the way they cried for help. And you see the look on your faces when they realize you can’t save them every time you go to sleep. 
You suck in a sharp breath and almost jump when his hand lands on yours. It’s gentle, he’s barely even touching you and he’s not even acknowledging what he’s doing. But you take his hand in yours and squeeze, it’s nice, grounding. 
“Long story short, they were heavily guarded and I was pretty drained from fighting off the guards. My powers were practically gone by the time we could even get to the kids. And, I don’t know, something must have gotten knocked over or hit the wrong way because smoke was filling the place and everything was on fire. I couldn’t see anything, couldn’t breathe, and the kids were blocked off. There was nothing we could do to get to them. Everyone kept screaming at me, telling me to just use my abilities and get them out of there. I couldn’t,” your voice gets thick and you look anywhere but at him. “I,” your mouth hangs open and you don’t know what you could possibly say. 
There’s no excuse for what happened. “I just couldn’t,” you whisper. You sniffle and your eyes flutter rapidly, trying to stop any tears from coming. “Hadn’t been able to use my powers since then. Trauma block or something, I guess,” you dismiss yourself flippantly and shrug. 
Logan just squeezes your hand again. He doesn’t seem to know what to say to comfort you and you’re honestly grateful for the silence. You get so sick of people telling you there was nothing you could have done. Or that the others should have helped you. Because that’s not a fucking excuse. There’s no fixing what happened, no giving those parents their children back. You fucked up and you don’t appreciate people giving you cop-outs. 
You keep your gaze trained steadily on the ground, eyes going blurry while you try to slip into the back of your mind. You don’t get the chance, though. Logan is kneeling in front of you, hands slipping up your arms to cup your face. 
He forces you to look at him, to stay present in the moment with him. “You fucked up,” he tells you. It's so shocking that you can’t help but let out a loud wet laugh. You sniffle and he grins, wiping the tears out from under your eyes. His grip on your cheeks tightens and he makes sure you’re listening as he speaks, “You fucked up, kid. But that doesn’t mean you didn’t try your fucking hardest. And it doesn’t erase all the people you did help.”
Your eyes search him, trying to find any kernel of untruth. Trying to prove to yourself that this isn’t real. That he isn’t real. You don’t deserve this moment of such unwavering trust and faith. This is meant for someone else, for someone who deserves good things in life. 
You’ve never truly believed you deserved happiness or peace like this. But right now you don’t care because he is saying everything you’ve ever wanted to hear. And he actually means it. 
Your hand drifts up, covering his and tilting your head to press a gentle kiss to his palm. It’s tentative, a test, a way to give him an out if doesn’t want this. His grip on you tightens for half a second before he shoots forward and claims your lips with his own. 
It escalates quickly. You practically melt off your chair, straddling his lap while he leans back on the ground. Your hands tug at his hair while he moves desperately over your body. He can’t seem to decide what he wants to do, where he wants to touch you. 
You love how fully his hands engulf you, the tight way they cradle you to his chest. You’ve never felt more secure in someone’s arms than you do right now. He’s got you, and he wants you. For you this time, you can tell. You can tell from the way he holds you that this isn’t a desperation born from grief. It’s something else, something you’re not ready to identify yet. 
His tongue laves across the seam of your lips, silently asking permission. You smile against the kiss, parting your lips and deepening it. He licks into you, tasting you with a low grunt in the back of his throat. You feel your hips start to move of their own volition. Gently grinding down against his lap. You moan when you feel just how bad he wants you. 
You lean back, parting from the kiss and pressing a finger to his chest to keep from following. You chuckle at his eagerness, grinding your hips down again and watching the way he thrusts up to meet your movement. “Didn’t know I was such a good kisser,” you tease. 
But he doesn’t return the joke or play along. His face falls slightly and he pulls further away from you, the look on his face distant. “What?” You whisper. “Do I have bad breath?” You joke, trying to keep the mood light. 
He shakes his head and runs a tired hand over his face. “No,” he mutters. He repeats the word more firmly and finally meets your gaze. “I think I need to take this slow, just because of…”
He trails off but you know what he means. His wife. You don’t know if he’s still projecting her onto you, you felt so sure he wasn’t earlier. But if every time you kiss he’s gonna pull back you’re not sure that you can do this. “Of course,” you mutter with a bite to your voice. It’s hard not to feel a little rejected every time he acts like this. 
