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prettyboyeddiemunson · 1 day ago

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perfectly imperfect.

summary: steve harrington comes into your campus workplace and flirts with you every chance he gets. after months of turning him down, you finally give in and decide to give him a try. after all, he’s the hottest ticket on campus among the girls, so there has to be something to it. right?

word count: 3.5k

warnings/notes: smut, breast play, oral sex (brief; f receiving), grinding, handjob, premature ejaculation, catching feelings

a/n: this is a college au with steve, based on a dream i had! i’m thinking he’s probably right around the age he was in season 4, so that would make him around 19-20 in this fic. as always, reader is 18+ and sorry if anything like this has been done before! i don’t have time to read fic much anymore, so i don’t know what is out there. i hope y’all enjoy!

also shoutout to my bestie @andvys for suggesting I write this dream as a one shot! ily and thank you for everything 🥺

_____

“what would you recommend, babe?”

you had to suppress an eye roll at the nickname. it was nothing new with steve harrington; every time he walked into the cafe where you worked, it was always the same old song and dance. he would walk in, smile at you, flirt, ask what you recommended, and would eat or drink it while sneaking the occasional glance at you. he was a blessing and a curse that you just couldn’t escape, not even outside of work. you had two classes with him–World History and Foundations Mathematics–and he would try to chat you up then, too. you knew his reputation around campus wasn’t a very good one; he was quite the player, apparently. you overheard girls talking about him at work and in class, talking about the time they had with him and how he never called or spoke much to them when he was done. you weren’t about that sort of life, but you had to admit you were growing curious about him. he had to be good if he was getting around and getting a reputation; the girls never said he was terrible. in fact, the opposite was true. you had been on many dates since you started going to college two years ago, but nothing ever stuck. you were mostly having flings yourself, but at least you let those down easily and didn’t just leave them hanging like he did.

“i recommend what i always do every time you come in here,” you said. “the scones are good today; get one of those.”

“i think i have an appetite for something else,” he said, eyeing you up and down. “i think i want to experience something a little sweeter.”

“you think you’re really smooth, don’t you?” you asked, chuckling. “do you realize how many guys come in with the same line every day?”

“damn, i’ve got competition?” he asked, shaking his head. “here i thought i was special.”

“oh, you’re special, all right,” you said, grabbing a scone and putting it on a paper plate. “i don’t think you realize just how special you are.”

“well, that’s a relief,” steve said, digging in his pockets for money. “i really wish you’d go out with me, though.”

“why?” you asked. “so you could fuck me and leave me, like you do all the rest?”

he shook his head. “no, it would be different with you. you’re different.”

you laughed, shaking your own head. “how many women have you used that line on?”

“come on, harrington,” someone said from behind him. “i want my coffee.”

“just a minute,” he said, leaning in close to you. “one date. we don’t even have to have sex, if that isn’t what you want. just give me a chance.”

you eyed the line behind him, and knew there was no getting out of it this time. he wasn’t going to let up until you gave in, apparently. you sighed, rolling your eyes before meeting his. “fine. one date and i’m calling the shots.”

“thank you,” he said. “that’s all i wanted.”

“yeah, i’m sure,” you said. “it’s two dollars for the scone.”

he handed you two one dollar bills and a ten. “a little tip for you, babe.”

you went to hand it back, but he was already gone, the line moving forward as you were forced to be professional yet again.

****

the night of the date came faster than you wanted. he had pestered you about it every day in class and at work, until you finally set it for the following friday night. you were off work and didn’t have many classes that day, so you thought it would be perfect. it would give you a chance to get ready, to prepare yourself, and to brace for what might happen. you’d been giving it a lot of thought since he’d asked, and you decided that maybe you wanted to sleep with him, after all. you would see how the date went first, of course, but you had no reason to expect that it would be bad. steve seemed like a decent enough guy; he was just a playboy. most men his age were, though, especially college frat boys, so you didn’t know what else you honestly expected.

you spent most of the afternoon working on yourself, and when the date finally came, he came to your room to pick you up. he couldn’t stop talking about how beautiful you looked, and you had to admit that he looked handsome, too. he was wearing a light blue button-up shirt that was done up to just below his neck, showing off a spray of chest hair underneath and accenting his muscular arms. he wore blue jeans that were nice and not torn, brown dress shoes, and his hair was done up in its usual fashion. he looked damn good; even you had to admit that. you followed him as he walked, and he offered you his arm after a little bit. you took it, feeling your heart flutter as you did so. you had already decided, upon seeing him, that you were going to sleep with him. you couldn’t wait to break the news to him at the end of the night.

he took you to a nice restaurant just off campus, an classy little italian place that served the best food. you’d been there a few times, but never on a date. steve paid for everything, and when you were both walking back to campus, you decided to spring the news on him. you stopped walking and he did, too, giving you a puzzled look. you just smiled at him, hugging yourself for a moment before walking over and standing directly in front of him.

“so i made a decision,” you said. “one that i think you’re going to like.”

“what decision is that?” he asked.

“i think i wanna sleep with you tonight,” you said. “if you’re up for it, i mean.”

“i’m always up for that,” he said with a chuckle. “but why the sudden change of heart? you seemed pretty adamant to not sleep with me before now.”

you shrugged. “i guess i couldn’t live with myself if i passed up on steve harrington.”

he laughed. “well, i wouldn’t be able to live with myself if i passed up the most beautiful girl on campus, either.”

your cheeks heated at that, looking down for a moment before meeting his gaze. “so…it’s on, then?”

“it’s on,” he said. “where should we go? my roommate is out with his girlfriend tonight, so my room might be the best bet.”

“okay,” you said. “let’s go there, then.”

he walked you to his dorm building and up to his room, which was, in fact, empty. it was a little messy, with clothes strewn about the floor, fast food wrappers on the desks, beer bottles hidden not-so-skillfully under the two beds, and posters of half-naked women adorning the walls. you had to resist rolling your eyes for the millionth time; it was such a typical guy room that it was almost hilarious. steve walked over to the bed on the right, sitting down and gesturing for you to do the same. he kicked off his shoes and you did the same, taking a seat next to him as he turned to face you.

“is it bad that i’m a little nervous?” he asked.

you looked at him, shocked. “you, nervous? why would you be nervous?”

he shrugged. “i don’t know. i guess because i’m not used to being with a beautiful woman like you.”

“yeah, and how many girls have heard that?”

“come on, i’m being serious.”

“so am i.”

“i’ve never really used that on someone. you’re the first.”

“wow, i feel special.”

he put one finger under your chin, tilting your head toward him. “you are special, though. at least you are to me.”

“yeah, yeah,” you said. “are we doing this or not?”

“yeah,” he said, drawing you in closer. “come here.”

he put his lips to yours, kissing you gently at first. it stayed like that for a little bit, his lips working softly against yours as you followed his lead. soon, though, he was kissing you a little harder, his tongue pressing between your lips as they met. he mewled softly, grabbing your hips and pulling you into his lap. you straddled him, cupping his face as he kissed you more heavily. you whined, kissing him deeper as he began bucking his hips into yours. you picked up on his cue, grinding against him as you continued to make out. he groaned, grabbing your ass and guiding your movements. you moaned as well, continuing to move on him as he kissed you harder.

“fuck,” he said against your lips. “that feels so good.”

“you’re already getting hard,” you observed. “i can feel it.”

“i can’t help it,” he said. “you just have that effect on me.”

“oh yeah?” you asked, smirking at him as you leaned down to kiss his neck. “well, i feel pretty flattered, then.”

“i really wanna get your clothes off,” he said, tilting his head back to give you more room. “can i?”

you chuckled, shaking your head. “not yet. i wanna keep doing this for a little bit first.”

“you’re going to make me work for this, aren’t you?” he asked with a groan.

you nodded. “that’s right.”

“you’re such a tease,” he said. “but that’s okay, i like it.”

“oh you do, huh?” you asked, toying with the buttons on his shirt.

“hey, i thought you said we had to wait.”

“i said you had to wait. i didn’t say anything about me.”

“that hardly seems fair.”

“i’m the one calling the shots here tonight, remember?”

that quieted him, and he mumbled a word of permission. you giggled, unbuttoning his shirt and pushing him back on the bed. you started kissing down the middle of his chest, down his stomach to the top of his jeans, and then slowly back up. his breathing was slightly heavier as you worked on him, and he drew you in for a passionate kiss as you came back up. he pulled you on top of him again, where you resumed grinding him for the moment. his hands squeezed your ass, kneading the flesh there as you rocked against him. you whined, moving a little faster as he gasped against your lips.

“you’re gonna make me cum already if you keep doing that,” he said. “please, can i take your clothes off?”

you giggled, nodding. “fine. but not the bra or the panties yet.”

he eagerly removed your shirt and pants, discarding them to the floor with the rest of the clothes. he studied your body with hungry eyes, his pupils enlarging as he took in every detail. you couldn’t help but flush under his gaze, your cheeks hot as he studied you. you pushed him back down, kissing him hungrily, your hips moving again as he slapped your ass. you laughed against his lips and you could feel him smiling, so you kept going. after a minute, steve’s hands found the back of your bra, playing with the clasp. you smiled, knowing that you’d tormented him enough, and you drew back to grin at him.

“you can take it off now,” you said.

“i can?” he asked.

“yep,” you said. “go ahead.”

he didn’t need to be told twice. he practically ripped the garments from your body, taking in every detail of your body as he did so. he licked his lips as he studied you, his eyes moving from head to toe and back again. your cheeks turned hot under his gaze, and you reached out to pull him closer. he went easily, his body pressed flush to yours as you chuckled.

“I think it’s your turn now,” you said. “it’s only fair, don’t you think?”

he nodded, hastily doing away with his clothes. as he did to you, you observed him from top to bottom, your eyes remaining glued on his cock. he was bigger than you expected, with good girth and even better length. a large vein ran up the underside, and his tip was pink and already oozing precum. you reached out to stroke him, and his lashes fluttered as he moaned under your touch. he looked at you with heavy eyes, his lips parted as his cheeks began to flush. you smirked at him, flicking your wrist as his body jerked slightly.

“who has the power now, huh?” you asked.

“you do,” he said, rutting into your hand. “god..”

“you know what I want you to do?” you asked.

“anything,” he said. “i’ll do anything you want.”

“i want you to eat me out,” you said.

“can i?” he asked. “please?”

“mmm hmm,” you said. “go ahead.”

steve turned you over so that you were lying flat on his bed. he kissed your neck, stopping at your breasts to give them some attention. he kissed over each one, sucking one nipple feverishly as he rubbed the other with his fingers. you moaned softly, grabbing his hair and giving it a slight tug as he, too, moaned. you giggled, running your fingers through his hair as he continued to work. he shivered, his eyes trailing up to look at you as he sucked your nipple a bit harder. you arched your back, bucking your hips impatiently as he trailed one hand down your body. he ran his fingers over your clit, barely ghosting it as you gasped. he smirked against your skin, his fingers ghosting your folds next. you wanted to slap him for being such a tease, but it felt so good that you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

“you’re so hot,” he said, his hands coming up to squeeze your breasts. he moaned as he watched your nipples harden even more, his thumbs circling them. “the hottest girl i’ve ever seen.”

“oh yeah?” you asked, whining as he started kissing his way down your body. “am i hotter than all those other girls you’ve been with, or did you use that line on them, too?”

“no, just you,” he said, winking up at you as he knelt between your legs. “i swear it’s just you. i told you, you’re different.”

you wanted to roll your eyes, but you didn’t. you were curious as to what he would be like, and now wasn’t the time to offend him or piss him off. you would take him at his word for now; it’s all you could do. you watched as he kissed your inner thighs, painfully slow, and as he kissed around your mound, also painfully slow. he was kissing anywhere and everywhere but where you really wanted him, and you almost pushed his head there. but you didn’t want to do that, so you waited, letting him get it out of his system. he did it again, a little faster, and then finally he was right where you wanted him.

his mouth felt like heaven, and it was a feeling that you’d never felt before with anyone else. his tongue was like velvet, wet and soft and perfect. he lapped at your folds lazily, using the tip of his tongue at first to tease you further. you moaned, sitting up on your elbows to watch him as he looked up at you. he groaned as he pressed his full tongue against you, licking a long, slow stripe from your entrance to your clit and then back down. he did the same motion a few times, before wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking. you arched, falling back on the bed and writhing as he sucked harder.

‘steve…” you moaned. “that feels so good.”

“oh yeah?” he asked, and you could feel him smirking against you. “you think it feels pretty good, huh?”

“yeah,” you said. “you’re good at this.”

his smirk widened, and soon he was fucking you on his tongue. he replaced that with his fingers after a few minutes, paying attention to your clit as he sucked again. his tongue swirled the small bud, moaning against it to add vibration. you gasped and bucked your hips, feeling the tightness beginning to settle in your lower stomach. you didn’t think you’d be so close already, but it had been awhile since you’d gotten off–with yourself or with anyone else. you were pent up, and it was about to come to a head very soon.

“i’m close already,” you told him. “please keep going.”

“already, huh?” he asked, grinning up at you.

“don’t flatter yourself,” you said. “it’s just been awhile.”

“sure,” he said, winking at you. “i’ll take your word for it.”

he kept going, fucking you harder on his fingers and sucking your clit harder. he shook his head back and forth, his eyes on you as he kept going. it only took a few more minutes before you were falling apart, cumming hard as you cried out his name. he kept going as you experienced your high, going slower and more gentle, watching as you arched your back, writhed, and tugged at his hair. he moaned, stopping once you came down from your high. he sat back and looked at you, and you could tell by the look on his face that he was proud of himself for what he’d just done.

“that’s a first,” he said. “usually i have to go for twenty minutes.”

“you poor thing,” you said as you rolled your eyes. “how ever will you survive?”

he chuckled, kissing his way back up your body. “you’re so sassy. i love it.”

“come here,” you said. “i wanna pretend to ride you.”

“pretend?” steve asked. “why not do it?”

“because i wanna make you work for it, that’s why,” you said, smirking at him.

“but i’m about to burst already,” he nearly whined.

“now who’s the one who might cum too soon?” you teased. “come here.”

he lay back on the bed, tucking his arms behind his head. “okay, babe. i’m here. do whatever you want to me.”

you straddled him, positioning yourself over his erection. you began to grind against it, moaning at the heavy, throbbing feeling of him against you. he hissed, his hands coming out to grab at your hips. you kept going, gliding along him at a steady pace as he looked up at you. he leaned up after a few minutes and started sucking at your nipples, lying back against the pillows and pulling you with him after a moment. you moaned, biting your lip as you started moving a little faster.

“I’m not gonna last much longer,” he said, and you could tell that he was right. he was twitching, his cock throbbing against you as you continued to glide. “please.”

you giggled, getting off of him and taking his cock into your hand. “tell me what you want.”

“I—“ he began, but it was soon over. he came all over your hand, his body in spasms as he bucked into your hand. he squeezed his eyes shut, digging the heels of his hands into them as he came down from his high. “fuck, I knew that was gonna happen.”

you chuckled, holding your hand up to your mouth. “look at me, steve.”

he did so, looking at you with heavy eyes. you started licking the cum off of your hand, making eye contact with him as you did so. he moaned as he watched, and pulled you down for a kiss after you were done. you lay next to him, snuggling against him as he held you close. it was silent, save for steve’s heavy breathing, and you opened your mouth to say something. he beat you to it.

