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planetaryupscaled · 4 months

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Disenchanted

Male Reader x Karina

Tags: 6k, cheating, oral, story heavy

The story is not ours; we simply alter the original story to our preferred settings.

They say everything happens for a reason, if life gives you lemons turn them into lemonade. It always struck me as a strange saying a little too cut and dry. Like a mantra to lead my life with, it had been an upwards struggle. Devoid of any formal degree, in many respects I was a self-made man, grafting from the bottom of the pile and slowly making my way upwards, to the light, the fabled promised land of success, this is my story.

It was early 2020, still fresh from the Covid-19 meltdown. Looking back on it, we really did make a fuss over nothing, it was world ending stuff. Fresh out of a failed college career I had just turned 20, studies had never really held much of my attention, crashing out a year before graduation. Saying this, I was good at building networks, street smart you could say, I knew a good deal when I saw one and over the years, I would develop the timing and nous to know when exactly to pull the trigger. With a heavy interest in films, my main aim was to get into the industry by any means necessary. Luckily enough for me I knew a few people who were runners on in the SM Entertainment back in the day. The pay was basic if that and the job was menial, filled with odd jobs like fetching coffee or printing out stuffs. Nevertheless, it was a start.

“Seriously, where is that guy? the new runner guy, lanky looking kid,” Shouted the set manager.

“Ahem…” I replied, standing next to the sweaty looking man.

“What’s your name? You know what, it doesn’t matter, get a coffee to waiting room 4, quick kid,” he said, bits of saliva spraying everywhere.

God, I hated that guy, his breath always reeked in a mixture of cheap coffee and banana. Reluctantly I knocked on the door, prepping a fake smile for whomever was going to open it.

“Hey,” A chirpy voice said.

My mouth was lolling open slightly, mouth running dry as I struggled to form a suitable response. She laughed softly at my starstruck reaction, holding out her hand to shake mine. It was Karina. She was most teenagers wet dream, well, technically still is.

She was just as attractive as the in the magazines, her smokey brown eyes complimenting her tight, tone, bronze physique. I felt an instant twinge in my pants as I willed myself not to show my arousal, hoping to od it was not obvious that I was attracted to her. Brushing myself down mentally, I took a deep breath and fixed my shirt holding out hand containing her hot beverage. There was something about her, despite her arresting looks that calmed me. Maybe it was the kindness in her eyes or the kindness in her voice, whatever it was, it worked.

“Your- coffee,” I managed.

“How old are you?” She said, taking a sip of her latte.

“Erm… 20- Miss,” I replied.

“Seriously, call me Karina,” She smiled.

“You are pretty cute,” She followed up, handing me the piece of paper with a list of her requirements.

“From now on, you are my personal runner,” Karina said, high fiving me as she left for rehearsals.

I blushed at the comment, a throw away one at that but at the time, it was like gold dust to me. The piece of paper was basically a shopping list of drinks and snacks to get at what time. It remained this way for a year or so as I watched Karina’s fame sky rocket. It was almost inspirational how she climbed the ladder step by step. At that time, she was dating an actor, Lee Jiwook? Jiwoon? or something, I don’t know. Another forgettable character.

I had a sense that he felt superior to me, which granted at the time, he was dating Karina so one could forgive his arrogance. He was in her changing room on a number of times. There were rumors that they were due to get engaged which turned out to be true one it was released in the press a few months later. He was by all intents an purposes the luckiest guy alive in that moment.

On the rare occasions that we did get time alone, Karina and I talked about everything from our past to future aspirations. She even helped me get back into college, funding part of my studies to get into a foundation business course. It was a difficult time, I had to finish college, which I did with after work classes and after that, moved onto that foundation course. I was indebted to her in more ways than one, but our relationship never threatened to go any further.

Over the year I think Karina grew to see me as a brother of sorts. I mean it was fine, what more could I expect. Saying this, I always held on to that faint hope that we could be more, if only the tables were turned, and I was the rising up and comer, one could only dream.

If only I had known my time with her would be limited, maybe I would have been braver, more forward I told myself. However, it did not pan out that way, as per usual, life throws you lemons, make some lemonades right? Coming into the last few episodes of the final series I made my usual rounds, knocking on her door and entering without a response, only to find Karina scantily clad in a white bra and pair of cotton panties. I did it all the time, just enter and drop off a coffee, maybe have a chat, but this time was different.

“Crap- don’t you knock?!” Karina jumped, covering up her indecency.

“I- I did, I thought- sorry,” I replied.

I managed to sneak a peek at her crotch, sending my desires into over drive seeing her, Karina picked up the plushie, covering her sex. A drop of pre cum leaked my tip as I groaned internally at the visual stimulation. She was hot as fuck I thought in my head, what I would do just to be with her for one night. Regaining composure I chuckled, triggering her to break into a smile also, scrambling to get dressed.

“Nice plushie,” I said, winking at Karina

“Oh, Haha,” Karina replied blushing.

“Your morning coffee Miss,” I said, leaving her daily latte on the table, turning to leave as I closed the door.

That was my last encounter with her as I was moved to another set the day after. If we stayed in touch, it would probably be one of those funny memories we could bring up from time to time but it was not to be. Now in the present, decades later I was suited and booted, ready for my fourth-round interview for a Digital marketing executive role at The Prada Group.

—

“They will have you now,” The secretary called out to me, beckoning me into the conference room.

My hands were steady, nerves of steel. I had interviewed at many companies before, but had a renewed desire to nail this one. I had to; she was the co-founder. The days of being a runner were long gone, as I managed to land a junior marketing role. This however, was my bread and butter, marketing, networking and the like. It was like a hand in a glove, I loved it, and it showed in my work.

Holding my head high, I pushed open the doors, my presentation in hand, ready for whatever they threw my way. Ready for the interview? Yes, but ready for- Karina?! I was not. Under normal circumstances, shareholders would not be part of the interview process. Steadying myself I held out my hand, shaking each interviewer’s hand firmly. There were three, Karina being the last.

“Nice to meet you all,” I said with confidence.

I could see Karina racking her brain as to where she had seen me. The cogs in her head were turning till I saw her face light up.

“Oh my god, Minho!” She said, her face lighting up.

“In the flesh Mam,” I replied.

“Oh, apologies for the lack of professionalism, I worked with Minho...what is it now, Ten years ago?” Karina said, her smile lighting up the room and to my advantage, perking up the other interviewers.

“We can catch up after...carry on with the presentation,” she said beaming.

Unclasping my blazer and setting it to the side I went through point by point my ideas for the new product launch, our target audience, demographic and ways to capture their attention. It was as robust a presentation as I had ever given, leaving very little questions afterwards as the four discussed among themselves after grilling me with queries.

It was a positive sign then that all four were smiling in unison as my hands started to sweat, showing the first signs of how much this job meant to me. It was her presence that threw me a curve ball. After all these years, Karina was still as alluring as ever. If anything, she looked better now than she did when we first met. Now in her thirties, married and with kids, she looked fantastic. I managed to shake my fantasies of once an idol from my thoughts and concentrate on the panel in front of me, glancing at her every so often.

“Listen, we don’t do this regularly, but this interview has been far from the ordinary. Your links with Karina, coupled with her glowing references and your stellar presentation, we would like to offer you the job,” The man in the middle said.

I was slightly taken aback at the praise, this must have been the best interview I had ever had, taking a moment to process I smiled and nodded, shaking their hand in turn with acceptance.

“Minju from HR will settle the contracts with you by phone, I believe you are ok with our pay package?” The interviewer said.

“Yes Sir,” I replied, shaking his hand again.

To be fair it was a big bump on what I was on at the moment with the added benefit of an old love interest entered into the equation, it was a must take.

“Thank you for giving me the opportunity,” I said before turning towards the door.

“Minho, one sec, are you free later this afternoon for a catch up?” Karina said before I left the room.

“Sure,” I replied smiling before exchanging numbers.

It was a move so natural to me now, one which my 20-year-old self would be proud of. I had just nabbed Karina’s phone number.

“Well done on today,” Karina said, putting her hand on my shoulder.

“It’s really good to see you,” She followed up.

“Catch you soon,” Karina said smiling warmly at me.

“As long as you get the coffees this time,” I replied with a wink.

“Good one,” Karina reply, her cheeks turning a light pink for the briefest of moments.

—

For the first time in a long while, the fruits of my labor were finally bearing fruit. It was a constant struggle to get to this point in my career, blocked off at various stages in the chain by a combination of bad luck and wrong timing. I was always taught that we make our own luck in this world which is why I kept striving forward, kept pushing on, no matter what situation I found myself in. That interview had been a victory, a rare moment where the pieces just fell into the right slots, just at the crucial moment. On the way out, I had a quick glance around the office, taking in what would be my new workplace. Just at the back next to the director’s office was the marketing department, no doubt my new home going forward.

With great pride I made my way down the stairs and back to reception before being gently caught by the arm. It was the HR rep asking if I had a quick minute to sign the necessary documents instead of getting it mailed through. It did strike me as a peculiar move, normally it took HR a few days to draft the offer letter and send it out, but I thought nothing of it, browsing the important bits and signing off with my signature. Luckily, I had no notice to give as I had just left my role the previous week, a risk on my part, but one I felt I could confidently overcome. It proved to be the right choice as I handed the papers to HR.

“See you next week,” She said.

“Well done,” The rep followed up.

I nodded, shaking her hand, before turning to leave.

“Minho..,” A familiar voice called from behind me.

It was Karina, speed walking towards me through the crowd of workers. She caught many people’s glances, mostly men as they craftily snuck a peek of the former Idol striding confidently across the floor space. She was wearing an elegant cream patterned dress with a black leather jacket draped across her shoulders. It gave her that casual suave boss look, yet at the same time emanated a very elegant and feminine vibe. Her smile broadened as she caught up with me, lightly touching my shoulder as we walked side by side.

“Congratulations again, on landing the position,” Karina said with a bright smile.

It was hard not to be taken aback by her sheer beauty, but if time had taught me one thing, it was to stay calm and measured in moments like this.

“It... was a close one,” I replied with a grin.

“Pleaseeee, you totally nailed it, we are lucky to have you,” She replied.

“Ok now you are just flattering me for a free coffee,” I joked.

“Ah you know me too well,” Karina replied, chuckling lightly.

“I thought you were busy this afternoon?” I asked, as we made our way outside.

She shrugged her shoulders, playfully prodding me in the ribs with her elbow.

“They were just update meetings, not so important, besides it free’s up more time for us to catch up, unless you have other plans?” Karina said.

“No, not at all, we can go over some of my plans for the project,” I replied.

“No business talk, fill me in on everything else going on with you,” She said laughing.

We walked and talked for what seemed like a few minutes, till we reached a quint little French barista tucked away from the main road. Checking my watch, I realized we had literally been walking for a good fifteen minutes as it was already half past four in the afternoon. It felt seamless, chatting to Karina again, similar to the old days where we would talk about everything and anything while she prepared for another shoot in her Idol days.

“Skinny Latte?” I asked, eying up the menu.

“You know me so well,” Karina said in jest.

“Well, I had a lot of practice back in the day,” I replied with a smile.

Karina suggested we sit in the corner away from the busy eyes of onlookers outside. I had noticed she changed much in this aspect, not one to revel in the spotlight, she was quite reserved in many respects, no doubt influenced to some degree by her religious upbringing. I respected that, her values and steadfast nature in doing what was best for her and her interests.

“So, spill the beans, what’s been going on with you?” Karina asked, taking a sip of her coffee.

“Well, it has been quite the whirlwind to be honest,” I replied.

“Once I left that day, I worked on a few other company till I finally got a promotion to the PR team. From there I steadily plugged away, attending business class in the evenings, thanks to you, eventually graduating and landing an entry level Marketing role for a local website. I stayed there for a couple of years, continuing further study and gaining experience, leaving there as a senior marketing lead. My last job, that I just left was as the Digital lead overseeing different internal projects before rising to Miu Miu taking care of bigger picture stuff and here we are,” I said.

“That is quite the journey, I’m so glad you made it work for yourself,” She said, smiling warmly.

“Well, it was all thanks to your encouragement in the beginning, making me pull my finger out and get my ass into gear,” I replied.

“No, that was all you, I just opened a few doors,” Karina said, rapping lightly on my arm.

Something was different with her. It was like I was no longer seen as a brother but an equal in her eyes. It was the way she looked at me, no longer endearing, almost a bit curious. It triggered an itch within myself that I had to scratch, my infatuation with her since the early days only growing stronger. A feeling that I wanted to follow through and see where I could take this. There were the obvious blockers with her being happily married and all, but my selfishness got the better of me, kicking my moral compass to the side as I mirrored her actions, lightly touching her arm on occasion throughout or little catch up. Not that she seemed to mind at all, her beautiful smile always beaming, fixing her hair from time to time as our coffees soon turned into wine and eventually to dinner.

“So, tell me,” I said, motioning to her ring.

“Oh,” Karina replied blushing slightly at my abrupt change in tac, focusing on her personal life.

I did not expect much, as I knew she was relatively private in nature.

“Well, yes, I am married and have three beautiful children,” She said beaming.

Karina showed me a few pictures in my phone, leaning over the gap in the table to flick through the gallery. I could smell her perfume from here, laced in the depths of her nape, filling my nostrils with a sweet aromatic blend of floral notes and citrus. She smelt heavenly, as I felt my crotch stir at our sudden close proximity. We spoke for what seemed an age before she checked her watch after feeling her phone buzz. It was now half nine in the evening.

“Shoot..,” Karina said.

“God I better get going, the husband is messaging,” She said with an awkward smile.

“It has been good catching up, really good, you have changed a lot Minho,” Karina said, clasping her bag.

“Change in a good way I hope,” I replied with a chuckle.

I could see we had got through quite a number of bottles of wine as Karina dialed a local taxi for pick up as we settled the bill and walked outside to wait for her ride.

“Yes by the way,” Karina suddenly said.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“You have changed in a good way,” She replied.

“Ok that was like a five-minute delay Karina, losing your sharpness,” I said laughing.

“Pfftt, it’s the wine, deadly stuff,” Karina said, merrily leaning on my shoulder.

“You are much more confident and forward looking, it’s a good look,” She said softly.

“I can remember the first time we met, you were so star struck it was cute, standing there with a coffee in your hand,” Karina said laughing.

“Do you blame me?” I said chuckling.

“I mean it was adorable, your face was all flushed and, I can say this now but it was a little obvious you were a little too excited,” Karina said slapping my arm in hysterics.

I had hoped that she would have missed that all those years ago, but I guess she picked up on it, all of it. I could not help but laugh with her reminiscing about the past as the alcohol slowly set in.

“Oh, here’s my cab,” She said giving me a hug and pecking me on the cheek.

“It was so nice to see you, congratulations, again,” Karina said beaming, the smell of wine now laced in her breath.

“You too Karina, it was great to see you too,”

“Don’t worry I have managed to curb my excitement this time!” I joked.

Karina laughed, punching my harm.

“Must be losing my touch,” She said, smiling.

“I wouldn’t fret, you still have the same- effect..,” I replied, my expression of the cheeky, implying nature.

Karina blushed, swiping her hair behind her ear while she fidgeted on the spot for a few moments, smiling.

“Well, I best be going, see you in the office?” She said, gathering her composure again and leaning in for a hug.

“Yes boss,” I replied, closing the taxi door and watching her leave.

The walk home was a good one, a feeling of elation at nailing the interview and one of mild curiosity at the unsaid words and feelings I felt between us. With a bright smile across my face, I went to bed eager to get started on my first day.

—

Strolling into the work on day one all suited and booted gave me a great sense of accomplishment as the HR representative took me to my new office. It was large, much larger than my old one, decked out in a minimalistic art decor kind of vibe. It even had that fancy clap to shut blinds feature which made the inner child in me laugh in excitement.

“This is your team,” The rep said.

She introduced me to my marketing team manager Nayoung, who over saw our junior team members Sohye and Yeonjun. They seemed like a good bunch, all enthusiastic and willing to do the hard yards as we went full on into the new product launch. There was little time to settle in as the launch was happening in three months’ time, so all the marketing and advertisement had to be nailed down asap. From my first few encounters with Nayoung I got the impression that she knew exactly what she was doing, decisive in her actions but at the same time very popular with the other two. She must have been a few years younger than myself, perhaps on her late twenties, but her experience levels shone through her work. She had that girl next door look, yet commanded respect through her calmness and wicked sense of humor. She was sharp, I had to hand it to her, batting off my banter throughout the day and weeks with ease. It got to a point that our team work was seamless, synchronized as the group ramped up for the final presentation to Karina.

—

It was now week three, and the first draft was about to be presented to Karina for approval. The team had been working hard throughout the process, pulling late nights on consecutive occasions as all four of us tidied up the final bits of the slides.

“So, we heard that you and the boss lady go way back,” Yeonjun said smirking.

“Yeah, I have known her for quite some time,” I replied.

Sohye and Nayoung smiled at each other.

“Seriously guys, we are going there?” I asked laughing.

“Well, she is kinda hot,” Yeonjun chirped in.

“Kinda? She is drop dead gorgeous,” Sohye replied.

“Guys, just get to work, I will leave the company card with Nayoung, order whatever you want,” I said smiling.

“Is that a no comment?” Yeonjun asked laughing.

Before I could hit back with some banter of my own, Karina walked in wearing an eye catching black short, black top, showing off way too much leg for the office.

“Evening all,” Karina said, smiling, her eyes lingering on me for a brief moment.

I could sense Yeonjun and the team in hysterics as I gathered my laptop. He bit his fist obviously in reaction to Karina’s insanely revealing work attire.

“Let me take you through the final proposal, Boss,” I said with a cheeky grin.

“Lead the way,” Karina replied.

My office was just around the corner as I snuck another peek at her smooth legs before shutting the door behind me.

“Bit bold for the office?” I said smiling.

“Ughh don’t get me started, just rushed off a shoot with Women’s Health, barely made it in time through the traffic,” She replied, sitting down in the swivel chair and crossing her legs.

Something about what she said did not add up though. According to her PA she had finished in the afternoon, as the shoot had been moved earlier on in the day. I knew this because our meeting was due to be the following day but I moved it forward to tonight as we were in good shape with the proposal. With intrigue racing across my thoughts, I settled down beside her, making sure not to stare at her smooth legs.

“So, what you got for me?” Karina said, tilting her head towards me.

I ran her through our slides, pointing out the key take aways and messages of the campaign. Karina nodded intently, chiming in with slight tweaks here and there. She really knew her stuff, explaining the ideology of the company revolving around sustainability and making the world a better place through safe practice and renewable materials. If not for her flawless attire, I would have paid better attention as I found myself staring at her face before being brought back to reality.

“Don’t you agree?” She said.

“What? Yes, yes, I do,” I replied.

“Did you just zone out? Hah for a minute there your face reminded me of when we first met,” Karina said smiling.

The slight awkwardness from a few weeks back when I dropped her off at the taxi were now long gone as I felt her get more and more comfortable with my company.

“What do you mean by this part?” Karina asked pointing to one of the slides.

I moved in closer, feeling the slight brush of her calf on my leg as I explained the ins and outs of the slide. The touch of her leg on mine was not rebuffed as I continued with my explanation, using it as an excuse to gently continue to rub my leg against her bare skin, my knee now sneaking up her leg slightly as we sat side by side. I felt a slight jump in her demeanor so I quickly moved my leg away, maybe I had pushed my luck too far.

“Sorry- bit tight in here,” I said, breaking the silence, which was an odd thing to say as the office was large.

The awkwardness steadily grew as the tension cranked up, Karina finally looking up at me after I had finished my re run through her query.

“Thank you…” For taking me through it.

“It looks, good,” She said.

Her face now a few inches from mine, the silence filling the gap, I felt a sudden rush of blood to my head, moving forward without skipping a beat planting my lips on hers. Initially feeling a tensing in her shoulders, this quickly dissipated as our lips melded together, my hands now resting on the side of her waist as we embraced in deep heavy petting.

“Wait…wait…I can’t,” Karina said, her hands gently pushing me away as I continued kissing up her nape and nibbling at her ear lobe.

“Minho…wait...seriously I’m married..,” She followed up, breaking our kiss and rolling away an inch or so in the seat.

Her face was flushed red, hair slightly out of place as the ravishing woman looked at me, slightly unsure and ashamed. I could see her breathing had accelerated by the way her chest was rising and falling rapidly as she rushed to fix her dress.

“What’s the matter, don’t you want to?” I asked enquiringly.

“Its. Not- I’m married and have a family,” Karina replied clearly flustered.

I closed the distance between us in the chair again without a response from her as she just sat still, pretending to fuss before picking up her phone.

“Jaewook called, just going to call home,” She said hurriedly, turning her back to me as she dialed home.

Catching the chair mid turn, I spun her back around, just as her husband greeted her. Placing my leg in-between her thighs I slowly inched forward. The look in her eyes were full of trepidation, yet her body showed no signs of rejection as Karina sat completely still greeting Jaewook on the other side of the line.

“Hey honey, yes I’m- just…in a meeting,” Karina said.

My confidence now shot to a hundred due to our kiss moments before so decided to take things a bit further, reaching out my hand and running it along the inside of her smooth pale legs. Karina showed brief signs of resistance, squeezing her legs shut before I eased them open again with my other hand, travelling further up her inner thighs till my fingers made contact with her moist sex.

“I should be home...in a bit..,” Karina continued talking.

Her face was clearly conflicted, trying to hold it together while I pleasured her with my hands, cupping her wet pussy through her silky underwear, rubbing firmly on her clit.

“Fuck..,” Karina moaned into the phone.

Her eyes shot open in fear, realizing what she had just said as her husband sounded confused on the other line.

“No... I just found an error in the presentation that’s all,” She quickly recovered.

Smiling, I nodded, our eyes meeting for the first time during this sordid encounter. Her pupils were dilated, washed over in a glaze of lust as her mouth dropped, gaping slightly at the touch of my hands now rubbing her cunt with increased fervor. Easing her underwear to the side, I crept my fingers delicately along the length of her lips, piercing Karina’s slick labia with my digits as I proceeded to stoke the insides of her married cunt.

“God...Unghh..,” Karina gently moaned, holding the phone to her shoulder.

Luckily, Jaewook was in the thralls of an explanation about some work issues he had today, missing his wife’s whispered moans. Slipping in another finger and then another I was basically cupping her sex, removing her soaked underwear completely, placing it in my back pocket while I delved my hand deep within her folds, feeling her walls close in around me. Extending my finger deep inside her tight slit, my digits making contact with her g-spot as applied pressure with my wrist making her twitch and writhe in her chair.

“Jaewook- Jaewook...can…I... call you back..,?” Karina said, her voice now slightly ragged.

Sensing her impending climax, I doubled my efforts flicking her clitoris with my thumb as I rubbed her deep inside her cunt, stimulating her g-spot with my fingers while she creamed all over my hand. Karina’s thighs were covered in her slick juices, my wrist now leaking with her nectar as I felt her cramping up. Her cunt walls squeezing down on my fingers as I impaled my hand within her womb, fucking her with deep steady strokes.

“Shit...mpphhh,” Karina said, moaning into my shoulder as I had moved forward, resting my face next to hers as I attacked her pussy with quicker jabs.

“Babe...you still there?” I heard Jaewook saying on the other line.

“Uhhh...huh…Just finishing up here,” Karina replied.

Her pussy was twitching in my hand as I felt her hips buck, stuffing more of my fingers deeper into her married cunt as she bit down on my shoulder to mask her cries of pleasure while climaxing on my fingers. We stayed in this awkward embrace as I continued to rub at her sex, her pussy leaking down my palms and onto the carpeted floor while she finished her conversation with Jaewook. Hanging up the phone the look on her face turned from the relief of just being brought to orgasm, to more of one of remorse of what had just happened.

Getting up without a word, she held out her hand, wanting me to hand back her sex-soaked underwear to which I refused, standing up and cupping her face in my hands.

“I- can’t...we can’t…” Karina said rather tame.

“We already have,” I replied curtly, planting another kiss on her lips as I eased her back onto the wall behind.

“Wait- seriously...I’m- ughh...married,” She replied, her moans steadily increasing as my hands danced up her dress again.

“Seriously...plll...pleaseeee,” Karina pleaded in vain, her emotions caught between guilt and pleasure as I held a my cum soaked finger to her lips.

“Shhh...allow me to make you feel...better,” I replied.

“I may not be your husband...but you will enjoy this..,” I said, kissing her once more before dropping to my knees.

Karina’s eyes were wanting, slowly turning to my way of thinkings as I proceeded to lift up her dress and take in her essence. The smell of her sex was divine, a mix of the pungent natural notes of her cunt together with the sweet taste of her juice was a dream come true as I licked her slit from the bottom to the top, suckling on her throbbing clit with my lips.

“Mmhh...aahhh..,” Karina groaned lightly, running her fingers through her hair.

I was slowly breaking her resistance, feeling her push her hips into my face as I slung one of her legs over my shoulders while feasting on her slippery pussy. Dragging my tongue up her swollen lips, I pierced her folds, tongue fucking her slit with gradual spears, tasting her cream in my mouth as I eagerly lapped up everything she had to offer.

“Fuck- we...we can’t- ahh…”. Karina moaned louder as I hit the right spot, her clawing more desperate now as she forcefully fed me her cunt.

Karina was on tip toes now, her initial resistance dissipated completely as I had my way with her, licking her pink insides with my tongue as I felt her inevitable climax build. Her thighs were now clamped around my face as I hoovered up her sexual fluids, adding my fingers to the mix, penetrating her sex with my digits while sucking at her reddened clit.

“Shit...shit...mmhh...fuckk...ughh,” Karina yelled, her climax hitting its peak as she shivered and twitched around my lips.

I stayed on my knees for a while, taking in her heavenly taste in my mouth as the sultry woman eased me back to my feet. She was silent, not saying a word, almost as if saying something would be an admission of our wrong doings. If anything, I was leading proceedings backing into my leather-bound chair as I eyed Karina up and down. She knew what I wanted, a slight smirk forming on her lips as she slowly walked towards me.