You move to get off his lap but his hands clamp down on your hips and he shakes his head again. “You don’t have to get up.”
You hesitate, thighs still hovering over his. You should get up and put as much space between you as possible. But he’s so warm and you want to be held for a little while more. You nod and he looks relieved. You lean back down, pressing your chest against his and letting your head rest in the crook of his neck. 
He wraps a heavy arm around your back, keeping you close while the other reaches up to stroke your hair. It makes you feel small, in a good way. Like you can just relax and he’ll take care of you. 
“Goddamn,” he laughs a little and you sit up. He nods to the sky above and you turn around, gasping. 
“Fuck,” you whisper, “he wasn’t lying.” For once, Wade was telling the truth. Above you, it looks like the sky is falling. Glittering stars dart across the sky, streaks of blue following behind them. You grin, “It’s so beautiful.”
Logan keeps his eyes on you and nods, “Yeah, it is.”
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“Ah, look, my favorite fuck buddies.”
”Wade,” you greet tightly. You shove the bottle of wine you brought into his chest and he stumbles back. “Just let us in, you freak.”
He frowns, placing a hand over his heart. “You know, it really hurts when you talk like that. I think we all need to hold hands and have a good old-fashioned jerk circle.”
You roll your eyes and flick his thick forehead. “It’s share circle, dumbass.”
”Not the way I do it,” he moves to the side and lets you both in. “Well, mi casa es su casa, especially since Vanessa and I had rockin’ sex in your bed last week.”
He walks off before you can hit him or even begin to respond to that. “I fucking knew it,” you hiss, glaring at his stupid Hawaiian shirt while he mingles with the rest of the people at the party. 
Logan chuckles behind you, “How did you two ever become friends?”
You roll your eyes and turn to face him. “I moved in next door,” you respond dryly. “This was a nonconsensual friendship because god hates me, clearly.” You shrug your jacket off and he takes it from you, hanging it up on the hook by the door. He comes back, slinging an arm around your shoulder, and leading you towards the kitchen. 
You hear Wade laughing loudly in the background and he grunts, “I’m gonna need a drink for this,” he mutters. You nod your head in agreement. You don’t get very far, though, because without any warning Wade is in front of you. He’s got his ridiculous dog in his arms and shoves her in your face. You grimace and jump back. Logan abandons you and you narrow your eyes at his retreating back. Traitor
Wade says your name with disappointment. “You know, Mary Puppins is a part of my life now. As my best friend, you need to bond with her. I can’t have you two fighting like this.” He shoves the dog into your arms without any warning and you flinch away from her wandering tongue. 
“If this thing licks me, I’m putting her down,” you warn him gravely. 
He gasps and snatches her back. “You are no longer welcome in my home,” he tells you with a snotty huff. You roll your eyes and watch him go. When he’s out of sight your lips curl up in a grin and you glance at Logan. 
He’s by the sink, making himself a drink and taking a deep swig straight out of the bottle. You creep up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist. He smiles, hand coming down to gently hold your arm. “What’re you doing?”
”Come with me,” you whisper. You take his hand and lead him through the apartment. You both skirt around the partygoers, giving them vague greetings and waving them off when they give you odd looks. 
Logan leans down, lips brushing across your ear as he whispers, “Where are we going?” Your knees nearly give out when you hear that low tone of voice of his. You just shake your head and lead him down the hall. You can sniff out Wade’s room from the permeating stench of his axe body spray. 
You throw the door open and drag Logan inside behind you. His nose wrinkles up at the stiff socks littering the floor and the smell. Other than that, it’s relatively clean. You actually thought this would look so much worse. 
“Now,” Logan demands, “are you gonna tell me what we’re doing?”
“Well,” you lock the door and turn around with a devious grin. “Seeing as Wade has ruined my favorite sheets, I feel like we need to get him back somehow.” You glance around the room, trying to figure out something of his you want to destroy. 
You don’t hear Logan moving towards you. You’re too busy rooting through Wade’s desk and trying to find something good to shred up.  All you’re seeing is increasingly more disturbing porno mags. He has got a serious problem with pegging. You briefly wonder if you should set up an intervention or something for him. 