“wow,” he said. “i never…that’s never happened to me before.”

“no?” you asked. “never? not once?”

“no,” he said, shaking his head. “i think it’s because i like you so much.”

you looked up at him. “you do?”

“I do,” he said. “you’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met before, y/n. i think I wanna keep you.”

you smile at him, leaning up to kiss him. “you wanna know something?”

“what?” he asked, brushing some hair out of your eyes.

you kissed him again, a bit more passionately. “I think i wanna keep you, too.”

—

taglist: @andvys @littledemondani @etherealxwitch @eddieschains @happylilthought @trashmouth-richie @eiightysixbaby @thisbrokencapulet @sunkillerencoder @thatredlipped-classic

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington smut #steve harrington one shot #stranger things fic

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castellanapologist · 2 days ago

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Valentine?

(Happy Valentine's day! My favorite holiday and favorite boy. banner by @acenturions, divider by firefly-graphics)

“Hey pretty girl”

You turn around to see Luke standing there, his usual smirk gracing his handsome face. Your arms are filled with red paper hearts, some spilling out of your hold. He grabs some off the ground for you before standing back up straight.

“What’s up Luke?” You ask, walking towards the Aphrodite cabin. Luke walks in step with you.

“What’s up with all the arts and crafts?” He teases. You giggle and shrug.

“Got tasked to hang up all these hearts for Valentine’s day” You smile at him as you start your delegated work. Luke hovers behind you while you work, his presence causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach. You try to suppress your smile so you don’t look like a lovesick fool.

“Just you all alone?”

You shake your head. “No, I think some other kids are hanging stuff up elsewhere. I’m honestly surprised you didn’t get roped into this.”

“They asked for my help but I told them I was busy.”

You turn your head to look at him quizzically. “Busy? On Valentines?” You felt a small pit form in your stomach at the thought of him having a valentine. Luke shrugs with a small smile.

“I hope to be anyway.” Luke gets closer, standing beside you to help hang the hearts. His warmth and scent make you feel a little dizzy but you try to focus.

“So you lied” You tease. “Hoping to be busy and actually being busy are two separate things.”

Luke laughs as he finishes up. “I suppose so.” His head turns and locks eyes with you. “You busy?”

You hum as you finish your side. “No, no valentine this year. Might go to the bonfire tonight though.”

Luke looks thoughtful, a small smile slowly spreading across his face. Turning to face you fully, he steps a fraction closer. You feel your breath catch. His eyes search your face before leaning in closer to murmur in your ear.

“How about you-” He’s interrupted by the squeal of an Aphrodite kid. You both whip your heads to see her staring at y’all with her hands clasped. She blinks expectedly as you both stare back, clearly waiting for something.

“Oh no forget I’m here!” She says with glee. You feel your face warm as you take a step back from Luke. You hear a small huff from him.

“Um…the hearts are all hung up.” You say awkwardly, the expectant stare of your fellow camper making you squirm. She looks disappointed that you and Luke aren’t doing what she wanted but straightens up.

“Yes well, I’m sure that you had fun.” Her voice is teasing but you're not sure what for. “But anyways, I have something for you!” She pulls a letter out of her pocket with a grin. You take it, sizing up the envelope. It’s pink with a heart wax seal. You feel Luke step closer to snoop.

“What is this?” You ask, popping open the seal.

“Something from a special secret admirer” She chirps. You hear Luke suck his teeth. Pulling out the letter, you begin to read. It’s really sweet, talking about how gorgeous you look and how much they admire you. You feel your cheeks warm again at the compliments.

“Where’d you get this?” Luke asks. His voice is casual but this seems to only make the girl grin more.

“Its a secret! But I’m sure if you come to the bonfire tonight you’ll find out”

You purse your lips, folding the letter again. You peek over at Luke again, who’s staring at the letter in your hands. “I guess I’ll be there.” You say. Luke’s head whips up to look at you.

“You will?!” The both of them say at the same time. You blink at their reactions. The girl looks beyond thrilled while Luke looks genuinely shocked. Shrugging, you tuck the letter in your pocket.

“I mean, I have no valentine. What’s the worst thing that can happen?”

Luke clicks his tongue, looking off to the side as he steps back. You already miss his warmth. Usually you’d never do this but a small voice in your head points out how Luke said he'll be busy anyway. Your siblings are always telling you to explore your options anyway right? You can’t help but feel like you’re missing something though. The girl scampers off, practically skipping. But you keep your eyes trained on Luke. He looks annoyed, but lets out a small sigh before facing you again.

“Well, looks like you have something to look forward to at the bonfire” He teases. You roll your eyes but absentmindedly play with the letter. A small part of you hoped this would be like those romantic movies where the letter turned out to be from him.

“What were you gonna say earlier? Before she interrupted?”

Luke huffs a laugh. “You’d have to ditch the bonfire to find out.”

Your tongue wets your lips. Internally, you weighed your options. Ditch your secret admirer for Luke or ditch Luke for your secret admirer. You could hear the voices of your siblings telling you to stop pining and explore new options but…

“You don’t have to answer now” He interrupts your train of thought. “The bonfire isn’t for another few hours-”

“I want to be with you.” You interrupt. You pause realizing how that might sound. “I mean, I’d rather hang with you.”

Luke grins, looking down from you to smile at the ground. “Cool. Come to the lake at sunset.”

You nod, not trusting yourself not to squeak out an answer. Luke walks off and you can’t help but stare at his back until he’s gone. Your heart hammers in your chest as you make your way to your cabin. It’s nerve wracking having to wait for so long. You wondered what Luke was planning. It wasn’t like him to be so secretive with you. Pulling the letter out your pocket again, your eyes trace the words.

‘The first time I saw you in a sunset, I knew I could never see it the same way again. You looked so beautiful bathed in the light and I wanted to kiss you.’

This person had obviously liked you for a bit but you didn’t recognize the handwriting. It wasn’t signed either, which made sense for being a secret admirer letter but still. You dropped the letter on your bed as you flopped down. You knew you were making the right choice choosing Luke but couldn’t help but cringe at the thought of hurting this mystery person's feelings. Oh well.

Eventually, you sat up to refresh your appearance. Your hands slightly shook as you touched up your hair, still nervous about being with Luke on Valentine’s day. You knew it didn’t mean anything, but your stupid crush still made you feel giddy. As the sun slowly started to set, you made your way down to the lake.

Most people were heading to the bonfire and you tried not to make eye contact with anyone in case your secret admirer was in the crowd. The lake was quieter, water lapping onto the shore. Glancing around for Luke, your eyes were suddenly covered. Gasping, you grasped at the wrists only to hear Luke chuckle.

“You would think you could be more aware of your surroundings” He murmurs in your ear. You huff, relaxing your grip on him.

“Was busy looking for you.” You shot back. He laughs again before slowly guiding you to walk with him.

“I’ve got something for you. Don’t peek.” He says softly. You hum and let him lead. He’s careful not to let you stumble and guides you further down the shore. When y’all come to a stop, he removes his hands. You gasp at the scene in front of you.

A blanket laid on the sand and a tray of food sat on top of it. It was filled with your favorite treats, even ones you could only get from the mortal world. Next to it sat your favorite flowers, freshly bloomed and tied together with a pink ribbon. You whip around to face Luke, who looked pretty self satisfied.

“You did this? How? It’s amazing!” You gush. His chest puffs a little at your compliment.

“You like? Had to pull some strings but wanted to make this special for you.” He says, his hand coming to rest on your lower back. “Cmon, sit down.”

You do, reaching for the flowers. They smell amazing and the butterflies in your stomach seemingly multiply. You feel your face warm and try to hide in the flowers. This had to be the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for you. Peeking up at him, your breath hitches at how Luke looks at you. Gentle and like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“This is amazing Luke. Thank you. This is the best Valentines day ever.”

He gently pulls the flowers from you, placing them on the blanket again. “Better than going to that bonfire huh?” He scoots a bit closer, your knees knocking together. You can’t help but huff a laugh.

“Much better.”

A comfortable silence falls as you stare at each other. The sunset coats him in orange hues, and his eyes trace your face. He leans in slightly and you follow his lead.

“You look so beautiful during sunsets. I can’t see them the same without you.”

Your brow furrows and you pull away slightly to stare at him incredulously. “You-...Was the letter from you?”

Luke’s face flushes and he groans, running a hand down his face. “...Yes.” He admits. Your heart stutters. “It was this stupid letter I wrote months ago. I was gonna give it to you but chickened out and then it went missing. I guess the Aphrodite kids wanted to take matters into their own hands.”

You can’t help but laugh even as he gets more embarrassed. Leaning in, you press a kiss to his cheek. “I liked it.”

He turns his face to yours again, only inches from your lips. “Yeah?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

He smiles and leans in. His lips slot against yours perfectly and you kiss him back enthusiastically. Wrapping your arms around his neck, the kiss lasts for what feels like centuries before you pull away. Luke grins stupidly, pecking your lips again.

“Guess I’ll have to thank them.”

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #charlie bushnell x reader #charlie bushnell

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chippedshake · 2 days ago

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My gift for @an-akward-ace as part of the gift exchange :))

@outsiders-gift-exchanges

“Mama?” Darry asks as he creeps out of the hallway and into the living room. Mama’s on the couch, feet tucked underneath her, book in her hands. She looks up and worry crawls onto her face.

“Darry? What’s wrong?”

He walks up to the couch tentatively and sits down next to her. “Am I a bad person?”

“What?” Mama closes her book and puts it on the couch armrest. “Why would you think that?”

“Sometimes— sometimes I think I don’t…” He looks at her guiltily for a moment before looking away. “Sometimes I think Ponyboy doesn’t love me.”

“Honey,” Mama murmurs, putting her hand on Darry’s shoulder, “Why would you say that?”

“I don’t—” Darry looks down again. “I don’t know. When I told him to go away because I wanted to play with Mark and Andrew he started crying and wouldn’t talk to me for a week. An’ he gets way more mad at me than at Soda but I’m a lot less annoying than Soda.”

Mama runs her hand through Darry’s hair and he curls up against her, just young enough to not be embarrassed. “Oh, Darry, that don’t mean he don’t love you. It just means he gets cranky sometimes. Maybe y’all mess up sometimes, but that don’t mean nothin’. Everyone does.”

She pauses for a moment.

“You ever notice that sometimes we’re all real quiet at dinner and Pa an’ me won’t look at each other?” Darry nods slowly. “Love ain’t perfect, and it ain’t about wantin’ to be with someone all the time, or never gettin’ mad. Only place you’ll see that is in the movies.”

Darry nods again, but doesn’t answer.

“Say— weren’t you reading Ponyboy a story before he went to sleep?”

Darry looks up at her and nods. “We’ve read it a bunch before but he never wants ta read anything else.”

“Does anyone else ever read it to him?”

“The story?” Mama nods. “No. Says he only likes how I read it. But it’s just ‘cause I do more voices than you.”

“How ‘bout walking home from school? Pa could go pick him up in the car, wouldn’t that be faster?”

“Yeah…” Darry’s not quite sure where this is going. “But that way he knows what the city’s like and doesn’t get lost when he’s older and stuff.”

“Right. What about how Ponyboy asked for a football for his birthday even though he’d been talking about that colouring book for months? What about how he won’t go to sleep without a ‘Darry hug’ because he says it’s better than other hugs?”

Darry doesn’t know what to say so he looks down at his hands.

“Love ain’t perfect, honey. You don’t always wanna be with someone and sometimes you’re gonna get mad and, Dar,—” He looks up at her “ — that’s fine. Love’s in the little things that add up, and yeah, sometimes something’s gonna subtract some, but that don’t take away from all of what you’ve built.”

…

Darry steps into the house with a loud sigh.

No one’s around to hear it.

He can’t be bothered to take his boots off, no matter how much he dreads having to clean the house afterwards, because it’s just grabbing the grocery list and taking off again.

Just grabbing the gro— oh, shit. Where is it?

A groan starts poking its way out of Darry’s chest.

Why him? Why now? Why at the end of the work day, when the only thing keeping him standing is the thought of a bath once he gets back?

He looks around the same place again, hoping the bright yellow sticky note somehow flew under his radar.

It didn’t.

In a couple cabinets, on the floor, inside drawers— by the time Darry’s looked through the whole kitchen, he’s shuffled around so much the floor’s covered with dirt. Because his shoes are still on. Because it was supposed to be quick. Because the list was supposed to be right there and it’s actually a tiny thing and he can probably remember everything anyways but the list needed to be there and he doesn’t have the stupid list and he just want to sleep but he need to make dinner and where the fuck is that list—

“Oh, hey, Darry!” Soda walks in and holds the door for Steve, who comes in behind him. Both their arms are full of groceries.

Everything that was on the list.

“Thought we’d get ahead on groceries since your shift’s longer’n normal today.”

Steve doesn’t add anything, but grunts in Darry’s general direction, so he gathers it’s a form of greeting.

“Oh,” Darry says, trying to keep his voice calm and hide the fact that he was about to break down because of something as stupid as not finding a sticky note. “How much was it?”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” Steve says, setting his bag down at the kitchen table. “Old man kicked me out again last week. S’on him.”

…

“Hey, Darry?” Darry stops and turns around from where he was heading towards the kitchen.

“Yeah, Pone?”

“Can you stand there for a second and put your hands behind your back?”

Darry stares at him, confused, before doing as he asks.

“And tilt your head a bit to the right— wait, no, my right, your left.”

A couple moments go by. Ponyboy’s scribbling something in his notebook, looking up at Darry and back down quickly.

“Can I move now?”

“Just one more second…” He erases something, draws it again, and holds his notebook up next to Darry. “Okay, thanks.”

Darry heads towards him. “Can I see it?”

Ponyboy covers his notebook hurriedly. “When it’s finished.”

“Okay, okay.” Darry holds his hands up in mock innocence.

…

Darry tries not to worry too much about Ponyboy. Their parents were never very controlling, and generally any of them could leave for hours without facing too much questioning.

He tries not to, but the problem is that Ponyboy never thinks, no matter how much Darry tries to get him to. He’d mouth off to a Soc because he just didn’t notice they had a knife, or walk home all alone at night without realising he was holding a neon sign that said “jump me”. Honestly, even being run over because he didn’t bother to look both ways is an option at this point.

“We didn’t get into any trouble,” Johnny says. Darry blinks at him. Pony and Johnny have just come back from the drive-in — they went alone this week — and Ponyboy’s gone to his room to get something to show Johnny, who’s wandered into the kitchen to talk to Darry.

The last time the two of them talked alone must be at least a year ago.

“Weren’t even any Socs nearby. All in their cars.”

And without another word, Johnny walks out of the kitchen as Ponyboy comes storming back into the living room.

…

“Kicked out again?”

“Got mad at me for bein’ away too much and decided to kick me out.”

“Huh.”

“I saw y’all didn't have any tomatoes so I picked some up on the way. Got a discount, too.”

“Yeah?”

Steve wiggles his fingers. “Five finger discount.”

…

Darrel Shaynne Curtis is defying all the laws of physics and biology because he is utterly dead inside and yet somehow still walking. If he has to take another step his joints will fall apart like rusty gears on an old clock.

And for some reason his house has to be full of fucking people.