We kissed softly, as I felt her hands drift slowly down my body as Karina descended to her knees, gently pushing me into my chair. Her expression was livelier riddled with hunger as she bit her lips gently, hurriedly unbuckling my belt and removing my trousers.

I stared at her full lips hovering a mere inch from my throbbing member as she kissed my crown through my boxers. My pre cum leaking onto my cotton underwear as she gently pecked at my cock with her soft lips, tasting the hint of salt soaking through the fabric. It was like watching a beautiful car crash happen in slow motion as Karina freed by cock from by pants, fishing it out and dipping her wet lips along the length of my shaft. Her soft hands feeling my meat with a firm grip that pumped with perfect execution as she finally took me into her wanting mouth, eyes locked on mine for the entirety of the act.

“Mmmm...mmm”. Karina hummed on my dick, while she gave me the best fellatio of my life.

I was lost in the sensations of her tongue lapping up the underside of my shaft in one fluid motion, before sucking down again on my crown, over and over feeding more of my twitching cock between her married lips. Running my fingers through her hair I thrust my hips gently into her wanting mouth as her nose made contact with my pubic bone, deep throating my entire cock till my tip made contact with her tonsils. I held her here for a few precious seconds, feeling her tongue coat my cock in more of her warm spit as she took me to the back of her throat, her eyes flushed with desire.

“Shit- Karina...you feel...soo...good,” I groaned, suddenly disrupted by my office door swing open.

It was Nayoung, holding the company credit card with a grin on her face. The instance she went to speak, Karina had expertly hidden herself under my desk, my cock still sheathed between her lips while she continued to feed on my meat, turning her attention to my sack with long deep licks.

“Boss can we up the limit to say 25 each?” Nayoung said smiling.

“Yeah sure whatever you guys want” I replied, slightly breathless.

Karina was staring at me from below, mouth open, rolling my sack around between her lips, slathering me in spit while I tried maintaining my cool.

“Everything OK Boss, you seem a little uptight?” Nayoung said concerned.

“Yeah...the draft went down well, Karina has just popped out for a call,” I said, a bead of sweat forming on my forehead.

“You sure...?” Nayoung replied.

I felt Karina now clamp down on my balls and suck hard while she pumped my cock with her fist, my shaft straining for release as my orgasm built up rapidly.

“Yes...no problem...keep up the good work,” I said, struggling to keep a straight face.

“Ok boss, we are just outside if you need anything,” Nayoung replied before leaving.

I waited for the footsteps to soften before letting out an almighty yawn thrusting my cock further into Karina’s mouth.

“Shit...Karina...I’m close..,” I moaned, gripping the back of her head as I continued to thrust between her lips.

“Mmm...mmhh...mmhhfff..,” Karina replied, her mouth stuffed with cock as my impending release came.

She never stopped sucking, bringing her mouth around my crown and allowing me to unload inside her oral cavity. Spurt after spurt of my sticky load painted her pink insides, feeding her a torrent of my thick and salty seed, the mother of three just lapping up my sperm with her tongue as she pumped my shaft with her fist, milking my twitching cock to completion while swallowing my load, closing her eyes in euphoria.

It was immense, watching her continue to work my spurting dick with her lips until I grew soft within her mouth. A gentle squeeze of my balls dribbling out the final drops of sperm from my tip into her welcoming tongue.

“God damn Karina...that was intense,” I said breathlessly.

She looked up at me in a cum drunk haze, my seed dripping from her bottom lip.

“So...do I taste better than your husband?” I asked cheekily.

She looked at me with a frown, coming back down to reality after her earth-shattering fellatio, she had just given me.

“I don’t usually let him finish in my mouth..,” Karina said meekly.

“Usually?” I replied.

“Never..,” She said, kissing my tip softly with her lips.

I reached out stroking her face as I scooped up the last dribble of sperm on the side of her mouth, letting the ravishing woman suck it clean from my fingers a smile breaking out on her face at the taste of my essence.

Our sensual connection in that moment was disrupted by the sudden ring of her phone. It was her husband and just like that her mood changed from a state of utter arousal to one of panic and remorse as she stood up, flattening out her dress and grabbing her jacket.

“I... I have to go,” Karina stammered, clearly flustered as her cheeks went a bright red.

“Email me the rest of the slides?” She said turning to me.

“Look- about...what just…” Karina started.

I cut her off, kissing her gently on the lips.

“Go... I will see you in the meeting on Friday,” I said gently.

Karina smiled, avoiding my eye contact, clearly riddled with guilt from what had just transpired, but she clearly enjoyed herself. It gave me a surge of confidence knowing that fact, even if she was not ready to freely admit it herself.

The picture of her locked in the thralls of passion as I felt her up for the first time would forever be seared into my memories. I was officially addicted and I needed to get another hit of her...

#karina smut #aespa smut #kpop smut #girl group smut #female idol smut #male reader

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hees-mine · 3 months

Text

𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 - 𝐋. 𝐇𝐞𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐭.𝟐

Pairing: heeseung ⚥ reader

Warnings: smut, cheating, stepson, stepmom, dirty talk, taboo relationship, dry humping, unprotected sex, oral, cum eating, cursing, mommy kink-ish, no plot.

Genre: 18+, step relationship, taboo. Not proofread.

WC: 3,534k

⟱⟱⟱

A lie is what you’d be telling if you said you didn’t think about feeling your stepson again the moment your eyes opened in the morning, but you were quick to push those thoughts far back to the recesses of your mind, hoping that they would never come forth again.

Even though the night spent with him was nothing short of mind blowing you had to do your best to forget it cause you couldn’t do that with him again especially after the guilt you felt when your husband came to bed last night.

Guilt.

Now, that was something you and heeseung didn’t have in common. What you did have in common was that you both most certainly enjoyed last night.

Fuck does he remember last night? It was so good that it’d be hard to forget, and what would he have to feel guilty for after fucking every single last one of your precious little holes.

Speaking of, he can’t decide which one he likes more. All of them brought him immense pleasure, so much pleasure that at ten in the morning, he’s as hard as a brick just thinking of you, but he’d just have to feel each of them again before he could really decide.

You’d already sent your husband off for the day with his lunch, and now you were busy cooking breakfast for yourself and, obviously, your stepson.

Who was now standing at the end of the stairs greeting you in nothing but his pajamas, and the large print between his legs was hard to miss. You clenched your thighs at the sight of your pussy already missing him. “Morning, Mommy,” he chuckled tiredly, slithering into the kitchen, and before you can even calm yourself, he’s got his arms loosely wrapped around your waist, his cheek pressed to your shoulder, and his groin nestled right against you. “Hmm,” he moans from the contact on his sensitive leaky tip.

You gasp, the feeling of him shocking you back to your senses. The knife you were using to cut fruit falls on the counter, and you flatten your palms, bracing yourself against the kitchen island.

“What’s wrong?” He mumbles as you go stiff in his hold. “You’re not gonna greet your stepson?” He pushes forward, leaving you no space, and now you’re trapped between the counter and his body just like yesterday, and just like yesterday, you feel the restraint quickly leaving your body.

How could you have any restraint when his dick was so hard against you and so close to where you needed him most.

Last night you told yourself never again would you let your stepson fuck you, but that was last night when he was in his room far away from you. That was when he wasn’t standing behind you shirtless that’s when his dick wasn’t nuzzled right up against your ass.

“H-heeseung, stop,” you tell him feebly, your voice trembling, and you would never willingly admit that you were already leaking for him.

“You really want me to?” He sneaks his hands under your sleepwear, cupping your breasts and squeezing them with his large hands. “Tell me again, and I will” he rolls his hips tracing the crease of your perfect ass with his long dick. “Just want you to be sure, that’s all.”

You do your best to hold in your whimpers. If you were being honest, you really wanted him to slip your sleep shorts off and take you from behind right then and there in the kitchen, but for a split second, you had an ounce of rationality. “S-stop,” you said with a shaky breath. “Y-you should take a shower. Breakfast is almost ready.”

“No,” he whines in protest but quickly obeys. “Fine, I’ll do as you say, Mommy.” You feel the warmth leave your back as he creates enough distance between you two, and for the first time since you saw him today, you feel like you can actually breathe.

“Looks good,” he spanks your bottom, and the sound echoes in the quiet kitchen. He grabs an orange slice and holds it to his mouth, slurping the juices provocatively; the scene looked all too familiar to the way he ate you out last night. You glued your eyes on him while he stared at you, flicking his tongue on the center of the orange and then sucking on just like he did your clit. “Tastes good, too,” he smirks at your dazed expression, walking past you to the trash bin to throw the peel in the garbage, purposefully brushing himself against you on his way upstairs.

Once he left, you stood there for a good minute. You tried to grab your knife to resume making breakfast, but your hands were literally shaking with need, and the guilt you once felt was pushed to the back of your mind as you climbed upstairs in search of your one and only stepson.

You knocked on the door right in the middle of him getting undressed, and him being him, didn’t think twice before answering the door fully nude, his cock still very much hard. He was going to take care of his problem himself, but now you’re standing outside the door, and you definitely look like a better option than his right hand.

He smiled, happy to see you standing there and shamelessly looking at his dick.

Your eyes are glued onto the one thing you need inside you the most. Your brows furrow together at the sight of your thighs shaking and your hole clenching around nothing, dripping with sticky arousal.

“Did you need som-“You step forward into the bathroom and, without a thought, slam the door shut before dropping to your knees in front of him and taking his stiff shaft in your hand, gently pumping it up and down. “Oh shit,” he groans. Your actions caught him totally off guard. He had to brace himself with his right hand against the bathroom sink. “I guess so,” he smirked down at you and placed his hand on top of your head, smoothing over your hair.

You’re too ashamed to respond, so instead, you put your mouth to use elsewhere and lap at his sticky tip, tasting the salty precum that oozed from it.

A taste you had already become addicted to.

You hungrily take more than half of him in your mouth, sucking his cock desperately.

The little sounds you made when his tip hit the back of your throat made his cock twitch, and you loved the feeling of his heavy length resting on your tongue as you gagged and slobbered all over his shaft.

He must have really got you worked in the kitchen for you to be sucking him off so eagerly like this. It has barely been a few minutes, and he could feel the need to cum. “You suck it like you need it, baby” he tilts his head to the side, lips pursed, as he gently bucks his hips and helps you take him impossibly deep.

The sight of you both in his peripheral vision caught his attention, and he looked in the mirror watching from a different angle how you sucked him off. You looked so fucking good on your knees. “Yes, Mommy, just like that fuck, you’re gonna make me cum in that pretty little mouth already,” he breathes deeply, trying to hold off and enjoy the feeling of your wet mouth just a little longer. “Oh!” He lets out a strained moan when you cradle his balls. “Fuck it feels so good” he throws his head back, his hips moving on their own as he lightly fucks your throat, getting lost in the pleasure.

You take deep, calculated breaths through your nose, never taking a break no matter how tired your jaw gets. The feel of him in your mouth was far too rewarding to stop from a little jaw soreness, especially with the way his needy moans were filling up the space of the bathroom. “Fuck” he groans out, abs tensing and sweat beading on his body. “I’m cumming” he holds his hips, still throbbing on your tongue as he releases his warm semen on your tastebuds. “Ah fuck oh shit,” he moans as the white creamy liquid trickles down your throat.

You moan in pleasure, the taste of him making your clit throb even harder with need. Your cunt was sore. That’s just how engorged it was, and you needed him so bad his mouth, his fingers, his cock, anything would suffice with the insatiable urge that was flowing through your veins right now. “Taste good?” He grins while gripping your chin and tilting your head up. You look so gorgeous with your mouth full of his cock.

“Yes,” you moan when he pulls out of your mouth, your lips swollen from taking his thick cock deep in your throat.

His eyes nearly roll back in his head at just the thought of bringing you pleasure and tasting your pussy. Without another word, he quickly joins you on the tile of the bathroom floor. “Up.” he holds your waist, helping you up and sitting you on the sink. “That’s it, Mommy.” he grabs the waist of your shorts, hooking his fingers inside the waistband of your shorts and yanking them off your hips with minimal effort.

He smiles as you spread your legs wide open for him, and it’s no secret what either of you wants. He places his hands on your knees, keeping you open for him as he presses his face in your cunt, inhaling your scent. “Hmm, smells so good.” he licks his lips. Just your scent has him getting hard all over again.

“Hee,” Throwing your head back, you whine, one hand on the sink, the other in his hair. He moans shamelessly as you call his name, his tongue falling out of his mouth and tracing the path of your swollen folds to your clit.

You sigh in pleasure when you get some type of relief from all the built-up tension down there.

He sucks nips and licks all over your vulva, covering it in a mixture of his spit and your juices that seem never-ending no matter how many times he gulps it down, but he doesn’t care. He could drink you forever.

“So good.” You massaged his scalp, and he looked at you, enjoying all the faces you made, from the small lip bites to the heavy sighs and labored breaths.

He closes his eyes, really devouring you now, nose rubbing your little clit as his tongue sinks inside your hole.

“Oh yes!” Your head cranes backward, your thighs tensing when you feel a certain pressure building slowly in your abdomen.

He flicks his tongue in and out, deliberately nudging your clit with his pointed nose, causing your toes to curl.

“Yeah? That feels good?” He spits on your core, licking it up and shoving it in your hole. Before it can leak out, he stuffs his tongue back in. You fucking it in and out.

“So fucking good,” you praise, and his cock is definitely fully hard now.

He feels your walls tighten, and he’s just waiting for you to cum all around his tongue. His wait isn’t too long, and before you know it, you're creaming on his warm tongue, giving him all the satisfaction of making you orgasm.

“Shit,” Your legs dangle over his shoulders, shaking and trembling as your orgasm washes over you.

Your moans grow louder the more intense the pleasure becomes, and he works his tongue carefully, giving you the most of your high without overstimulating you.

Your breath is uneven, and the tension is releasing from your body now that you got what you were craving so desperately.

He kisses your inner thighs and kneads the soft flesh.

You cup his cheeks, wiping the arousal from his chin, staring at his eyes with something more behind them.

Looking up at you, he sees the blown-out look in your eyes telling him exactly what you need.

He stands up, his knees aching slightly, but he can’t even be bothered right now, too distracted by the intense pulsing of his needy cock.

His hands hold your hips, pulling you towards him, his tip resting on your mound. “Been thinking about this pussy all morning” he rolls his hips painting your core with sticky strings of precum. His eyelids drop so low they’re barely even open.

You whimper, the sensitivity of your high making you feel him much more intensely.

He bites his lip, thrusting on your clit as if he was inside you. “Woke up harder than ever.” he lets out an airy laugh as you stare at him, your brows creasing, and you nibble on your lip, just waiting to feel him inside of you. “Feels so good.” he gives you a lazy smile and bends forward, kissing your forehead. The kiss is much softer and sweeter than what you two are about to do, and somehow, that settles the beating of your heart and braces you for what’s about to come.

You lift your hands from the sink stroking his toned chest, your other grabbing the base of his thick cock, covering him in your wetness. “Ah,” he moans softly, feeling much more sensitive from your touch than his own. “Please put it in, Mommy.” he rests his forehead on yours, both of you watching as you guide him inside you.

Shaky breaths are exchanged as he slips in you with one smooth glide, your hole stretched and ready to swallow up all his inches.

“Look at the way you suck me in” A low hum settles in his chest as he meets you halfway, thrusting his whole length inside of you, knocking the air from your lungs with the pleasurable stretch. “Fuck y/n” his mouth falls open from the way your silky walls feel wrapped so tightly around him.

“Hee,” whining his name, you can’t help but look into his eyes just to see him staring back at you, both of your expressions riddled with pleasure.

He pulls out to the tip and pushes back in, both of your bodies shuddering from the sensation. His cock slid in and out in a steady motion, your arousals mixing together, creating the dirtiest sounds and staining your pussy lips with creamy white.

“Faster.” You fall back against the wall mirror, and he holds you in place, going faster and deeper, so deep you can feel it in your stomach.

Your breasts jiggle with each one of his thrusts, and he stares at them, your perked nipples peeking through your shirt, looking so mesmerizing to his eyes. “Fuck, your pussy is so fucking perfect” A chill runs up his spine every time his tip pushes past that little tight barrier on your opening, and he swears he sees stars. “It feels so fucking good.”

“Keep going” Your body shakes on the sink trusting him to hold you up, and he doesn’t even leave one doubt in your mind as his hold is firm on your waist, keeping you in place no matter how much you write and squirm on his dick. “Fuck yes, so good, so deep, mhhm” Your loud moans bounce off the walls, and your sounds entice him to go as hard as he possibly can.

“You like that, huh? You fucking want me so bad, don’t you?” You shake your head no despite you loving the way his inches fill you up. You know in your right mind you would never say yes to him. You were already committed to another man. You only wanted his dick, not him. “Is that so? Your cunt is saying otherwise, squeezing me so tight I can barely move” he digs his fingers into your skin, his hold on you growing harsher from the force he uses on your body. “Just look at you, spread open, taking it so good.”

“N-no,” you babble out despite rolling your hips to meet his thrusts.

“No? So why are you so wet, hmm? So tight,” he grunts, growing flushed with how much energy he exerts. “Fucking back on me like that.”

You grab onto his shoulders when it becomes too much for you, and he handles you with ease as your body goes limp, completely wrecked by his cock plugging in and out of you so fast and deep.

“See, Mommy? Knew you wanted it,” he smirks, going at an animalistic speed, his balls smacking your ass as his abdomen gets coated in a thin layer of your guy's mixed arousal.

“Oh heeseung!” You moan out loud, wrapping your arms around his neck as he plows you into oblivion.

“Yeah, say my name, Mommy, just like fucking that” he drags his hand down to play with your clit as you cling to him. You’re so so close.

“Yes, yes, yes fuck me,” you squeal out. You can’t help but say the words even though your mind is conflicted. You know it’s wrong to fuck your stepson, but you can’t stop cause it just feels way too good. You’ve never felt anyone like him before.

“Uh uh uh,” he grunts, giving you everything you need and so much more. “Cum on your stepson's dick, Mommy.”

His filthy words put you right on the edge, but you both stop immediately when you hear the front door shut downstairs. “Honey, I’m home early!” You hear your husband’s voice looking at heeseung with fear in your eyes, afraid of being caught, but he doesn’t seem to even care and begins to roll his hips, picking up the pace cause he’ll be damned if he doesn’t get you to come on his dick.

You shake your head back and forth. “N-no heeseung, what if he-” he cups your mouth, keeping you quiet.

“Shh, just let me make you feel good promise we won’t get caught” It was risky, and you knew it, but at this point, you needed to cum on his dick so bad that you’re not even sure if you’d stop if your husband walked right through that door and saw you getting absolutely pounded like a whore by his son.

He drops his hand from your mouth and kisses you to keep you quiet, his other one playing with your clit and winding up your orgasm again.

“Close,” you whimper, clenching around his cock repeatedly.

“I know I can feel you, baby. Keep squeezing on my cock. Keep going cum, and make a fucking mess on me. Mommy want it so bad,” he moans lowly into your mouth.

“Cum inside me,” you whisper to him in your lust-filled daze.

He whines into the kiss, obeying your command. “Yes, Mommy” With three more quick snaps of his hips, you come undone, moaning out loud, but he quickly muffles it with his mouth sloppily kissing you as he stills in your pussy. Those three words instantly made him shoot his thick, creamy load into your walls, filling you up to the absolute brim.

Moaning into each other's mouths, he stroked through your highs, so lost in pleasure and not the slightest bit worried about getting caught.

He leans back, smiling at your exhausted face, and slowly pulls out his load spilling from your pulsing hole and down your ass.

He bends down eagerly, licking it all up, cleaning every single last drop of your combined releases, and then pressing his lips to yours so you both can taste each other.

The taste is something that has you wanting more as you deepen the kiss and lick inside his mouth, not leaving one inch uncovered.

You both finally part for air, and he pats your thigh, grabbing some tissue to wipe you off with. He helps you stand and step back into your shorts while you adjust your shirt and run your fingers through your hair to make yourself presentable.

He peels the shower curtain back, smirking and getting in the shower like you told him to, and when you step out of the bathroom, your husband is standing right outside the door.

“Oh honey, I was looking for you,” he chuckles.

“Oh, I was just getting heeseung his towel. He left it in his room,” you quickly come up with a lie, trying your best to wipe the look of fear off your face with a nervous smile.

“Can’t that boy do anything on his own?” your husband sighs. “Well anyway, what’s for dinner? I’m hungry.”

You close the bathroom door and walk downstairs in front of your husband, discreetly rolling your eyes.

All he ever did was demand you make meals for him and talk down about his son which was admittedly very annoying he talks about his son not doing anything meanwhile all he does is work and laze about all day long waiting on you to do everything for him.

“I’m making your favorite.” You turn to him with a fake smile plastered on your face.

“Well, hurry up.”

You closed your eyes, releasing a deep, and maybe you didn’t feel that guilty after all for fucking his stepson more than just one time.

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Thanks for reading please reblog and leave feedback🩵

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crowdsourcedgender · 4 months

Text

My zine, 'Label Coining as an Artform', is finally done! Transcript/Image ID underneath (warning: it's long). Printed version in a reblog.

[Image ID: A series of pages in a zine. The text is handwritten, and all figures described are simplified stick figures.

Page 1: ‘LABEL COINING as an ARTFORM in large text. Below is the multicolored MOGAI wheel, with three figures taking pieces of the colors and using them for art: sculpting, cutting a piece of paper, and painting. Below is ‘a MOGAI (& LIOM!) zine by Elliot/Hesper aka @ crowdsourcedgender on tumblr. Under the text are five pride flags: aro-spec, veldian, alterhuman, xenoman, and schooldoodlic.

Page 2: ‘Label Coining’ in large pink text. ‘(in this context) is the act of creating a word (and usually flag) for a certain experience!’. Next to this text is a figure filled in with pink with a speech bubble full of pink shapes, talking to someone using a cane holding out a hand and expressing a question mark. Below reads ‘generally a queer experience, but does often include or incorporate disability, neurodivergence etc.’ A figure asks ‘Why?’ and the text reads ‘I would say these are the ‘core tenets’:’. In a cloud next to this text is a blue and purple pride flag with purple text reading: ‘like this cool prosopagnosia flag I made!’.

The bottom half of the page is split into two columns: ‘Understanding’ and ‘Community’. The first column has a purple arm amputee explaining a purple rectangle to another purple person who is thinking ‘that’s me!!’. Next to them another purple person is explaining the same rectangle to a blank person, who has a purple-filled thought bubble with a white exclamation mark. Underneath the drawing is text surrounded by question marks: ‘Labels help people understand what they are experiencing, and communicate this to others. It’s easier to explain something when it’s already been written down!” The second column has a purple person holding a purple umbrella. They are waving to a purple person in a wheelchair. A purple person is leading another one to the group. Underneath the drawing is text surrounded by connected dots: ‘People can unite under a shared label whether this group is big or small! Whether for practical purposes (like advice) or just for fun, having people like you is nice.

Page 3: ‘And these are just as important as ever! But I’ve noticed what I like to call COINING for the sake of CREATION’. This last phrase is in large, dark and light blue text. Two sun symbols are on either side. Below is the text: ‘Vexillology is very clearly an artform, but label coining has become something more (not to mention that not all new labels have flags!). It’s composed of multiple skills has become more than the sum of its parts. Any art captures an experience, but label coining is much more explicit about it. And not just people’s experience of their identity! Part of the art of label coining is incorporating other concepts too, e.g. Schooldoodlic A gender related to doodling on school work papers and/or your homework. By spirits-gender-coining on Tumblr.’ The text about Schooldoodlic is small and light teal. Next to the text is its flag.

Page 4: ‘Elements of Label Coining’. The text on this page is separated into four green boxes.

‘Naming: Coming up with the actual word can be tricky. Generally, labels with lots of elements get more leeway with length. It’s important to check that a label isn’t already a word as well.’ Next to this text is more rough, dark green text reading ‘Premade suffixes + prefixes help! And latin (for some languages) as it’s possible to intuit meaning!’ Around the text is a few examples: ‘-vesil’ ‘-musica’ ‘an-’ ‘quoi-’

‘Flag making: Also known as vexillology, this is a pretty big deal. It’s also the most fun for me! You develop a really good sense of color from spending so much recoloring the same three stripes.’ Next to the text is 6 versions of the same pride flag, each with slightly different colors, with a 7th final version with a symbol.

‘Symbol making: Most flags don’t have symbols, but they’re good for groups of labels under a certain umbrella, or just if you have a really good idea.’ Next to this is rough, dark green text reading: ‘I drew three semirealistic flowers for a flag and ended up only using one’ with sad face. Under it is a drawing of a daisy, a pink coneflower, and lavender, which is circled.

‘Descriptions/formatting: Explanations can be artistic in their own right, and formatting is fun to mess with: many people have their own style. Make sure it’s accessible: add image IDs and plain text where applicable. There are a lot of good resources online!’ In dark green text is the phrase ‘Accessibility over Aesthetics’ with an image of a key on top and sparkles below.

Underneath the boxes in light green text is ‘Note: in the right context, any of these can be optional!’

Page 5: ‘If it wasn’t clear, I think this is AWESOME’. Awesome is in large text with yellow radiating lines. Underneath is ‘I’m a MOGAI coiner myself (generally) with about 65 coins at time of drawing. Using something I made, I wanted to demonstrate what a label coining might look like!’ Underneath is four versions of the same pride flag as well as a description, with ‘flag!’ ‘stripe meanings (I don’t normally do these)’ ‘symbol’ ‘name’ ‘pre-existing format’ and ‘experience’ labelled. The description reads ‘[Image ID was here] Human non-conforming (HNC). Human non-conforming (HNC, similar to gender non-conforming) is an umbrella label encompassing all identities and subcultures that somehow incorporate nonhuman elements in any way.’

Page 6: ‘The thing I love most about the label coining community is just that- the community! The way coiners and users interact, as well as how coiners can work together, is wonderful. There are 5 large words each with an associated doodle.