You nearly yelp when Logan’s hands grip your shoulders, whipping you around to face him. “I’ve got an idea of what we can do.” That’s your only warning before his lips cover your own. You melt into him immediately, hands fisting his shirt and dragging him closer. He grins against your lips, lifting you and placing you on the edge of Wade’s desk. 
“Mm,” you moan but shove his chest back and shake your head. “Wait,” you hop off the desk and take a seat on Wade’s bed instead. “There’s no point in this if we’re not on the bed.”
Logan shakes his head with an amused huff. He walks towards you but instead of taking a seat on the bed next to you like you'd expected, he kneels before you. Your brows furrow together and you frown. “Wait, what’re you doing?”
He gives you a gentle smile, hands coming up to rub gently over your thighs. The warmth of his palms soothes you almost immediately. “You trust me?” He asks, voice a low rumble against your chest. 
“Yeah,” you whisper. He nods encouragingly and leans forward, kissing you gently. There’s nothing expectant in this kiss. He’s doing it just to be close to you. Then you feel his hands drifting higher, fingers running over the buttons of your jeans. Your lips part, ready to ask him a question. But he just takes the chance to dip his tongue into your mouth, eagerly tasting you. You moan into it, not protesting when he presses you back into the bed. 
His fingers dip under the waistband of your jeans. You lift your hips to help him tug them the rest of the way down until they’re dropping to the floor quietly. You have a million questions dancing on the tip of your tongue but you can’t find it in yourself to actually voice any of them. You don’t want to break the moment. This is the first time he’s seemed comfortable going further than kissing and some heavy petting. 
“Fuck,” he whispers. Your hips jolt as he runs a thumb over the wet spot on your panties. “All this just from kissing?” He asks, a teasing lilt to his tone. You feel your face flush, cheeks warming when you realize he’s never actually seen just how much he affects you. “Relax,” he tells you, squeezing your thighs once before slipping a few lithe fingers under the band of your panties. 
He tugs them down, but the second he sets eyes on you he gets too impatient to take them off the rest of the way. They dangle off one ankle while he lifts your thighs, setting them on his shoulder and dipping down to press a gentle kiss against you. You gasp at the contact, head tilting back while you instinctually grind your hips up against him. 
It’s been a long time since you’ve actually been with anyone and you already know you’re going to cum embarrassingly quick because he fucking devours you. You’ve had boyfriends who liked to eat you out before, but this is something completely different. 
He drags his tongue over you, sucking on your clit like it’s his only true joy in life. You can’t even make noises, your jaw hanging slack while you cant your hips higher. He groans when you grind against his face, shaking his head and flicking his nose across your bud. You nearly come from the sight of him smiling against your cunt alone. You feel it building slowly, and it’s like your powers are swelling up along with your release. 
Wade’s knicknacks are floating off the shelves, some of them rotating in the air, others fluctuating between liquid and solid forms. You can’t control yourself, you’re barely aware of the chaos happening in the room around you. You just feel a warmth at the tips of your toes, swelling over your body, making your skin feel too tight. There’s little to no warning when you cum. He dips his tongue inside you and you let out a long moan, drenching his face. 
The sheets are soaking wet underneath you and you know you’ve ruined his shirt. You’ve never come that hard before and you would reflect on that more if he wasn’t still fucking eating you out. You think your brain is going to melt out of your ears, you're so overwhelmed by all the different sensations.
He dips his tongue into you, dragging out your orgasm and drinking as much of you down as he can. Your hips keep twitching, you’d be thrashing out of his hands if it wasn’t for the near brushing grip he has on your hips. “Fuck fuck fuck,” you reach down, grabbing his hair at the roots and tugging. He groans at the feeling, barely leaning an inch back. “No more,” you whisper, chest heaving. 
He smiles, palms smoothing across the skin of your thighs, “You okay?” 
“Mhm,” you hum weakly. Your head falls back against the bed with a dull thunk and you struggle to catch your breath. “Holy shit, where did you learn to do that?” He doesn’t answer, just laughs. You jump slightly when he presses a tender kiss on your thigh, every part of you oversensitive. 
He moves slowly up your body, hands dragging your shirt up until he’s pulling it over your head. He cups your cheeks, letting you recover while he kisses your cheeks and face. You laugh slightly at the feeling of his beard tickling you. 