People he loves, but people nonetheless.

Annoying people. Loud people. People who apparently do not know the definition of shutting the fuck up.

No amount of affection for the gang can stop Darry from crossing the line into homicidal if one more person screams across the room for something completely unnecessary.

“Hey, Superman.” Dally says with a light smirk as he sinks into the couch next to Darry.

Darry looks up and nods.

“How ya doin’?” Now here’s the part where Darry’s supposed to say “meh” or “as good as I can be, I guess” or something along those lines. Or he should at least shrug.

All of that requires energy, though, energy that Darry does not have, so he just hums.

“Yeah, I get that.”

Dally stays next to him, quiet and thoughtful for a moment.

“Hey, y’all wanna go to the drag races?”

Dally’s question is met with a chorus of whoops that make Darry’s head throb, and in a matter of minutes, the whole gang’s out the door.

Dallas walks out the door, then strays back in just before the door closes. He turns the lights off and Darry sighs in relief, the pressure finally gone from his eyes.

He stops again just before stepping out the door and turns back towards Darry.

“There’s still some cake left in the freezer, I saved ya a couple slices of bread, and Two-Bit left a bit of peanut butter in the jar.”

Darry musters a soft “thanks”, and Dally nods.

The door closes with a soft click.

…

“Darry!” Darry raises his eyebrows. He’s just closed the door behind him, work boots still on, and Ponyboy’s running towards him with a grin on his face.

“Why’re you so happy to see me?”

“I finished it!” Darry blinks at him once. Twice.

“What’d you finish?”

“The drawing!”

Ponyboy holds out his notebook, and right there, in the middle of the page, is Darry. He’s made the kitchen doorway vaguely in the background, but it’s in black and white while Darry is in colour.

And it’s— well, it’s impressive to say the least. Darry knew that Ponyboy liked to draw — always had his notebook out when he got bored of talking to people, sketching something he wouldn’t let anyone see —, but he didn’t know he could draw well. He always assumed it was like when he used to draw as a kid, only he didn’t want to show them anymore.

“This is…” Darry can’t seem to finish the sentence. He looks up and meets Pony’s eyes. “You made it?” Ponyboy nods, excited. “I— Can you show me whenever you draw stuff? In the future?”

Ponyboy’s eyes seem to almost glow. “Yeah, sure.”

…

“Ponyboy’s gonna tell you he fell down the stairs today, but Justin Lawson pushed him.” Johnny hesitates for a second. “Second one in the phone book, the first one’s a priest.”

“Right. Thanks.”

…

“How’d ya know I wanted to be alone?”

Dallas cocks an eyebrow. “You ain’t the first.”

…

“Hey, Superman,” Two-Bit says with a grin as he pointedly closes the door behind him.

“Hey, Two.” The smile that comes with the greeting is second nature, but Darry’s not entirely sure whether that’s from genuine happiness or getting used to pretending he’s okay.

“How’s it goin’?” He pulls out a chair and sits down in it backwards, arms resting on the backrest.

Darry sighs with a sarcastic smile, gesturing at the pile of bills in front of him.

“It that time again?”

“Was that time last week.”

Two-Bit whistles low. “You got enough?”

“Hope so.”

“Well, if you ain’t… I don’t got money I can give you. Sure someone’s got some, though.” He starts looking around, as if he would find someone to jump for money inside the Curtises' house.

“It’s fine, Two. Don’t worry about it.” Maybe Darry’s smile is wearing a bit thin or the exhaustion is clear on his face, because Two-Bit drops it.

“Alright.” He looks down, dejected, before lighting up again and looking at Darry, all excited again. “Guess what I found at the store today?”

Darry just raises his eyebrows — a form of rebellion, at this point, considering how the whole gang’s started copying Two-Bit and raising just the one — and tilts his head.

Two-Bit pulls a plastic bag out from behind his chair — how it got there, don’t ask Darry — and grins at Darry. “Lookit what I got.”

It’s a bag of Lay’s, something Darry and Two-Bit had worked together to swipe dozens of times to fuel Darry’s unhealthy obsession, only —

“They make ‘em in barbecue now. Figured we might as well try ‘em out.”

“Yeah?” Darry grins, and this time it’s genuine.

Before he can get another word out, Two-Bit’s fist comes flying down onto the bag and makes a sound so loud that if he weren’t watching it happen, Darry’d think a gun had fired.

At least five chips have gone flying, slamming against the wall, and Darry just knows it’s going to be an absolute pain to clean up.

Then he makes eye contact with Two-Bit and they burst into uncontrollable, stupid laughter. It’s only once they sober up after a couple minutes that Darry realises just how long it’s been since he’s laughed like that.

…

“What’re you drawing?”

Ponyboy moves aside to show him it.

“Oh.”

“Don’t wanna forget him.”

…

“I was talkin’ ta Susie the other day an’ she told me there’s this girl in her class that’ll draw ya stuff if ya pay her, and she cost me extra ‘cause she was scared of her mama findin’ out, but tell me this ain’t worth every penny!”

…

“I hate you!” Ponyboy screams as he storms off into his room. Darry just stares after him, frozen in place.

He doesn’t mean it he doesn’t mean it he doesn’t mean it—

But what if he does?

Love’s in the little things, the little things that add up—

But this feels too big, it’s too much to be just a little setback. Because the little things add up but they also subtract and if you put enough of them together—

There’s a soft knock on the door. Darry sits up from where he’d been in starfish position.

“Yeah?��

The door slowly creaks open. A small figure stands behind it.

“Darry?” Ponyboy stands in the doorway, grabbing onto the frame and avoiding eye contact.

“Yeah?”

“Can I come in?”

Darry crosses his legs and sits up straighter, fully waking up. “Yeah, sure, baby.”

Ponyboy walks in and sits on the edge of Darry’s bed, looking down at the sheets instead of at him.

“I’m sorry,” he says softly, tugging at the ends of his hair. It’s getting too long, but he refuses to cut the bleach out of it and Darry doesn’t have it in him to force him to.

“It’s fine,” Darry says on instinct.

“No, it— it really ain’t. We’re not supposed to fight anymore. We’re not supposed to holler at each other and go to sleep mad. But we do it anyway, and it’s like nothing’s changed since—” He can’t finish the sentence, but he doesn’t really need to.

“Ponyboy…” Darry trails off. What is there to say? Mama would know what to do, she would know what to say so Ponyboy knew that there was a part of Darry’s soul intrinsically tied to his, following him around no matter how far he wandered.

But Darry doesn’t know how to talk; he hardly knows how to feel.

Ponyboy looks away from him and stays quiet for a couple moments, playing with the loose strings on Darry’s sheets.

“Darry?” He looks up.

“Yeah, honey?”

“Can I tell you a secret?”

Darry frowns. “‘Course.”

“And you promise you won’t be mad?”

“Yeah.”

Ponyboy looks up to catch sight of Darry before his eyes dart away again.

“Sometimes I— Sometimes I’m scared you don’t love me.” He lets the sentence hang for a couple seconds, lets it fester in the air and seep through Darry’s skin. “I ain’t sayin’ you don’t wanna keep me or that ya don’t care, but I just— I don’t know. Are ya doin’ it all ‘cause you think you should?”

He looks up again — furtive, small, scared — and looks back down at the sheets.

“God, Pony,” Darry says softly, “‘Course I love ya. Just ‘cause we fight don’t mean nothing.” Ponyboy still won’t meet his eyes. With every second that goes by, the crack in Darry’s heart grows a bit wider. “C’mere.” He pats the spot beside him.

Ponyboy looks up in surprise. He gets up tentatively and walks over to the other side of the bed, where Darry’s sitting. The moment he’s sat down, Darry wraps an arm around his shoulders and pulls Ponyboy towards him. Ponyboy tenses, and for a moment Darry’s sure he’s made a mistake, that this wasn’t what he needed, before he slowly relaxes, his face burrows into Darry’s shoulder — Jesus he’s tall now, he used to barely reach his chest — and he hugs Darry back like he needs it for the first time in… far too long.

“Love ain’t always pretty, Pony,” Darry whispers into his hair, “It ain’t always perfect and happy and nice, but it’s there. S’why there’s always Pepsi in the fridge and why I always ask where you’re goin’ when you start runnin’ out the door and why Soda and me listen to you talk about your books.” Ponyboy laughs softly, muffled by Darry’s shoulder, and Darry smiles — proud, fond, relieved. “Love ain’t in some big moment, it’s in the little things, so sometimes it can be easy to miss. But it’s there, I promise.” Darry forces himself to pull Ponyboy away from him and take him by the shoulders so they can meet eyes. “It’ll always be there, alright?”

Did I get it right, Mama?

#the outsiders 2025 valentines day exchange #the outsiders #darry curtis

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cherryblossomcowgirl · 3 days ago

Text

Sun To Me part 2

WC: 1.5k

Warnings: Mention of spousal death; Fluff; angst; anxiety

TAGS: @findthebeautyinbreakdowns

When we get home, I lay AJ down for his nap and try to tidy the house. I decide it is good enough and I hop in the shower. After, I stare at my closet for what feels like forever. Why do I care what I wear? Oh yeah, I know, it’s because Jake Seresin is super handsome and going to be at my house. The feeling of guilt rises again. I don’t know what to do, so I call Bradley.

“Hey Y/n!” I word vomit, “AJ invited Jake over to watch a movie with us and I had to clean and I took a shower and now I don’t know what to wear and I also am scared and what if Archer is mad at me.” Bradley takes a deep breath, “Y/n, why would Archer be mad at you?” A lump forms in my throat, “Because I am thinking about someone that isn’t him.” I can hear the sadness in his voice, “Archie is gone. He isn’t coming back. The Archie I knew? He wouldn’t want you to be miserable.” I don’t have any words for Bradley, just tears. He clears his throat, “Is Jake good with AJ?” “He spent the morning building sand castles with him… and now he’s going to spend his Saturday night watching a Disney movie.” “Well, I think Archie would really appreciate that.” I sigh, “Yeah. He would.” Bradley sighs, “Go get dressed and have fun. Cuddle AJ for me.” “Thank you, Roo.”

I throw on clean sweatpants and my OU sweater. AJ wakes up from his nap, immediately asking for Jake.

There is a knock on the door and AJ runs over. “You’re here!” Jake leans down, “Yes sir. I brought y’all some goodies.” AJ scans the bag and nods, “Good job.” Jake laughs and sets the bag on the counter. I smile, “I made pizzas, they’ll be done in a few minutes.” AJ pulls on Jake’s pant leg, “Do you want to see my room?” “Of course!” I pull the pizzas out of the oven and slice them up. When I head down the hallway, I hear AJ talking. I stand just outside the door so he can’t see me. “This one is Teddy. He would fly with Daddy and take pictures everywhere he went.” Jake smiles, “Wow, so Teddy is a world traveler?” AJ nods, “But now he just stays with me and Mommy.” AJ looks down at the bear and my heart aches. Jake leans in, “Hey bud, let’s go get some pizza and then you can eat all the candy you want… deal?” A grin spreads across AJ’s face, “Yeah!” I head back into the kitchen and make plates. We sit at the island and AJ doesn’t hesitate to scarf down his pizza. I look at Jake, “I’m sorry about his table manners. They go right out the window when it comes to pizza.” Jake chuckles, “It is delicious, so I understand. How are you liking your work here?” “It is great. Back in Washington, I was always sitting at a desk. This is a nice change of pace.” I look around and face palm, “I forgot to ask, would you like some wine?” “Sure.” I open a bottle of red, hoping Jake doesn’t feel the nerves radiating off of me. I hand him a glass and he smiles at me, “Cheers.”

Beauty and the Beast ends, and we look down at AJ. His head is resting in Jake’s lap and he is surrounded by candy and popcorn. I scoop him up and Jake pats his head, “Goodnight little buddy.” Looking up, I clear my throat, “I’m gonna lay him down… If you want to stay we could watch something made for adults and have another glass of wine?” Jake’s smile lights up my dark living room, “I’d like that.” Heat spreads across my face, “Okay… I’ll be right back.” After I tuck AJ in, I stand there for a moment. Tonight has been amazing. AJ seems so comfortable with Jake. I try my best to push down my nerves before I walk back into the living room.

Jake is standing by my record player, looking through my vinyls. He raises an eyebrow, “You have quite the collection.” I glance at the countless rows, “I started collecting a few months ago. AJ loves going to secondhand shops with me to find them.” I pour us some more wine. He pulls out American Heartbreak and sets the needle to “Sun To Me”. The same song that played last night. His hand reaches out. I set down my wine and he pulls me in. My hand rests on his chest as his settles on my waist. His scent calms me. His touch soothes me. We sway back and forth. He is whisper singing along as I hum. In a moment of vulnerability, I rest my head on his chest. His lips brush the top of my head. I close my eyes as a fluttering feeling rises in my chest. Part of me waits for the guilt to rise, but it doesn’t. What Bradley said earlier really opened my eyes. And right here in this moment, I feel happier than I have in a long time. The song ends and Jake plants a kiss on the top of my head, “I love that song.” I look up at him, “Me too.”

I sit on the couch, he joins me after putting on an old country record. After a sip of wine I work up to courage to ask Jake about himself, “So, where are you from?” “Texas. What about you?” “Oklahoma, but before here we were in Washington.” He chuckles, “I was wondering about that sweatshirt… but I’ll let it slide.” I gasp, “You’re a Longhorn?” He nods and I shake my head, “Jake, that makes us mortal enemies.” His smirk makes a warmth spread throughout my body, “Well darling, maybe we can call a truce.” I tap my chin, “Maybe, but AJ is a diehard fan. He loves going to games.” Jake thinks for a second, “I’m thinking he just hasn’t seen the beauty that is a UT game. Once he goes to one he’ll convert.” I playfully grab my chest, “He’d be breaking his Momma’s heart.” Curiosity flashes across his face, “Do you have any siblings?” I shake my head, “Just me. Parents are older and never leave the farm. Do you?” He smiles so big, “Two sisters. My whole family is still in Austin.” I look down at my wine, “I always pictured AJ having siblings. Growing up was pretty lonely, I was so jealous of my friends that had brothers and sisters.” His green eyes glaze over with sadness, “I’m sorry. I’m sure none of this is what you had planned.” I sip my wine and shrug, “It’s okay. It’s one thing you know can happen when you marry the military. Everyone just prays that it isn’t them. I feel the worst for AJ… he didn’t sign up for it.” There’s a moment of silence. Jake clears his throat, “AJ is a great kid. He’s lucky to have a Mom like you.” A lump forms in my throat. I smile softly, “Thank you, Jake. Having Maverick and Rooster close is going to be good for him.” Jake laughs, “I mean, Rooster put a car seat in the Bronco! I never thought I’d see the day.” We sit there, giggling and sipping wine. It feels so nice. When we talk, he is giving 100% of his attention to our conversation. He is holding onto every word I say like it’s the most important thing he’s ever heard. I notice that his eyes light up when he’s talking about his family and home. I love seeing the corner of his eyes crinkle when he smiles. “Thank you for coming over. AJ was so excited. You really didn’t have to do all this.” Jake shrugs, “I know I didn’t have to… I wanted to. AJ is great. His Mom is pretty great too.” My cheeks are hot and I look down at my hands. My throat feels dry and I can’t find any words. Finally I look up at him, “This is the first time I have felt seen in a while.” His green eyes pierce mine, “I see you, Y/n. I can’t seem to think about anything but you since last night.” My voice is low, “Really?” He nods and leans in closer. We are just a breath away from each other. His voice is barely a whisper, “Is this okay?” The warmth is building all throughout my body. I nod. He grins and closes the space between us. His lips meet mine. They are warm and soft. The kiss is gentle and sweet. There’s a spark there that I never thought I’d feel again. Flutters touch my heart. When we pull apart, Jake looks just as breathless as me. I lean into him and he drapes an arm around my shoulders. Silence surrounds us, somehow it is comfortable and exciting.