‘Requesting’: A figure leaning on forearm crutches has a speech bubble with yellow shapes exploding out of it. Another figure is taking shapes down from the bubble and forming it into a ball.

‘Collecting’: A figure is pulling a yellow cart with a large cloth bag labelled ‘LABELS’. They have stars in their eyes, and are looking at another person who is gesturing to a yellow rectangle.

‘Collaborating’: Two figures, one with orange speech and one with yellow speech and an AAC tablet are discussing, with many shapes and lines intermingling to make a fragmented rectangle.

‘Combining’: A figure in a grey hijab pulls down a lever. They are standing next to a large blender mixing orange and yellow liquids. On either side is bright yellow lightning.

‘Redesiging’: A small star with four radial lines coming out of it becomes more and more complex, indicated by black arrows.

Under the words is the text: ‘I’ve never participated, but there’s this amazing event called: COINFIGHT. Hosted by @ kiruliom on Tumblr. It’s inspired by artfight, and it involves coining labels for other people- but competitive-ish!’ Coinfight is in large, text with a crescent moon with stars at the top right corner, and a star at the bottom left.

Page 7: ‘I don’t think there’s anything like finding a label that finally fits you, or hearing that something you made did that for someone else.’ Under is a figure looking at an orange flower with light lines, then forming elements of the flower into a bubble, then showing an orange rectangle to another figure, with orange tendrils reaching towards them, forming the shape of a heart. Below is the text ‘There are a lot of things like pouring out your heart- or just having fun- while making or collecting label. I coin in the same mind I sketch and color and shade.’ On each side is a pen drawing an orange figure with a red shirt, and a tablet with an orange and red flag. Under this is ‘Label coining is an artform both like and unlike any other, and I’m proud to participate in it. I hope that if you want to, you can join me. And if that’s not your thing- thanks for reading!’ There is a drawing of a figure with dark grey wings holding up two fingers. Next is a ‘<2’ heart and ‘elliot’ as a signature. In smaller text next to these is ‘Thank you to the creators whose work is featured in this zine! Credit on the next page. Remember to keep this wonderful community and artform accessible to all!’

Page 8: ‘Credit’: This section has a pride flag next to each label. ‘Aromantic-spectum, @ theflagarchive on Tumblr. Turian, @ kenochoric on Tumblr. Schooldoodlic, @ spirits-gender-coining on Tumblr. Xenoman, @ ryanyflags on Tumblr. MOGAI symbol, Pride-Flags on DeviantArt. Alterhuman, @ vaestra on Tumblr. (the flag on pg. 4 is Wildflowergender). ‘About making this zine’: ‘I really, really regret handwriting this. Drawing over Helvetica Neue for so long might change my actual handwriting, [more rough:] which looks like this! According to Artstudio Pro, I took 14 hours! I barely planned this before starting, the color wheel theme and the people doodles. /End ID]

#mogai #microlabels #mogai coining #lgbtq #lgbtqia #zine #art zine #lgbtq zine #queer zine #label coining #queer vexillology #queer #queer community #long post #described #image described #image id #not coining

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webslinger-holland · 5 months

Text

All Grown Up | Hunter from The Bad Batch

Summary: Many years after Tantiss and after having settled down in Pabu, Hunter struggles to watch his eldest to go off and join the rebellion. He returns home to the comfort of family awaiting him.

Warning: SPOILERS FROM SEASON 3 FINALE BELOW THE CUT, Omega refers to the reader as her mum (though not biological), mentions of old age, other children are briefly mentioned, slightly suggestive, and just good old fashioned tears

Pairing: Hunter x Fem!Reader

Type: Oneshot

Word Count: 1.8k

The gleam of the silvery moon pierced through the dark blue skyline. The cool summer breeze swept through the entirety of the island, caressing wooden chimes hanging outside homes. The crickets were out singing songs to each other. The warm yellow light twinkled in the homes of many who where still awake during the late hours of the night.

With one last look of the island, Omega began making her way across the sandy beaches. She listened to the sound of the waves crashing gently against the shoreline; her shoes leaving prints behind in the sand. A few light breezes swept the loose strands of hair out of her face. She made her way into the lower caves of the island.

Coming up over the rocks, Omega's gaze landed on the spot in which her ship was docked. She neared one of the many generators in the cave, kneeling down and flicking the switch on. The warm light that radiated from the generator brightened her face and signaled the other generators to illuminate the rest of the cave.

A low bark sounded near one of the other generators. She lifted her head and smiled to herself, knowing that it was Batcher calling out to her. She briefly spotted another figure looming and sitting beside the old lurca hound, causing her heart to clench slightly in her chest.

Slowly, Omega made her way over to the both of them. The gangplank of her ship opened to reveal Gonky waiting for her. She rounded the side of the rocks, coming up behind the two.

"Thought you could just sneak off?" Hunter questioned as he stared off towards the entrance of the cave. The corners of his lips tugged into a gentle smile. "Time hasn't dulled all my senses," Hunter reminded her.

She lowered herself to sit down right beside him, watching him carefully with a hint of nervousness behind her eyes. She didn't say anything at first, but she had a feeling he was about to give her one of his famous talks. Sure enough, Omega was right about that.

"Your mother would have woken up worried sick about you, wondering where you’d gone off to this time," Hunter stated. His eyes focused on his hands that where clasped together.

"This shouldn't be a surprise. I talked with mum about this a lot," Omega defended herself.

Her words pained him slightly. In the more recent years, Omega had found herself seeking the advice of her mother more often than him. It had a lot to do with her age; having questions about womanhood that her mother was more than willing to explain. If Omega had gone to Hunter, the conversation would have just turned more awkward than anything. And sometimes, she was afraid to ask him in fear that he'd shoot her down pointblank.

It wasn't a surprise because he had heard some of their conversations late at night when the others had gone to bed. He recalled one conversation that happened just last week. She'd said something along the lines of: "Mum? What were the Clone Wars like?" Her mother proceeded to tell her what it was like to be a field medic during the height of the war. That, despite all the bad things, Y/n had found her purpose in life and wanted to help the war cause by tending to soldiers on the field.

Hunter just really wished she hadn't said that because they wouldn't be here now if she had.

"The Rebellion needs pilots now more than ever," Omega told him. She always had that drive to help others; she was so much like her mother in that way. "I made my choice, Hunter. I want to do more."

"And we want to keep you safe," Hunter countered. He finally turned to look at her. The worry was so evident behind those beaming eyes.

His strong sense of overprotectiveness was starting to show. It almost reminded her of what he used to be like when she was much younger: how he never wanted her to go on missions and how he'd force her to stay behind on the ship. She appreciated his concern, but it wasn't needed now.

"You have, but I'm not a kid anymore." Omega weakly smiled at him. She placed her hand on her chest. "You don't have to worry about me."

He wasn't satisfied with this, slowly turning away once again. He lowered his gaze to stare down at the ground. She continued to watch his movements carefully, wondering what he was thinking about in that moment.

"You're our kid, Omega. You always will be," Hunter said plainly. She smiled at this.

"You’ve got your own kids to worry about now," Omega chuckled slightly. She thought about her three siblings, figuring that they'd be fast sleep in their beds right about now and dreaming about things far beyond this galaxy.

"And you all make me feel like an old man," Hunter huffed with a playful smile.

"Well, you kinda are." Omega teased him by bumping into his shoulder.

When he turned his head towards the light, Omega was able to see just how much time had changed his appearance. His beard had grown out and his hair was sprinkled with grey. She saw the crows feet that bunched around his eyes when he smiled.

He was frail too. He wasn't able to play with his kids as much since last summer when he injured his back. He just moved a little slower now and wasn't able to do any heavy work around the house. He couldn't even remember how long it had been since they settled on Pabu all those years ago.

Pabu was home. Omega had grown up here. His other kids were born on the island. His family and his life was here. He wanted nothing more than to keep it that way. But Omega was moving onto newer things.

"Hunter," Omega sighed. She scooted a little closer to him and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "You've all fought enough. This...is my fight. I'm ready."

Slowly, Omega rose to stand to her feet. He watched her move away from him with so much worry and concern in his eyes. He now realized that she wasn't his little girl anymore. She was all grown up and ready to have adventures of her own.

"Yeah. I know you are," Hunter sighed to himself. His lips curved into a soft smile. He shook his head slightly. "But I'm not."

Now, Hunter stood to his feet in a slow manner. His strength wasn't like it used to be. She didn't hesitate to step forward and embrace him in a tight hug. He wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin against her shoulder. When they pulled away, Omega placed her hands on his shoulders. She sent him a warm encouraging smile.

"Say goodbye to the others for me," Omega requested. She didn't need to give names because he knew she was talking about her brothers, her siblings, and her mother. He gave a single nod of the head before gesturing towards her ship.

"Off you go," Hunter had finally let her go.

By the time Hunter had gotten home, he was little surprised to see one of the lights on from his view on the street. He climbed the steps of the porch, opening the door as quietly as possible so he didn't wake the kids. His gaze landed on the familiar figure sitting in one of the living room chairs. He closed the door behind him.

"Hey," Hunter called out softly. He took a few strides towards her, kneeling down beside the armchair. He gently grabbed her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing the back of it. "How come you're still awake?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Y/n scolded him slightly. There was a twinge of annoyance in the tone of her voice. "I wake up to an empty bed and a daughter missing."

"Ah, yes. About that..." Hunter's voice trailed off. He quickly avoided her gaze and wondered how he was going to break the news to his wife. But his silence gave it away.

"She's gone, isn't she?" Y/n said rather sorrowfully.

He nodded silently in response. He fought against the tears that gathered in the corners of his eyes, but the light from the lamp illuminated them perfectly. She went to cup his cheek and sent him a weak smile.

"It was bound to happen some day," Y/n tried to reason with him. She shook her head at the notion. "She couldn't stay your little girl forever."

"No," Hunter agreed. "She couldn't. She's all grown up now."

Ever so slowly, Hunter rose to his feet alongside her. He took her spot in the chair before gently guiding her down to sit in his lap. He went to drape her legs over his lap and have them hang over the side of the chair. She wrapped an arm around his neck and leaned down to rest her head against his shoulder. He cradled her gently in his grasp.

The two parent's gazes fell on the wall where each of their children's height had been marked over the years to show their growth. There were countless tallies and dates, including both of his brothers' and the lurca hound's. They studied each mark as a reminder of how much each of their kids had grown over the years.

But Hunter's sights were stuck on a rather faded mark on the wall. He remembered the day like it was only yesterday. He loved seeing how excited Omega was to have her height marked on the wall; how Omega tried to stand as tall as she could while he used a pencil to mark it. Then, seeing over the years, her tallies had grown until she was basically his height.

"They're all growing up so fast," Y/n said with a hint of sadness in her voice.

"Maybe it's our sign to have another one," Hunter joked. She sent him a warning glare so he pressed a little further. "Come on. The littlest ones about five years old now. We're due for another."

"I told you I am done having babies. We've had three; that's a good number," Y/n swiftly shut down the idea of having another little one. She could think of a million reasons why that wouldn't pan out great. "We're getting too old for this. And with your bad back..."

"I know. I know. You don't have to remind me," Hunter chuckled softly, just loving how flustered she had gotten while talking about having a kid again. He pressed a gentle kiss to her check to calm her nerves.

The two of them swayed slightly in the rocking chair, basking in each other's presence. Their eyes set on the wall. The house's memories over the years came flooding back to them. The children's laughter was an ever present sound that brought the purest form of joy.

Their eldest daughter was all grown up now and out of the house. They remembered every single memory they made with her over the course of the past couple years. She had drastically changed their lives, but all for the better. And they wouldn't change a single thing.

LITERALLY AM OBSESSED WITH THAT FINAL SCENE OF OMEGA AND HUNTER. HAD TO WRITE MY OWN VERSION AND I HOPE YOU LIKE IT.

#the bad batch #star wars #the clone wars #tbb hunter #tbb hunter x reader #tbb hunter x y/n #tbb hunter x you #tbb hunter fluff #tbb hunter angst #crosshair #echo #wrecker #tech #omega #tbb hunter x fem!reader #the bad batch season 3 spoilers #the bad batch spoilers #the bad batch finale

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nvirskies · 8 months

Text

til death do us part, and then some - c. la rue

warnings: reader suicide, angst hurt/no comfort, ruegard, asshole clarisse, descriptions of blood, infidelity, broken promises, not beta read

summary: clarisse never comes back from a quest and you take matters into your own hands to reunite.

unclaimed!fem!demigod!reader x unfaithful!clarisse la rue

word count: 2.1k

taglist: @lvrue @star-girl69 @petitegavotte @b0ok-lover @azrielsdiary

PROCEED WITH CAUTION, READ AT OWN RISK

men, nsfw, non-sapphic, 16-/19+ dni

Lord Dionysus, Chiron, or whomever may be reading this:

In the event that someone has been unfortunate enough to find this note upon my death, do not fret. This has been a decision I had been mulling over for weeks, months, if not years now. I do not know when I will feel compelled to take this step further, so this has been written entirely in advance. Know that I will be content with my life in the Fields of Asphodel, or the Gardens of Elysium should Lord Hades be so generous as to grant me that privilege.

I would like to thank everyone who did their best in making Camp Half-Blood a welcoming and home space. Special thanks to the Hermes cabin, and Lord Hermes for their gracious welcoming arms and making me feel like I belonged somewhere. My belongings should be distributed amongst whomever would like to keep them, and make sure they are put to good use.

Return any and all of Clarisse’s clothing found in my chest back to the Ares cabin, and let them figure out what to do with it on their own time. Lord Ares, I give my final thanks to you for graciously allowing your daughter to have been part of my life.

To my fellow unclaimed demigods who are wondering if they should be mourning the loss of a sibling, I have no definitive answer for you beyond if you felt like you were close enough to call me a sibling, mourn me like you would a biological one. No matter if you are claimed tomorrow or never claimed at all, know you are not unworthy or inferior simply because of your divine parent’s lack of attention.

You may be half-divine, but always remember to keep that human spark within you alive. Keep your compassion, your empathy, your sense of understanding. This world is not made for us, but never give up on creating spaces that are. We live heavy lives, and respite is hard to come by.

When you bury my body, put me to rest with my javelin, suit of armor, and the fragments of Clarisse’s shattered spear. Under my tongue, please place two coins instead of one. My love is waiting for me on the banks of the River Styx with no way across, and I would like to provide her with a way across alongside me.

Underneath the last paragraph was your name, signed in neat print alongside your signature swooping cursive. The letter was found rolled neatly atop your chest of belongings, your lifeless body on the bunk bed you had claimed for yourself for the past four years of your life. Crimson blood seeped through the bed sheets and mattress, a fatal reminder for all of the fragility that even the strongest harbored.

Upon the discovery of your body, ripples of whispers swept through the campers like a stone tossed in the midst of a serene waterfront. Your skin was just barely lukewarm, the blood streaming from the thin cut horizontal across the jugular vein was beginning to brown and oxidize.

In one hand was the knife that had presumably made the cut, the blade pristine and glinting in the dim light save for the thin line of blood that ran across its edge. The other held Clarisse’s favorite shirt, all bundled up and cleaner than anyone had ever seen it before. Anyone who picked up said shirt could immediately tell that it had been doused in the cologne that she once wore on a daily basis, no doubt a purposeful move to make your last moments completely blissful in surrounding yourself with her scent.

She had been your home, after all.

Clarisse had comforted you through nightmares, the breakdowns about being unclaimed for years that happened whenever someone new was claimed and the jealousy and anger of it all.

She had reassured you that even after Silena had died that you weren’t a rebound, and that her feelings for you were genuine, and you had believed her.

You were her girl, after all. The one she let her walls down around, the one who had tried to patch together the spear her father had given her even after the Hephaestus children had given up. The one who she let braid her hair and be soft around. The one where she had promised over and over again that even in the afterlife, you would find each other in Elysium again.

Then, she had been sent out on a quest. One that she had vowed to return from, safe and sound. The rest of her group did, but her face was never again seen on the hills of Camp Half-Blood that the two of you called home.

Gone were the moments wherein she would hold you and soothe all of your worries away. Gone were the times of squealing as she picked you up from behind and spun you around to face her mid-air. Gone were all the possibilities to make the most of your limited years together, because she was dead, off in a faraway land that you couldn’t even visit to see her corpse and offer her one last smile.

That was when the thoughts began to swirl in your mind. Months went by and everything seemed to go back to normal. You had been given three weeks off training to mourn, and after those three weeks you seemingly bounced back like nothing was wrong, like you hadn’t just lost the love of your life.

The only difference was the streak of white that made itself apparent in your hair, its origins unknown, and the smile on your face that never seemed to quite reach your eyes no matter how many times you tried to convince (yourself) and the others that it was genuine.

Months passed and all fell back into its routine. Things were looking up for the camp as a whole, and Chiron had been able to take a few steps back in managing thanks to Percy Jackson’s continued efforts to have gods and goddesses interact with their children more.

But those thoughts still took root in your mind, their tendrils digging into the very essence of your psyche as every lonely moment was spent longing for her touch, for her warmth, for the security that she provided once upon a time. In your mind, there was no doubt that it was time to make good on your promise to each other.

You would meet her in the gardens of Elysium and reunite once more.

After your burial, you made your way down to the banks of the River Styx, anxiously clutching the two coins in one hand and your javelin in the other. Your eyes scanned the crowds of souls, all clamoring to Charon, pleading that he take pity on them and take them across without payment.

The wails of the damned, sobs of the innocent, and screams of the guilty all flooded your senses.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted a familiar mess of brown curls and sprinted towards them, your footsteps leaving indents on the ash-sand lining the waterline of the Styx.

She was there. Your assumptions had been correct.

As she had died out in the world and had never been given a proper burial, she had joined the crowd that lingered just at the edge of the Styx, taking every chance she had to try and get across.

But now that you were there, she didn’t have to worry about sneaking aboard Charon’s boat. You had enough payment for the both of you to make it across safely, and finally live out the rest of your afterlives like you had promised each other.

It wasn’t until you were naught but a couple dozen feet away that you noticed she was rather busy with something. Or rather, someone. And she was looking at that person like they were the only one in the world right now. Your gut twisted, knowing that was the look that she had given you.

But it wasn’t you she was looking at. It was Silena Beauregard, the daughter of Aphrodite, that Clarisse had spent countless hours reassuring you that she wasn’t just using you as a rebound to get over her death.

She had lied right through her teeth, all with the kindest smile on her face that you could imagine. It was becoming apparent that you were a fool, strung along for the sole purpose of keeping Clarisse’s arms full and warm while she thought of the Beauregard girl.

Every kiss, every moment, every word shared between you two seemed hollow now. They had lost all meaning, all of the sentiment that once made your stomach fill with butterflies.

You skidded to a stop just behind the pair, watching with a heavy heart and tightening in your chest as their lips collided over and over again in a series of passionate kisses, their hands roaming each others’ bodies. Just like she had done with you, countless times prior. They were too wrapped up in each other to notice your presence.

You had always been hers, but she had never been yours.

There wasn’t much emotion left in you besides melancholic resignation, and your gut twisted every time you gripped the two coins in your hand, a reminder that they would never be used for their intended purpose.

You waited there for a moment before tapping on Clarisse’s shoulder, causing her to break away from the kiss and turn to look at you. Surprise filled her features, then guilt. Overwhelming guilt as she realized the situation you had caught her in. Her lips were interlocked with another girl’s just a moment ago, the very same girl that she had reassured was not a problem or factor in your relationship.

Silena stood behind her, her eyes scrutinizing your appearance, taking note of the way you clutched two coins instead of the customary one.

“Love-? What are you doing here?” Clarisse asked, the term of endearment slipping naturally off her tongue as it had countless times in the past. But it no longer held any meaning to you, not when you had just witnessed everything before your very own eyes. You didn’t respond beyond throwing the two coins down at her feet with a knowing look, a silent callback to the promise that the two of you had made. The coins clinked softly as they fell onto the fine ash that lines the shores of the River Styx, falling on top of each other.

Horror filled her features as she realized just exactly what you were doing down in the Underworld, and her eyes fell upon the thin scar that ran just along the jugular vein on your neck.

The one spot she had taught you to go for on an opponent if anything ever threatened your life, and you had used it on yourself to have a chance at forever with her. A chance that had been wasted.

“You- you didn’t-” she began, choking on her own words as tears filled her eyes at the thought of it, and the sight of you, now in front of her, very obviously dead.

“It was for you, ‘Risse, but it seems I really was just a rebound after all.” You spat out, a dangerously bitter edge to your voice as you looked her up and down.

“These,” you gestured to the coins on the ground, “were supposed to be for us, for the promise you made. But I guess I was the one foolish enough to listen to you, to fall for you in the first place.”

“Enjoy your time in Elysium, La Rue, and know that you were the cause of my death. Don’t forget. On the River Styx.”

That last statement was the final nail in her metaphorical coffin. No one made a promise on the infamous river and broke it, not without terrible consequences. Any and all chances of her getting into the paradisal side of the Underworld were dashed in mere moments as the realization dawned on her about the gravity of her mistake.

You bent down and picked up one of the coins on the ground and left without a word, turning on your heel and disappearing back into the crowd of souls before Clarisse could utter another word.

You had left her with two choices by giving her that one coin: to take the coin for herself and cross with Charon with hopes of trying to win you back and leaving the Aphrodite girl in the dust, or giving it to Silena and letting her go because she was clearly the girl the daughter of Ares loved most. Either way, she lost something.

Her last name was right. You rued the day you ever met Clarisse.

#🖋️ nvir writes #clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue x fem reader #clarisse la rue x you #clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse la rue x fem!reader #clarisse la rue pjo #ruegard #silena beauregard #angst #hurt/no comfort #wlw #sapphic #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson and the olympians

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hidden-poet · 6 days

Text

Animal

Synopsis: After visiting a bathhouse Logan meets you, and the animal within him starts clawing out.

Warnings: not canon, dark!, non-con, a little bit of romantisation of things that should not be romanticized, kidnapping, Dark!logan(jimmy? james?), dom/sub vibes, spanking, female reader who is described quite a bit, rough sex, graphic sex, basically born with little plot, unedited and written in a couple of hours, dead dove to not eat.

AN: Something awoken within me. I never really cared for Wolverine, but suddenly I am binging all the movies. I don't really understand them so this will definitely not make sense to those who follow the fandom.

Word count: 12, 418

Logan walks through the city. People part as he storms through the path. Hearing the sound of his heavy boots as they thud against the concrete.

If his large frame wasn’t enough to warn off people, his scowl was. He didn’t even know what city he was in. Xavier sends him off to eliminate out of control mutants. Given the urgency, he is often sent without a goodbye, let alone a debrief.

He knew he was somewhere foreign. All the signs were in a different language with the english translation printed small underneath.

One of them read ‘bathhouse’ in bright red neon sign. He looks at the dirt caked under his nails. The final battle with the latest mutant took place in the forest.

He could feel small leaves in his hair, and dried mud clinging to his body.

A nice, hot, relaxing bath may elevate some of the tension he always carried with him, so he walks up the steps into the large stone building.

A lady in a robe greets him. The place is dark, only lit by a few strategically placed lamps. The front counter is placed in the entryway to the baths, and is sectioned by a large maroon colored wall that offers the men bathing privacy.

“How can I help you?” the woman asks.

“I’d like a bath”, he responds. His eyes go to view the bath that beckons him.

“Communal or private?”.

Logan looks around at the men in towels, lounging by the large pool. An elderly man takes off his towel to reveal nothing underneath, and steps into the steaming water.

“Private”, Logan answers, “please”.

She gives him a sly smile, asking him to follow her.

He is brought along the pool where men swam nude, and women who wore thick robes served them drinks, and cigars.

At the back of the communal bathing area there was a long stretch of red doors that were numbered in large golden letters. He follows her to door seven

The woman knocks on the door once before turning back to logan.

“Just through this door when you are ready”. With a sly smile she looks him up and down before returning to her hosting station.

“Ah-yeah, thanks”, he comments.

Muttering under his breath, he twists the door knob and takes a step inside, wanting nothing more than to wash away his adventure.

His hand clinches the door knob, his claws begging to come out upon hearing someone on the other side.

Had someone been following him? Another mutant, buddies with the one he had killed?

He lunges through the door, ready to face anyone willing. It startles him when he sees a young girl.

Your hair was blown out to give it volume, and styled in an effortlessly curled way. Your dress was short and black. The halter neck tied together behind your long neck, and was cut down to the middle of your chest. The thin material only reached your upper thigh. Your lipstick was a dark red, matching your pointed shoes. You looked ready for a club, not a bath.

You push yourself back into a chest of draws, surprised at his entrance.

“shit”, Logan turns from you, training his eyes to the ground. It felt wrong to look at you. “Sorry, i was told to come in here”.

“You were told correctly”, you state, “I am ready for you”.

Your voice was low and seductive, making Logan hard under his jeans.

“Ready for me?” Logan questions. He feels his brows furrow, the sweat that he had accumulated started to run down his forehead.

“This is a bathhouse”,you state, “You got a private room. You get bathed in private rooms”.

You seemed as confused as he was.

He looks at you stunned. His cock ached in his jeans to think of you bathing him. But you were young. Young, pretty, and naive. What were you doing here, giving baths to dirty old men like him. He couldn’t have it. Couldn’t be a part of it.

His other side begged him to have a bath, and enjoy your touch, but he didn’t want to do anything that he would regret. The animal side of him was hard to contain. He was sure you would pull the wrong string, and the restraint he had built would come undone.

He couldn’t even bring himself to bid you goodbye. All his will power went to turning back to the door.

“Wait” you call out. He freezes immediately, and looks over his shoulder at you.

“Is there something wrong with me?” you ask. His heart sunk at your question. He didn’t mean to offend you.

“Am I not desirable enough for you?”, you continue.

“God, no” he states, shutting the door firmly behind him as he turns. He didn’t want anyone passing to see you through the door. “No, you’re anything but undesirable”.

You blush but remain in your seductive composure. Your hand waves him forward, and his feet shuffle to your command.

“Well then stay. If they see you walk out, i’ll get in trouble. Men start walking out of my bathhouse, and they might turf me”, you state.