You pull back, meeting his gaze for a long drawn-out moment before you lean forward to finally kiss him back. You can feel yourself slowly coming back into your body. Your limbs tingle back to life while you lazily make out with him. 
His hands drift down your chest, squeezing your breasts. You laugh against his lips, arching into his touch. You reach back, unclipping your bra and throwing it off somewhere in the room. In the far reaches of your mind, you make a mental note to take that when you go. You don’t want to think about what Wade would do with it if he found it. 
Logan pulls back from you and your lips tip down at the serious look he wears. Your fingers trace the lines of his face and you tilt your head in question. “What’s wrong?” You whisper. You’re completely naked before him and he’s still clothed, you don’t want him to leave now. 
He can’t keep doing this to you. He can’t keep forcing you into these vulnerable positions and then leaving. There’s only so much rejection you can take before you start to resent him for it. 
He tilts his head down, gaze dragging across your body appreciatively. He’s looking at you like you’re art and it makes you feel like you should be in a museum somewhere. Finally, his hand drags down from your chest, wrapping around your waist and dragging you onto his lap. 
You brace your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself. He leans towards you, lips trailing lightly across your jaw. “You’re not her,” he whispers against your skin. Your mouth parts, a pained breath slipping through. You try to move back from him. You hadn’t expected something like that, not now, not when you thought you’d made so much progress together. 
To have you naked, vulnerable like this, and then say something like that to you. It was fucking despicable. You shove his shoulders back but he barely moves. You shift, trying to cover yourself and fighting off the urge to cry. Why won’t he let you go? Why does he keep doing this to you? 
He reaches out, snatching up your wrist before you can get far. “I don’t want you to be. I never wanted you to be her, I need you to know that.”
He tries to kiss you but you snatch his jaw in your hand before he can. You let your nails dig in until there’s red blooming under your fingertips. He hisses, but he’s not mad, you can feel how much he enjoys the little pinpricks of pain. 
“No more pulling away,” you warn. “I’m not playing this damn game with you anymore, Logan. You want me, then commit.” You release him with a shove and his pupils dilate with want. You appreciate the gentle way he’s been treating you, but you know you’re both holding back. 
He’s the first partner you’ve been with that can actually take what you give and vice versa. There’s something only mutants understand sometimes. You normally have to hold back, have to make sure you don’t scare a guy off by making the walls shake when you come. 
You push him down onto the bed. Hands sliding under the hem of his shirt and running over the grooves of his muscles. You haven’t had a chance to appreciate just how gorgeous his body is before, but nothing is holding you back now. 
You snap your fingers and the buttons rip open, he surges forward catching your lips with his while you both frantically push his shirt off. He throws it off to the side and his fingers fumble with his belt buckle while you trail kisses down his neck. You glance up at him for a second before biting down on a particularly sensitive spot. 
He groans, head rolling back while you grin against his skin. You make your way back to his lips. “Don’t hold back,” you tell him, trailing your hands down to his fists and running over the spots where the claws come out. 
“Sweetheart,” he starts tone apprehensive. You shake your head, shutting him up with a kiss. 
“Don’t. Hold. Back.”
It’s like a switch flipping. Even the way he looks at you changes. You’re not something to be cherished and adored. You feel like a deer pinned by a wolf. He’s got you in his clutches now and there’s a real possibility you might not survive this. 
He stands up, dropping you on the bed and dragging your hips off the edge. He doesn’t kick his jeans off, just lowers them enough for his cock to hang out. You’ll address the fact that he wasn’t wearing boxers later, you’re too worried about what’s hanging between his legs right now. 
You’re no virgin, but goddamn, there’s no way that’s going to fit. 
He laughs, the noise cruel and it makes shivers crawl down your spine. “We’ll make it work, kid.” He spreads your legs and you tilt your hips up, making it easier for him to just sip inside. 
There’s a slight stretch, but you’re already soaked for him. You’ve been waiting for this to happen since you walked in on him naked in your bathroom. “Oh, shit,” you toss your head back, taking in a deep breath while he pushes in. It feels like he’s rearranging your insides, molding you to fit him perfectly. 
You can already feel yourself clenching down, just being so close to him is enough to make that tingle in the tips of your toes start. He leans down, placing your legs over his elbows and rutting into you like a wild animal. There’s nothing gentle or slow about this. 