#glen powell x reader #jake seresin x you #hangman x reader #hangman x you #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin x reader #top gun maverick #hangman fic #top gun #bradley bradshaw x reader

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yawchi · 2 days ago

Text

A SHEEP IN WOLF’S LOATHING — Y.K.

CHAPTER ONE: IN THE BEGINNING

YUKIMIYA KENYU X GN!READER

CHAPTER SUMMARY: A slip of the tongue, a mistake of morale. That is all it takes for Yukimiya to lose his sense of God given control.

CHAPTER INCLUDES: pro player yukki. sacrilege (faintly). religious themes. mental health crisis.

CHAPTER LENGTH: 4.5k words

CHAPTER NOTES: i’m really nervous about this. i dunno. i hope y’all like it. not fully proofread, as always.

Camera flashes have become an easing sort of thing; like a flickering spark off of a shoddy hotwiring job—an outcome that is to be expected but still should not be praised.

That’s the difference here though, isn’t it? The praise is affirmed and the flare is not always foreseen. Without the praise, it wouldn’t be as welcomed, would it? Wouldn’t be as accepted. As cultivated.

As hearkened to.

Yukimiya blinks against the flashing lights, shifts in his seat to lean forward and prop his elbows on the semi-flimsy table in front of him with practiced poise. The curve of his lips is natural, perfected. Trained. To his right his coach is speaking, he can already smell the alcohol on his breath that he swigged in the locker room post-victory and pre-interview. Typical, he denotes. Can’t even wait until he’s out of the arena, away from the prying eyes of the press. Away from the guise of decency.

He fights the urge to scrunch his nose at it.

“Alright, folks, we have time for just two more questions,” a staff member, someone from the venue employee list, announces after his coach wraps up his speech on ‘teamwork winning this for them once again.’ Ironic, he thinks, given the playstyle they actually showcase on the field.

Another press member is randomly picked out among the lineup. A short man with a pudgy stomach. He’s wearing an outdated hat that, if he had to place money on it, Yukimiya would bet is covering up a thinning comb over. He seems nice enough, for this line of work at least. He doesn't try to shove anyone around him. He hasn’t tried to shout over the remainder of the crowd thus far. Yukimiya would be happy to indulge him in a question if he chose to direct it to him, even if his suit is obviously hand me downs that his poor old mother most likely hemmed up to fit.

He has no problem with humble beginnings, after all. Even if the sight has refined distaste pooling on the bed of his tongue.

The man stands up once he registers he’s the one being pointed to. Seemingly shaky on his feet, he sways a bit. Winces when his jolting accidentally makes his chair scrape back behind him and screech along the floor. Poor guy. A pitiful old thing, really.

“Ah y-yes, Yukimiya-kun, my question is for you, if you don’t mind. It’s about your-your tactics for–”

The universe can be cruel, sometimes. Apt to stamp out the flickers of innocent flames while it lets unbridled blazes consume everything in their wake. The reporter drops his cards—the ones he was most ardently reading from in an attempt to level himself, to give himself enough bravery to speak in the first place. He must be new to this, or at this ranking of competition at the very least. A shame.

“That’s quite alright,” Yukimiya smiles; a genuine, kind sort of thing that curls over his teeth as the man scrambles to bend over and pick up the scattered index cards. “Take your time.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the employee from before checking their watch. There’s no time for this, he’s sure is what they’re thinking, We’re pushing it already.

He doesn’t care about that. He would like to indulge this gentleman with the slightly wrinkled pinstripe suit. Give him a bit of leeway, as he sees fit. A morsel of grace.

“Ah, forgive me,” he chuckles, wavering and hoarse but with no humor. A bead of sweat is dripping down his temple and Yukimiya feels a cool drop of water trail down his neck from his previous shower at the same time. “My question—Your tactics for play, they are not as, erm, polished as some of your competitors. I do not mean that as them being inadequate or–or anything of that nature! Of course not! It is just.. Is this by choice, or are you, ah, unable to implement these new innovative strategies into your personal gameplay?”

There’s winds of whispering blowing through the rows in front of him. A mirage of murmurs stirring up static in response to the query. People who are, no doubt, questioning this man’s sanity and downright audacity to inquire one of Japan’s top players on his playing style. To, in a roundabout way, belittle it despite its successes. They must think him to be mad.

Yukimiya thinks him to be intrepid.

He humors him, because he was not expecting such a question to come from a man with trembling knees and lopsided sleeves. A well seasoned reporter, maybe. A hardened man numb to the job with designer suits that broaden his bony shoulders. That make him look more threatening than he is, more compelling. But not him.

The lights are so bright, it is growing hot under his team sponsored crew neck. He can take part in expressing sympathy for the pudgy man’s sweating now; even if most of his was attributed to nerves. His smile stays the same. He pays no mind to the video cameras zooming in on him like tempered clockwork.

He wonders if the man’s cue cards are dirty after having fallen on the floor.

“Good question. I respect your resolve, truly. And I thank you, but,” he starts, reaching a hand up to pinch the frame of his glasses. Readjust them a bit up the bridge of his nose. “I have a better one for you.”

The murmurs cease, microphones are being held out closer to Yukimiya as if he doesn’t have one placed on the table right in front of him that is doing all of their jobs for them. He ponders over how their arms don’t get tired, how their eyes don’t burn from lack of blinking. Does he enrapture them so much, that they would demean themselves this just to wait with bated breath for what he has to say?

His smile quirks a little higher.

“Is a lamb still a lamb, even when thrown into a den of lions?”

“Ah-!” the man perks up, eyes widening ever so slightly as he nods his head; fervent. “Yes, I-I suppose it is.”

“Exactly.” Yukimiya tips his head a single degree, lets the damp wave of his–begrudgingly unkempt–bangs fall a bit into his eyes as he holds the man’s gaze. Because that is polite, you know. To look at the person to whom you are addressing. “It does not matter how long the lamb is there, or how long the lions try to toy with it. It will never try to roar, and the lions will never try to baa. And yet, that does not make either of them any less of themselves. If anything, it only solidifies their nature more.”

The man shifts on his feet, fiddles with the cards in his hands. They are probably well bent up by now. Have probably lost their crisp novelty. Or maybe they never had the chance to be unscathed at all. Perhaps there was a problem with their manufacturing. Perhaps they were cursed from the packaging.

“You see, it is not that I am ignorant to those around me and how they choose to play this game. Nor is it that I do not have the ability to attempt and achieve success through their methods, either. It is simply that I am more concerned about who I am, as a whole, and how that reflects in my play style throughout my career. How it attributes to the name I am making for myself.”

He pauses, now. Leans forward a little more on his elbows. The gentleman’s throat bobs and he can’t be certain why. But it is not so critical to him. Not now.

“Why would I learn to roar, when I already know how to baa?”

There’s a beat of silence, where everyone takes in his response. And then the not-so-whispers erupt again, notepads scritching with rushed writing down of his quote and slaps to the arms of measly camera men with hisses of ‘Did you get that?’ They stay hooked on his words, turn their attention away for just a second to make sure they really captured it all, but Yukimiya is still staring at the gentleman before him.

He makes no move to reach for the slim notepad that is sticking out of the pocket on his suit coat. He has no one to turn to and ask if they got a recording of what was just spoken. And yet, he does not seem inclined to worry about that at all. Yukimiya takes note of the sparkle in his eyes and mulls over whether it is from the fluorescent lights or the wonder he tends to incite. He is partial to settling on the latter.

“Right,” the reporter man speaks, finally, a warm grin cutting across his round face like a knife through risen dough. “Very good point, Yukimiya-kun. Thank you. You really are miraculous.”

And, oh; he is, isn’t he? His grin quirks up in a less genuine direction–not that anyone else could decipher such a miniscule cue–at that comment as he watches the gentleman finally sit back down. He readjusts his glasses again, fights the urge to chuckle to himself.

He really is a miracle; God’s gift to the soccer world and plucked from a string of His own heart. Because how else, if not by that sentiment, could he hold as much power as this?

An angel sent from the heavens, donned in cleats and silk.

The venue staff member is stepping up again, calling out the final person in the crowd to ask a question. Yukimiya sits back in his seat to let his spine rest, tries not to grimace as his coach clasps a hand over his shoulder and gives it a rewarding squeeze. How can one be proud of calluses earned by others' hard work?

Someone stands up from the crowd, the final reporter granted the honor of sealing off this post game interview session. A young woman, dressed much more fashionable than her former peer among the sea of journalists. Her pencil skirt is tight around the curve of her hips and her button down blouse is tucked smoothly into the waist of it. It flatters her well, too, form-fitted (but not too much to be considered blatantly scandalous) and with the top two buttons undone to showcase the dip of her cleavage. Now that; that Yukimiya knows is done with the intent to distract.

His smile fades into a glazed over simper as he reaches her face. Takes in her dark lined eyes and rose tinted cheeks, presses his gaze to the plush of her glossed over lips. She tucks a lock of inky hair behind her ear before she raises her notepad up in front of her. Yukimiya finds it humorous, familiar.

She looks just as nice under blaring fluorescents as she does tangled up in imported bed sheets.

That’s the thing about professional athleticism—there is always someone wanting you. In games, in plays, in dark corridors of arenas where they should be getting the inside scoop and instead are getting their insides… Well, you get the picture. You are among the most desired, whether by your sport or sex appeal, the specifics don’t really matter. And that is not something to which Yukimiya has been deemed an exception.

If anything, he ranks above most of his colleagues when it comes to desirability. His face has been plastered on the covers of magazines since he was in highschool. The camera saw him in nothing but a pair of Calvin Klein’s before any potential young lover’s jittery eyes did. When you are that adored, that sought after, you tend to come to conclusions early on.

Deals are easy to be made when one is blinded by desire. And lust is the easiest weapon used in persuasion. Funny, how the body is such a sufficient vessel when it comes to bargaining.

This woman, in particular, is one with whom Yukimiya is well acquainted with, in that sense. She is pretty—by every conventional standard—well respected in her field of sports journalism and has a solid head on her shoulders. A woman like that tends to be desired, too, but not by men whom she’d see fit. Which is where Yukimiya comes in.

A man like him (stone carved face and body to match) who has something she wants? Can promise her details and exclusive information on his teammates as well as his rivals? Give her tips and tricks on how she can pry even more out of them herself? In exchange for, what? A quickie in an arena bathroom before he gets back on the bus to the airport? He can do that; satisfy his needs and fulfill her exigencies all at once.

Plus, he is so very good at squeezing data out of people when they think they’re the ones drawing it out of him. Like he said, desire blinds; and the void is nothing but the shadow he has grown most accustomed to.

The acquaintance he allows to haunt his home.

“I would like to start by saying, as always, such an impressive game you played out there tonight, Yukimiya-san,” the woman, Tamiko, compliments him. And that is a common occurrence when she is present at these conferences as well. But he isn’t complaining; a stroke to his ego has never made him turn up his nose.

“Thank you,” he nods, fidgeting with the stand of the microphone in front of him out of passing boredom, “As always, of course.”

“Of course,” Tamiko mirrors back, and the pro doesn’t miss the gleam in her eye as she does.

She clutches her notepad closer to her chest, accentuating the window the open buttons have created. Yukimiya isn’t a stupid man, he knows a ploy when he sees one. He also sees the way the men surrounding her notice such a view, too. His lips quirk wider at their gazes, and a haughty feeling bubbles in his chest because he knows any longing looks directed at her will be done in vain.

She’s here for him and him alone, beyond everything. The only man who stands a chance is the one sitting in his seat.

How blessed, for him.

“Ma’am.” It’s that damned staff member again. He is starting to grate Yukimiya’s nerves, run his mercy thin. Why must he keep sticking his nose into matters that are not that serious? “Your question, please.”

“Oh, yes, pardon me,” she smiles again, though it doesn’t quite reach her eyes the same way it does when aimed at him as it does to Kenyu. That also strokes his ego, just the tiniest bit. “My question, Yukimiya-san.”

He nods again, levels his gaze back on her. “Yes?”

“I think that I must indulge your fans and speak on their behalf, just this once.”

Her mascara tinted lashes bat against the swell of her cheekbones. It’s tantalizing; obvious, what she is doing. Or maybe Yukimiya has just been able to dissect her that well due to their.. proximity. Regardless, he must applaud her. To maintain such a well respected reputation while using her tactics must be difficult. Hard work for such an impudent woman as her.

And it is never ‘just this once.’

“Please do,” he adheres, and this time he does chuckle. A breathy, rumbly sort of thing that he knows will end up as a clipped video and sent among many shrieking fangirls—and boys, for that matter, he doesn’t discriminate—before his head even hits the satin of his pillowcase tonight. Fanservice is what Isagi used to call it as a way to tease him when the both of them first broke big. Pleasing the masses is how he describes it, and it’s only his rightful duty, you see.

You can’t just leave the masses hungry. That simply wouldn’t do.

“So, do tell me,” Tamiko hums, punctuates her request with a little cinch to her pout that would be enough to make any typical man swoon. (That was part of the reason she intrigued Yukimiya in the first place, if he is completely honest).

“Is it merely your God given abilities or does that… well attuned body account for the marvel that is Yukimiya Kenyu?”

Crowds are always receptive to questions such as this—and now is no exception. Chuckles and claps and quiet whoops sweep over the press members that are sardined in the conference room, obviously tickled by the inquiry and hankering to know whatever answer might slip through his lips. A chuckle rattles out of the back of Yukimiya’s throat again and he shakes his head, leans in closer to the mic as he twists it on its stand, fidgets in a way that is unusual for him.

“God can only take you so far,” and it comes out before he can stop himself, before he can mull over the weight of his words—the implications, “Let’s just say I gave Him a little bit of a helping hand.”

“Alright, that’s the last question!” the stadium worker booms out above the immediate uproar of the crowd, cutting off any and all follow ups that may have been deemed necessary. Fascinated, amused at the player’s answer to such a nuanced question. Tamiko purses her pretty cherry lips at not being able to get the final word in.

And Yukimiya swallows down the bitter after taste of his sentiment.

It had all happened so fast; he’s just used to light banter, that’s all. His quip and brush back simply rolled off his light laced tongue. So easily, too easily. His helping hands twitch in his lap as his coach pats his back solidly as a nudge to stand. To take his leave.

Yukimiya listens, but it’s different, now. Now, he does not spare a glance to Tamiko in quiet understanding to meet by the east emergency exit for a rushed makeout sesh. Now, he does not smile and wave full of poise and praise to the cameras and reporters to keep his pretty face painted politely in the tabloids come morning. Now, he does not thank the crowd of reporters for staying so late just for the chance to speak with him.

Now, he feels an uneasy pebble of conviction forming in his gut.