“Look, baby, I am just looking for a bath,” you eye the water so he continues to explain, “a bath alone. Without the help of a young woman, no matter how they look”.

“You don’t seem the nervous kind”, you provoke.

“I ain’t” he defends.

“How about this, I won’t look”. You spin around and face the wall, covering your eyes with your hand. “You can take a bath without my help, and I won’t get fired. Win, win”.

He thinks about it. With you facing away, and not touching him, what harm could be done? He would be doing you a favor.

“You sure you can restrain yourself?” he flirts.

Your giggle echoes off the wall to his ear.

“I am sure”.

Logan strips, leaving his clothes on the tiled floor, and entering the marble tub centered in the room. The water is steaming, and works to unknot his mussels.

He moans as he sinks into the water.

“Feel good?”, you ask.

His cock twitches at your words. He struggles to keep his voice even as he answers.

“Yeah”.

“I am y/n”, you comment, bringing your hand down to face the red wall.

“Is that your real name?”, he asks. He shouldn’t care what your real name was, but he did.

“Yeah”, you respond. He listens for your heart beat as you answer. It never falters so it was the truth, or a lie that had become the truth. Either way it was good enough for him.

“Logan”, he gives.

“In town for business or pleasure, Logan?”, you ask.

Your butt was three inches from the bottom of your dress. It curved around the material. Logan wanted to jump up from the water, and bite into it.

“Business” he answered absentmindedly. He forces himself to look away and up to the ceiling.

Your heartbeat was even. You weren’t scared of him. It comforted him to know.

“What do you do?”. The question irked him.

“Nothing good”, he spat.

You let out a breathy laugh as if he had told a bad joke.

“Men who do ‘nothing good’ aren’t afraid of young women in bathhouses”, you jest.

“Well I suppose I do bad things for a good cause”, he admits.

Although it never felt like a good cause. Only some of the mutants he killed deserved it. Most of them were only confused and scared. They were too dangerous to be allowed a second chance at reasoning. Like a wild dog, they had to be put down.

It would have made Logan feel better if he didn’t enjoy the fight.

“What bad things for a good cause?”.

Logan slides further into the water, trying to shield himself from your questioning.

‘Is this a bathhouse or a police station?” he bit. His voice was hard, and carried a commanding tone that made your heart skip.

He wanted to apologize, but you beat him to it.

“I am sorry. I am not used to talking to the clients. I overstepped”, you confess.

“Have you worked here long?”.

He wanted to turn the attention back on you, but he chose the wrong path. The last thing he wanted to hear was you admitting to washing men.

The image of you bathing other old men angered him. His claws dug through the bones in his hand, itching to come to the surface.

“A year”. It seemed like you were content in your workplace, but Logan fights to keep his claws under his skin. He splashed his hands under the water, worried that you would turn and see him in his mutated state.

You shuffle slightly, angling yourself so you were always turned to him. You move off the wall, back over to the door. Logan watches you, his body shifting to hide himself if you decide to look. His member was hard under the clear water. He didn’t want you to think he was some sort of pervert.

“Hey”, he calls, watching you move to pick up his clothes. Your hand shielded your eyes to him in the tub, “What are you doing?”.

You separate his room key, wallet from his jean pocket and place them next to his shoes before picking up his clothes, and turning your back once more. Moving to the far wall where a washer and dryer were stored under a sink.

“It’s part of the service. I wash your clothes for you”, you state.

“Just leave them” he commands, “they are fine”.

You ignore him, throwing the clothes in the machine, and starting the cycle.

“You’re paying for it”.

You crouch in your high heels as you dispense the detergent into the washing machine on the floor before rising back up, but you don’t turn. Talking to him through the shared space rather than at him.

“Do you mind if I sit at the vanity?”, you ask him.

“No. Sit where you are comfortable”.

Your eyes train at the walls of the room as you slide along to the vanity set in the corner. You stop just before you get to the mirror, and kick off your heels so you could drag the seat with your foot over to you. You sat facing the wall like a child on time-out.

He notices without your shoes, you were quite small. A small, pretty thing in a house of old men who wouldn’t need to be twice your size to overpower you. It didn’t sit right with logan.

“So, how did you end up here?” he asks.

“What this, a bath house or a police station”, you joke.

He stifles a laugh. He didn’t mind a bit of cheek.

“Fair enough’’, he relents, “Just tell me if any of these old guys ever caused you any trouble?”.

Just as he claws retreat, they shoot back again. If your answer was yes, he was going to find out who, and where after his bath.

But you shake your head no.

“We have a button that calls for help. As soon as I get a bad feeling I press the button and they are thrown out”.

You were intuitive like him. He wondered if it was a survival technique you were forced to pick up. He wanted to know why, but knew it was none of his business.

Instead, he picks up a cloth and runs the cooling water over his skin. He was right, mud stuck to his chest hairs, along with dried blood.

“You, uh, press that button a lot?” he pries.

“Enough times to know when I should”. Your voice had lost its seductive tone as it hardened.

“Maybe you should quit. Do something else”, he suggests.

He would love for you to do something else. Something outside of harm's way. You were a grown woman who could decide what she wanted. He had no right to tell you what to do, but he wanted you to listen to him.

“Only one of us hates their job”.

“You like this?”, his voice came out too angry. Your heart skipped another beat as he raised his voice at you.

“You like touching dirty old men? Help them get off?”, he bites his tongue to the point of blood to stop himself talking to you this way.

“No one gets off. I bathe them and send them on their way. Most of them are just lonely”.

“Lonely”, Logan scoffs, pushing the water away from him. But you were right. Logan was lonely. A dirty, old, lonely man wanting to taste your young flesh.

How many other dirty, old, lonely men wanted to do the same? How many times would you be able to get to the button to press for help before it was too late?

He wanted to protect you. To have his place in protecting you. Something about you drew him in. The animal called for him to throw you over his shoulder, and take you from his place in all his stark naked glory. But you were no one to him. He had only met you by mistake five minutes ago.

Your heart rate was too fast. He had succeeded in scaring you. If his clothes weren’t washing, he was sure you would have kicked him out.

He sighs, bringing his hands to the side of the tub.

“Darl, I am sorry. I just hate to think of a pretty young thing like you here without anyone looking out for you”.

“I look out for me, Logan”, you declare.

He nods his head, almost in disbelief. He rests the back of his head against the hard marble, causing the water to swish as he moves.

“There’s shampoo on the caddy. You should wash your hair. I noticed that some of it was stuck together”, you comment.

He was thrown across the forest floor just last night. He must have taken a harder hit than he realized.

“I can do it if you want?”, you offer.

“No. No. You stay right there” he demands. His hands itched to pull you in the bathtub with him. He wanted you to stay as far away as possible.

As he squirts the small bottle of shampoo into his hands, the washing machine rings out a tune to signal it was done.

“I’ll throw your clothes in the dryer” you declare.

He watches as you move again over to the machine, and kneel to transfer the clothes into the dryer.

Your bare feet make a nice sound against the tiles. Logan notices that your little toes were painted a dark red, and your fingers were perfectly shaped and painted the same color.

He supposed a woman of your profession, maintenance was important. He pretended for a second that wasn’t the case. That instead, you were his little woman.

He had come home after a long day of lumberjacking like he used to do, and you were fussing over him. The thought remained only for a second before he shook it off.

Everyone he loved died. A little thing like you didn’t stand a chance in his life.

“I hope you like the scent of vanilla”, you remark.

He grunts in response, dipping under the water to wash the shampoo out of his hair. It felt lighter as a rose from the water. It was due for a good wash.

He begins with a conditioner while he watches you lean against the counter of the sink instead of returning to your seat. His fingers dug into his scalp, pushing the liquid into his hair.

“Do you have a girlfriend? Is that why you don’t want me to look?”, you ask.

“No girlfriend. No wife. No dog”, he washes the soap from his hands, “I honestly didn’t know what I was signing up for”.

“Are you glad you signed up for it?”, your seductive tone returned from its disappearance.

“The view has been nice”, he returns.

“If you like my back, you should my front”.

His hands curled into fists. If anything had been in his hands, it would have been snapped in two.

“If i see your front, you might not see the light of day again”.

His eyes shut in rhythm with your heart skipping.

“Fuck. no. I didn’t mean” he began to justify but had nowhere to go. He had meant what he said, the way he said it.

“All this talk of protection from dirty, old men. Did you mean you?”.

Your voice didn’t sound scared, but your heart beat faster than it had all night.

Logan rises from the tub with conditioner still weighing down his hair.

“Look, how long until my clothes are ready?”.

“Ten minutes”, you answer.

He couldn’t wait ten minutes. He had to leave now.

“Just give them to me”, he demands.

“There's still ten minutes”, you complain.

“Give them to me, now!” his voice rose at you once more.

You jump as he yelled at you, quickly moving to pull the wet clothes from the machine and throw them backwards towards him.

They don’t go far enough from you and Logan is forced to get too close for his liking to dress himself.

He pulls his wet shirt on himself, the long sleeves stick to his skin as he yanks it on.

“Keep facing forward. Don’t turn around”, he orders.

“But” you begin. He can see you slow movement to turn around so he gently shoves you in the right direction.

“Listen to me. Face the wall”. His voice was angry again, commanding you to stay still.

The jeans didn’t want to go on wet. With his harsh, and quick movements it felt like he was in a fight. He does eventually get them on, only bothering to do up his button and not his zip.

He doesn’t bother putting on his socks. Keeping them in his hand while he picks up his wallet, shoes, and keys from the floor.

The jiggling of the keys gives way to his plan of escape.

“You still have fifteen minutes”, you state not moving from your position on the wall.

He wondered why you cared that he was leaving early. Did you not want him to get away from you? Or where you wondered about his reaction if he found out he was cut short?

“It doesn’t matter”, he barks as he makes a quick bee line to the door.

He pauses once he reaches it. The water pools at his feet as he turns to look at you once more.

“I am sorry” he comments.

He races back down towards the door he came in through. Everybody stares at his dripping state. Some men laugh quietly among themselves. He could still hear your elevated heart beat in room seven.

“Hey! Hey!” a voice calls behind him.

In his agitated state he was ready to rip their head off. He turns to do it to see the lady who greeted him.

“You still pay full price”, she demands.

“Huh? Yeah”. He steamrolled over her to the counter, pulling out his wallet.

His focus turns to the hallway expecting you to appear, but from what he could see your door never opened.

He taps his bank card without looking at the price. Xavier kept him comfortable for his work.

He leaves without approval, bumping back into the crowd of people as he makes his way back on the path.

Soaking wet, and barefoot, he makes his way back to his small apartment.

His claws dig underneath his skin, wanting to come out despite there being no threat. He fails to make it to the bed, laying on the carpet floor instead.

Your name repeats in his mind.

—---------------------------

He tries to forget you for the next three days. He was supposed to be back by now, but he couldn't bring himself to leave.

Xavier called him every hour to be sent straight to voicemail.

Logan walked the city, often finding himself walking along the front of the bathhouse. He never goes in, but listens for your voice, and breathes deep to smell your faint scent.

You didn’t talk much to your clients. A few flirty comments when they first arrived, but then silence as you completed your work.

You didn’t talk to them like you talked to him, and that had to mean something.

The worst part was not knowing exactly what you were doing. He loved to hear the beeping of the machine as you pressed the buttons, because at least that meant you weren’t touching them.

Even in his best efforts he couldn’t manage to walk away. He knows he should. There were plenty of other mutants that needed to be put down.

He should continue with his life, and you yours.

He couldn’t keep you. He could barely keep the kids at the mansion alive, and they all had powers to protect themselves.

He would be throwing you in the line of fire. A fire that he might not be able to protect you from.

You would grow old too. Unless he could figure out a way to keep you young. Could Xavier know of a way? He was sure that he could protect you from everything but time. He would need some help. A connection to someone who could slow down time in adjacent to him.

He grunts as he drives his claw into his right thigh. He lets out a painful laugh as he pounds his fist into the brink building he was hiding behind.

The brick crumbled under his fist. A reminder of what he could do to you without even intending it. He would only need to make a mistake once.

He was worried about protecting you from others, when he should have been worried about protecting you from him.

He was no good for you, even if you would be very good for him. He was destined to live out his life alone. A punishment for his ability.

Maybe a goodbye would help him. If he could leave you with a nice impression instead of an old, dirty man, maybe he could leave.

He crosses the sea of people to the steps of the building. He could hear you as you said goodbye to your client, and drained the water from the tub.

He waits by the bottom of the step until the man came down and passed him before entering.

Was this a place where you made appointments? How long would he have to wait to see you again? He wondered.

It was a different lady at the counter which alleviated some of Logan's anxiety.

She greets him in the same manner as the other lady.

“I was after a private bath with y/n. Would she be available?”.

The woman looks at her computer before smiling up at him.

“You’re in luck. She just finished up. Follow me”.

Logan wished he dressed nicer. Put on some cologne, brushed his hair.

Your scent became stronger the closer he got, it seemed to ease his nerves.

The women knocks three times on the door, and Logan's hand goes to reach for the knob prematurely.

“Just a second”, you call out.

“She won’t be long”, the woman addresses Logan, who drops his hand away.

With a nod and a smile the woman returns to her desk, and Logan waits by the door for you. He ran over what he was going to say, but when you swung the door open he had forgotten his opening line.

“I never expected to see you again” you state.

“Me either”, he responds.

To his surprise you step back from the door to allow him in. He quickly takes the invite, shutting the door behind him.

You were dressed in another black dress. This one had thick straps and an appropriate neckline but an open back that scooped down as far as possible.

“I wanted to apologize”, he expresses.

You tested the running water with your hand as you listened to him.

“You are far from my worst customer”, you revel.

You don’t look at him as you add bubbles to the bath.

“Still, what I said” Logan pauses under your stare before continuing, “What i did was uncalled for”.

You smile a pretty smile at him almost as if you were laughing at him.

“Well, you’re forgiven. Now did you want me to face the wall again?”, you ask.

Logan twists on his spot. “I ain’t looking for a bath. Just to apologize”.

“Have one” you insist.

You walk over to him, taking his belt into your hands. He catches your wrist to stop you from taking it off.

“You got me in trouble last time”, you tell him, “You’re not supposed to walk out scared and wet. If you walk out now in less than a minute they’ll wonder what I did”.

“Well I owe you two apologies”, he states.

“If you're looking to apologize, get in the tub”.

He feels you pull out of his hold, and he lets you make distance so you could spin around.

His self-restraint wasn’t that strong so he rids himself of his clothes and hides under the bubbles in the tub.

Hearing the water splash, you turn to him.

With the weight of his adamantium bones the water rises to the top and you quickly go to turn off the tap.

You kick off your shoes, leaving them at the faucet and walk back up to the top of the tub.

“I can’t see anything”, you console as you kneel down beside him.

He reaches his hand out to take your chin between his thumb and forefinger.

“You’re a world of hurt for me, bub”.

“Your world only lasts fifty minutes”, you tease.

You move out of his touch to go behind him. Your small fingers squeeze his big shoulders. He relaxes under your touch as you work your way along his shoulders to his neck and back.

“Feels good, bub” he praises.

“Feels good?” you repeat.

Your hands trail down his chest, reaching for the top of the water. His hands catch yours before they could immerse under.

“Don’t” he warns.

“Okay. I am sorry” you apologize, tugging your hands free and back up to his neck, “I’ll stay above water”.

He found it hard to relax again. He felt vulnerable, naked under your touch. It would be better if you too were naked. It would make it less embarrassing when you realized he was hard under the water.

“I’ll put your clothes in the wash” you say.

He reaches out behind him for you to stop you moving away.

“No. Keep going”, he protests.

You don’t go to move again. Your fingers continue to massage him until he relaxes once more.

Only then do you stop to reach for the shampoo bottle in front of him. You squirt it into your hands, and then massage it into his head.

He falls back against the tub, loving the feeling of your hands twisting in his hair.

You do it for longer than necessary seeing that he liked it.

Your fingers roll in a circle on the side of his head, causing him to groan at the feeling.

His claws push up, moving the bones of his hands. It was painful every time but Logan had gotten used to the feeling. He flexes his fingers in an attempt to dissuade them from coming through.

You must have noticed the grimace on his face as he forces the metal back into his hand because you stop massaging and reach for the cup to rinse his hair.

You’re careful not to get it into his eyes, smoothing back the hair as the water and soap runs off. He could see why men pay for this.

He takes your hand not holding the cup and forces it against his cheek as he lays back. With his eyes closed he breathes softly against your skin.

“Are you okay?” you ask him.

“I am worried I’ll never be okay again”, he admits.

“You’re tough. I can see it” you flip your hand so your palm is pressed against his cheek, “You’ll be okay”.

You drop the cup next to him, and reach for the conditioner. He is grateful that you allow him to rest against your hand as you massage it into his head.

You try your best to get his whole head but his position made it difficult.

"You know you don’t have a scar over you”, you mention.

“Soft living’”, he jokes, although it was only funny to him.

As you leave the conditioner to soak, you pick up a clean rag and begin to scrub his skin.

Disappointment fills him when he feels you trying to release your hand from under him. He could have kept it stuck there but chooses to raise his head.

You lift up his arm and scrub under his armpit, and along his side. Carefully not to scrub any skin under the water.

You move onto the next and he laughs at you.

“The full treatment here”.

You smile back as you continue to work.

“$300 should get you the full treatment”, you utter.

“$300? Christ, that’s a year's worth of cigars”, he remarks.

“You smoke?” you ask him. He feels your hands push him forward so he leans for you to wash his back.

“Like a chimney” he honestly admits, “You get $300 an hour?”.

You were done with his back so he leans against the tub again.

“No” you state as you reach for the cup that had sunken under the water. You stop yourself before your hand goes under. “Would you mind passing me the cup?”.

“Oh yeah”, he remarks, reaching down into the water and bringing up your cup.

You take it from him and begin to rinse his hair.

“No, I make $150 an hour. The house makes half”.

“Still pretty good. Maybe I am in the wrong line of business”, Logan quips playfully.

“Maybe you are” you jest back, “You never did tell me what you did”.

“I told you. Bad things”, he pulls up out of your hold. He didn’t want to tell you what he did. What he was.

“Are you always this tense?” you ask him.

“Yes” was the short, curt reply.

With a final squeeze of your fingers against his neck, you move down to the bottom of the bath. Slowly you reach for his soapy feet that were propped up against the end of the tub. When he doesn’t object, you take it as permission and begin to massage his feet.

His head makes a heavy thud as it falls back into the marble. It had been a long time since he had ever felt this good.

When he hears you begin to speak, he lifts his head back up to have eye contact with you.

“What made you come back?”, you question.

He feels you apply more pressure to his foot as you ask. Something about the question made you nervous.

“You”, he answers honestly, “i didn’t want you to think I was a prick”.

Your lips curve into a smile at him, and Logan feels his heart twist.

“I didn’t think you were a prick”, you say.

“You’d be the first”, he huffs.

Relief floods him. He wanted to ask if you thought he was a dirty, old man but he wasn’t sure he wanted the answer.

No more conversation interrupts the peace. Logan allows himself to relax into the water while you dig your fingers into his flesh. He lets out soft groans to let you know that he appreciated what you were doing.

All too soon, your strong fingers stop pushing into the soft flesh of his foot. His head shoots back up automatically out of his relaxed composure.

His wet hair sticks to his forehead, and the steam from the bath had begun to sweat his skin. He looked like a wild animal, while you looked put together as always.

With your make-up perfectly placed and not a hair out of place. He would love to see you disheveled. A whining mess underneath him as he teased another orgasim from you. But tonight would be the last night he would ever see you.

You would go on, find a nice man to marry and have children to. Die of old age when your time comes.

Logan would go his separate way. Keep living well past what he desired. With no purpose, and dying friends.

You rise from your knees, and he watches you as you retrieve a towel from a warming rack and bring it back over.

With your body half turned to him, you hold out his towel.

“Get out and I’ll dry your hair”, you offer.

He takes the towel, and you walk over to your vanity as he rises from the water and wraps the towel around his waist.

He follows you, taking a seat when you tell him to.

You look at him in the mirror as you plug your hairdryer in. Once you began to maneuver the device around his head, your eyes followed but his remained staring at you in the mirror.

Sitting directly in front of you, he could see the actual size difference. You were half of him if that.

You said you looked out for you, but how would that be possible? You weren’t anything special. Were you a mutant too? Or just a naive little girl who had never faced any real danger.

Maybe it would be best if he were to take you. Danger lurks everywhere. He could take you home. Make sure nothing bad ever happened to you.

The bones in his knuckles separated and the metal began to break skin but as the sound of the hairdryer cut, his claws retracted back in.

He couldn’t take you. He was old enough to be your great grandfather. What had happened to him that he was thinking these thoughts? Has loneliness finally caught up with him after a century of being alive?

Your fingers snake up through his hair again, itching his scalp and the thoughts of taking you returned.

“There, all dry” you state.

The sound of a timer goes off, startling Logan who was expecting something wrong from the sudden noise.

“That’s our five minute warning” you tell him.

The forty-five minutes went too quickly. He would never see you again, or at least he had promised himself he would never see you again.

You gather his clothes for him and throw them over a blind.

“You can get dressed behind that”.

He nods his head. Moving quickly to cover himself again.

These thoughts were relentless telling him not to go. She couldn’t stop you from staying, no one could. His conscience told him. But he needed to leave your presence before he did something he couldn’t just apologize for.

Maybe some distance would help. He had been away from home too long. He just needed to return home and live comfortably for a while. Focus on the kids at school.

He makes sure his jeans were properly done up, and that his shirt and jacket were the right way before returning from behind the blind.

You were by the vanity chair, back on your knees with his shoes next to you.

You smile at him and pat the chair. Telling him without words to come to you.

He follows your request sitting down in front of you. You came up to his thigh in height.

“I can do it” he states.

“Full service” you reply.

He feels the wood of the chair cracking under his hands so he moves it to the top of his thigh in a tight ball.

You’re gentle as you place the socks on his feet, followed by his shoes. You even do up the laces for him despite the end timer going off two minutes prior.

You rise from the floor, taking his hand to lead him to the door.

“Will I see you again?” you ask him.

“No” he promises but taking another look at you, he wonders if he can follow through.

“Well, goodbye then, Logan”, you gently say.

“Goodbye, y/n” he returns.

He tears himself away from your door, walking the same quick pace back to the front counter where he throws his card on the desk and pushes his way back into the busy street.

His instinct told him to go back, he had to fight against it the whole way home.

—--------------------

He thought distance was the answer, but his heart ached to go get you. No amount of alcohol or pills satisfied it.

Everyone knew something was wrong. He got sick of everyone asking him what happened on his trip. If he was okay. If he wanted to talk.

He had gotten more aggressive than usual. Things that he could normally brush off, now end with someone pinned against the wall by their throat.

Xavier tried his best to get into Logan's head but his resolve would not soften. No one would understand how he felt. No one would justify the measures he was willing to go.

He booked a flight only a month later. Every day was spent thinking of you until he broke. He was a hero. Saved people daily. What was one life if it meant he was able to save countless others.

He books a room, the closest and cheapest to the bathhouse. He could smell you from here now that he had locked onto your scent.

The old bed creaked under his weight as he struggled with himself. With his head in his hands, he grumbled to himself.

He shouldn’t be here. Shouldn’t be thinking these things to himself. It wasn’t too late to turn around. Nothing had been done that couldn’t be undone.

But then he heard it. Your sweet voice welcoming a man into your door. His feet took off before he could stop them. It was only a short distance of a block to the bathhouse.

The street was busy no matter the time of day, but much like when he first walked down it people parted to let him through.

When he grips the door knob it shatters underneath his hand. So he is more gentle when he pushes the door open.

A new woman greets him cautiously but he ignores her going straight to your room. The woman yells at him as he walks. One brave man tried to stop him and ended up thrown half a meter into the pool.

No one bothers him after that. He could hear the water move as you washed the man.

Knowing he will break the door knob, he instead pushes the door open, snapping the lock.

You gasp hearing the impact, and look at him startled. The position was compromising. You were sitting back on your heels scrubbing the man's back wearing the same halter neck slut dress that you wore when he first met you.

“Logan?” you question, “What are you doing?”.

The man rises from the tub, unashamed by his naked state.

“Get out”, Logan growls.

“Listen buddy, I paid the full-” the man stops his sentence when the claws emerge from logans hands.

You shrink back to the floor, using your hand to keep you upright.

“Get out”, he repeats.

This time the man scrambles to the door, running past Logan without his clothes.

You try to follow suit but Logan's long claws block you from your exit.

You stare at the shiny metal, your face reflecting back at you.

“You’re coming with me”, Logan states, putting away his claws so he could take you by the arm.

“Let go of me” you beg, trying to pull your arm from his grip.

He leads you to the chaos of the bathhouse. Word had spread that a mutant had entered the building and now people ran for cover.

“Let go. No!”, you scream.

You pull your arm too harshly in his hold, he could hear the muscles in your arm straining under the pressure. He loosens his grip so not to hurt you, but brings you closer to his chest.

“Stop it, kid” he demands, “You’re going to hurt yourself”.

“Stop, logan. Please, just let me go”. Your heart was fast, and your eyes dripped with tears.

He reaches up to touch your face but a gunshot pierces his body before it lands. An annoyed groan rubbles from his throat, and he pushes you away from the line of fire.

Another bullet lands in his chest when he turns to see a man in a robe holding a shaking gun.

He dodges the next shot, stalking forward to the frozen man, he grabs the gun out of his weak hold and sends him to the floor with a headbutt.

Tossing the gun aside, he turns to see you no longer in your spot. You couldn’t have made it to the door in that short of time, and your scent was still strong in the room.

He follows it behind the bar to where he saw you squeezed into a tight corner.

“Hey, bub” he tries his best to use a soft voice, “we gotta go. Come on”.

He reaches for you, but you push his hands away.

“Come on” he says more forcefully. He reaches for your waist and not your arm to avoid hurting you.

You thrash against him, begging him to let you go.

He allows it until you reach the front door then he extracts a single claw from his hand that crossed your stomach.