You’re both so pent-up, tired from the weeks of dancing around each other. Your nails drag up his back, blood following your movement. Your powers are actively surging against him, pain only driving you further into each other’s arms. 
You can hear his breathy grunts and groans in your ears and it’s music to you. Neither of you cares about the party going on just outside the door. You’re loud, skin slapping against skin while you loudly call out his name. 
God, you hope they hear you. Hope they realize just how thoroughly you’re wrecked for each other. You can feel yourself getting closer, hips stuttering against his while you struggle to match his pace. “Come on,” he mutters in your ear. He releases one of your legs to reach down and rub your clit. 
“Fuck,” you groan, reaching up and tugging at his hair while your back bows. It only takes a few more tight circles of his thumb before you’re spasming around him. He’s quick to follow behind you. 
He pins your hips to the bed, dropping your legs while he thrusts faster. He loses his rhythm, the muscles of his abdomen flexing as he cums inside you. It’s like a mini death, you feel like you’ve lost time when you finally manage to come back to yourself. 
And when you roll your head to the side you realize just how much damage you’ve done to Wade’s bed. “Shit,” You glance up at the sound of his voice and notice little droplets of blood on your hips. Logan’s claws are out, stuck in the fluff of the bed. 
You force the words out, tongue heavy in your mouth. “Do that often?”
“Not really,” he mutters. The claws retreat and he rubs his fingers over the blood. It’s not bad, you’ve honestly done worse to yourself. It’s like a big paper cut. When the rough pad of his fingers presses against the cut you hiss at the sting, nearly enjoying it. 
“Must be special,” you tell him with a cheeky grin. He shakes his head with a laugh and takes his time pulling out. You hate the loss of him inside you but it's a slight relief. He's larger than any partner you’ve ever had and it’s almost overwhelming to be so full. 
“Come on, let's get you dressed.” He pats your thighs, glancing around for your clothes. 
“Uh, Logan,” he looks up and you glance at his still very hard cock. “I thought you came?”
The smile he gives you is slightly terrifying. Because there’s a promise in it. He’s not getting you dressed for no reason. He’s taking you back to your apartment so you can have more fun where there are less people and fewer reminders of Wade. “Stamina's part of the deal, sweetheart.”
“Oh,” you whisper, voice breathless in shock. You wipe the cum off your legs with Wade’s sheets. You feel like you’ve thoroughly gotten revenge on him for destroying your favorite bed set. Maybe, you’ve gone a little farther than revenge, though. 
You feel guilty, looking around the room and seeing everything you destroyed. Once you’re dressed, you wave your hand, putting most things back where they belong. But there’s nothing you can do about the bed. The sheets are soaked with a mixture of yours and Logan’s releases and there are six holes dug deep in the bed from his claws. 
When you step out of the room with Logan, struggling to press down your hair and get it back into place, Blind Al is waiting by the door. She’s doing a line off the back of her hand when you pass by. You think you’ve almost made it scott-free when she yells, “Man, I wish I couldn’t fucking hear,” at you. 
You tense up, shoulders to your ears while you run to the door. Logan laughs, grabbing your coat for you and pressing a hand to your back while he leads you to the apartment. “Weren’t feeling so embarrassed earlier,” he teases. 
“Shut up,” you grumble, dragging him into the apartment to finish what you couldn’t on Wade’s bed. 
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You’ve managed to keep any holes out of your bed, you just have to use your powers to keep his at bay. It’s nice, not having to explain why everything around you is levitating to the person you’re having sex with. There were a lot of awkward conversations that came from that. 
You’re lying on Logan’s chest, fingers idly running over the veins in his biceps. “I want to be serious about this,” you tell him. 
His hand pauses from where it’d been stroking your back. You sit up on your elbow so you can get a better look at him. “I mean it, I,” there’s no way to say this without sounding like a complete bitch. You just have to rip the bandaid off. 
You take in a deep breath, “I know that you still miss her,” you say, unwilling to say her name. Logan sits up, looking more serious now. “But I don’t want to be with you if you think that I’m going to turn into her. Or if you think that I’m the last connection you have to her. I’m not her, Logan, and I'm never going to be her.”
You expect anger on his face or regret, maybe. But you don’t expect him to laugh at you. You roll your eyes, lips pursed while you wait for him to finish. He notices the pissy expression on your face and quiets down, but you still see a smile fighting on his lips. 