How could he say such a thing? How could he be so careless? He berates himself as his sneakers traipse their way back to the locker room. Something isn’t right with him, he’s off–somehow. There’s a hitch in his step, a snag in his gait. He nearly trips over his own two graceful feet as he rounds the corner towards the locker room. His coach flings out an arm to catch him, even in his own drunken, lopsided stupor.

“Woah there, tiger,” a chuckle, a tease. Yukimiya finds nothing humorous in this moment. “You get into my secret stash?”

“What? Of course not, don’t be so fucking–”

“Hey.” Clipped, short. Stern as he is yanked by the hand of assistance clamped over his elbow to a halt, Kenyu nearly flinches. “I was jus’ yanking your chain. Ease up, kid. Take a breather.”

“Sorry,” he mutters, because that is polite. Because he is polite. Polite and poised and perfect and that’s–that’s the truth so it’s fine. It’s fine. “I’m sorry. I’m just more tired than I realized.”

His coach eyes him for another moment in the dim corridor. One of the lights is flickering just outside of the locker room. It’s straining, pulsing. Yukimiya’s head hurts. A pound, a pulse–thu-thuck, thu-thuck, thu-thuck. He squints an eye, blinks a couple times.

But a deep breath does not give way to the constriction of his lungs.

“Alright,” the old man says, finally, and lets go of the prodigy’s elbow to clap his hand over his shoulder. He gives a squeeze, then another. It's supposed to be reassuring, forgiving, he knows. But Yukimiya fights every smidgen within him to not recoil in distaste. “Let’s get you out of here. You played a hell of a game today, son.”

I’m not your son.

“Thank you, sir,” he forces out, now. Pinched and with a smile just to match that does not quite crimp the tails of his eyes; the apples of his cheeks. The scrunch isn’t there, his canine is out of sight.

He’s feigning in a way that’s damn near disgraceful. And that pebble is churning; building.

“Good game, Yukki,” fucking Kaiser, gift from God, Michael chimes as he enters the locker room. A ploy, a taunt. But half genuine, in the way that crawls beneath one’s skin. In a way that’s unnerving–ever so slightly.

“Fuck off.”

“Ooh, touchy,” he sing songs, steps closer as he finger coils with the towel around his neck that’s catching the water droplets from his shower sopped hair. “Did the pretty reporter girl finally admit I’m the better fuck?”

Yukimiya scoffs because, seriously, why the fuck can Kaiser never seem to mind his fucking own? He grabs his bag out of his locker and slams it shut, pulling it over the shoulder his coach just tainted. Then, with all the grace left in him, turns to the man who’s only gift from God is the fact that there is a bench separating the pair of them right now.

“Have a nice night,” he grins, vile and evil and wrong as it snakes across his face in a way that is pleasing to the eye. Then, he turns on his heel and dips out of the locker room.

His smile drops as soon as he’s in the limelight of the hall.

Inverse erosion is occurring inside the body of Yukimiya Kenyu. Conviction growing like a specimen on a soiled petri dish, little ugly bit by little ugly bit. It’s spreading, to the dip of his waist, up the curve of his jugular. Like tendrils sprouting, twisting, choking out the light inside him. He ignores the stadium workers who congratulate him on his achievement of the night. Something he would normally never do, even after a loss. Even in the pits of despair. Even on his darkest day.

He ignores them as well as his driver who is standing at the exit waiting for him. He opens the door just in time for Yukimiya to push through; broad shoulders and steam littered ears. He’s stupid, ignorant.

Blasphemous.

“Could you hurry up?” He snaps as he gets to the car door a step too quick. He doesn’t mean to–lash out, that is. He can’t help it. He feels like he’s losing it. His mind, his vision, himself. There’s tunnels cutting through the edges of his sight. He can’t blink past them.

“Sorry, sir,” Fuyuki, a great big man in a great, sleek suit, nods as he rushes cordially to open up the door for the pro. Yukimiya winces internally at his politeness, but makes no effort to stave the wounds. “And congratulations, on the win.”

That gets ignored, because Yukimiya is too busy trying not to throw up to even think of conversing right now. He slides into the spacious back compartment of the car. There’s no cameras out back, thank the Lord, or his mimi-tantrum would be on the front page of all the wrong kinds of magazines in the morning. He tries to suck in a breath, and another, as he takes off his glasses and blinks.

Once, twice, thrice–all for naught. The tunnels are closing in, he’s getting fed up. Something is looming, he can feel it. In his bones. Over him, pressing and pressing.

Let’s just say I gave Him a little bit of a helping hand.

How could he be so careless? So loose lipped? He would never–has never spouted off something so–so..

“Home, sir?” Fuyuki asks as he slides in the driver seat.

“The fuck do you think?”

A glare through the rear view, another bite back. The hole Yukimiya is digging for himself is growing by the second, bigger and bigger and he’s losing traction. Fast. He’s losing his grip, he’s losing sight of.. What, exactly?

I gave Him a little bit of a helping hand.

How incredulous of a statement for a mere mortal like him to make. How ungrateful, unforgiving. Merciless is a God whom he deserves. A wrath–that’s it. The tunnel forming around him, the darkness in his pupils. In his gut.

His hands tighten around the strap of his bag in a weak attempt to root himself. No, ground himself. That’s right. That’s what he means. Ground. He needs to ground himself. Ground, in the ground. If he is smote he will be in the ground and the fault is his. The fault is–

…bit of a helping hand.

“Fuck!” Yukimiya yells and throws his bag full force across the back compartment of his car. Clothes, shoes, his wallet and keys all fly out. Fuyuki swerves, the slightest bit, at the commotion, and what ensues. Because he does not stop there.

His brand new phone, his water bottle that he keeps stocked, anything he can get his perfectly manicured fingers on is ripped and roared and tossed about inside the confines of the car. It's a wonder he doesn’t break a window, or injure something, someone–himself.

Himself, to blame? No.. no that cannot be because for him to say such a wretched thing there must be a reason. Some outside force has pushed him, prodded to make him bespoke of God in such a way. Skewed his moral high ground and lured him away from the light. From divinity. From the pure and good of his soul.

That’s right, he thinks, someone has soiled him. Someone close to him. Who is around him constantly. Slithering around in his inner circle.

And that just won’t do.

Frantically, he scrambles for his discarded phone. Picks up and flings soiled shorts and jersey and shoes and finds it miraculously unscathed at the bottom of the floorboard, tucked into a crevice. He brushes his curls out of his face, no longer laid pristinely down to head, combed through and neat. It’s frizzing up, just like the shreds of his sanity.

Someone has tainted him, and he is finding fault wherever he can. Where he believes it to be. The root of the problem. The head of the snake.

His fingers fumble across his phone screen as he slips his glasses back on, squints through the dark at the luminated device. He clicks on his contact list and scrolls. Down, down, down to the culprit scrawled out in the “m”s. He clicks the name and opens up his message thread.

“Akari’s fired. Effective immediately. Find me a new assistant. I do not take too kindly to serpents in my garden.”

He sends the message to his manager without a second thought. And, like a miracle shining down, the weight is lifting. Breaths come easier and shoulders release tension. The root of the problem, surely he’s found it. He must have. Why else would he already be experiencing such alleviation? Such a lull in the tide of turmoil?

“Fuyuki, I think there’s cause for celebration,” he smiles, more genuine now than he has been able to stomach all night, as he meets tapioca eyes in the rearview, “How about a drink?”

He’s pouring two glasses of scotch from the mini fridge before an answer is given. After all, alcohol is best suited to cleanse wounds.

likes & reblogs appreciated !

#yawchi writings #yukimiyaz writings #yukimiya x reader #yukimiya kenyu x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #yukimiya x you #yukimiya kenyu x you #bllk x you #blue lock x you #a sheep in wolf’s loathing

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starry-mang0s · 1 year ago

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Yippee doodles!!

Such silly little guys 💛

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mintandcreme · 1 month ago

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#Probably my last CEO of complaining post for now…#I wish they didn’t have “Season on Memories” as the pre-release #Kills literally all the hype because it’s the title track and the mv comes out a week later #I feel like they started rushing this entire thing and didn’t put in as much care as expected #(Y’all know well I’m not talking about the members)#But obviously starting off with the crazy editing (how do you mess up that badly and miss a whole arm)?#The graphic designing I thought was fine but they’ve def had better #And the way Source Music has promoted the whole thing worked at the beginning #And built up a whole bunch of hype #And so I think most people expected a whole album and not just two songs (unless we get rerecordings)#And so for the price point I almost feels like a rip off (but it could just be me)#Merch was minimalistic (but they also did that to all the artists under HYBE so not too surprised)#And since they hyped up the album so much they really needed to live up to it #And having the title track as the pre-release felt so underwhelming cause I just went “ AHHH this is so good” not “OMGAHISHAJA”#They should have gave us a part of “Season of Memories” and then give us “Always” as the pre-release #And the GDA performance wasn’t mindblowing #I know they’re busy but instead of the “Season of Memories” what about a dance break and good transition (literal trademark of theirs)#Now I just feel like “Season of Memories” is an AMAZING song but with how they released everything it felt very lackluster #And not like the ultimate comeback it’s supposed to be even though it is!#WHYYYYY #Who is their marketing team 😭 I wanna have a talk with them #I think that’s all I can think of right now #GFriend #They better not ruin the rest of it thank you for coming to me Ted talk #OMG I FORGOT #THE AMOUNT OF SOWON LINES #If y’all could make sure she had 20 seconds of lines before why is it any different this time?#Genuinely hoping she gets a lot more of lines in “Always”

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whumpyourdamnpears · 11 months ago

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your reactions to chapter one have me like

#no because my heart is so full rn #I for sure thought only my betas would be the ones reading it #but the fact that other people are also not only reading it but ENJOYING it?#feels like a dream honestly #I’m so excited for what’s to come #I hope y’all will be too ❤️❤️

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agents-are-dicks · 2 years ago

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Me being a bitch (waayyy more drama in tags):

Decided to stop all the petty shit and actually text my cousin to explain things and have an actual conversation and the bitch laughed at me so I’m officially done with her royal highness

#ps. maybe don’t be a bitch to the person who pays for your streaming services 👍#talking shit about me is fine but my mother?!? sweetie you don’t deserve the nights she’s wasted worrying about you #idk why I’m even explaining things at all #I left her alone for months and then she has to go and acuse me of something I didn’t even know happened #like??? I hadn’t been on Netflix since new years but sure I deleted your Netflix profile but left your Hulu alone #ya figured me out. I’m an evil mastermind *mwhahaha*#and then to drag it out via Netflix names bc you can’t just ducking text me???#I was trying to be an adult and distance myself and she just drags me back into the drama #at least my mom knows I’m innocent #even tried leaving thing on a positive note via Netflix #told her to text my mother sometime bc (despite me thinking she’d a total bitch) my mom still cares about her #and she had to get all sassy like “she has my number 💅”#yeah and ya know what? you have hers #funny how she uses it to check in on you and you don’t reply till you need something #funny thing is my brother told me she and her baby daddy have been fighting more and more #I hope one day she wakes up and realizes her sucked her dry and now has no one to turn to bc she made sure to bitch them all away #sweetie I tried being there for you but I can’t be there for someone who makes it very clear they wish I was never there in the first place #enjoy tearing your vagina in two for someone you gave up your entire personality for #and before any of y’all come here saying “we’ll if she cut everyone off and made her entire personality about him maybe she’s being abused”#she was in an emotionally fragile state when they met- her mother had just died #and it’s our understand that she decided it was easier to purge herself/life of anything that reminded her of her pain/old life #it’s very evident when you look at her behavior #that being said she’s always been a bitch #I had to stop attending holidays at one point simply bc she didn’t want me there (I was 11)#couldn’t wear her hand-me-downs around her bc she’d make it clear I wasn’t pretty enough to wear them #oh and she tried to fight me in the chilis parking lot after church when I was nine #bc my grandpa opened the car door for me instead of her #amazing how just two years ago I was hoping we could finally be friends

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getscaredhellyeah · 2 years ago

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what do y’all want from this blog and please be honest

#get scared is dead so im not too sure what to post anymore #and im running out of shitposts to make #like should i shut it down again and hope for the best #like i don’t think y’all wanna hear me ramble about miw and etf here #i know that this blog is our cute little hangout spot but how long before it dies and we’re all bored since the nostalgia is dead #that’s stupidly deep and corny i’m sorry #text post #housekeeping #mod flower

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karl-von-moor-official · 2 years ago

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the best thing about social media is that you can just disappear without further notice. like, this ain’t a job, I don’t have to call in sick or anything. I’m not obligated to post anything anywhere ever :) idk why but that just makes me so happy! I can just mysteriously disappear…

#*slowly walks backwards until the mist has veiled me*#like. sure you can write one of those “sorry guys im taking a break” posts #But you know what’s even better?#you can just. fuck off. If you’re not in the mood #Isn’t that great?#I can be a mystery man whenever I feel like it #I hope my mutuals be making up hideous theories about the circumstances of my disappearance whenever I’m offline #that’s it #that’s all i wanted to say #hellsite #rambles #personal i guess #social media #ALSO: don’t apologize for taking a social media break!#Be safe y’all #Take care #bye

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tiredsadpeach · 2 years ago

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Update they both hate me because I told the child one of them was harassing the acc he could block to try and stop it

#I knew they’d find out tbh and idc their reaction is all I need to know #the one that was harassing a minor is the same one someone said was a piece of shit when the psychiatrist stuff was happening #her bf stood by and watched her harass his friend like they’re both vague tweeting that oh well she didn’t know his age man idc the age just #made me more angry the fact that you did it in the first place is fucked up it always has been and y’all both know I think that #if y’all tweeted about not liking someone on priv and that was it I wouldn’t care #but it’s the constant pqrting because you know it’ll upset that person and give anxiety etc that makes it harassment and makes me mad #and now they’re both tweeting things like oh well you shouldn’t be following him at your big age how dare you disrespect us #an adult just knowing a minor is not a bad thing like holy shit get off the Internet please #plus I couldn’t message without following so I followed in hopes to be mutuals so I could warn him but I shouldn’t have to have an excuse #following isn’t some intimate thing y’all just wanna hate me more #she also tweeted about how I lied (I didn’t) and that she’d expose me #like for what? being a bad friend like two years ago? when we talked it out I fully agreed that yeah I shouldn’t have talked about those #topics etc bro I literally said there was no excuse and I’m sorry it all happened but it’s pretty obvious I have grown and changed to be #better you can’t expose me when I have receipts of me taking responsibility and doing what I could to show I was wrong #and I’m sorry how is trying to protect a minor who you are harassing the thing that drives you away for good #did I disrespect a toxic relationship oh no how dare I y’all need to get help friends of your partner shouldn’t be harassed just because bpd #jealousy like I have bpd too I really hate some of my bf’s friends and wish he wouldn’t talk to them but what do I do about it? nothing #i distract myself maybe but I know if I do what I want yknow like telling my bf to stop being friends with someone I know I’d be in the wron #and I know he should break up with me etc etc like that doesn’t mean I don’t have these thoughts which sure aren’t healthy but at least I’m #not fucking acting on them like at least give yourself a safe outlet idc when you just tweet about it on priv most of the time but this pqrt #shit has to stop if you wanna stay my friend I’m obviously at my limit with how y’all are both so content with how toxic y’all’s relationshi #is and won’t do anything about it to the point minors are being harassed but oh it’s okay I didn’t know and I stopped when I knew #how can you watch your bf harass a friend of yours just because y’all ARE FRIENDS god it’s so infuriating #she never apologized for the psychiatrist stuff btw lmao #I know they both want a reaction out of me so I’ll act first and apologize or something but I just don’t care anymore #I’m done man like that Drake and Josh episode but fuck Drake bell btw #kinda hope next time I open twt I’m blocked since they want a reaction so bad #like nah I’m tweeting like nothing happened because y’all really showed your priorities and morals #maybe y’all should do what your bpd tweets have been saying and just have eachother y’all don’t need anyone else