“Walk” he demands.

He manoovers himself so he was behind you with a hand on your stomach and his claw pressed into your side.

You allow him to walk you down the steps and through the crowd, back to his apartment. You were too scared to say anything. Some people gave you a strange look as you passed them crying but no one stopped to help.

“You’re alright. I ain't going to hurt you”, he promises.

He would never hurt you. As soon as you had managed to make your way through the crowd, Logan retracts his claw completely, instead placing both his strong hands on your hips to keep you moving forward.

“Almost there. Atta girl, just keep moving”. He encourages.

The dim lights of his hotel came into view. The vacancy sign buzzed allowing small flashes of light in an otherwise dark street.

He could see fine given his heightened ability, but knew that your lack of senses must be adding to your anxiety.

“Alright, this way”, he takes your wrist into his hand, trusting that you would follow him up the metal stairs.

Your heel snagged on the step. Without Logan's hold you would have been sent flying forward.

“Sorry” you gasp, trying to let him know that it was an honest stumble and not a deliberate act on your part.

“Are you hurt?”, he steps down to your level, throwing your arm over his shoulder while he bends down to take off your shoes, “Let's take these off”.

He holds them in his hand, and your waist in the other and continues to lead you up.

“Come on, we are almost there. Just down the end”.

You reach the top of the stairs and he leads you to the end of the corridor. Stopping at the door that peeled with paint while he digs in his pockets for his key.

He opens the door, quickly pushing you inside and shutting it again.

“Here sit” he suggests.

With his hands off you, he turns on the bedside lamp so you could see.

You do take a seat on the bed, and Logan stands in front of you.

“You’re a mutant?” you finally say.

“Yeah” he admits with a hard tone.

“Are you going to kill me?”, you whisper.

“Christ, no”, he kneels down in front of you so he could be in your eyesight, his hands caged around your legs on the mattress.

“Y/n, I am one of the good guys”, his own words froze him. His eyes cast down to where your dress has risen dangerously high up your thigh. His finger traces up from your knee to your dress hemline.

“Not that you are going to believe that after I am done with you” he says more to himself than you.

“What are you going to do?”, you quake.

He rises himself enough to place a gentle kiss on your lips.

“Whatever I want”, he whispers against your lips.

He pushes you as gently as he can into the mattress. Using his body weight to cement your place under him.

“Get off”, you complain the second his lips are off you.

“I can’t” Logan protests. His lips go to your neck, biting down harshly. He intended to leave a mark. A claim of sorts for the world to see.

He may have bitten down too harshly, as you push against his face with your hands.

He can hear your heartbeat as it thumps in your chest. It stills him in the crook of your neck.

He didn’t want to scare you.

“I am sorry”, he admits softly into your skin.

He places a soft kiss on the sore he had just created, and reaches to untie the knot of fabric around your neck.

Your hand reaches up to catch the fabric as it falls, holding it over your breasts.

He moves on, hooking his fingers around the elastic of your underwear, and pulling them off onto the floor.

“It’s alright, just breathe”, he concludes.

You keep your eyes shut, and your breaths manic.

In an effort to make you more comfortable, he lifts you up by your armpits and places you in the center of the bed. He changes positions to match yours, straddling you on the bed while he moves the pillows under your head, and by your sides.

You lay there frozen with your eyes squeezed shut, while he removes his clothes on top of you.

You feel his attention return when his lips press down on yours, his hand gently on the side of your face.

“Open your eyes, and look at me”, he commands in a low whisper.

You are met with his face, and bare shoulders peering over you.

“There she is”, he grins a beautiful smile as he brushes his thumb along your cheek.

His lips go to yours again before trailing down to your neck, and chest.

His hands met your on the fabric of your chest, and he tugs it down, bunching the dress around your hips.

A kiss is placed at the top of your breast activating your fight.

You tried to push against him but he was too heavy to even shift.

“Easy” he tells you, “take it easy. It’s alright”.

He comes back up to your face, and begins to stroke your face with his finger again.

“Settle down”, he breathes.

“Logan, please just let me go”, you beg.

“I tried to,” he admits, “but I've never been much of a quiter”.

He kneads the flesh of your breast in his hand, and grows darker at the thought of not completing what he wanted to do.

“Now you’re going to relax and let me take care of you, or I'll tie you to the bed”.

You don’t move again as Logan trails down your body to slide the bunched fabric of your dress down.

He nestles between your thighs next, keeping a strong grip as he inserts himself into you.

He groans as you accept him. Despite your protests you were warm, and wet for him.

He places his hands on stomach feeling the skin that had been hidden from him for so long.

“Please keep your hands away from me”, you shudder. You curl into yourself as much as you could, scared that the blades would come out and pierce into you.

He takes his hand off your stomach, per your request.

In an act to show you he had no intention of hurting you, he releases his claws, and drives them into the mattress either side of you. He feels as they push through the fabric to the bed frame.

“I would never hurt you” he promises.

He keeps his weight on his hands as he thrusts into you. Your hand remained on your chest until they sprang out to his shoulder in an attempt to control the pace.

He slows down until he is at a pace where you no longer push on his shoulder.

As he continues you find yourself building, so you turn away and bury your head into your pillow.

You hear as his claw is pulled from the mattress, and feel his tight grip as it latches around your chin. He pulls your face back to his direction, resting his forehead on top of yours.

You feel his quick breaths on your skin, and breathe them in.

His eyes were closed, but one hand now held your face in place, and the other held your hip down.

You gasp when you feel yourself cuming around him. A low growl makes its way to your ear but you were more focused on Logan fucking you through your orgasm.

Your nails become claws when he doesn’t stop. You make weak sounds, but no words as he thrusts into you.

“You can take it” he says, somehow knowing what you were trying to say.

His hold on your chin becomes hurtful as he reaches his end. You yank at his fingers trying to pry them off but your fingers slip from the force you were trying to use and makes no difference to him.

A loud moan tells you he was done before you felt the warm substance drip from you.

With a smaller, satisfied groan he opens his eyes to look at you. The same smile appears on his face preceding a deep kiss to your lips.

He doesn’t remove himself from you but loosens his hand on your chin, and hip.

You feel his body weight as he rests his head back on your forehead. He was conscious to keep his weight off you, yet the skin he pressed against yours, pinned you to the mattress.

“You alright, princess?” he pants.

You don’t answer him, and he kisses you in your silence.

By the third time you are fucked dumb. You have a glazed look in your eye, and your body is weak against his. He uses you like a toy. Kissing you, and fucking you while you lay there with little energy left.

His stamina and quick recovery times meant that once was never enough to satisfy him. You would lay quietly next to him for only a few minutes before he was ready to go again.

You whine as he approaches you again, not ready for yet another round.

He lays on top of you, gently caging your head between his arms as he whispers “I know, I know”.

He did know. When you began to cry from overstimulation, he felt terrible but couldn’t bring himself to stop. He wasn’t anywhere near his peak, and your pussy clenched so nicely around him.

“Don’t cry”, he begs, “sh, don’t cry”.

You wouldn’t listen. He wasn’t sure if you could even hear him in your state, but he continued to talk anyway.

“Sh, its alright. Feel good there?”, he asks as your hips buck against him.

“Feels good there, hey baby”, he targets the spot that makes your hips buck, and you latch on to his strong shoulders with your nails.

“Pretty girl like you should always feel good. Can I be the one to always make you feel good?”.

No more fresh tears sprang from your eyes, but the path was still wet, and a large tear balanced on the outer corner of your eye.

He moves his hands closer, using his thumbs to brush off the water.

“No more crying, hey bub”.

You turn your head away from him, resting your forehead on his bicep. He turns his attention to applying the right amount of force between your legs.

He gives you a bigger rest time between the next one. Despite, him roaring to go again.

You lay pressed against his side, half-asleep. He slung his arm over the top of your pillow, waiting for you to recover.

Your lipstick was worn off from his ferocious kissing, and your hair had come undone around you.

You open your eyes to look up at him, and he takes it as a sign that he could continue.

He takes your chin into his hand to keep it still as he slides down in the bed next to you.

“No. That’s enough”, you demand, trying to wiggle your head from his hold.

“Just one more” he promises, “I just need one more”.

He kisses you as he hooks your leg over his hip. Reaching back to guide himself into your swollen pussy. You fit together like a jigsaw piece, another reason why all of this was meant to be.

He liked the intimacy of the position, pushing against your lower back to force you closer. He holds his hand there as he thrusts into you, keeping you from wiggling away.

You rest your head on his chest, and arm over his neck taking what he gives you.

His pace is gentler than it had been all night. Slow, controlled thrusts that rocked your body rather than shook it.

His arm under your head kept you level with the large man, but also meant that every moan, and whimper went straight into his ear.

It was encouraging for him to hear you reluctantly enjoying yourself. He only wanted to bring you pleasure never pain.

You groan softly as you cum again, and it triggers his own orgasm.

When he was done with you for the final time, you collapse into the mattress without Logan's body scaffolding yours.

He brushes the hair that had fallen over your face away with his large palm, and lays flat on the bed.

“Come here” he requested, opening his arms for you.

With eyes closed you shuffle to his chest where he pulls you just over his heart. You fall asleep almost instantly, but Logan remains awake gently stroking your hair.

He had been called an animal all his life, but tonight was the only time he truly felt like it.

—-------------------

You woke the next morning to the sound of his voice,

“Hey bub, hey, come on, we have to get going”.

You feel him smooth his palm over the side of your face, and you knock it away. It felt like knocking your hand against an immovable metal pole.

Last night ruined you. You weren’t sure you could rise from the bed if you wanted to.

“I am not going anywhere with you”, you state.

He had taken what he wanted. The deal now was to leave you in peace.

The next sound of his claws unsheathing and digging themselves into the mattress next to you made your eyes sprung open in shock.

“Get up, now”, he demands. He was eager to get home and get you settled in.

Xavier would get involved if Logan was absent for too long. A week here and there was nothing unusual but Xavier knew Logan too well to ignore any strange behavior.

He passes you your dress as you rise, and you quickly place it on, looking for your panties next. Watching you put them back on made Logan want to take them back off but the plane was departing soon.

The short, black dress was definitely more night time appropriate. You stand trying to cover your chest with your folded arms.

He takes off his jacket, passing it to you as he speaks.

“How far is your place from the bathhouse?” he asks.

“Not far, a block”, you answer. You take the jacket off him and zip it up over your dress.

It smelt of him, and his cigars.

“Come on”. He says, taking your arm and tugging you behind him as he left the apartment.

“I can get there myself”, you fought.

“Kid, we haven’t got time”. He moves his grip to a harsher one on your upper arm, and half carries you in the direction he wanted you to go in.

Your heels click behind him down the steps. He detours to drop his room key back to reception before continuing on the path back to your work.

He is silent as he backtracks to the bathhouse. The street is much busier during the day. People stare as you pass them looking.

When the Bathhouse comes into clearing he can feel you pull against him trying to get him to stop.

He halts of his own accord, peering down at you in the middle of a busy street.

“I need to get my keys and phone from work”.

“I can get through the door. Don’t worry about that”, he shakes you slightly, getting impatient with the lack of direction, “Which way?”

You point to the left, and take the led back to your house.

The streets thin as you weave your way out of the center of the city, and into the residential block. Everything was old and run down.

Broken, smashed cars lined the streets, graffiti was sprayed on every covering, people kept to themselves not even looking out the window as you passed.

He follows you until you stop at a run down apartment block.

“This is it”, you state.

“Upstairs”, he orders but you don’t move.

“Let me go or I'll scream”, you threaten.

“And I’ll kill anyone that comes. Upstairs”.

You were yet to learn that Logan had reservations about killing needlessly, especially non-mutants, so you admit defeat and wander down three apartment blocks to your actual home.

The bar was low, but your apartment block was the nicest in the street. No graffiti or broken windows. A nice, clean brick that reached three stories and opened to a nice fourier.

There was no elevator but there was only one flight of stairs up to your apartment.

You show him your door labeled 2A, telling him there was no way to get it open unless he took you back to the bathhouse.

He ignores you, placing his hand on the knob and giving it a gentle push that breaks the lock.

Your heart rate picks up faster, which worries Logan as it was already quite high.

He lets go of your arm to allow you to go in first, and shuts the door behind him.

It was a one bedroom apartment, with a small open kitchen that opened to a small space that had to be chosen to be a living room or a dining area.

You had chosen a living room with a green couch sat in front of a small rectangular table.

“You can take what you want. I have some jewelry in the food cupboard”, you state.

“This isn’t a hold-up”, he grumbles, “Come here”.

He goes to your bedroom, listening to your feet following him.

He goes to your closet to see your luggage bag stored up top. He takes it down, and begins throwing items into it.

‘What are you doing?”, you begin to panic seeing him stuff your suitcase with your clothes.

“Do you have a passport?”

“Why?”

The plane was departing within the hour. He had no time to answer obvious questions.

“Do you have one?”. He reiterates.

“No”. Your heart skips a beat as you lie.

“Go get it”, he demands.

“I don’t want to”, your voice was quiet and strained.

He knew he should have taken a softer approach. To be uprooted overnight would be a hard thing for anybody.

Yet still, his claws dig through at your resistance.

“Go get it”, he said in a lower tone.

His blades work to persuade you, and you move quickly to your bedside table to retrieve it.

He zips up your suitcase, holding out his hand for your passport. You pass it to him, taking a step back once it's in his hand.

Checking it’s valid, he puts it in his back pocket alone with his.

“Logan, I can keep a secret” you say, “I would never tell anyone about you”.

“That’s nice, bub. Go change”, he nods to the wardrobe behind him which you take a pair of jeans, and a singlet from.

You were too quick to the bathroom, so he stops you before you enter.

“Ah” he tuts.

He takes a look inside first to check for windows. There was only a small one with a security screen so he allowed you to pass and shut the door on him.

After a frustrating phone call in which he was misunderstood twice, he manages to order a taxi to the airport, and knocks on the door to let you know it was on its way.

You open the door a different person. Your makeup was all wiped off, and your hair was pulled back into a ponytail.

The confident seductive was replaced with this fragile girl-next-door type. He didn’t think it was possible to love you anymore.

You hand out his jacket to him which he takes but opens it to wrap around your shoulders.

“Keep it. It looks good on you”.

“Logan-” you begin but he cuts you off.

“Sh” he dismisses taking your head into his hands, “it’s alright. I know”.

“But-” you try.

He sh’s you again, “Don’t think. Just come with me”, he begs.

Moving his hands from your head to your wrist he takes you back outside the bathroom to where your bag lay waiting by the door.

You don’t know why but you follow his direction to put your sandals on your feet, and follow him down to the street and into a taxi.

Your head reels as the car drives. The taxi is silent, only the sound from the radio plays. Logan holds onto your thigh while he looks out of the window.

You stare at his hands, wondering where the blades went when they were retracted.

You think about telling the driver but one man was no match for Logan.

The man pulls into the drop off station, and gets out to get your luggage.

Logan turns to you in the car, demanding your attention from his eyes alone.

“Are you going to save us both some time and be a good girl, or do we need to go over what will happen if you draw attention?”.

You shake your head ‘no’.

“Good girl, let’s go”.

Logan goes out the same door you do, instantly taking your hand in his in the busy station.

He pays the man, and takes your suitcase for you.

“Where are we going?”, you request.

Logan joins the back of the line for check-in’s

“New York”, he gives.

“What's in New york?” you ask him.

“Home”.

You flex your hands in his, trying to get it free.

“I am going home with you?”, you implore.

He nods, not looking at you.

“You said you were one of the good guys”, you remind him.

“I told you, I am a good guy that does bad things”.

His fingers clench around yours in a painful hold. Your eyes fill up with fresh tears. You knew Logan wouldn’t hurt you, but he was a stranger, a mutant, who had taken you from your home, and planned to place you in his.

“Don’t cry. Not here”, he demands.

He moves his body to shield you from prying eyes, as you try your best to conceal your panic.

A gentle hand rubs your back as you move up in line.

The girl at the counter notices your red eyes, and asks if you are okay.

“She’s a nervous flyer” he lies.

The woman ignores him, asking you the question again.

The hand you held had blades that came out on command so you nod your head in agreement.

“I’ll be fine once we are up in the air” you say.

The woman hands Logan the tickets, and you make your way over to the security screening.

Logan seemed amazed you had lied for him.

He kisses your head, thanking you for not causing a scene.

He lets you go easy when you reach the security point, letting you walk through the metal detector.

You eye the security and their guns, but you watched Logan get shot at point blank. Would their guns even dint him?

The metal detector beeps when Logan walks through. For a second, you think that you will find out if their guns work on him when a security officer closes in.

“Easy there, big guy”, Logan takes a slip of paper out of his pocket to show the man, “I have a metal hip”.

The man takes the pass over to his supervisor. You wonder if they know something is wrong as they talk, but the manger looks relaxed, and with a wave of his hand the pass is given back to Logan, and you get the go ahead.

Logan slings his arm over your shoulder past the security who don’t take a second glance.

“You have metal in your hands?” you whisper the question to him.

“I have adamantium in my entire body” he explains, “It’s a type of metal”.

You feel amazed at the news. A whole body of metal reinforcing him to be the most dangerous man you had ever met.

The most dangerous man you had ever met took you over to a cafe stand. Buying you, and himself a roll and coffee.

You never would have guessed the man you met at the bathhouse harbored such a secret. How many other clients were mutants too, or was he the only one.

“It’s gettin’ cold”, he says noticing you staring at him.

You accept his gift, starving after last night.

The rest of the time until boarding was silent. Only then did the sense of dread kick back in.

“Please”, you beg.

“I am sorry. Get on the plane”. His voice was soft, but you could hear no sound of true sympathy from it.

He keeps you in front of him as the attendant checks the tickets, and you find your seats.

You were the only two on your row, right at the back of the plane.

Logan settles into the seat beside you, doing up his seatbelt, and checking yours.

The cabin crew begin their safety speech. Your eyes were trained out the window, not looking at them. You hoped the plane crashed.

When the plane began moving at a fast pace, Logan checked your seatbelt again, pulling on it to make sure it was tight across your lap.

You look at him. He was tense again, and shut his eyes when the plane took off.

When it stabilized he let out a breath of air, and opened his eyes, falling back into his seat.

“Afraid of flying?” you ask surprised.

“If god wanted us to fly, we’d have wings”, he quips.

“And if god wanted us to have blades in our hands, we would”.

Logan's hands ball into fists. He was a freak in your eyes.

“One day I’ll explain what happened to me”, he promises.

“What else can you do? You’re strong, hard, body full of metal”, you start, “and that man. He shot you”.

“Baby, I can do alot of things”, he dismisses.

“Like what?” you push.

“Maybe now is not the time to be discussing this”. He says looking around at other passengers. Most of whom already had their earphones on.

“What do you want with me?”, you implore.

“Now’s really not the time to be discussing that” He grits.

“One of the good guys” you remind him.

“I'll settle for being an okay guy. Stop talking” he growls.

You turn back to the window away from him the rest of the flight.

You watch as the clouds below you turn orange, and then black. Logan passes you a food tray from the stewardess and you eat it in silence.

It must have looked odd to the stewardess. Neither you or Logan played with the screen in front of you. Just sat there with grim expressions on your faces.

Lights turn off as the cabin goes to sleep. You were nowhere near ready with the adrenaline pumping through your body.

Logan takes his blanket from the wrapper and lays it over your shoulder.

“You should sleep,” he says.

“Is that how it's going to be from now on? You telling me what to do” , you snap.

Logan turns away from you, facing to the front.

“It was just a suggestion”.

You run your hands over your face wondering what sort of keeper he was going to be.

“I need to pee” you say.

He unbuckles his seatbelt to get up out of your way but you couldn’t wait for him. You’re fighting to get past him as he tries to stand.

He grabs your waist to maneuver you but the touch sends rage through your body.

You scream in his face. A loud ear piercing scream that turned everyone’s attention on you.

Logan quickly let go, slumping back into his seat under the stare of other awake passengers.

You rush to the bathroom, locking the door behind you.

The tight space allows you to breathe.

Washing your face with cold water, you decide it is time to return to your seat.

Logan waits for the sound of a turning lock before he jumps from his seat to catch you as you exited and push you back inside.

He is quick to lock the door behind him.

Three, quick, firm smacks are placed on your bottom as he pushes you against the sink.

It stings when he sits you on the counter, and stands between your legs.

“Are you crazy, bub? Acting like that”, he scolds.

You try to move him out between your legs, but he pushes your knee down as you move your leg.

“Don’t you ever misbehave like that again”, he warns.

“Or what?”. He had already taken everything from you, and you trusted him enough to know he wouldn’t really hurt you.

His angry stare didn’t scare you, but when his hands reached for the button of your jeans your heart rate spiked.

“I gotta fuck the stupid out of you?” he spat.

“Get off” you demand.

You scream in his face again when his hand continues to unhook the button.

He is quick to quieten you, clamping a hand over your mouth. Your head hits the mirror from the force.

He secures your hands behind your back with a single hand when you begin to hit him. It caused you more pain than him, it felt as if you were hitting against a brick wall.

The force knocks out his necklace that he had never worn before. A rectangular pendant dangles as he moves. You could see it was inscribed but the writing was too small to make out.

“Is that how it’s going to be from now on? Me telling you what to do. Yeah. I think fucking so”, he grunts.

“Now don’t scream” he orders.

The hand over your mouth is removed as he uses it to tug down your jeans, and then his own.

You know you should scream, make some sort of noise that would alert the others, but desire pooled with him between your legs.

Your emotions were too complicated to unpack so you allowed him to take your pants off your legs.

He throws them to the floor, but keeps your panties in his hands.

You see why when he brings them to your lips, and forces them in your mouth. He clamps his hand back over to keep you from spitting them out.

He sighs as he enters you.

“You know, you don’t need to act stupid to get my attention”, he grunts as he rocks into you.

Your toes curl feeling him inside of you. He fit so completely that you were building from just clenching around him.

“Don’t cum. I’ll tell you when”, he says.

You muffle a protest against his hand, but it was met with no sympathy.

“Don’t you fucking cum or I’ll put you over my knee for ten more”.

Your ass still stung from the three he gave you so you delayed yourself the best you could.

He picks up his pace, slamming into you quickly, and hard. You hear his chain clink as he moves.

“Okay now”, he directs.

Your thighs shake as you clench around him.

His hand drops to allow you to regain your breath, bringing your pants from your mouth as he did.

He pants in unison with you, only he is quicker to regain his resolve. Your head was still reeling while he re-buttons his jeans.

He shakes his head as if he was trying to snap out of the trance he was in.

It seemed to have worked as he was gentle when he slid your underpants back on.

It was as if two people lived inside of him. One was sweet, and gentle, the other impulsive, and violent.

You weren’t sure which one turned you on the way it did.

He looks at you with those remorseful eyes. You should hate him but yourself wanting to comfort him. You knock it down to Stockholm and square your shoulders against his.

“Let me take a look at you”. He turns your face in his hand and smooths back your hair from your face with his other hand.

He checks to make sure you are okay. You didn’t look to be crying or in any pain.

“You right, Bub? You going to be good for me from now on?”, he asks.

You take the necklace out of his shirt. He doesn’t move to stop you, letting you read his dog tags.

‘LOGAN’ in capital letters and Howlett in smaller letters below. A series of numbers trace the bottom.

You flip it, feeling the indents on the other side, and run your finger over the name.

“Wolverine” you read, “like the animal?”.

He takes his tags from your hand and tucks them back under his shirt.

“Yeah, like the animal”.

#Dark!logan #dark!wolverine #logan howlet smut #logan howellt x you #dark logan howlett

124 notes · View notes

jasmines-library · 1 year

Text

I'll Make This Up To You

WHUMPTOBER DAY SIX: Prompt: made to watch

Summary: after being kidnapped by the joker, Jason is forced to watch you being tortured when you beg to take his place.

Warning: Blood, beating, gore, cursing, punctured lung.

Word count: 1.3k

MASTERLIST ⛤ WHUMPTOBER WORKS

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

Your entire body throbbed. Your wrists hung limply from rusty chains that dangled from the ceiling. Your bare toes struggled to relieve the burning that spread down your arms and into the sockets of your shoulders, but your bare toes only skimmed the floor, not providing you with a fraction of release. The groan, and clanging of the chains on the other side of the room, alerted you to the other presence in the room. He was still wearing his black suit with the red bat insignia printed across his chest.

“Hood?” You murmured from across the room, trying to grab his attention. The boy groaned, bleary eyed before mumbling your name in response.

“Are you okay?” He asked, testing the strength of his chains albeit to find that he was firmly stuck.

“Yeah” You nodded. “What happened? I don’t remember anything besides-”

A blinding light piercing through the darkness. Shattering glass, a scream. Then nothing.

“The crash.” Jason finished for you.

You were about to speak again; to utter another string of words when you were silenced by a catatonic laughter.

The Joker barged his way through the double doors to the room. They slammed loudly against the wall as pushed up his sleeves. Although Jason was still wearing his mask, you could sense the fear rising in his body.

“Isn’t this nice?” He said, walking around the two of you. “My two favourite birdies all in one place.”

He smiled a toothy grin, his face too close to yours for comfort before whipping back around to Jason and wiggling his fingers. “How’s it hanging Little Robin? Did ya miss me?”

Jason tried to recoil from the man before him, but the chains only allowed him to swing feebly back and forth. This elicited another manic laugh from the Joker.

“Now, I would say that I'm sorry to do this to you again, but that would be a lie, wouldn’t it?”

He ran his finger along Jason’s hooded jawline, before trailing his fingers down to his neck and to the hem of his mask which he tore from his face.

“Hiya, Jaybird.” He said, giving him a wink. Jason stiffened at the nickname. “Oh how I missed this pretty face.”

“Fuck you.” He spat.

The Joker pulled back, placing a hand to his chest in mock hurt and cackling once more. “Your words wound me, Jason. Like father like son I see.”