“I know you’re not her. You could not be more different” he tells you with a slight smirk, like there’s an inside joke you’re missing out on. “I was married to her for a long time and I loved her. But we had our time together. Now, I just want my time with you. You’re not her,” he leans forward, pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead. “That’s why I want you.”
You feel your heart flutter in your chest and have to fight to keep a stupid grin off your face. “Okay,” you whisper. “Good, well as long as we’re on the same page,” you tell him, faux serious. He just rolls his eyes and pulls you back into his arms. 
You’re going to cuddle up beside him when you hear your phone going off like crazy on your nightstand. Your face pinches in confusion and you reach over to grab it. 
Wade
Did you fuckers have sex???
In my bed!!!!
And you didn’t invite me?!
….
Wade
Tell Logan I want his claws in me next
“Fuckin’ dumbass,” you mutter, throwing your phone somewhere on the bed. Logan laughs again, drawing you closer. 
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a/n: i have a really weird tendency for masochism, idk what that’s about. I just feel like if you were having sex with this man, he’s taking you like a wild animal. also feel like I might be a one-hit wonder. the smut just wasn’t doing it for me this time guys nor was the angst, i’m disappointed in myself
I just don't think I did justice to his character in the movie, I might have made it too OOC/ if I did PLEASE let me know
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 ♡
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augustinewrites · 1 year ago
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“hotter than jennifer lawrence, you say?”
nanami can tell that gojo’s having a hard time holding back his laughter as his student nods enthusiastically. this is the last time he’ll ever let them drag him out for a meal again.
“yeah! and oh man…” 
the blond chokes when yuuji gestures vaguely at his chest. this is why he never stays at the school over his lunch hour. 
gojo, wisely, pats the boy on the shoulder as nanami coughs. “alright, that’s enough out of you. even though i agree, you better stop before the vein in nanamin’s forehead bursts.”
the conversation grinds to a halt, gojo visibly stiffening as nanami's gaze narrows dangerously. “did you just say…that you agree?”
before gojo can open his mouth to defend himself, yuuji pipes up once more to add fuel to the fire.
“but it’s true!” the boy insists through a mouthful of food. “i’ve never had a teacher as hot as—”
“as hot as who?” you ask, suddenly standing at the end of their little table.
yuuji shuts up immediately, face turning as pink as his hair and he averts his gaze to the table and mumbles no one under his breath. 
nanami watches gojo beam up at you, then very bravely lets his eyes drift down to your chest for a split second.
but it’s a split second too long, and nanami is about to reach across the table and knock teacher and student’s idiot heads together when you lean down to press a kiss to his cheek.
“come on, love,” you say, smiling sweetly. “you promised you’d take me to that new dessert shop in the city.”
he’d made no such promise, but he gets up to follow you anyway, stripping his thick, autumn coat off and draping it over your shoulders.
with that, he wraps a possessive arm around your waist, pulling you into his side. 
“yuuji,” he begins. “this is my fiancée. she teaches at the school.”
you glance up at him, confused. “yes, we know each other, i’ve taught—”
“we’ll be off,” he cuts in, sending gojo a sharp look before guiding you out of the restaurant. 
he doesn’t let go of your waist until you’ve walked at least a block. it’s only then that he exchanged your waist for your hand.
he’s suddenly very wary of any other pedestrians looking at you, wondering if they’re thinking about what’s meant to be for his eyes and mind only.
“at first you looked like you needed saving in there,” you hum, using your free hand to hold onto his arm. “but…it seemed like they did, with the way you were glaring at them.”
“i wasn’t glaring,” he lies.
“you glare, darling. you may not notice it, but others certainly do. shoko calls it resting bitch face—”
“i do not have a resting bitch face. this is my…thinking face.”
“oh? then what were you thinking about?” you inquire.
“you,” he tells you truthfully. “and how lucky i am to have somebody so beautiful to come home to. someone hotter than jennifer lawrence, even.”
you smile into the kiss he leans down to press to your lips, looping your arms around his neck to pull him closer and murmur…
“you’re going to get very lucky tonight.”