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roastedoatmilk · 3 months ago

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Arcane Women Strap Hcs

characters: sevika, vi, caitlyn, mel, ambessa

A/N barely proofread sorry, also my first time writing for arcane please be kind 🙈 i hope y’all enjoy lmk your thoughts :)

Sevika

first things first she has a dark purple strap i’m talking almost the same color that shimmer is and boy does she know how to use it

whenever she pulls the strap out be prepared to not be able to walk the next day

she prefers to fuck you in missionary but if she had to choose a different position it would be fucking you from the bottom, she just loves to be able to see your face while she pleasures you

her strap game is DIABOLICAL, she always makes sure to hit that spot inside you that makes you let out a squeal and causes your toes to curl

honestly she could just cum from fucking you alone but if you feel up to it once she’s done with you she loves when you eat her out after

“that’s it baby, you’re taking me so well just a little more”

vi screams black strap to me like it just makes sense

she prefers to fuck you slow and DEEP, i’m talking girly lifts your hips off the bed and grips them so hard that you can feel bruises form

shes so cocky about it too like she knows she’s good

vi’s another one that could cum from pleasuring you alone and 9/10 times she does, however the one time she doesn’t she will literally sit on your face once you’re well enough to take care of her

“that feel good pretty girl ? yeah i know it does, you’re always so good for me”

Caitlyn

dark blue strap sorry yall i don’t make the rules

caitlyn loves when you’re on top and she’s fucking you from below

she revels in the sight of you falling apart above her while she’s gripping your hips guiding you

she’s 100% a brat tamer and you can’t tell me any different

“oh darling is it too much ? you shouldn’t have behaved like that if you didn’t want me to fuck you like this”

Mel

HEAR YE HEAR YE she has a gold strap idc idc

mel also likes it when you’re on top however she prefers to gently guide your movements while she praises you

don’t let that mislead you tho shes a HUGE tease

she can and will make you edge yourself until you’re literally crying begging her to let you cum

“ my love you look so beautiful when you ask nicely like that, go ahead and take what you need”

Ambessa

ruby red strap that’s all imma say

the cruelest of the bunch, she’s not afraid to leave you dry while she takes what she needs

another brat tamer yall you love to see it

she doesn’t make love she FUCKS, be prepared to constantly be buying new headboards

she makes you suck on her strap NEXTTTTT

“sweet girl did you think i’m finished with you ? no no we aren’t done until you can’t remember anything but my name”

#dividers from cafekitsune #sevika x reader #sevika smut #vi x reader #vi smut #caitlyn kiramman x reader #caitlyn kiramman smut #mel medarda x reader #mel medarda smut #ambess medarda x reader #ambessa medarda smut #arcane x reader #arcane smut #arcane #arcane netflix #arcane league of legends

8K notes · View notes

joelsgoldrush · 6 months ago

Text

“guilty pleasure” | 8.6k

worst!logan howlett x f!reader

SUMMARY: After saving Earth-10005 from impending disaster, Wade convinces Logan, the alcoholic and easily irritated mutant, to stick around for a while. He’s convinced that nothing good can come out of this experience, until he meets you: the charming bartender with a soft spot for swearing that matches his own. Suddenly, sticking around doesn’t seem so bad after all.

WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni - smut 18+ fluff. drinking. dirty talk. slow-burnish. grumpy!logan x sunshine!reader. reader is really kind but cracks a lot of jokes. age gap (25 vs 200 - they’re basically the same age). oral sex (f receiving). fingering. finger sucking. soft dom!logan. wade being the funniest asshole. logan calls reader "kiddo/kid”.

A/N: HI! first of all, i'd like to thank you for all the support you showed me on my recent post. let me just tell you that i’m LOVING writing for logan. but none of this would be possible without YOU, so yeah, i fucking love y’all.

** regarding this story, i was planning on making it even longer, but writing these two has been so much fun, and i didn’t want it to end just like that (i have attachment issues as you may infer from this note). therefore, i’ve made the decision to write a second part to this fic, which will contain fluff and other stuff (you already know the drill). i don’t know when i’ll be posting it, but i’m sure it won’t take me that long.

*** i’m also working on other one shots (purely fluff/domesticity because i want this man to cradle me in his arms). anyway, i don’t know if anyone’s going to read this, but still, all I have to say is THANK YOU FOR READING MY WORKS! i hope you really like this silly story i made up :)

**** english is not my first language so if you come across any mistakes don’t hesitate to tell me :)

special recognition to @zloshy who allowed me to rant about my own fic 😭 the sweetest human ever

The bar is far from packed, but then again, it never truly is.

Studying your regulars has become your favorite hobby. Soon you end up knowing their names, the drinks they like, and what time they come through the door. It’s what happens when standing on your own two feet and refilling glasses lose all their charm. A part of you thinks you also do it to make them feel safe. No matter how much you try to deny it, you truly care about their well-being.

Is this your dream job? Nope. Definitely not. You’re pretty sure that holding some stranger’s hair while they empty their insides wasn’t on your bingo card for this year. But sadly money doesn’t grow on trees, and university isn’t going to pay itself. Plus, this was the only job in which your resume was not immediately rejected. It should also be stressed that the drunks happen to love you.

Perhaps this isn’t the life you had always imagined for yourself, but you were getting closer to it. You’d often talk to Adam, a retired psychologist in his seventies. He was without a doubt one of the most loyal clients you’d ever encountered. In the past, he’d even given you free advice on some of your failed hookups. You once told him that in less than two years, you’d be just like him when you got your degree in Psychology. To your surprise, he replied: “You’ll be much better than me, doll. I’m a mess, can’t you see it? You don’t wanna be like me,” his voice was hardly above a whisper as he continued. “I should be at my daughter’s birthday right now, but I didn’t get an invitation this year. Believe me, you don’t want to end up like this old man.”

Like Adam, most of the men who frequented the bar day-to-day saw it as an opportunity to hide within the shadows. In comparison to the other pubs in the area, the one you work at doesn’t receive that much attention from the general public. A dimly lit place where only music from the 80s is allowed. You’re certain that if a health inspector ever came down here, you’d be in serious problems. But hey, you know what they say: do not worry about tomorrow; instead, live in the now.

The atmosphere of the bar shifts dramatically as the main door slams shut with a resounding thud, pulling you abruptly out of your daydreaming. You turn to see who’s arrived, but as soon as your eyes meet his, you’re compelled to look away. Nevertheless, the brief glance you catch of the stranger’s features is enough for you to unlock your phone and send a quick text to your best friend.

You:

cutie patootie alert

there’s this really handsome guy at the bar

i don’t think i’ve ever seen him before

i think i’m in love with him

my night just got a 100% better

Allison:

age

what does he look like

is he bald?

You:

he looks like he could be in his early fifties??? it’s hard to tell UGH i wish you were here

brown hair, beard, 6’2 if i’m not wrong

i didn’t stare at him for too long

otherwise that would’ve been very weird

and no he’s not fucking bald

that happened only once and i was not aware of that gentleman’s lack of hair

Allison:

so you’re dating retired now

get it grandma!

You:

oh fuck you allison

Allison:

it’s okay girl we all have our flaws

just make sure it’s nobody’s father

wait it’s not mine right?

You:

nah your dad’s way hotter don’t you worry about it

Allison:

bitch

Even with the music blasting through the speakers that are attached to the ceiling, you can still hear the low murmur and the whispers. The mysterious stranger seems to have attracted the attention of the other patrons, some of whom have even raised their phones to take photos. Your eyebrows draw together. Why would they do something like this, approaching the man as if he were a celebrity? Since curiosity never fails to kill the cat, you decide to get involved.

“Do I have somethin’ on my face?” you hear him ask the crowd, his raspy voice making your knees wobbly. He sounds enraged. You step on your tiptoes, trying to see what all the fuss is about, albeit it’s pretty hard considering how these men are caging him with their bodies.

The glow of a phone’s flashlight catches your attention, and suddenly, a chair is dragged without much elegance. “Enough of that, y’hear me?”

Enter you now. “Okay, gentlemen, I’m sorry. I’m gonna need you to make some space for me, alright?” you mumble as you gently push them aside. “Thank you, thank you. Y’all can be real sweethearts when you put your minds to it.”

Then you spot him, and it becomes clear why everyone is making such a fuss.

Gary, your worst client ever, steps forward. His nasty breath clouds your senses as he rests one of his sweaty hands on your shoulder. “Doll, it’s the fucking Wolverine. Don’t ask him for a picture, though. He doesn’t seem to be in the mood for that.”

The last thing you needed to see today was a fight (despite your knowledge of who would be the winner). You locate yourself amidst them, shaking your head like a disappointed mother, so as to add a tiny bit of drama to the situation.

“Guys, what you’re doing here is completely inappropriate. I thought I’d taught you better. Imagine if I were to pull this crap on you. You wouldn’t have it.”

Adam presses his lips together, flushing a bit. “She does have a point.”

“Thank you, peanut. You’re still my favorite,” you flash him an honest smile. Scrutinizing the rest of the men, you continue with your speech. “You can still make up for it and fill my tip jar all the way to the top. Deal?” they all scoff, barking their disagreement. “Oh, you don’t like the sound of that? Then leave him alone, okay? Class dismissed! Back to your places,” you clap your hands repeatedly, signaling them to go away. “Chop chop. All this alcohol won’t be drinking itself.”

Just like that, everything goes back to normal in the blink of an eye. Wolverine sits back down in his chair, leaning closer to the table and resting both elbows on it. He examines you, lifting his chin while his brown eyes take in every inch of you.

“Thank you,” he utters, his eyes still trained on your features.

“No need to. It’s what I’m here for,” you point to your work clothes, which consist of an antiqued apron and a silly sticker that has your name written on it. “Can I get you anything to drink? It’s also Burger Night. You can get one for half the usual price.”

(No. It’s not fucking Burger Night. You just happen to find yourself deeply attracted to him.)

He doesn’t seem too eager to hear you talk. “Not hungry at the moment. But I could use some whiskey.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, kid. Very sure.” Well, now he does look annoyed.

“Great. I’ll be back in a minute,” you move as if you were in a race, returning to him after a hot minute. Setting his glass down on the table, you fill it with some old whiskey you don’t even know the name of. Still, he omits that detail, gulping down two-fingers of whiskey as if it were water. “I see you’re thirsty.”

“Could you leave the bottle here?” those brown puppy eyes are begging you to do as he says, and although you’d be happy to oblige, rules are rules.

“Actually, I can’t. The bottle stays on the counter. But you can always join me at the front,” your proposal doesn’t appear to have the desired effect on him. “I won’t talk to you if that’s what you want.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” he rubs his neck, drawing a long breath as he stands up.

You can feel many pairs of eyes searing into your soul. The others ask you for more drinks and you pour them, pricking up your ears when you hear them talking about him.

“What a weirdo. Didn’t you see it on TV? He’s not even from this universe,” Gary explains, looking for accomplices to hate on Wolverine. “Let me tell y’all something: he shouldn’t even be here. He’s fucking dead on this earth.”

Yeah… that you knew.

It had been all over the news for weeks. Some would even swear that he was back from the dead, but that was until the representatives from the TVA spoke their truth. If someone would’ve told you a month ago that multiple universes were a thing, you would’ve laughed in their face.

As if that weren’t already difficult to process, your mind does the job of reminding you that there’s a man with metal claws sitting a few meters away from you. Despite that, you can’t seem to be scared of him. There’s something magnetic about his personality and that don’t-come-near-me-or-there-will-be-consequences expression that he has. Why had you promised not to speak to him? Dammit.

“I can hear your thoughts,” a muscle in his jaw twitches after knocking back another glass of whiskey. He squeezes his eyes shut before tapping the table with two fingers, silently asking for a refill.

“I thought you didn’t want me to talk,” you raise one of your eyebrows, and you behold how the corners of his mouth turn up for an instant. “I can assure you your liver hates you.”

“Alcohol won’t kill me, so don’t be afraid. Keep ‘em coming.”

For nearly twenty minutes, he does nothing but drink. He attempts to light a cigar at some point, and you stop him. “You can’t smoke in here.”

“No special treatment?” he inquires, placing the cigar between his parted lips and tilting his head back. He’s so… dreamy. He has to know it.

“I saved your ass today. The least you can do is not cause me any trouble.”

His eyes widen at your words, blinking owlishly. “You saved my what?”

“Your goddamn ass. You were about to start a fight.”

“Blame the idiots you have for clients,” he says, jerking his thumb toward your direction. “I was just mindin’ my own business. They came for me, not the other way around.”

“Look, Wolvie. I–”

“Wolvie?” giving a bitter laugh, he rams a hand through his hair. “That’s the worst nickname I’ve heard in a long time,” he looks at you through his lashes, getting rid of his leather jacket. “It’s Logan.”

“Wow. Your name is very boybandish.”

You succeed in making him laugh once again. It’s the perfect opportunity for you to observe his face without feeling like you were just about to get caught. He has deep creases and worry lines etched between his eyebrows, a brown beard that perfectly frames his jaw, and a few white hairs scattered in his sideburns. Pearly teeth that go hand in hand with one of the most impeccable smiles you’ve ever seen, and a pair of brown eyes that make you feel weak in the knees. You know for a fact that he’s a lot older than you; his exact age remains a mystery, but his appearance is enough for you to start fantasizing.

Shit, you want him. You should feel sickened by the mere thought of being with him. He was born God knows when, has lived hundreds of years. Still, the idea of tracing his cheekbones with your fingers while lying on his chest doesn’t leave you. This is fucked up. You are fucked up. A fucked up Psychology student. The joke is pretty much self-explanatory.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding, you preening slut. Can’t even bother to answer my calls now?”

The tension between you shatters like a glass dropped onto the floor. He doesn’t dare to look in the direction of the owner of that voice, not even as the seat next to him gets taken. He pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Wade, what the hell are you doin’ here?”

“It hasn’t been exactly easy, raising our kid on my own. I don’t even have money to hire a babysitter, Lo. I spent nine months carrying your child, and for what? You end up going after a bartender,” the masked man turns to you, giving a sly wink. “No offense, baby. You must be a real sweetheart. In fact, do you want my number? The name’s Wade, but you can call me whatever you like.”

“You dumb fuck. Are you flirtin’ with her?”

“No shit, smartass. You’re the future of this country.”

A soft giggle escapes you despite your attempt to hold it back. You take a step back, admiring the two men. “Well, aren’t you two a beautiful couple?”

“You should see our little munchkin. He’s got my eyes and Logan’s hair. His first word was gubernatorial.”

“Would you like to have a drink while you’re here?”