The sound of an old, metal cart being pushed with a squeaky wheel by one of his goons filled the room. On top of it lay an assortment of weapons and tools, two of which you identified as yours. Another man tugged in an old camera. “I think it’s time that we send the bat a message.” he trailed his fingers along the edge of the tray, before picking up a small knife and twirling it between his digits. “He needs to stop getting on my last nerve and you, my little birdy, need to learn to keep your mouth shut.”

His last sentence was exaggerated with a swing of his arm, which landed a well placed cut to Jason's cheek.

“Hey!” You yelled, squirming against your restraints. “Get the fuck away from him!”

The suit-clad man spun around slowly, tilting his head and the knife towards you.

“Oh? The little bird has something to say. Tell me, Y/N,” He provoked as his goon removed your mask from your face. “What are you gonna do about it? What are you gonna do when I drive your very own knife through your beloved Jaybird’s heart? Hmm?”

“I told you to leave him alone.” You spat back in his face.

The Joker's eyes turned dark as he narrowed them coldly at you. His grin dropped as he turned back around and slashed another line against Jason’s face. He groaned, eyes wide as he began to relive his past time with the man. You felt your heart clench, you couldn’t let him go through that. Not again, you couldn’t watch as he tried to fix himself. You couldn’t watch him suffer again.

“Stop it!” You yelled at him, only for the other man to cover your mouth firmly with his hand. You fought hard, shouting until your voice went hoarse. “Please…hurt me instead.”