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fcthots · 7 months ago
Text
You’re sitting on the couch of your shared apartment when Jason climbs in through the window, finally done with patrol. His entrance makes you look up from your phone. He reaches up and tugs his helmet off. His hair looks a little funny, but it also made him look good. He didn’t need the ego boost though. You can tell he had an eventful patrol by the smile on his face.
He walks towards you and drops his hand onto your arm. He lets it slide down until his hand rests on yours. He pulls your hand to his lips in greeting. “Hey, princess.” He squeezes your hand before giving it back to you.
“How was patrol?” You watch as he strips off his outer layers of gear. The display never gets old.
“Good.” He laughs. “But I have got to tell you what happened. Red Robin, Tim, smacked into Red Robin, the restaurant. It was completely by accident too. I begged Babs to get me the camera footage. She’s searching as we speak.”
You laugh at his enthusiasm and the way he laughed before he even finished the story. You ask him questions, he answers them. It continues until he goes to take his shower.
You turn back to your phone. This is where it all goes wrong, because you see a post that ruins your day. It reads, “the first time most men receive flowers is at their funeral.”
Evil. Illegal. Unacceptable. Had you really never given Jason flowers before? You swore you did but your memory came up empty. By the time you finished your existential flower crisis, Jason finished showering and called you to bed. He’s exhausted and falls asleep quickly. You, however, stay awake and plan. You will get the love of your life flowers. You will not let the first time he receives flowers to be at his funeral. You fall asleep trying to decide what flowers he would like best.
You wake up before him, getting up as gently as possible. If he wakes up with you, he’ll trap you for cuddles in his huge beefy inescapable arms, so you must be careful. You wouldn’t have been able to do it if you didn’t know Jason as well as you do.
You get ready as silently and as quickly as possible before sliding out the door. The nearest flower shop isn’t too far. You make it there and back in 30 minutes, and most of that time was spent deciding what flowers you wanted to get Jason.
You walk home with a bouquet of simple red roses with some baby’s breath sprinkled in. It’s wrapped in black paper with a read bow, a color combination you’re sure he’ll love.
You walk home a little slower, careful not to disturb the flowers cradled in your arms. The long walk leaves you to your thoughts. You wonder how Jason will react.
And then you get worried. What if he thinks it’s weird? Jason has never called you weird unaffectionately before, but what if this is what does it? Or, even worse, what if he pretends to like them but actually thinks it’s weird? You spiral a little and panic. You eventually walk head first into your door on muscle memory.
You make sure the flowers are okay before opening the door. You hide the bouquet behind your back. To your surprise, Jason is awake and in the kitchen. His morning voice greets you with a smile. “Did you just walk into the door?”
Your worry begins to fade and a smile crawls its way onto your face. “Shut up.”
He laughs and the sound makes you blush. You love him. “You did!”
“And to think I was out getting you a present.” You shake your head.
“You got me a present?” He looks a like an excited puppy.
“I got my loving boyfriend a present. Let me know if you see him.” You pretend as if you’re about to walk out.
Jason rushes over to you smiling. “Wait, no! He’s right here! Please! I want my present!”
Before you can talk yourself out of it, you thrust the flowers at him. He takes them from you, his smile softening. “Do you like them?”
He leans forward and presses a kiss to your forehead. “What are these for? They’re beautiful. I love them.” You watch him feel the petals with a gentle smile that he can’t seem to help.
You tell him about the post you saw, and how you couldn’t let the first time he got flowers be at his funeral. He pauses. “Babe. I really love the flowers. Seriously. Best gift ever. But um. The first time I got flowers was at my funeral.” He watches your face.
You lift a hand and cover your mouth. “Oh my god.” He laughs and uses one had to hug to you to his chest.
“I really love the sentiment! It means a lot! I love them so much!” He smiles into your hair as you wrap your arms around him.
“That’s why I remember buying you flowers before but couldn’t remember giving them to you. I feel terrible.”
“Don’t. This was so sweet, seriously. If it wasn’t the ass crack of dawn, I would cry.”
You laugh. “It’s past noon.”
He huffs. “Same thing. We were up until like 4.”
“This is true,” you say. “I still feel so bad though. I can’t believe I forgot you had a funeral already.”
He laughs and you can feel it in his chest. “The idea was really sweet, princess. I love the flowers. You just made my day. Nay, my week.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, you running into the door really sealed the deal.”
You push on his chest. “I hate you.”
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