“A beer would be great. Thank you, sugarbear. You’re the cutest,” Wade sinks back into his chair, resting his chin on his palm. He jerks his head in Logan’s direction, bumping his shoulder. “She’s the cutest. Are you two together?”

Logan rubs his forehead, speaking through gritted teeth. “How did you find me?”

“It's the power of love, baby. I had It’s All Coming Back To Me Now on repeat for hours. Couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Handing Wade a cold beer, your eyes scan Logan’s face. “I didn’t know patience was your strongest suit.”

“Me neither.”

“Enough of that! I can’t stand not being included in a conversation,” Wade throws his hands in the air, and you look at him. “There you are. So, what about you? Are you even allowed to be here? Did bars change their policies?”

You can’t help but snort. “I’m 25.”

Wade looms closer, lowering his voice. “Now that I think about it, you could totally be Logan’s caretaker. He’s been having some issues recently, given his age. Do you… know anything about adult diapers?”

But then Logan’s face contorts, turning crimson. He rises from his seat, grabbing Wade’s arm. “That’s it. We’re leavin’,” his eyes lock on you for a moment. “How much do I owe you?”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s on the house.”

The things you’re willing to do for a man, right? You should be ashamed of yourself.

(But you aren’t.)

His mouth hangs open in disbelief. “Kiddo, are you–”

“Completely sure,” you finish his sentence for him, bowing your head and clasping your arms behind your body. A tight-lipped smile takes over you. “Just don’t tell my boss.”

Wade shifts his gaze back and forth between Logan and you. “I usually don’t mind third-wheeling, but I sort of feel left out.”

“I’m gonna sew your mouth shut, Wade.”

“Oh, come on! I was just making small talk,” the masked man tries to excuse himself while Logan pushes him towards the door. “It was a pleasure meeting you, sunshine. I’m free on Thursdays. Hit me up if his whiskey dick fails to impress you! Mine’s way more agile and young!”

As you watch them leave the bar, you remain frozen in your place amidst the clamor of ongoing chatter and clinking glasses.

What the fuck had just happened?

“Patrick’s normally the first one to get wasted during weekends,” you explain to the blonde woman sitting in front of you, and she writes that information down in her notebook. “He can usually handle himself, but at some point, he’ll try to call his ex-wife, and that’s when you know you need to stop serving him.”

She clicks her tongue, the color draining out of her face. “This is… definitely a lot to remember. I think I already forgot half of what you said.”

You shake your head, shoving your hands in your pockets. “You’ll get used to it, believe me. I’ll be with you at all times, so if you have any doubts, just ask me.”

After a whole year of working solo at the bar, you finally get to have a coworker: Gwen, a mother of two teenagers in her forties. You had met her at the grocery store, and in the process of helping her find a specific brand of cookies, you found out that she had recently lost her job. One thing led to another, and now she’s your trainee.

Your savior complex strikes again!

It has been four days since your first encounter with Logan. The thought that he could show up at any moment makes your heart race and your hands sweat. Allison had received countless voice messages where you narrated the entire experience in full detail.

Touching your arm softly, Gwen’s face lights up. “Another man came in. Is he a regular? I don’t think you told me about him.”

Fuck, it’s him. Manifesting does work wonders. He locks eyes with you and raises a hand in greeting.

“Leave this one to me,” you tell her as your feet take you to where Logan’s sitting, contemplating the way in which his leather jacket hugs his wide frame. “Long time no see.”

“Hey, kid,” he grins. “What’s up?”

“Nothing much. Nobody has puked yet, so that’s a good thing,” you crinkle your nose, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “Whiskey?”

“You know me so well,” a smirk takes place in his lips, and he smiles cockily. “Though this time, I won’t be leavin’ without payin’.”

“We’ll see about that,” you go back to your usual spot behind the counter, looking for a glass. Your cheeks kind of hurt from smiling so hard. Next to you, Gwen studies your reaction to seeing Logan. “Is that your boyfriend?”

You almost drop the whiskey bottle. “God, no. He’s not my boyfriend. Barely know the guy.”

“It’s funny,” she says, raising her eyebrows with a knowing look, as if she knows something you don’t. “He hasn’t stopped looking at you since he arrived.”

“It’s probably because of this,” you reply, lifting the bottle in her direction before pouring a small amount into a glass. Just as you’re about to walk over to him, a girl slides into the sit beside him, her long blonde hair swept up in a ponytail. She’s wearing a stunning red dress and black heels. You wonder if she’s a model, because she certainly looks like one.

Her hand creeps up his arm, fingernails scraping against the worn leather. Although Logan’s expression is hard to read, he doesn’t even flinch.

“You know what? Here’s his drink– You take care of it. I’ll stay here,” you don’t give Gwen a chance to talk back, instead staying behind the bar, engaging in small talk with other clients.

“Doll, are you okay?” Adam asks you after noticing you struggling to open a beer bottle. He takes it from your hands and opens it with ease. “There you go.”

“Thank you, Adam. I’m fine, never been better. Why you ask?

“You sure?”

“Affirmative.”

“You mixed up our drinks,” he explains in his most psychologist-like voice. “This never happens to you. Michael has my wine, and I’ve got his martini.”

“Fuck! I’m so sorry. I just— I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you chew on your bottom lip, rubbing your temples. “I feel stupid.”

“Oh, please. Don’t say that. You’re far from being stupid,” he sits up straight, reaching for your fingers and giving them an apologetic squeeze. “If you ask me, I think you’ve got your mind on someone else,” he must notice how you visibly get tense because he adds: “Remember: I know when you’re lying. You didn’t charge him the other day, which means that you must really like him,” taking a tentative sip of the martini he didn’t even ordered, Adam shrugs. “I’m a great observer. That’s all.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see the blonde girl from before returning to where her friends are chatting. Logan is left alone, and you watch him grab his glass and head towards the counter.

“As I said, your mind’s somewhere else,” Adam sighs, a tiny smirk tugging at his lips. “Go get your man. I’ll survive.”

“Not my man. But thanks, older-and-wiser-version-of-cupid.”

Pretending not to have seen Logan, you continue with your work. He remains silent for some minutes before finally saying: “Hi.”

Hi? It sounds so out of character for him.

“Hey, claws,” you force a smile, still avoiding to meet his gaze. “Do you need anything?”

Logan points to his empty glass, like a toddler asking for more cereal. “I also wanted to talk to you.”

“I thought you were busy over there,” you say, surprisingly managing to sound nonchalant, despite the jealousy bubbling underneath your friendly tone. “Did you get her number?”

“What? No.”

“Why not? She’s cute.”

Yeah, maybe you don’t sound as collected as you think.

Whether Logan notices it or not, he chooses not to mention it. He folds his arms over his chest, fixing his brown eyes on you. “I’m not interested.”

“And what is it that interests you, champ?” your question elicits a low chuckle from him. Just as he opens his mouth to seemingly reply, Gwen appears out of nowhere to ask you about the price of a certain drink. Your gaze shifts between her and Logan, who remains focused on you while sipping his drink.

After that, Gwen leaves. The man in front of you goes poker-faced, pursing his lips, and his abrupt change in demeanor alarms you. “Wade wants to have dinner tomorrow at his apartment– well, our apartment. I live with him now. It’s complicated,” he adds with a dismissive wave of his hand, and you laugh. “Anyway, he asked me to tell you that you’re invited. I know we don’t know each other that much, but… he said you seem like someone worth havin’ around,” he mumbles awkwardly, eyes downcast. “I think the same as well.”

You could die at peace.

“You’re a lucky fucker because I don’t work on Sundays,” you quip, smiling. “I’d be more than happy to attend your feast.”

“Great. I thought you would turn down the invitation.”

“Now why would you think that?”

“‘Cause you barely know me– us,” he corrects himself rapidly. “Plus, Wade’s annoying as hell when he puts his mind to it. You’ll see.”

“Marital problems?” he actually in response. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’. Oh, I’ll bring the dessert.”

“You don’t have to.”

“But I do want to,” you tilt your head in an effort to hide your longing for him.

“Just want to get under my skin, huh? I can see why Wade likes you,” Logan beams, reaching out to tuck a $100 bill into the pocket of your apron. “The tip’s included.”

“I don’t know how things work in your universe, but you’re giving me way more money than you’re supposed to. I can't accept this.”

“Oh, but you will,” his gravelly voice fucks your system up, and you’re glad he can’t see how you squeeze your legs together behind the bar.

He writes down Wade’s address on a random napkin, holding his breath as he stands up. “I should get goin’. See you tomorrow then.”

Before he walks out the door, you stop him. “Logan? You didn’t answer my other question.”

His back shakes momentarily with laughter. Turning around to face you, his stare leaves you even more confused. “Good night, doll.”

This is becoming a habit: every time he goes away, you feel as though you’ve just run a marathon with no water available. Your mouth is completely dry, your fingers are numb and there’s a knot in your stomach that’s becoming all too familiar.

“Would you mind telling me where you got him?” Gwen’s voice makes you almost jump out of your skin.

“He’s not from around here. I think he’s Canadian.”

You’ve got this. You’ve got this. You’ve got this.

Knocking softly on Wade’s door, you step back, the container holding the tiramisu cold to your touch. It’s your first time trying out this recipe, so you’re expecting it to at least not taste like shit.

Wade answers the apartment door, acting surprised when you remain silent. “Well, look what the wind blew in: if it isn’t my husband’s lover. How dare you? We’re still going to couples therapy.”

You show him the container, and he squints at it. “Tiramisu. You want it or not?”

“I hate twenty-somethings,” he says with a defeated sigh, stepping aside to let you into the apartment.

Leaving your purse on the nearest surface, you scan the living room, wondering where Logan might be. There’s a small mirror beneath the couch, and you check yourself for the hundredth time tonight. “Don’t get too excited. He’s still showering,” Wade’s voice rings in your ears, and you turn to look at him, your eyebrows knitted. “Yeah. I noticed. You’re already drooling over that big piece of metal between his legs.”

“Keep quiet!” you cover his mouth with your palm, noticing the scarred state of his skin up close. “Wade, you fucking dog. Are you licking my hand?”

“Couldn’t help it. You taste like mascarpone cheese and espresso.”

Then Logan emerges from the bathroom, with only a white towel draped around his waist. Droplets of water fall from his wet hair, tracing the muscle of his abs, ending somewhere beneath his happy trail. Your eyes keep flickering between him and his torso until he clears his throat. “I thought you were comin’ later.”

“Me too, but I…,” you trail off, your brain struggling to catch up, “I didn’t know what else to do at my place.”

“It’s fine. Just– let me put on some clothes.”

“Please don’t,” Wade murmurs next to you, but Logan only scoffs. “I was just being honest. Communication is key.”

When Wade and you are alone again, he lets out a harsh breath. “That was probably the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. My pants are really tight right now.”

“Thin walls, buddy!” Logan shouts from his bedroom, earning a laugh from you.

Like A Prayer starts playing. Wade moves his hips to the beat, getting lost in the melody. “Is that your phone?”

“Yeah, but I always take a few seconds to dance to it. Such a banger!” he says, then picks up his phone, accepting the call. “Hey, Ness! What´s up?” Wade covers the speaker before telling you: “It’s Vanessa. My ex-girlfriend. We fuck once a week, sometimes even twice.”

From behind, Logan nudges your arm with his, looking at you. ”Hey, kid.”

“No, I’m not busy at all,” Wade exclaims, grabbing his crotch and thrusting into the air. “I’ll be there in ten, cupcake. See you,” he spreads his arms wide and whistles. “Someone’s getting laid tonight!”

“You made me come all the way here… and now you’re leaving?”

“What? My friend Wolverine wanted to invite you over. I just had to provide the apartment,” in one quick movement, he presses a kiss to your cheek, then does the same to Logan. “Shave yourself, will you?”

“Go fuck yourself, will you?”

“Love you too, honey. Hope you two lovebirds have a good night, because I know I will!”

Wade throws a wink over his shoulder before heading out, the apartment going dead silent. Logan and you stand frozen, staring at each other, although he quickly drops his gaze, unable to maintain eye contact. A giggle threatens to escape you: he wanted to see you. Could he possibly enjoy your company as much as you enjoy his?

Logan watches the spot where Wave had just been. The absence of his chaotic energy makes the room feel strangely empty now. He coughs lightly, the sound awkwardly loud in the quiet room.

“So... I, uh, bought pizza,” he says, his voice a little too casual, as if trying to cover up his nervousness. Averting his eyes, he focuses on the pizza boxes on the table.

You catch the hesitation in his tone, your curiosity piqued by his discomfort. Tilting your head, a teasing smile forms on your lips. “Pizza, huh? You sure know how to impress a girl.”

Logan chuckles, the sound strained, as he scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, I figured it was a safe choice. Didn’t want to ruin it, y’know?”

You move closer to the table, the warmth from the pizza boxes radiating against your hands as you open one of them. The rich smell of melted cheese and pepperoni fills the air, a comforting scent that makes your stomach growl softly. “Thank you. I’m a big fan of pizza.”

He sits in the chair across from you, taking a bite of his slice. You watch him quietly, your own thoughts churning. The truth of his origins had been a shock at first, but now, it just made you want to know more about the man. What was his life like in the other universe? Did he miss it? Was he happier here, or was he longing to return?

“Logan…,” you begin, your tone gentle but probing, “Can I ask you something?”

He glances up at you, eyes widening. There’s something in your eyes –an understanding, maybe– that makes him feel like you could see right through him.

“Sure,” he replies, trying to sound more at ease than he really feels. “Ask away.”

You hesitate for a moment, not wanting to push too hard. “I was wondering... would it be okay if I asked you some questions? About, you know, your life. Where you're from.”

The bite of pizza suddenly feels heavy in his mouth. He hadn’t talked much about his world, not even with Wade. Partly because it was too painful, and partly because he wasn’t sure how to explain how things turned out for him. He nods slowly, setting his slice down. “Yeah, it's okay. I’ll answer what I can.”

“I just... I want to understand you better.”

“Well, first and foremost, I’m no hero. You should know that by now.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Kid, I’m the worst Logan. A complete failure. Of all the variants out there, Wade just had to pick the one despised by every living soul on his earth,” Logan looks away, his voice low and heavy. You’re wondering if doing this was a good idea. “I need a drink.”

He gets up and you follow him into the kitchen. He rummages through the fridge, in search of a cold beer. Meanwhile, you attempt to find the right words. “I don’t think–”

With a sharp flick of his wrist, three metal claws sprout from between his knuckles. A gasp catches in your throat as he uses his claws to pierce the beer can, drinking from the punctured holes. Once he’s done, he goes back to staring at you. Your gaze, on the other hand, is still glued to the now-empty beer can. “What?” he asks, exhaling slowly.

“That was completely unnecessary,” you mutter, and he lets out a bitter chuckle, tossing the can into the trash. “But, back to what you said before– I don’t think you’re the worst Logan.”

“You didn’t know me back then, darlin’. I fucked it up,” he leans against the counter, arms crossed defensively over his chest. “Like the Logan from this universe, I once belonged to the X-Men too. I remember that Scott used to beg me to wear my suit. So did Jean, Storm, Beast– All of them,” his gaze grows more distant, and you can tell that memories are flooding his mind. “Wanted me to be part of the team, but I wouldn’t do it. Told them they looked fucking ridiculous.”

The pizza’s long forgotten. You take the risk and get a bit closer to him, your eyes never leaving his.