The man stopped, a shit eating grin exaggerated across his features. “Smile for the camera.”

~~~

Your head hung limply, chin resting on your chest. Blood trickled down your temple, oozed from your nose and clung to almost every inch of your skin. Inch deep cuts lay littered across your skin, along with a multitude of The sound that left your mouth was barely a scream as he drove the knife into the flesh of your thigh.

Jason had tried to keep from crying out; each yell or vulgar comment leaving you with another scar to add to your collection, or another fingernail ripped out from its bed, but he couldn’t bear to watch you suffer in place of him. It made his stomach twist into knots. He prayed that Tim would be able to hack the livestream that Joker was feeding to the cave and reach you before something fatal happened.

Jason squirmed in the chains. They clanked together loudly. “Leave her alone!”

The man tutted before you, turning away and leaving the knife lodged within the muscle.The vigilante was about to let out a sigh of relief when he watched the Joker's fingers dance over the various bloodied tools and towards the wooden bat.

Before the dark-haired boy could make another sound, the bat was slammed into your ribs. You gasped, eyes flying open as you swung on the chains. You heaved a ragged gasp as he swung hard again, crying out as you felt your ribs shatter. You let out a haggard cough, tasting the copper on your tongue as blood coated your tongue and dribbled from your mouth. The rib had punctured a lung.

The villain's laughter morphed with your and Jason’s shouting. The wooden bat clattered on the floor, but was soon replaced by Jason’s pistol. He cried out loudly. “I hope you’re watching, Batsy.” Joker, picked up the camera, zooming in on your face. “I want you to see the light leave her eyes.”

“I’ll do you one better.” A voice sounded behind him.

Looking over his shoulder, the villain was greeted with the dark cowl of Batman’s suit. The taller man grabbed the villain, swinging him into the wall. The three other boys jumped into action, tackling the goons. Fueled with anger and determination, it didn’t take long before they were releasing you from the shackles that tugged agonisingly on your body.

You landed in a heap on the floor, wheezing loudly as Jason collapsed to his knees beside you, fingers pressing harshly against your thigh. You whimpered.

“I’m sorry. Stay with us, I'm sorry.”

“I’m fine- ” You tried to dismiss Jay’s worry. You didn’t want him to feel any guiltier than you knew he already did. Your head dizzied as you were hoisted into the air by a strong pair of arms.

“I’m sorry.” He repeated it like a mantra. “I’m sorry. This is my fault.”

You shook your head. “Jay…this is not your fault.”

“But-”

You cut him off with another ragged cough, spilling more blood from your lips. He forced his legs to move further.

“Not your fault.”

Instead of fighting back, he decided to pull you closer. “I’m gonna get you fixed up Y/N. I promise. I will make this up to you.”

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

<- DAY FIVE ⛤ DAY SEVEN ->

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@senjoritanana

@deans-spinster-witch

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tadpolesonalgae · 11 months

Text

Pleasure-Dom!Eris x reader: Thumb Prints[*]

A/N: my stomach fluttered when I read this req 😳

Warnings: pleasure-dom!Eris, oral (f! receiving), fingering

Word Count: 2,093

Finger Prints

Heated palms press your thighs apart, slippery strings of arousal webbing across your skin, long past the realm of sense.

“Eris…” you pant, lust making you dim.

Caramel and whiskey eyes flick up from between your legs, a pang of longing twisting in the pit of your belly. “I…”

Words soften on your tongue, turning molten and buttery, unable to wrap your lips around them. His rosey mouth lifts into a sharp smile, and your head tips back into the pillows in surrender. Maybe at some point you’d wanted him to stop, but you have no energy left to protest against his pleasurable ministrations. Content to let his hot, wet mouth reattach to your sex.

A whimper bubbles from your chest as Eris gently nips at the intimate skin of your inner thigh. “Finish that sentence for me, fawn,” he instructs, palm rubbing in soothing circles over your hip. “I…” you fumble, “…I don’t remember…” His laugh sends fire sizzling between your legs—like the flame of candlelight. Soft, and controlled.

“No?” He murmurs, kissing his way back to your heat, sex tender and aching from his treatment. “Don’t remember what you wanted to tell me?”

You swallow, shaking your head wearily, body softened by pleasure. Legs open wider for him, handing over all the access he needs, pliant beneath his hands and mouth. “Just…don’t stop…” you request, palm coming up to cup your breast, fingers brushing your nipple.

Feel as his lips spread into a smile against your skin. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” he murmurs, “not when I’ve finally got you all to myself.” You moan at the softness of his admission, heart bumping against your rib cage as he begins tenderly suctioning his mouth to more and more intimate patches of skin. Teeth graze, and you raise your hips, encouraging him to pay you more attention.

Hot breath fans across your cunt, rosey lips ghosting a little below your navel. A quiet moan is drawn from your mouth, slowly rolling your hips with coaxing urgency. “Eris…” you mumble, attempting to contain the thought within your mind, but it’s like water through your fingers, and you struggle to keep hold of it. Teeth prod into your lip in frustration, but it’s quickly washed away as he presses his kisses lower, something warm and supple fluttering in his wake.

“What is it, fawn?” He asks, raising his head to peer up at you, the sight of his lustrous, silky hair, unbound, cascading over powerful shoulders temporarily rendering you dim-witted. Lips cut into a smile, putting a kiss just above where you want him, “forgotten again?”

Swallow, blinking away your temporary stupor. “I want…” you begin, then fumble, lips almost grazing that spot. Bite the inside of your lip. “I want… Will you talk to me?” You request, nerves wriggling beneath your skin, making you want to squirm. He arches a neatly groomed brow, hand leaving your hip to hold the top of your thigh, keeping you open for him—you wouldn’t dare close. “Talk to you?” He repeats mildly, long, elegant fingers tapping out a quadruple-beat bar: four quavers given the breath of a semibreve.

“Yeah.” You nod, drowsily. “Want to hear your voice. Please.”

He hums, and you moan, back arching as the vibrations sink upon your skin, warming you to near unbearable levels. “What shall I talk about?” He asks, inhaling your arousal softly, nosing at your heat. A quiet exhale breathes from your lips, swallowing before answering. “Anything,” you murmur, “anything you want.” Teeth lightly nip at the slick skin of your inner thigh, causing you to sleepily peek open your eyes, giving him a questioning look.

“Anything’s rather vague,” he smiles, coaxing you into conversation. “Offer me a starting point.”

Mind spins, too softened to properly function. He’s asking you for a starting point. Blink as you try to come up with one, but he’s nosing at your heat again, and you whine quietly. Lift your hips invitingly, mouth parting in a moan. You can feel how wet you are, imagining how warm and velvety his tongue will be. “I… Tell me about your day,” you settle on, just needing to feel him attach himself back to your sex.

His laugh ghosts over your heat, and you whine, pressing your knuckles between your teeth. “Uh-uh,” he tuts, and you immediately lower your hand.

“Sorry,” you mumble, instead preoccupying yourself by gently cupping your breasts, thumbing your nipples. “That’s better,” he soothes, lips brushing over your wet sex, “keep being good for me.” You whimper your compliance, nodding weakly.

Feel him smile, “now, where were we?” The question sinks into your mind, falling into emptiness as his words simply float through your head.

“Your day,” you supply softly, “you were going to—oh.”

His tongue licks over your clit: a slow, leisurely drag, taking his time to pleasure you. Slowly work you to a delicate climax—he knows you’re on the verge of overstimulation from the last five already; he’s treading a fine line here.

“Eris…” you moan, spine bowing from the bed as he lightly suckles your clit, keeping his teeth to himself. Hips roll upward, his palms warming as fingers tap out rhythms to the tops of your thighs. Small inhales suck between your lips as he begins mapping out your heat with his tongue, licking and teasing his way down to your sopping entrance.

Ever so delicately, he circles you, careful not to stimulate too much, just keeping you within the realms of the feather-light touch. He’s rewarded with the sound of your moan, hands still occupied with your breasts, keeping away from your mouth. You know he likes hearing your noises—embarrassing as you sometimes find them.

When his tongue prods at your entrance though, you whimper, thumbs flicking across the sensitive skin. Smoothly, he relocates back to your clit, wet and puffy from attention. His mouth latches over you, and you’re back to sweet malleability, practically melting under his tongue, the wet muscle parting you like a knife through butter.

You gasp, back arching, lips parting on a sharp inhale as he circles the apex of your thighs. Flicks over the bundle of nerves, suckling softly, light, wet sounds slurping from between your legs. You whine, silently begging for more. “Ready for more?” He asks, as if reading your mind.

Nod eagerly, tugging your lower lip between your teeth.

Eris hums onto your clit, caramel and whiskey eyes piercing into you, observing keenly as you squirm on his bed, legs parting for him. Pleasure hums at the back of his mind, but he simply grinds into the mattress, relieving some of the pressure. “What do you want, fawn?” He asks, delivering a soft, slow lick to your bundle of nerves.

You babble softly, a slew of moans and whines spilling from your lips as you struggle to articulate your needs. Feel him smile over your cunt, enjoying how you’re writhing from a few strokes of his tongue, male satisfaction making his cock twitch. “Whatever you want,” he reassures, still smiling. “Just say the words, fawn, and it’s yours.”

Whines drag from your lips, pleasure dumbing your mind. Struggle to think of an answer. “Fingers,” you mumble out, peeking your eyes open. “Please,” you request, breathlessly, “want your fingers.”

Eris presses a kiss to your clit, thighs squeezing his head gently, hips rolling up to his heavenly mouth. “Sure you can manage that?” He asks, carefully manoeuvring one leg over his shoulder, then the other. “Won’t be too much for you?”

Shake your head, slightly subdued in your motion responses. “I’ll be good,” you murmur, settling down into the pillows, one hand drifting to the plane of your stomach. Nod again as he shifts away, running his fingers lightly over your wet heat, dragging you a little closer to the edge of the bed now your thighs are hooked over his shoulders.

Eris laughs gently, getting his digits coated in your arousal as to make the initial slide in more comfortable. “You’ll be good?” He repeats, pads tenderly playing with your clit, causing you to whimper when he unexpectedly leans over your heat, saliva pooling on his tongue, allowing it to drip down, landing perfectly atop your bundle of nerves. Adding to the mess.

“Yes!” You cry out, bucking your hips, “yes…!”

Heat warms his fingertips, softening you further in preparation, slow oscillations being pressed lightly to the apex of your thighs—just his middle finger circling, keen eyes observing every hitch in your breath. Eagerly drinking in your pleasure. “How’re you feeling?” He murmurs, awaiting your moans as he trails his digits down to your entrance.

“Eris…” you whimper, swirling your hips upward with need. The feeling of the heated pad of his middle finger returns to your clit, and you release a breathy whine. Rosey lips lift into a smile, finally lowering his digits, watching how easily they sink into you, how they disappear from sight, suctioned into your soft heat.

“Look at how well you take me,” he murmurs, attention wholly on your cunt, pumping and curling his digits, stimulating the spots you like. “You’re doing so well.”

Spine arches, teeth prodding your lower lip with pride as you smile lazily, grinding against him. “More…” you mumble, lightly pinching your nipples, trailing your fingertips gently—teasingly—down your stomach, brushing your abdomen. “I’m not sure you can take any more, fawn,” he responds, hot breath fanning your cunt. “Don’t want you passing out again.”

Shake your head sleepily, still winding your hips. “I won’t… I’ll stay here…” He chuckles lowly. “You’ll stay there?” He repeats, at last lowering his mouth closer between your legs. “Yeah…” you moan, bucking into him. “So, please…?”

He sighs, fingers dragging softly against a delicious spot, rubbing when he sees how you respond. How you suction around him, as if trying to pull him deeper. “How could I resist?” He murmurs lowly, mouth latching over your clit—his own recipe for worship.

A long, breathy moan drags from your lips, legs lethargically crossing at his back, encouraging him deeper. Basking in the soft, wet flick of his tongue, oscillating over your clit, rubbing in soothing circles—gentle but tight. The moan-worthy curl of his fingers, like he’s beckoning you closer to the edge, one stumbling step at a time.

You whimper, fingers trailing over your abdomen, finally reaching the soft, silky waterfall of his hair, threading your digits through it. Stroke affectionately, feeling heat radiating from his powerful body, the sign of his own arousal. “Eris…” you breathe, part of you simply enjoying the taste of his name on your tongue. “You’re being so good to me…”

Nearly sob as he does something wicked with his mouth, how he moves it over your clit, fingers stimulating a spot simultaneously. “I’m being good to you?” He murmurs, caramel and whisky cutting to you, piercing through the billowing clouds of lust. “Then I suppose you’re heaven incarnate for me.”

Pleasure rolls over you at the softly spoken words, the heat of his skin sinking deep into your own as his fingers press a little further, finally up to his knuckles—carefully easing his way in; plying you apart. “Taking me so well,” he breathes, “you’re doing so good. Just stay there and let me take care of you.”

Head tips back into the pillows, one hand in his hair, the other palming your breast, thumbing at your nipple lightly. Long, elegant digits have you tightening around him, glistening, rosey lips suctioning over your clit, his tongue swirling and suckling until you can’t take it.

Ecstasy blossoms in your abdomen, crying out as you come on his tongue, having him work you through the high. Heat flutters around him, nails scraping, teeth tugging on your lower lip as breathy, lazy moans float up into his bedroom. His hips grind against the bed as he licks up your release, not wasting a single ounce of it.

“So pretty,” he murmurs between laps, fingers coaxing more from you, delicately prying orgasm after orgasm from your body, steadily guiding you through the motions of pleasure. “So lovely.”

Whimper his name over and over, all other words turned gooey and buttery, melting to unfamiliar shapes that your tongue can no longer form. Only his title rolling from your lips, while he works you gently through the heavenly intimate experience—his mouth like that of a god’s.

A master of your pleasure: infinitely skilled, and endlessly exquisite.

General Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks

#Eris #Eris Vanserra #Pleasure-Dom!Eris #Soft!Eris #Eris smut #Eris x reader #eris x reader smut #Eris Vanserra smut #Eris x yn #Eris x you #Thumb Prints

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m1ckeyb3rry · 2 months

Text

Synopsis: You find yourself developing a crush on mischievous soccer player Eita Otoya. The only problem? Eita and relationships don’t exactly go hand in hand — which is something you’re only all too aware of, considering he just so happens to be your best friend’s older brother.

BLLK Masterlist | Karasu Version

Pairing: Otoya x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 12.9k

Content Warnings: crack fic, otoya is a red flag let’s not lie to ourselves, he’s lowkey ooc at the end, reader says ‘i can NOT fix him’ but then accidentally manages to anyways, otoya plays video games but sucks at them, otoya’s younger sister is given a name (look at that word count LMAO i’m not calling her ‘otoya’s younger sister’ the entire time), std jokes, your honor eita otoya IS a loser

A/N: yes this is based off the song “best friend’s brother” from victorious. yes this is probably the dumbest otoya fic you will ever read (i promise i’ve written him better before). yes this is four times longer than it was supposed to be. idk what to say either i just get carried away LMAO

On the first day of your first year of middle school, you were told by your teacher to sit next to an entirely disagreeable looking girl. Her round face was adorned with a scowl, and there was a scrape on the bridge of her nose. She had silvery hair cut in a choppy bob, and blunt bangs streaked with green covered her forehead. When she noticed you staring at her in surprise, she made a face at you.

“What do you want?” she said.

“I’m supposed to sit here,” you said. “Teacher said so.”

“Whatever,” she said with a scoff. You gave her an uneasy look as you set your things down beside her, sliding into your chair and watching her out of the corner of your eye. If she noticed, she did not care, gripping her pencil in her hand so hard it was a miracle it did not snap in half, her scowl deepening as she looked over the introduction sheet you all had been given to fill out.

“I’m Y/N L/N,” you offered meekly, not wanting to accidentally offend her. She seemed like the kind of girl you really shouldn’t mess with, not if you wanted to keep your life and limbs intact.

She glanced at you. “Seiko Otoya.”

“Nice to meet you, Otoya,” you said.

“Seiko,” she said firmly. “Nobody calls me Otoya ‘cause I have two older siblings and it’s confusing.”

“Ah, but neither of your siblings are here, so it wouldn’t be confusing,” you pointed out before you could stop yourself. Seiko gave you an annoyed look.

“So what? Everyone’s been calling me Seiko since I can remember, so if you try to get my attention by saying Otoya I won’t realize,” she said. “What’s your problem with it?”

“I don’t have a problem,” you said, pulling out a pencil of your own and filling out your introduction sheet. Your handwriting was ten times nicer than Seiko’s, you noticed — she had a messy scrawl that was barely legible, especially when compared to your neat print.

“That’s great to hear, L/N,” she said, shoving her arm over her paper so you couldn’t look at it any longer. “Quit copying me.”

“Of all the assignments to copy on, do you really think I’d pick this one? It wouldn’t even make sense, since all of the information is about ourselves. See, this one asks about our families,” you said, tapping your eraser against the question you were referring to. “It’s not like I would write that I have two older siblings, because I don’t, even though you do.”

Seiko scoffed, puffing her cheeks out and turning back to her work with a pout. “Fine.”

You had been hoping that you’d befriend your desk partner, considering you didn’t know anyone at the middle school. All of your friends from primary school lived across town from you, so they were attending another middle school, which had the unfortunate effect of leaving you by yourself. Unfortunately, it seemed like you were out of luck when it came to making friends with the girl beside you, because Seiko was surly at best and downright hostile at worst.

When the bell rang to signify the end of the first half of the day as well as the beginning of the lunch break, you all but leapt out of your seat, speed-walking towards the cafeteria as fast as you could, eager to avoid another stiff conversation with Seiko. For her part, she rolled her eyes, taking her own time to gather her things and push in her chair, ignoring you completely all the while.

In your haste, you didn’t watch where you were going, and because of your shyly-ducked head, you ran straight into the back of a tall, heavy-set boy.

“What is wrong with you?” he snapped, spinning around to face you. He had close-cropped hair and thick brows, a narrow mouth pressed into a taut line, and a pinched, ruddy face.

“I’m sorry,” you said immediately.

“You made me drop my chocolate milk,” he said. “Apologize again, and give me money to pay for more!”

“Your chocolate milk is still in your hand,” you said quietly. He glared at you, and then, before you could react, he was unscrewing the cap and pouring its contents all over you.

“Like I said,” he said. “You made me drop it.”

“What — why would you do that?” you sputtered. You had thought that middle school would be much the same as elementary had been, only with different people, but this never would’ve happened, even just last year. You looked around wildly for a teacher, but there were none; though you were surrounded by laughing peers, you realized that you were alone in this hallway, completely and utterly alone. Everyone was laughing at you and milk was dripping down your once-white shirt and you were alone and things could not get worse.

The boy held out his hand. Things got worse. “Gimme your lunch money, freak.”

You stared at him blankly, tears welling in your eyes but refusing to fall. He tapped his foot, and slowly, when you understood that you had no choice, you reached into your pocket, fumbling around for the bit of change you had brought with you.

Suddenly, someone slapped your wrist lightly — in reprimand, and not hard enough that it hurt, but so that you were startled and ceased your actions immediately. Looking up, you saw it was Seiko Otoya, looking much the same as she had earlier, though her cheeks bloomed with a rose-colored flush as she jabbed a finger at the boy.

“Who do you think you’re messing with, huh?” she shouted, loudly enough that you were surprised no adults were alarmed. The boy’s eyes widened.

“Seiko?” he said. “I didn’t know you were—”

She let out a challenging war cry and then lunged at him. You gasped as she tackled him to the ground and socked him in the nose, looking entirely ridiculous all the while. It was like watching a chihuahua beat up a mastiff; Seiko was tiny compared to the boy, but vicious, not even giving him a moment to breathe as she rammed her fists into his face, over and over.

“Miss Otoya!” an authoritative voice said, cutting through the brawl. “What is the meaning of this?”

Your teacher stood before you, one of your classmates at her side. When Seiko did not move, she yanked her off of the boy, helping him stand and giving Seiko a stern look.

“He spilled milk on L/N and tried to take her lunch money, so I was just trying to give him a taste of his own medicine,” Seiko said with a shrug.

“You should’ve come to me, not taken matters into your own hands,” your teacher said, massaging her temples when she saw the state of your uniform. “Do you have anything to say to this young man?”

Seiko squinted at the boy, his bloody nose and shivering frame, and then she nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Go on, then,” your teacher said. Seiko placed her hands on her hips.

“I’m sorry—” she began. Your teacher nodded encouragingly. “—that I didn’t hit you harder. You could’ve gotten surgery and fixed that ugly nose of yours if I had actually managed to break it. I’ll do better next time, promise.”

The boy burst into tears. Seiko was sent to detention, giggling all the while. You were given a new uniform and the knowledge that there was at least this one person in the school who was on your side.

It was only natural that, after such an ordeal, you and Seiko ended up as fast friends. Her gruff exterior never softened any, but you found that she was kinder than she let on, and lonely in her own way.

“I learned that move from one of the wrestling matches my older brother likes to watch,” she explained to you a few days later. “I’ve been itching to try it out, so thanks for giving me the opportunity.”

“Itching to try it out?” you said in wonder, accepting the orange slice she handed you and biting into it.

“You know, I beat up 95% of the boys in my kindergarten,” she said thoughtfully. Despite the far-fetched number, you were inclined to believe her. “I’m kind of the opposite of my siblings in that sense. They’re both super popular, especially my brother Eita, but I’ve never been like that. I’m the sort of person that people generally stay far away from.”

“Well, I’m not staying far away from you,” you said.

“Right,” she said, cracking her knuckles with a smirk. “Who knows when that guy or his lackeys will come back to take revenge on you? You’ve gotta keep me around for a while, just in case.”

It was the best she could offer in terms of friendship, so you only smiled and said that you would.

You visited her house for the first time the following summer, during that part of the season when the days were long and faded into night so slowly that you could even fall asleep while it was still light out. She invited you in and then immediately tugged you after her, not bothering to offer an explanation, as was her way. You stumbled up the stairs, trying to keep pace as she whipped around a corner and knocked frantically on a shut door.

“What?” a muffled voice shouted from inside of the room.

“It’s Seiko, open up!” she shouted back. “I have to show you something!”

The door opened to reveal a boy. He was a year or so older than you and Seiko, with a delicate, handsome face and a slender, willowy build. His hair, which boasted the same strange coloring as Seiko’s, fell into low-lidded eyes that narrowed with irritation when they settled upon his younger sister.

“What is it?” he said. “I was in the middle of playing a game with my friends.”

“Look,” she said, placing her hands on your shoulders proudly. “You said you didn’t believe I had a friend, but I do, see? This is Y/N L/N, and she’s here to hang out with me!”

Her brother seemed unimpressed. “Did you have to rough her up a bit or something to get her to agree to it?”

“No!” Seiko said. “She actually likes me, right, Y/N?”

“Right,” you said, confused at what kind of argument you had accidentally found yourself in the middle of. “Um, Seiko’s my best friend at school, and she’s never beaten me up or anything, so…”

“Holy crap, you must be desperate,” he said.

“Hey!” Seiko said, kicking him in the shin. He winced and promptly slammed the door on your faces.

“You suck!” he said. “I have a soccer game tomorrow, so you’re lucky you didn’t permanently injure me!”

“I wish I had!” she said. “Come on, Y/N. He’s a jerk. Let’s go swimming. Did you bring a bathing suit? If not, you can borrow one of mine.”

“I have one,” you said. “Wait, so was that your older brother? The one who watches wrestling matches and all?”

“Yeah, that’s Eita. He’s in the grade ahead of us. I guess you could say we’re closer with each other than with our older sister, since she’s already finished high school, but to be honest, he’s dumb and mean, so we don’t get along very well,” she said.

“I picked up on that,” you said. “He seriously didn’t believe you had any friends?”

“No!” she said. “I told you back when we first met that he and our sister are super popular and I’m not, didn’t I? The thing is that he’s aware of that, too, and he always teases me for it, so when I told him I actually had made a friend, he acted like I was making it up. That’s why I took you to meet him, but he just had to go and be annoying about it! Ugh. I shouldn’t have expected anything else.”

“That’s the worst. Oh, and he plays soccer?” you said. She gave you a strange look.

“Mhm, why?” she said.

“Dunno,” you said. “Just wondering.”

Even you weren’t sure why you were curious about Eita Otoya. Your first interaction with him had hardly been memorable, and if anything you should really despise him for being rude to Seiko. But wasn’t it common for siblings to fight? That didn’t mean he was a bad person, did it?

Actually, it was irrelevant. You doubted you would see much of him, so no matter the quality of his character, he wasn’t someone you needed to be thinking of as anything more than your best friend’s brother. Resolving to push it aside, you spent the rest of the summer with Seiko by their pool, eating popsicles and playing mermaids and getting into splash fights and entirely ignoring whatever signs of her brother’s existence presented themselves.

In fact, until you and Seiko began high school, your path hardly crossed with Eita Otoya’s. He was always out with his friends whenever you came over, and the things he preferred to do had such little overlap with yours and Seiko’s interests that it was as if he did not even live in the Otoya household at all. Indeed, you saw more of their older sister, who was already in college, than you did him, and he became nothing but a vague thought in the back of your mind, only considered when you saw a random sock on their kitchen floor or a soccer jersey thrown across the back of the armchair in their living room.

All of this changed when you and Seiko became high schoolers and she joined the swim team. Her practice hours were long and irregular, which meant there were often times that you’d sit around her house, doing homework while you waited for her to come back. Some days she was only five minutes late; others, it was half an hour or more. It was frustrating, but it could not be helped, so you learned quickly that you should bring something to entertain yourself with if you dared to head to the Otoya household on a day she had swimming — which was every day, or so it seemed.

“Hey. You’re L/N, right? Seiko’s friend?”

You were pulled out of writing a history paper by someone speaking to you curiously. When you looked up, you saw that it was Eita Otoya, a brown paper bag in his hands and a friendly smile on his face. He set the bag on the counter and rummaged about in one of their cabinets, pulling out two plates while he gazed at you, waiting for an answer.

“Yes, I am,” you said, omitting the fact that you had been coming to his house for years, seeing no merit in bringing it up. “You’re her older brother.”

“Yup,” he said, emptying the contents of the bag onto one of the plates. “I can’t believe you’re doing homework at your best friend’s house.”

“She was supposed to be back half an hour ago, but I think one of her teammates pissed the coach off, so they all got held back again,” you said. “I figured I might as well be productive while I waited for her.”

“Smart,” he said. “Want some?”

He held up the plate filled with churros at you. You furrowed your brow, feeling entirely awkward — this was probably the longest conversation you had ever had with him, and certainly the only one you had had without Seiko present.

“Uh, sure,” you said.

“Good choice, these things are delicious,” he said, shaking his head as he heaped a generous portion onto the other plate. Pulling out the chair across from you, he handed you your plate and then sat down with a dreamy exhale. “I swear they put crack in them or something.”

“It’s possible,” you said, debating whether you should close your laptop before deciding you might as well. It wouldn’t do for your keyboard to get sticky with cinnamon sugar, and it would probably be rude of you to have it out while he was sitting with you.

You both were quiet for a while — you were too unsure of what to say to him, so you opted for silence, and he was distracted with eating his churros and texting someone on his phone. Maybe you should’ve kept your laptop open after all.

“Say, L/N,” he said. “If you were a girl—”

“I am a girl,” you interrupted him, somewhat put-out that he had forgotten that. He rolled his eyes and took another bite out of a churro, chewing and swallowing it before responding.

“Obviously,” he said. “You didn’t let me finish. If you were a girl who was dating someone, and they cheated on you, what would you do?”

“You could’ve just phrased it like ‘if you were dating someone, and they cheated on you, what would you do?’ You didn’t have to specify the ‘if you were a girl’ part,” you muttered. It was a childish thing to be hung up about, but for some reason it really irritated you to think that he thought of you as something other than you really were.

He cocked his head at you, like he was trying to discern whether you were really being serious or not. He must’ve decided that you were, for he chuckled. It was not quite condescending but bordering on it, and it did not improve your mood any.

“Alright, I’m sorry. That’s my bad. Well, if you were dating someone, and they cheated on you, what would you do?” he said.

“I’d be upset and break up with them immediately, duh,” you said.

“Why?” he said.

“What do you mean why?” you said incredulously. “Wouldn’t you do the same?”

“I’m not sure. No one’s ever cheated on me before,” he said with an impish grin, leaning over the table and snatching one of the churros off of your plate. “That’s why I wanted to know what you think.”

“No one’s ever cheated on me before, either. I’ve never even dated someone. That’s just the kind of thing where you already know what you’d do, though you hope it never happens,” you said.

“You’ve never dated someone? But you’re so pretty,” he said. You coughed, a bit of the churro that you had just swallowed sticking against your throat peculiarly at the compliment, which he had tossed out so casually it was as if he had just been commenting on the weather.

“Thanks,” you said. “Anyways, er, like I was saying — like I was saying, I wouldn’t stay with a cheater. Not ever.”

“That’s a shame,” he said, taking your empty plate, stacking it atop his own, and setting both in the sink. Running his hands under a stream of water so that there wasn’t any residue left on them, he shook his head. “It isn’t that big of a deal, you know. Like, it doesn’t mean anything.”

“Doesn’t mean anything?” you said. “Of course it means something. It means you don’t have any respect for the person you’re dating, and I wouldn’t want to be with someone who doesn’t respect me, so why would I stay with someone who cheated? Plus, I’m sure you’ve heard what they all say — once a cheater, always a cheater. If they did it before, they’ll do it again.”

“That’s not very conducive to a growth mindset,” he said, patting his hands dry on a red-striped dish towel.

“Maybe not,” you said. “But people who cheat can grow somewhere far away from me.”

“That sounds like my cue to leave,” he said with a two-fingered salute. “I used to wonder why you were friends with Seiko, but to be honest, I can see it now.”

Before you could ask him what he meant by that, he had left the kitchen, running up to his room, taking the steps two at a time. You were rendered absolutely bewildered, your sugary fingers and your unfinished essay and the two empty plates in the sink serving as the only proof that the conversation had even happened in the first place.

“Your brother’s really weird,” you said to Seiko when she got back, smelling faintly of chlorine, though you knew she had already showered at the pool. She cringed.

“Tell me about it. What did he do this time?” she said, pulling a large sweatshirt on, her hair sticking up every which way afterwards.

“He gave me churros and asked me what I’d do if someone cheated on me,” you said. She snorted.

“Sounds like him,” she said. “He’s kind of a serial dater, you see. He doesn’t tell me much, mostly because I’d be seriously grossed out by it, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s a cheater, too. Seriously, I don’t even know how we’re related. He’s the worst. I’d tell him to stop if I thought that he’d actually listen to me.”

“Oh,” you said.

“Don’t be so gloomy,” she said, elbowing you in the side affectionately. “It’s not like you’ll ever get with him, so why are you worried? I’d never let you date a cheater like that. Seriously, if you ever get a boyfriend—”

“If?” you said.

“You know what I mean. Anyways, like I was saying, I’ll beat him up if he cheats on you, whoever he might be!” she said, flexing her biceps, which were admittedly impressive, albeit hidden by the puffy sleeves of her sweatshirt.

“What if it’s your brother?” you said.

“Ew, why would it be him?” she said, pretending to gag. “Never date Eita. You deserve way better. He’s like a walking STD, probably. Just being in the same room with him is enough to give anyone herpes.”

“It was just a hypothetical question. And also, don’t you live with him? That’s nasty, do you have herpes, too?” you said. She ran her hands through her hair in a futile attempt to tame it; you reached into your backpack and pulled out a comb, tossing it at her.

“I’m immune because we’re related,” she said. “They only transfer if you have those kinds of intentions, so you’re safe for now, but I’m just saying, he’s a genuine health risk to be around. And to answer your question, yeah, I’d take any opportunity to punch him, so if he cheated on you I’d go at it doubly hard!”

“That makes it seem like I’m more of an excuse for you to mess with your brother than you actually wanting to defend my honor or anything,” you said.

“There’s a bit of both factoring into the decision,” she admitted. “Let’s stop thinking about it, though. I’m feeling itchy in places I should not be feeling itchy at just the prospect of you guys being together.”

“I didn’t need to know that,” you informed her. She stuck her tongue out at you, and the topic was, in turn, forgotten.

For some reason, though, you found yourself showing up at the Otoyas’ house earlier and earlier. Not enough to draw suspicion, but enough that you almost always had at least a couple of minutes there by yourself. Mr. and Mrs. Otoya had long ago grown accustomed to your presence and treated you more like another daughter than anything, so they didn’t find it strange, and Seiko’s older sister had recently moved into her own apartment nearer to her university, so she didn’t even realize that it was happening.

In fact, there was only one consequence to this newfound habit of yours: in the many moments before Seiko returned from her practices, you struck up a friendship with her brother, Eita.

Things were awkward at first, you couldn’t deny it. He didn’t have much interest in you, and in fact it seemed like he only entertained you because it would be even worse if he didn’t.

“Oh, you’re here again,” he’d say if he got back from soccer before Seiko came back from swimming. “No Seiko?”

“Not yet,” you’d say, a poster board or worksheet or laptop in front of you. “She should be back in a few minutes. We’re supposed to finish this project together.”

“I told her she should’ve picked soccer,” he’d say with a laugh. “We always finish on time.”

“Cool,” you’d say, because how else could you respond? He’d raise his eyebrows at you, and then, if he felt generous, he’d give you a churro. If not, he’d dart off to his room, mumbling some excuse about having to call one of his friends or something, which you never responded to, because it was mostly unimportant to you.

There wasn’t any huge reasoning behind it. Talking to Eita Otoya wasn’t particularly stimulating, and though you certainly found him good-looking, you wouldn’t go so far as to say you had a crush on him. Mostly, you found him to be a bit of an enigma, and if in figuring him out, you got a few churros out of it, then you supposed it was a fair enough deal, but it wasn’t like you were seeking out his company or anything.

Eventually, he seemed to warm to you a bit more, though you were still standoffish, Seiko’s warning ever-present in the back of your mind — the one regarding walking STDs and herpes and whatnot. You never brought it up with him, but that really was the cause of your shyness, not — not anything else. Definitely not anything else. Why would you be shy around him of all people?

“Hey, L/N,” he’d say nowadays, greeting you cheerfully and sitting next to you as you did your homework. “How’re things going?”

“They’re good, thank you,” you’d say, scooting away from him inconspicuously. Herpes. STDs. Genuine health risk. Oh, he smells really nice…

“I’m doing well myself,” he’d respond, despite the fact that you typically didn’t bother with asking. “Still no Seiko?”

“Nope,” you’d say with a sigh. “Still no Seiko.”

He’d wrinkle his nose. “Damn. Sorry to hear it.”

“It’s fine,” you’d say. “She’ll be here soon, and she’ll probably be full of complaints about her coach.”

“I’d stick around until then, but unfortunately, my PC is calling,” he’d say, or he’d give some other such goofy excuse that was obviously designed to pull a laugh out of you and usually did. “See you around, L/N.”

“Later,” you’d say. “Have fun with your PC.”

It was nice. You wouldn’t say you were close with him by any means — definitely not as close as you were with his sister — but the two of you got along. You didn’t know much about him, and you doubted he knew much about you, but you both could hold enough of a conversation that you began to actually look forward to spending time with him.

Only because he was oddly funny in his own way, and kind of sweet, too. It had nothing to do with how nice his laugh sounded or how bright his grin was or the way he spoke to you, gently but also mischievously. You didn’t even notice these things, not one bit.

“Y/N!” he said one Saturday, banging into the kitchen excitedly. At some point, you had indeed become Y/N to him, though you couldn’t quite place when that shift had occurred. “No Seiko?”

“She’s at a meet,” you said. “She told me she’d come back once she was done with her races, but she texted me a few minutes ago that her coach is making her stay for the entire thing, and she doesn’t know how long it’ll take. I thought about going home, but then I thought that, since I’m already here, I should just wait for her.”

“I’m surprised you’re not doing homework,” he said, hopping onto the counter, a box in his hands, ostensibly filled with churros.

“It’s Saturday,” you pointed out. “I did all of my weekend work yesterday so I could be free today and tomorrow. Seiko and I were supposed to have a movie marathon, so I didn’t want to be distracted.”

“Supposed to?” he said, wandering around his kitchen, taking out cutlery and plates with an uncharacteristically serious expression. “Why wouldn’t you be able to?”

“Who knows when she’ll get back? Hopefully, it’s soon, but I’m sure you’re aware of how random the meet schedules can be, so we might run out of time to have a marathon proper,” you said.

“It’s like I always say,” he said.

“She should’ve picked soccer,” you completed for him. “What makes you bring that up today?”

“Our matches are timed,” he said. “No uncertainty there. Look, forget about that for a moment. I walked past this bakery on my way back from soccer practice, and they were having a sale, so I stopped in. I asked Seiko, and she said you like these. Is that true? Because if she was lying, I’m gonna kill her.”

Instead of churros like you had expected, he was holding a plate of cupcakes, frosted in pastel shades, crystal sprinkles glittering under the ceiling lights. They were beautiful, like little flowers or jewels, and you beamed as he put them on the table and waited for you to speak.

“No way!” you said. “Are these from that place by the park? I’ve been wanting to go there for ages, but their stuff is so expensive that I could never justify it. I can’t believe they had a sale! Thank goodness you happened to walk past. I would’ve cried if I missed my chance to try their stuff.”

“So, as a girl, you’re impressed by this?” he said as you unwrapped one of the cupcakes and shoved it in your mouth. You gave him a surprised look, your chin covered in icing, sweet cake filling your cheeks. He suppressed a laugh, handing you a napkin as you rapidly chewed and swallowed.

“What d’you mean?” you said.

“I’m trying something new,” he explained. “Buying flowers is kinda lame nowadays; plus, if I get cupcakes instead, then I can also have some, so it’s a win-win.”

“I see,” you said, dabbing at your face with the napkin.

“I thought I’d ask for your feedback, since you’re the only girl I talk to regularly. Besides Seiko, obviously, but it’s not like I’m going to ask my little sister about this kind of stuff,” he said.

“I’d say I was pretty impressed,” you said. “However, I would also say you shouldn’t mention that you got them on sale.”

“Of course I wouldn’t mention that to a girl I was actually interested in,” he said. “I just told you because I knew you’d refuse to eat them otherwise.”

“That’s true,” you said. “Buying these at full price would’ve been stupid in any situation, but especially so because it’s not like you’re trying to be nice to me or anything.”

“You make me sound like a villain,” he complained. “I still got them for you, didn’t I? Why does it matter what my reasons were?”