Logan’s silence stretches for a moment before he speaks again. “One day, while I was off on my own, the humans came. They went mutant hunting.”

Your heart clenches at the pain in his voice. He still remembers everything as if it had happened yesterday. “I can guess the rest. You don’t have to–”

But he cuts you off. “No, let me say it. I need to say it,” he takes a deep breath, lowering his head. “By the time I stumbled home, shit-faced from the bar, it was too late. They were dead. They called after me and I walked away.”

Reaching out, your hand gently brushes against his. He doesn’t pull away, but instead searches for your eyes. “My suit's all I've got to remind me of who they were. What I did. I found them and they were… dead. I started killing, and I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to stop. I turned the whole world against the X-Men.”

You tighten your grip on his hand, knowing there’s nothing you can do to change how he feels. “You’re not a bad person, Logan,” he shakes his head, mumbling something you can’t quite catch. “I mean it. What happened back then doesn’t define you. You took the blame for their deaths upon yourself. I can tell you loved them deeply, and I’ll never fully understand the pain you feel. I wish I could. I wish I could take it away, make you forget somehow, but I can’t. That’s not how life works. But you got your second chance: you saved this world. My world,” gently cupping his face in your hands, you allow your fingers to caress his cheeks. He leans into your touch, watching you with half-lidded eyes. “You’re my hero. I’m your biggest fan– after Wade, obviously, which is a lot to say.”

He grins, letting out a laugh. “Easy there, bub.”

“Should I give you some space?”

That’s the last thing he wants from you right now. You already know that as he looks you up and down, placing his hands on the small of your back, his thumbs drawing small circles on your skin. There’s no turning back– The warmth between you feels almost like a fever dream. “For a long time, all I wanted was to disappear. I couldn’t stand waking up every morning, knowing that another day awaited me.”

“And what happened?” your breath mingles with his, his closeness becoming nearly intoxicating. “What changed?”

“I met a pretty girl at a pub, that’s what happened,” he murmurs, his dilated pupils flicking up to meet your gaze. “I’m gonna kiss you now.”

“Do all your kisses come with a warning?”

“God, do you ever shut up?”

You don’t have time to respond because he kisses you there and then. His stubble scrapes your skin as your mouths meet again and again, needy hands that hold you as if you were prone to breaking. Logan licks into your mouth, sliding his tongue against yours and swallowing every one of your whimpers.

“So this is what it takes to shut you up, huh?” he murmurs against your lips. You can feel him smiling, and it makes your heart skip a beat.

“Keep talking and you won’t get a single bite of my tiramisu,” you tease him, kissing him again, the taste of beer numbing your senses. “I really like kissing you.”

“The feeling’s mutual, but now that you’ve mentioned that tiramisu…”

“Am I that easily replaced?”

“No. You’re just a pain in the ass.”

Jokes aside, you’re as happy as a clam.

Since that night you and Logan kissed, you’ve been living your best life. Like a freaking schoolgirl with a crush. Some things never seem to change.

He hasn’t been to the bar in three days. Yes, you’re counting them. No, you haven’t lost your mind. You want to see him, but there’s something about making the first move that gives you the chills. What would his reaction be if you showed outside of apartment?

It’s been a long time since you’ve been with anybody. On top of that, all the guys you’ve dated were your age. Being with someone that older than you certainly wasn’t no your plans. You’d be lying if you said that the mere idea of being with him in that way didn’t excite you.

Oh boy, you miss him. You miss his scruffy voice, his gorgeous hair. And you two aren’t even official yet. To be honest, you don’t even know what he wants from you. Is he even the type to be in a relationship?

“Nighty night, gentlemen,” you say to Gary and his friends as you find yourself in front of them, smoothing your apron. Gwen had called in sick tonight, so it’s just you at the bar babysitting a bunch of grown-men.

“What’s up, doll? You’ve forgotten about us. We miss you coming in here to chat,” Gary’s eating his burger at the same time he speaks, something you find repulsive, but you’ve seen worse. “Y’know, I’d love to take you out someday. I have a place you’d like.”

The other men laugh and punch him in the back, just boosting his ego. Pathetic.

“I’ll let you know when I’m free,” you reply with the most polite smile you can offer, intending to go on. “What are you having tonight?”

“You always pull that shit, baby. I don’t think you’re so busy that you can’t accept a date.”

You hate the way he’s looking at you, as if you were wrong for not being interested. As if you didn’t know any better.

“You’re reading minds now? Shocking, Gary.”

“Oh, doll. That attitude of yours shows you’ve never been with a real man like me, that’s all,” he leans back in his chair, resting one of his arms on the table and the other one near his crotch, manspreading. “It’s alright. I like you bratty.”

“I’ll be back when you finally have something to order,” you attempt to turn around but he grabs your wrist, pulling you closer. Your eyes lock, and he seems to enjoy this: being in control. Like a predator hunting his prey. “Come on, Gary. I don’t want to have to kick you out.”

“It’s not that you don't like me, right? You’ve already got your mouth full.”

“Careful.”

“What? Don’t tell me you’re not fucking that useless mutant. I see you like ‘em older. Pretty little things like you drive me wild.”

You laugh in his face, showing him your teeth. “It was never about your age, Gary. You’re right: I do like them older. I’m just not into bald, vertically-challenged pricks.”

His entourage of idiots goes silent after that. He looks up at you, eyes burning with hatred. His grip on your wrist tightens, probably leaving a mark. “Fucking bitch.”

“Get your hands off her.”

Logan’s voice forces the two of you to look in his direction. It seems that he’s just arrived at the pub, his jacket still on.

“You joining us? We’re just getting started here, big boy.”

“Did you not hear me?” Logan lunges forward, his nose almost touching Gary’s. “The fuck is wrong with you?”

“Easy there, cowboy. I’m just having a chat with your girl. She’s one of the good ones, I’ll give you that,” arching a sly brow, his forehead puckers. “You don’t like sharing? We can even take turns.”

Logan clenches his jaw, lips set in a grim line. “Say one more word, and I’ll fucking kill you.”

“I’ll give you a full sentence instead: can you even get it up?”

The tension in the air is thick, every second stretching out as Logan's anger simmers dangerously close to the surface. Gary’s smug grin only makes it worse, pushing him to the edge. Before you can react, Logan’s fist swings forward, connecting with Gary’s jaw with a sickening crack. Gary staggers back, realising your wrist. Blood seeps from his nose, his white shirt becoming stained with it. “You fucker! You broke my nose!”

“We’re just getting started here, big boy,” Logan mocks him, repeating his previous words.

“Stop!” you shout, moving quickly to grab his arm, trying to pull him back. But he’s beyond hearing, his rage blinding him to everything else. He shakes you off, and with a fierce growl, drives another punch into Gary’s stomach. The latter doubles over, gasping for air, the wind knocked out of him. He then falls to the floor, curling into a ball. People start to gather around you, and soon your beloved bar becomes a box ring.

“That’s enough, Logan! He’s barely conscious,” you murmur under your breath, stepping between them, hands up in a desperate attempt to create some space. Logan pauses, chest heaving, fists still clenched, as he finally looks at you. The wildness in his eyes starts to fade, replaced by a dawning realization of what he’s done.

“He deserved it,” he nods vigorously to himself, as if trying to explain his point. “He was hurting you.”

“If you keep that up, you’re going to kill him. My bar is not a fucking cemetery,” your voice trembles a little bit, expecting to talk some sense into him. “I won’t let you do this.”

The room is quiet now, the only sound being Logan’s heavy breathing as he stands there, still tense, still processing. You turn to Gary’s friends, cold fury in your eyes. “Get him out of here,” you watch as they haul him up, practically dragging him to the door. The other clients continue to stare at Logan, their mouths hanging open. “Everybody out, right now! Go home. We’re closing earlier tonight.”

Adam is the last person to leave, slamming the door behind him. You rush to the counter, searching for a mop to clean the fresh blood off the floor. Still agitated, the images of Logan hitting Gary flash in your mind. He approaches you from behind, his fingers circling your forearm. “Bub–”

“Don’t. Now is not the time.”

“I was protecting you.”

“I told you to stop, and you didn’t. You just shook me off,” you snap, glancing at his knuckles which are not even bruised. Slamming your eyes shut, you get to your feet and wash your hands in the sink, the remaining water becoming reddish for a moment.

Logan moves closer, resting his chin on your shoulder. He wraps his arms lazily around your middle section. ”I’m sorry.”

You turn in his arms, your back flushed against the sink and your nose in the air. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“I don’t have a phone.”

“But– Jesus, Logan. You could’ve come sooner. I thought you regretted what happened the other day,” you say and the muscles in his face twitch, his body stiffening at your words. “Thought you no longer wanted me.”

“No, bub. I– I still want you. I want all of you, trust me,” he murmurs, and you allow him to press his body against yours, the scent of the cigar he must have smoked recently enveloping your senses. “I just… don’t know how to do this. I have a habit of ruining things, and I’m trying to figure out the best way to be with you without hurting you.”

“Pushing me away also hurts,” your eyes flick up to meet his gaze again, and he whispers under his breath. “I can’t read your mind. You need to tell me what’s going on in that ancient skull of yours.”

His face falters, flashing you a mischievous look. His hand creeps under the fabric of your shirt, fingernails scrapping against your spine. “I’m sorry, princess. I truly am.”

“You can’t just say ‘sorry’ with that voice and expect me to–”

You’re cut off by his lips crashing down onto yours. You melt into the kiss, unable to deny what your body has been craving for the past days.

“I thought your kisses came with a warning,” you say, detaching your mouth from his, a smile spreading uncontrollably in your face as you see his toothy grin.

“Shut up and kiss me, will you?”

In a clash of tongues and teeth, your mouths meet once again. Tugging the hair at his nape, you feel him growl against your lips. His strong hands trace every curve of your body, kneading the flesh of your hips and undoing the knot at the back of your apron. You’re becoming one with the sink, but in a moment like this, you couldn’t care less. Logan’s hard on nudges your lower stomach, and he ruts against you like an animal.

“You said you wanted to know what’s on my mind, right?” his teeth nibble on the skin of your neck, syrupy voice going straight to your core. “Well, I’d love nothing more than to touch you right now.”

“Right here? On the counter?”

“Yeah, on the fucking counter,” he grabs you by your thighs, hosting you up and placing your body on top of the cold bar. He nudges your knees apart, his bulge meeting your clothed cunt deliciously. “Will you let me, baby? Can I make you come in here?”

“Please. I’m glad we have such a low budget. Camera installment is t–too expensive these days.”

“Do you always talk this much?” he slowly unbuttons your pants, and you help him to remove them.

“Yes. Next question,” your breath hitches in your throat as you feel the pad of his thumb circling your clit through your panties. Your eyelids drop, your head lolling back. “Fuck, that feels good.”

Logan hums, mesmerized with the way your hips roll into his hand, your whimpers sounding like music to his ears. “You have any idea how I felt when I saw him touching you? Wanted to rip his hands off you,” his eyes drift to your chest, how it rises and falls with impatience. “But it’s me who gets to have you like this. He can fantasize about you all he wants: I’m the only one who touches you, ain’t I right?” you sigh with content as his fingers graze your slit, aimlessly bucking your hips. He doesn’t go any further, and you tug at the collar of his flannel, needing more of his callousand hands on you. “Nuh-uh. You want something, you gotta use your words. Got it?”

“I w–want your fingers inside me,” you don’t even recognize your own voice at this point. The few guys you had slept with had never been very talkative during sex. But Logan isn’t like them. This is just the beginning and you’re already starting to realize that he has a dirty mouth, that expectant look on his face as he waits to see your reaction to his words. “Please, Logan. I want you so bad.”

“Oh, I know, bub. There’s something about me I don’t think you know,” he inserts one of his fingers in your cunt, your slick coating the palm of his hand. “These claws I have… they didn’t come on their own. Let’s just say my sense of smell is… pretty good,” Logan can almost see the gears turning in your head as you try to think coherently. He moves his middle finger in and out of you, stretching your walls. “And you… have been wet ever since the first time you saw me. Always nice to everybody, making sure they feel at ease,” you feel like you’re being stretched even further, another one of his fingers sinking into your warm pussy. “But you’re so needy, too. How long has it been since someone touched you like this?”

“Too long, f–fuck. Too long,” you’re squirming, a totally whiny mess. He retratcs his wet fingers and instead goes back to flicking your clit, this time with much less delicacy. His left hand squeezes your tits, and you hate the fact that you’re still wearing clothes. “Shit, Logan. I need you to fuck me. Please. Need your cock.”

His face comes to rest at your neck, and you feel lingering kisses and bites that keep you grounded to earth. “Not here. I need a bed to fuck you properly. You’re only getting my fingers now,” he positions them inches away from your entrance, testing your patience. “Tell me who owns this pussy.”

“L-logan–”

“Tell me and I’ll make you come,” his husky voice is making you dizzy, tears shimmering in your eyes. “Come on. Know you want it as much as I do.”

You succumb to the tentation, like divinity turned to sin. He kisses you roughly, and you struggle to find the correct words. “It’s you, Logan. You own my pussy. It’s f-fucking yours.”

With that, he goes back to nudging that spot that makes you see starts, that filthy squelching sound getting mixed up with your moans. The knot in your belly keeps growing tighter the more he pumps his fingers in and out of you.

“I said you were only getting my fingers for now, but fuck… I need to gest a taste of this sweet cunt.”

He’s on his knees in an instant, urging your legs apart to make room for his body. Your thighs tighten around his face as he licks a hot stripe up your folds, tracing a heated path on your cunt, not wishing to waste a single second. Pleasure builds quickly, your breath hitching as your hands find their way into his hair, pulling him closer when your body begins to tremble.

“I’m close,” you pant, breathing hard, grinding your hips against his face. “I’m so close.”

“That’s it. Come in my mouth like the good girl you are.”

Who had given him a damn script for this?

The release is explosive. Like the peak of a roller coaster: you go up up up, ascending higher. You think you almost see Jesus, but at some point, you also have to crash down with force. Your shoulders slump, your entire body cramping up; yet he doesn’t let you go that easily, his fingers still working, scissoring within you while you ride out the final waves of your high, drawing out every last moment of ecstasy.

Once you finally manage to open your eyes, there he is, staring down at you. He taps your lower lip with his fingers, and then mutters: “Open.”

And you do, because you’re just as messed up as he is. Your mouth parts, and he slides his fingers between your lips, dragging them smoothly across your tongue. His knuckles brush the back of your throat, and you gag around the intrusion, tasting yourself. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, clearly satisfied with the way you’ve cleaned them off.

“I think we should really pay a visit to your apartment,” he suggests, groaning in defeat, and you feel his bulge poking your hip. He must be painfully hard. “I meant what I said earlier. I need a bed if we’re going to fuck. My back’s hurting.”

You raise an eyebrow, the corner of your mouth curving into a smirk. “Why not go to yours?”

“Wade’s in there. I wouldn’t be able to concentrate.”

You can’t help but laugh, pausing a moment to collect your thoughts, heat rising to your cheeks. “So we’re going rodeo?”

Aiming to silence up, Logan kisses you, pinching your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Only if you can handle it.”

part 2: “GIVE ME THE FIRST TASTE”

dividers by: @/cafekitsune thank you!!! :)

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