“Your reasons are kind of villainous,” you said. “You got them for me so I could tell you whether your new strategy for picking up girls was a winner or not.”

“I compensated you for your services!” he said. “What kind of villain would do that? By the way, is it? A winner, I mean.”

“I think so, but everyone’s different. It could work with one person and not another,” you said.

“Good enough for me,” he said, patting you on the head. You paid him no mind — not true, even the lighthearted touch made you feel all squirmy and strange — and pulled out your phone, which had just vibrated with a text.

It was Seiko, and you sighed as you read the message. Eita peered over your shoulder and then hummed sympathetically.

“Ooh, is that Seiko? Yikes,” he said.

‘now the coach is making us all go to dinner as a team :/ we can have our movie marathon another time?? sorry i made you wait and then stood you up.’

A second later, your phone buzzed again.

‘i feel like eita LMAO omg pls don’t slap me like his last ex did. i’ll make it up to you another time PROMISE!!’

You would’ve laughed, but you felt so discouraged by her earlier text that you could only muster up a half-smile. Eita gasped in offense when he read the second message, drawing back and sticking his nose in the air, folding his arms over his chest.

“I can’t believe she’s airing my business out to you like that,” he said.

“I can’t believe you got slapped by your last ex,” you said, though the words lacked the teasing bite that they should’ve had. He frowned at you.

“Are you just going to go home now?” he said.

“Guess so, since Seiko won’t be back until tonight,” you said. “Oh, well. At least I got cupcakes. I’m sure the girl that you stood up wasn’t so lucky.”

“Ha, ha, very funny,” he said. “No, she wasn’t.”

“And you claimed you weren’t a villain,” you said, shaking your head in disappointment. “See you later. Thanks for the cupcakes.”

He opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but then, just as abruptly, closed it again. You arched a brow at him, but he only smiled at you.

“See you,” he said, putting the cupcakes back in the box and handing it to you. “Take these.”

“Don’t you want them?” you said. He had never given you the extras of anything he had ever bought before, preferring to keep them so he could eat them later that night or for breakfast the next day.

“Nah, I got them for you, so you should keep them,” he said. “Thanks for your help.”

“Anytime,” you said, your fingertips brushing against his as he handed you the box. A burst of static electricity shocked you, and you bit back a hiss as you accepted it from him, not wanting to seem whiny when he hadn’t even reacted.

“Hold on,” he said as you made your way to the door. “Listen, if she stands you up again, I’ll watch the movies with you.”

“Really? They’re not your genre, so I’m sure you’ll be bored,” you said.

“You don’t even know what my genre is,” he said.

“Maybe not,” you said. “I’ll take you up on that, then, so I hope you meant it.”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t,” he said.

“You’re not half-bad, you know,” you said thoughtfully, tucking the box under your arm so you could unlock the front door. “Seiko always calls you mean, but you’re pretty nice.”

“If she was half as agreeable as you, I wouldn’t have to be mean!” he said. “It’s way easier to be nice to you than anyone else, Y/N.”

You weren’t sure what he meant by that. What even were you to him? Just his little sister’s best friend, or something different? Were the two of you genuinely friends, or were you just the girl he asked for help with his stupid relationships that never lasted for longer than a week? Did he like you? Did you like him? No, of course you didn’t. This was Eita Otoya. You could never like him, not if you valued your friendship with Seiko or the well-being of your heart. You didn’t like him. You didn’t, you didn’t, you didn’t.

“That’s good,” you said finally. “Thanks again.”

“Bye,” he said.

“Bye,” you said, and with a final look at him, you let the door swing shut and turned towards your home.

The next day, you got up early so that you could make it to the bakery before they ran out of their best wares. Eita hadn’t specified how long the sale lasted, and if there was even a chance that it was still ongoing, you wanted to take advantage of it.

Thanks to the odd hour, there wasn’t a line outside of the bakery, and you felt confident as you walked into the warm, dough-scented building. It was airy and bright, flowers and sweets in the windowsill, the display cases well-lit and stocked with a multitude of desserts. Plants hung from the ceiling, and the pale wallpaper was covered with floral motifs, small birds perching amongst the blooms. The bakery itself was so beautiful that you almost forgot what you were there for until one of the employees cleared her throat.

“Can I help you, miss?” she said.

“Hi!” you said. “A friend of mine mentioned that you were having a sale yesterday. Is that still happening?”

“A sale? We don’t do sales here, I’m afraid. Is it possible that they went somewhere else?” she said.

“No, he specifically said the place by the park,” you said, furrowing your brow. “Are you sure you didn’t happen to have a sale?”

“Positive,” she said. “I was working yesterday, too, so if you describe him, I can let you know if he came or not.”

“He’s about this tall,” you said, holding up your hand at approximately Eita’s height. “Plays soccer, silver hair with a green streak—”

“Yes! He came in right around lunchtime yesterday and bought cupcakes,” she said. “Um, is he single, by any chance?”

“As good as,” you said. You had no idea what the state of his romantic life was, but considering how quickly he jumped from girl to girl, there was almost no point in saying that he was taken. “If he ever comes back, feel free to make a move on him. He’d probably appreciate it. Moving on, do you mean to say that he got those at full price?”

“He would’ve had to,” she said. “Like I said, we don’t do sales. We’re not that kind of establishment.”

“I might faint when you answer this, so please be slow and careful when you do, but how much, exactly, is full price for what he bought?” you said. “Out of curiosity.”

She told you. You did not faint, but it was such an exorbitant number that, for a moment, you really thought you might.

The next Saturday evening, you went to the Otoyas’ with a wad of cash in your hand. Seiko and her parents were away the entire weekend for an invitational meet, but for once, she was not the one you had gone to visit, so this was of little consequence to you.

You rang the doorbell and waited with crossed arms, the humid air oppressive against your skin. According to your weather app, it was going to rain soon, and you pursed your lips at the thought that Eita might not be home and you’d get caught in the downpour with nothing to show for it.

Luckily, the door opened, revealing him standing there in a pair of shorts, his hair still damp and a towel around his neck. You focused very hard on pretending like he was wearing a shirt, even though he was not, and it worked well enough that you could just barely greet him properly.

“Y/N? Hey, I’m sorry you walked all this way, but Seiko’s not home. Did she forget to tell you she’s gone for the weekend?” he said.

“No, I’m here for you,” you said.

“Huh?” he said.

“Not like that! I mean, I went to that bakery, and the girl working there told me they never have sales, which means you paid full price for those cupcakes. That’s insane! I can’t accept that,” you said.

“So, what, are you gonna vomit them out at my feet or something? That sounds gross, please don’t,” he said.

“I’m paying you back,” you said, extending your hand and offering him the money. “Don’t even think about refusing. I already feel horrible.”

“No way,” he said. “It was a present. You don’t pay people back for presents, that’s like a faux pas or something. I think. Er, I’d have to look it up to be certain, but I’m pretty sure it’s frowned upon.”

“I didn’t even do anything present-worthy, so why would you give me one?” you said.

“Yeah, you did. You helped me out, remember? Gave me advice and all,” he said.

“That was hardly worth all of this!” you said. “Seriously, at least take a little bit.”

“Nah,” he said. “You should come inside.”

“For what?” you said. “Seiko’s not here.”

“True, but I feel bad that you walked for nothing, so it’s the least I can do,” he said.

“It wasn’t for nothing. It was to pay you back, which I will do, and after that I’ll go home,” you said.

“Doubt it,” he said. “Come on, it’s going to rain soon. If you get sick and blame me for it, my sister will kill me.”

Reluctantly, you followed him into the kitchen, hyper aware that you both were alone. It had never been like this before; always, someone else had been in the house, whether his mother or father or one of his sisters. You shouldn’t have cared that it was just the two of you, but you found that you did. It was as uncomfortable and strange as the turbulent skies and muggy atmosphere, but also pleasant in a way, like the sweet smell of yeast in a bakery or flower petals dusting against the crackled tops of sugar cookies in a windowsill.

“Do you like Super Smash Bros.?” he said, taking the towel and rubbing his head vigorously, giving him the frazzled appearance of a hedgehog, or perhaps an electrocuted cat of the cartoonish variety.

“It’s fun, but I’m not that good. Seiko usually beats me,” you said.

“We can play, if you want,” he said.

“Okay?” you said. “Why?”

“I’m just trying to think of things that we can do, since you’re here and all,” he said.

“What were you planning on doing if I didn’t come?” you said.

“I was going to go on a date,” he said.

“Oh! Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you actually had plans! I should leave so you can get to that,” you said. He waved you off dismissively, already turning the console on and connecting the controllers.

“It’s fine, I already canceled on her. Hopefully she gets the hint. If I have to spell it out to her that I’m not interested anymore, it’ll be annoying,” he said.

The TV flashed with the starting screen, the music blaring as you sat on opposite ends of the couch, remotes in hand. Outside, thunder rumbled ominously, and you thought that you should probably send your location to your parents so that they didn’t get worried. While Eita messed with the settings, you did that, receiving affirmative responses from both of them in turn — which made sense, as neither of them knew that Mr. and Mrs. Otoya, along with Seiko, weren’t home.

“Do you care what map we use?” he said.

“Seiko and I usually just go random,” you said. “So whatever you want is fine.”

“Random is the best,” he said. “Especially when you get the interactive maps that actively try to kill you. It’s way more exciting that way.”

“Exactly,” you said. Half of yours and Seiko’s matches were decided based on who could adjust to the map faster; sadly for you, this was frequently your best friend, and only very rarely you.

“What character do you play? I know Seiko likes Palutena, so probably not her, right?” he said.

“I only ever play as girl characters, but my favorite is Zero Suit Samus,” you said, clicking on her and changing her outfit so that it was the burgundy version.

“You only play as girl characters? Why?” he said.

“It’s the best way to bond with your avatar. If you can’t connect with your character, then how can you hope to win?” you said.

“Are you for real?” he said. You maintained a straight face for as long as you could before breaking into laughter.

“Obviously not. I just like playing as characters I think are pretty, since I don’t have much of a chance at winning either way,” you said.

“That makes sense,” he said. “I play as Sheik. He’s based off of a ninja, so it makes sense.”

It was your turn to give him a strange look. “What?”

“Because we’re descended from ninjas and all, so I have to stick with the theme. It’s like the Otoya brand,” he explained.

“I got that part,” you said. “What do you mean by he, though? Sheik is a girl.”

He paused right before clicking on Sheik, his eyes wide. “No way. He’s obviously a guy.”

“Not so,” you said. “I looked up a list of all female characters in Smash when I was trying to pick a main, and Sheik was on it. She’s Princess Zelda’s alter-ego, apparently.”

“Are you messing with me again?” he said.

“No, not this time,” you said. He mulled this over before shrugging and clicking on the character’s icon anyways.

“Whatever,” he said. “I’m used to her, so there’s no point in changing. Besides, it doesn’t really matter if she’s a girl.”

“Very true,” you said. “Alright, I’m ready whenever you are.”

“Be prepared,” he warned you as he pressed the start button and the screen switched to a countdown. “I’m not going to go easy on you.”

“Wasn’t expecting you to,” you said. “Considering how frequently I’m pummeled by your sister, I’m used to losing.”

“Good. Get used to it more,” he said, immediately starting off before you could even orient yourself on the map. “Bang! Gotcha! You really are bad at this.”

“Just as an aside, the TV makes sound effects, so you don’t need to add more of your own,” you said, wrinkling your nose and dodging out of his next attack.

“It makes it more fun,” he said. “You should try it. Really helps you get in the zone.”

“Hm,” you said. “I’ll leave it to you.”

Somehow, you and Eita were actually evenly matched, and during the final round, you knocked his character off of the edge, guarding it until he couldn’t hope to recover and fell to his defeat.

“Yay!” you said as the victory screen showed your character posing. “I haven’t won in ages! This is awesome.”

“Rematch! You only won because you’re one of those dirty edge guarders!” he said, already setting up the next game.

“‘Dirty edge guarders?’ That’s how the game is played,” you said.

“Nuh-uh, it’s against the rules,” he said. “Isn’t it?”

“No? There aren’t really rules in Smash. How do you not know this? Also, you should really stop saying things when you don’t even know if they’re true,” you said.

“My older sister would always tell me it was against the rules when we used to play,” he said. You waited for it to dawn on him; when it did, he groaned and facepalmed. “She was full of shit?”

“I’m afraid you were, in fact, duped,” you said.

“No wonder she always beat me,” he grumbled. “Whenever I was close to winning, she’d say whatever I was doing was against the rules.”

“That would do it,” you said. “I don’t mind playing again, though.”

“This time I’ll beat you for sure,” he said. “Now that I don’t have to abide by any bullshit guidelines.”

The two of you got wrapped up in a series of matches, eventually turning on the random character selector as well as the random map selector, refusing to read the tutorials so you were really going into things blind and figuring it out as you went. You had way more fun than you had expected you would, and as the evening went on, any thoughts of feeling self-conscious vanished from your mind. It was just Eita Otoya, after all. He was only your best friend’s older brother, the one who brought you treats and played soccer and sucked at Smash and had a childish sense of humor. There was no reason to feel shy. Well, besides the fact that he had never opted to put a shirt on, but that was a non-issue when your attention was focused solely on the screen.

You weren’t sure how many rounds you had gotten through when his phone rang, so shrilly and insistently that he was forced to pause the game and take the call. He didn’t leave his spot on the couch, though, which meant you were able to observe him as the girl on the other end began to scream.

“How could you cancel on me at the last minute?” she said, loud enough that you could hear her, though his phone wasn’t on speakerphone.

“It wasn’t that hard,” he said. “I just texted you and said I’m not going.”

“You’re such a piece of shit. I thought — I thought everyone was wrong about you, but they weren’t. They weren’t at all,” she said, her voice cracking.

“I’m sorry if I gave you the impression that they were,” he said. “Listen, I’m kind of in the middle of something right now, so could you hurry up and say what you want to say?”

“Did you ever even like me?” she said.

“Yeah, at first,” he said.

“Not anymore, though,” she said.

“Guess not,” he said. “Sorry.”

“Is that it? You’re ending things just like that? Didn’t it mean anything to you? I bragged to all of my friends about you! You were so sweet, and you even got me cookies…was it all just a game?” she said.

“It wasn’t a game,” he said. “As I said, I liked you back then. I wouldn’t have done all of that if I didn’t.”

“Because that’s supposed to make me feel all better,” she said.

“I’m just explaining myself,” he said.

“You’re the worst. You’re — just, you’re the worst, ugh!” she said before hanging up. Eita made a face at the phone and then put it facedown on the table beside him, unpausing the game without a wasted moment.

“They were from the grocery store,” he said after a bit.

“What?” you said.

“The cookies I got her. Grocery store variety,” he said.

“Oh. That’s kinda shitty,” you said.

“She seemed pretty happy about them regardless,” he said. “I wasn’t about to waste my money when I knew it wouldn’t last.”

“You wasted your money on me,” you pointed out. The corners of his mouth quirked up.

“You’re Seiko’s best friend. I’m pretty sure you’re not going anywhere, so it’s not a big deal. Consider it a peace offering for not believing you were real at first,” he said, landing a combo attack on your character.

“That was ages ago,” you said.

“It’s downright traumatizing for a person when others don’t think they’re real. Fucks up their psyche and whatnot. Acknowledging my mistake was the least I could do,” he said.

“Another fact you just made up?” you said.

“Maybe,” he said. “Was it plausible?”

“Not in the slightest,” you said.

“I tried,” he said. “Woah, nice one, Y/N.”

You had just hit his character in a series of successive blows, entirely by accident but to devastating effect. He lost his first life, respawning in and jumping back to the offensive.

“Why do you even do it?” you said, finally vocalizing the question that had been bothering you for almost the entire time that you had known him.

“Do what?” he said.

“Date people, when you know you’re going to break up with them so quickly,” you said. “What’s the point?”

“I’m not sure,” he said, the glare of the screen reflecting in his fern-colored irises. “It’s always fun at first. I meet a pretty girl, and I talk her into giving me her number. We go on a date or two, and I think it might actually be different this time, but it never is. By the third or fourth date, I’m bored beyond belief and dreading going on another. Then we break up and I do it all again.”

“That sounds exhausting,” you said.

“Near the end, it is,” he said. “But it’s pretty amusing in the beginning, so I don’t see a reason to stop.”

“Do you cheat on your girlfriends?” you said. You knew for sure what he would say, but still, you wanted to hear it from him.

“What is this, interview-Eita-day? Yeah, I have in the past, but only a couple of times,” he said. “Both of them were when the relationships were on their last legs and I couldn’t be bothered to care anymore.”

“That’s callous,” you said. “You should’ve just broken up with them.”

“Dumping girls is the worst. They get all upset and start crying, and I know I should feel bad because I’m the reason, but by that point, I just want to go home,” he said. “Do you think I’m a bad person?”

“A little bit,” you said. “For the most part, though, I just don’t understand. Why do you keep going for people you know you’re going to get tired of?”

“It’s not like I can look in the future and see that I’m going to end up bored,” he said. “It just happens. We run out of things to talk about and sit there in silence. It sucks. I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“How does that even happen?” you said. “You talk all the time with me. I didn’t think you were capable of running out of things to say.”

“That’s different,” he said. “I’m not worried about impressing you — no offense — and you’re funny, plus you like some of the same things as me, so it’s easy to have a conversation with you. It’s not the case when you’re going out with someone. You’ll understand when you decide to date yourself.”

“Don’t the girls you go out with like the same things as you?” you said.

“Not really,” he said. “They think video games are for losers, and they’re too scared to go on the rides at amusement parks. Some of them understand soccer, but not to the point that it’s something they’d want to talk about frequently.”

“Maybe that’s the problem,” you said. “You’re only going out with people who you have zero shared interests with. It’s normal that you’d get bored of them, and that they’d get bored in return.”

“You’re thinking too much about it,” he said. “It’s not that deep.”

“That’s how it works,” you said. “Quite fundamentally, actually. It’s impossible to build a relationship with someone when you both have nothing in common. In fact, it’s unfair to all involved parties.”

“Are you trying to give me advice?” he said.

“Depends. Will you take it seriously if I do?” you said.

“Not sure. It’s kind of ridiculous for me to be listening to my little sister’s friend about this kind of thing,” he said.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” you said.

“True,” he said. “Go ahead, then.”

“What do you even look for when you’re thinking of dating a girl?” you said.

“How hot she is,” he said. You waited for him to elaborate. He did not.

“That’s it?” you said.

“Pretty much,” he said.

“Why?” you said.

“Why not? Isn’t physical attraction important?” he said.

“To a certain extent, yes, but after a while, less and less so,” you said. “Haven’t you ever watched any romance movies? ‘It’s what’s on the inside that counts.’ Physical attraction alone isn’t enough in the long term.”

“Okay,” he said slowly. “So what do you suggest?”

“Are there any girls you genuinely enjoy spending time with? Not romantically, just because you like talking to them, even if they’re not the prettiest or whatever,” you said.

“I don’t really spend time with girls unless I’m trying to date them. It never works out. They always end up liking me, and besides, it makes my girlfriends mad if I’m friends with other girls,” he said.

“You seriously have zero female friends,” you deadpanned.

“And just how many male friends do you have?” he shot back.

“None,” you said. “Okay, fair enough.”

“Wait, no, I guess we’re friends,” he said. “Yeah, you’re cool, Y/N. I mean, you’re pretty as well, but I don’t really think about that part much because you’re friends with Seiko.”

“Thanks,” you said. “You’re cool, too.”

“Now what? You’re a girl, and I like talking to you. Where do I go from there?” he said.

“I was going to say you should try dating one of those girls instead, but obviously that’s not applicable here,” you said.

“Ah,” he said. “Okay.”

“Don’t worry, it’s not like I’m all that unique,” you said, taking advantage of his distraction to win another match. “It won’t be that hard for you to find someone else that you like hanging out with, and then you can just date them. Hopefully, you won’t get bored with a relationship like that.”

Eita didn’t respond. You doubted he knew how to and you were glad for his silence, because you yourself felt embarrassed that you had tried so hard to help him. Since when had you been the kind of girl who wanted so badly to give people guidance? He had his problems, no one could deny that, but why did you care about them? Why did it matter to you if he was happy, or if he grew out of whatever phase he was currently in?

Maybe it was because you knew he could be better. The caricature of him that you heard about, from Seiko and from the rumors around your high school, contrasted so harshly with the Eita Otoya you knew. People loved him because they wanted to be him, to have that effortless and selfish attitude towards life, but you didn’t think that very many of them took the time to understand him.

You doubted anyone at school knew that he was horrible at Super Smash Bros., or that he was entirely gullible and liked to make other people laugh. How many of them would find him admirable if they knew of his addiction to churros and diet sodas? He wasn’t cool or charming or suave the way he pretended to be. At the end of the day, he was nothing but a dumb boy blessed with a handsome enough mien that had fallen into a crowd which demanded more of him than he honestly should’ve had to give.

Putting this protectiveness down as a symptom of your friendship with Seiko — of course you cared for her older brother, he was a part of her family and you cared about her, it only made sense — you noticed that there was a lull in the storm. Bidding Eita farewell and shoving the money into his phone case when he was preoccupied with turning the game off, you ran home before it could begin to rain again, blaming your queasiness on the fact that you had not yet eaten dinner and nothing more.

“Eita’s been talking about you a lot,” Seiko said to you at lunch one day, a couple of weeks after the evening you had spent with her brother. Both you and he had mutually agreed not to bring it up, and Seiko was none the wiser, or at least so you had thought.

“What do you mean?” you said. She took a sip out of her juice box.

“Nothing bad. He just asks me how you’re doing and stuff,” she said.

“That’s not that weird. Why’d you bring it up?” you said. For a moment, you had thought she meant that he was asking about you for a different reason, but this just sounded like a typical and general concern.

“It’s a little weird. He doesn’t typically care about how other people are doing. The other day, he asked me when you’re coming over again, since according to him it’s ‘been a while.’ Like he’s keeping track or something!” she said.

“He’s not wrong. It has been a bit,” you said.

“I know, I know,” she said. “Season’s almost over, and then I’m all yours.”

“You don’t have off-season workouts?” you said.

“Fuck off-season workouts,” she said. “I’ll skip on the days we plan to hang out. My coach won’t say anything. I’m the star of the team, so he has to live with it.”

“You’re the best,” you said.

“And you’re trying to change the subject!” she said. “Are the two of you buddy-buddy now or something?”

“Or something,” you said. “We’ve just spoken a few times while I was waiting for you to come back home from practices.”

She narrowed her eyes at you before nodding slowly. “Look, just so you know, I don’t mind if you’re friends with him or anything.”

“That’s good. I’ll keep it in mind,” you said.

“He’s my brother, after all. I like knowing that my best friend is getting along with my family,” she continued.

“I get along with your family so well that I’m surprised they haven’t started calling me Y/N Otoya yet,” you said.

“But I want you to be aware of what kind of person he is,” she said with a note of finality. “He might do something that hurts your feelings.”

“You’ve told me. Many times, actually,” you said.

“And I don’t want you to stop being friends with me if he does,” she said. “Okay?”

“I wouldn’t do that,” you said. “You’re my best friend in the entire world.”

“You promise?” she said, in a rare show of vulnerability.

“Promise,” you said. She punched you in the arm, returning back to being the Seiko you knew.

“Good. Then do what you want with him,” she said.

“What?” you said.

“Just saying! You deserve better, obviously, but I won’t turn down a chance to have you as my sister-in-law,” she said. “Besides, he knows that if he messes with you, I’ll take your side, so that might be an incentive for him to stay on the straight and narrow.”

“Seiko! It’s not like that!” you said. “I don’t have feelings for him. He’s your brother.”

“Whatever you say,” she said in a sing-song voice, taking another sip of her juice box, obviously done with the discussion.

She knew you better than you knew yourself. That was what happened when a person was best friends with another for years upon years, and that was why she understood even before you did what it was that was brewing between you and her brother, what had been brewing since long before that evening where you had finally noticed a palpable shift in your dynamic.

Exam season began shortly afterwards, so you didn’t have the time to go to the Otoyas’ when you were so wrapped up in studying. Then, once exams were finished, Seiko was finally freed from her grueling practice schedule, leaving her to be, as she had said earlier, all yours. This meant that even when you did go to their house, you were solely there to be with her, and so you saw little of Eita, barely speaking to him beyond exchanging pleasantries.

Sometimes you wondered how he was doing. Had he found a girl he actually liked and ended up dating her? How was that relationship going, if so? Or was he still continuing as he had been, chasing whoever he found the most attractive and then running away from them when things inevitably didn’t work out? You hoped that that wasn’t the case, though you didn’t find the former option all that appealing, either. You should’ve, because it would’ve meant that he had taken your words to heart, but you didn’t. The thought of him dating anyone was wrong and weird and you didn’t like it, but because you weren’t quite sure why that was, you decided to avoid both the feeling and its cause alike.

Halfway through summer break, on a day when your parents were on a business trip and Seiko was visiting one of her cousins in the city, Eita Otoya showed up on your front porch, knocking on the door furiously until you opened it. He was just about the last person you had expected to be standing there, red in the face and panting for breath, wearing a sweat-soaked jersey, hair sticking to his forehead and a white box in his hands.

“You look horrible,” you said.

“I ran all of the way here,” he said. “After my soccer game.”

“What for?” you said.

“I haven’t seen you in ages,” he said.

“I was just at your house the other day,” you said. “Jeez, you look like you’re about to pass out. Let me get you some water. You really could’ve walked, you know…”

He had never been to your house, so he trailed after you dutifully, sitting at the dining table and gulping down the glass of water you offered him within seconds. Taking it back, you refilled it and gave it to him again.

“You were there for Seiko, not me,” he said.

“She’s my best friend,” you said. “Obviously I was there for her.”

“And what am I?” he said.

“Not that,” you said.

“I should be upset, but for some reason, I’m kind of glad that you said that,” he said. “I don’t want to be your friend.”

“Rude much?” you said, his words stinging. “Is that all you came here to tell me? If you don’t want to be friends, that’s fine, but was there really a need for you to come to my house and announce it? How’d you even get my address?”

“Seiko told me,” he said.

“In hindsight, I should’ve seen that coming,” you said.

“I haven’t dated anyone,” he said, all in a rush, the sentences tumbling out of his mouth like he was not sure if he’d ever get the chance to say them again. “Not since that night that we played video games together.”

“Seriously? If I ask Seiko, will she confirm that?” you said.

“Of course! I’m a lot of things, I know that, but I’m not a liar. I’ve never tried to hide who I am, especially not from you,” he said.

“Well,” you said. “That’s good, then. I’m proud of you.”

“I’ve tried finding the kind of person you described,” he said. “Someone like you. You said it would be easy, but it’s not. It’s really fucking difficult.”

“Maybe you should look harder, then,” you said, rolling your eyes and placing his empty cup in the dishwasher before you forgot about it. “There’s no way I’m the only girl in the entire city that you can bring yourself to genuinely like.”

“You’re the only one I want to like,” he said. You froze in the middle of putting dish detergent in the dispenser, giving him an incredulous look.

“I’m what?” you said.

“I get that you probably don’t feel the same way. To be honest, I didn’t even realize that I did until Seiko yelled at me about it, because it’s not like it usually is. I want to spend time with you, as much as possible, even if we’re not doing anything but eating snacks or playing games. I want to listen to you talk, even if it’s about something that I think is boring. I want to buy things that’ll make you happy — the nice versions, not the kinds from the grocery store, because I don’t want to imagine that it won’t last. I want it to last,” he said.

You stared at him, slack-jawed and wide-eyed. Of all the things he could’ve said, that was the most unlikely. What was it about you that made you so different, that the ever-fickle and brutally honest Eita Otoya was driven to such a confession? You knew he wasn’t making it up, because he was right — he never did. Not once had he ever tried to mislead a girl about who he was, and you sensed that this was much the same. The problem wasn’t that you didn’t believe him. It was that you simply couldn’t understand.

“I don’t get it,” you said.

“What do you mean? What else am I supposed to say?” he said. “I like you. I think I have for a while now. At first, I thought it was just because you were my sister’s friend, but according to her, you normally don’t feel this way for the friends of your siblings.”

“You’ve been talking to Seiko about me?” you said. Suddenly, the side comments she had been making recently made a lot more sense.

“Who else would I go to? It was humiliating, asking her for help, but you guys have known each other for forever, so I figured it was the best option,” he said.

“That’s true,” you said, starting the dishwasher and pushing it shut. “Wow. I don’t know what to say to that.”

“If you’re going to reject me, don’t worry about it. I didn’t tell you all of that because I was expecting you to say yes. I just wanted you to know that — that I did take what you said into consideration,” he said.

“I’m glad you did,” you said. “It must’ve been weird, following the advice of your younger sister’s best friend.”

“You’re more than that,” he said. “You’re more than just Seiko’s friend to me. You’ve been more than that for a long time now.”

“Why me?” you said. “Why is it me, and not one of the hundreds of other girls that would jump at the chance to fix you, to be the one who finally got Eita Otoya to settle down for good?”

“It’s that bratty little sister of mine’s fault,” he said. “Because of her, you kept showing up, and by the time I noticed, it was way too late. At that point, I was already asking her what your favorite desserts were, just so I could get them for you.”

“I see,” you said.

“Besides, being with someone who wants to fix another person sounds awful. Do you want to fix me?” he said.

“If you expect me to, then you should probably just leave,” you said. “I don’t mind helping when I can, but the only person that can fix you is you.”

“Exactly,” he said. “You mentioned once that cheaters can grow somewhere far away from you.”

“Hm? Oh, I did say something along those lines, didn’t I? That was over a year ago, though,” you said, thinking back to that random conversation, unsure of why he even remembered it.

“I’ve done it,” he said. “It was hard, but I’ve done it anyways. For you, but also for myself. I’m not so sure that the highs are worth the lows anymore, and besides, I hate doing things I don’t like, and dating around is becoming one of those things.”

“Is that so?” you said. “I’m glad you realized that.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Me, too. Uh, I should probably go now, so…here. For last time. You shouldn’t have paid me back. Don’t even think about pulling something like that again.”

He opened the box, revealing an assortment of cookies, all the different kinds you liked. You didn’t need to ask him to know where he had gotten them from, and you admired them as he stood and pushed in his chair.

“Thanks for hearing me out, Y/N,” he said. “And don’t worry, I won’t make things uncomfortable, so feel free to visit Seiko whenever. I’ll stay out of your way when you come over. She doesn’t have any other friends, so don’t ditch her just because of me.”

“You’re pretty self-important, aren’t you?” you teased. “Did you think I’d give her up just because of you? Not likely. Anyways, why would things be uncomfortable?”

“Usually it’s pretty unpleasant to have to be around someone when you know they have unreciprocated feelings for you,” he said.

“I don’t think they’re unreciprocated,” you said. He quite literally paused in his tracks, foot still raised in the air as he spun to face you.

“What? You should’ve said so earlier!” he said. “Do you mean I was acting all angsty and emotional for nothing?”

“I wanted to make you suffer a bit,” you said. “I mean this gently, but you deserve it.”

He hung his head. “You’re not wrong.”

“I’ve liked you for a while as well, though like you said, I hardly understood it myself, and I didn’t have the benefit of Seiko drumming it into my mind — mostly because that’s not the kind of conversation you really want to have with your best friend about her brother,” you said. “I also knew about your reputation, and no matter how wonderful I found you, I was a little wary, so I never gave it much thought.”

“But now?” he said.

“I mean, it’s kind of hard to reject a guy who runs to your house with cookies and a dramatic speech about how much he likes you,” you said.

“When you put it like that, I sound like a loser,” he said.

“I want you to consider that you play Super Smash Bros. in your free time, and that you are obsessed with anything ninja or Naruto related, and then I would like for you to repeat that statement with the same indignation you just said it with,” you said. He huffed in defeat.

“That’s fair enough,” he said.

“Like I said, I do like you, but I’m not in the business of fixing people. The second you start getting bored or wanting to cheat on me, break up with me, and be an adult about it. Don’t run away. Just be honest, and for my part, I’ll hold back my tears until you’ve left, alright? If you can swear you’ll do that, then I don’t mind trying,” you said.

“You’re way too nice to me,” he said.

“I can add in more demands, if you’d like,” you said.

“Now, I didn’t say you had to do that,” he said. You chuckled.

“I thought you were really serious about me, though?” you said. “Since you mentioned it, I do have one more condition. Say yes, and I’ll be your girlfriend. Say no, and…you better get back to searching.”

“What is it?” he said eagerly, grabbing your hands and holding them in between his own. “I’ll do anything.”

“You have to be the one to tell Seiko,” you said. He paled.

“You wouldn’t,” he said.

“Just did,” you said. He scrunched up his face in thought, obviously imagining his sister’s reaction. Though she had given both of you her blessings in her own way, there was no doubt in your mind that she’d give the two of you a hard time — especially him, considering the fact that she already did that without even having a reason to.

“I’ll do it, but you have to come along,” he bargained. “Someone has to nurse me back to health once she’s through with me. It might as well be you.”

“You’re in no place to be asking for things,” you said.

“Please?” he said. “She’s scary as hell, and I’m saying this as someone who regularly plays against guys big enough to become pro wrestlers.”

“Alright, alright,” you said. “I’ll come with you, and I’ll put bandages on all your bruises.”

He grinned at you. “Deal.”

“Deal,” you said.

“Then I guess you’re my girlfriend now,” he said.

“I guess I am,” you said.

“Nice,” he said. “Wanna play Mario Kart?”

You snorted. “Why not?”

So you sat down on the sofa — next to each other this time, not on opposite sides, your head leaning on his shoulder and his thigh pressed against your own — and you did just that.

“So let me get this straight,” Seiko said. Eita, who had just delivered the news, was attempting to hide behind you, which was a largely ineffective method of disguise. “You two are officially dating.”

“Pretty much,” you said, when it became obvious that Eita was too petrified to respond. It was funny — he talked such a big game when it was just words, and he was the first to make fun of Seiko, but as soon as the prospect of a fight came up, he cowered away, as any smart man would.

“Interesting,” she said. “Eita, come here. I just want to say something.”

He shuffled out towards Seiko, head bowed and hands clasped together. “Yes?”

“If you ever hurt even a cell in the bodies of the mites that live on her eyelashes—”

“What the fuck?” you said. “That’s disgusting. Thanks, Seiko, now I’m going to be scrubbing my eyelashes for the next week.”

“Don’t worry about it, everyone has them. They’re normal,” Seiko said. “Like I was saying, Eita, if you mess with her, I’ll kill you. Forget about sibling loyalty; it all goes out the door on that day, you hear me?”

“Loud and clear,” he said.

“Good,” she said, nodding in satisfaction. He looked around like he was searching for a camera, obviously in disbelief that she had let him off so easily.

“Is that it?” he said.

“For now,” she said. “Ask me again in a few months and the answer might change.”

“I’ll take it,” he said. “Well, see you later. Let’s go upstairs, Y/N.”

“What? Y/N and I have plans to bake together tonight!” Seiko said.

“No way, we’re watching TV together! I’m going to make her watch all of Naruto!” he argued. In unison, they both turned to you, waiting for your response, waves of hostility rolling off of them.

“Oh, boy,” you said, already feeling a headache coming on. “This is going to be a lot more annoying than I anticipated.”

#otoya x reader #otoya x y/n #otoya x you #otoya eita #bllk x reader #bllk #blue lock #reader insert #best friend’s brother au #best friend’s brother fic #m1ckeyb3rry writes

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pullhisteeth · 1 year

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Hi, lovely! Just wanted to drop by and say that I miss you and your amazing writing 🥹🧡 I understand if you're taking a break or stepping away from the app, but if you're up for it, I was wondering if I could drop in a request? No pressure at all! I REALLY love the way you write fluffy and angsty fics so I was wondering if you could write about a besties-to-lovers with Eddie where he asks the reader for help with asking a different girl out, without knowing about reader's feelings for him...and then along the way he realizes his feelings for the reader hehe and maybe a lil sprinkle of jealous!Eddie too 😎 Ily and I hope you're doing okay! 🩷🩷🩷

hi my love! this is the sweetest message thank you - not taking an intentional break, just busy as anything. work’s been my whole life the past couple weeks (today is actually my first day off in like a month) and what with that and trying to eat/sleep/speak to other human beings I am …… deceased

it’s so kind of you to say hello! I loved writing your request, it was a nice break for my brain and it felt good to get back into it. ♡ love you!

contains hurt/comfort, angst, fluff. tried to get some jealous!eddie in there for you :-)

3.4k

Eddie looks pretty like this.

He’s sitting at your desk in the library. You’re not sure why he’s here, though that wasn’t your first thought when you spotted him on your way over. He’s hunched over slightly, unruly hair keeping his face hidden, but it’s catching the light of the afternoon sun just right and it’s glowing a blushing golden and the flutters in your gut are relentless.

“Hey,” you murmur, wary of both startling him, and the strict Hawkins Library warden who likes to shush people like it’s a sport. Regardless he starts, shoulders jumping and face whipping up and around to look at you with wide, surprised eyes that soften when he realises who you are.

“Hi, sugar,” he says, voice ebbing as he notices how loud he’s being. He looks around quickly, just in case he’s about to get scolded, before looking back up at you and beaming. It doesn’t fool you, though; his presence here coupled with the sheen of anxiety behind his eyes gives him away.

“What’re you doing here?” you ask, setting your backpack down on the table and taking the seat opposite him.

He begins fiddling with his ring again and diverts his eye. He’s nervous and you want to know how to fix it more than you wish to let on.

You hum an encouraging noise when he says nothing, sliding textbooks out of your bag along with your pens.

“I, uh… I need your help,” he says warily.

“Oh? With what?”

“I want to, uh… I wanna ask Tara out,” he says, and the words come out in one quick breath, his eyes still on his hands. “But I dunno how.”

You’re quiet, busy hands halting with a book halfway open. You look at him, mouth agape, for a second too long - he looks up after a beat and catches you before you have the sense to close it.

“Please?” he begs, those eyes like a puppy dog, wide and brown and far too lovable. “I’d take her to the Hawk but she’s- Man, she’s way too cool, it’s intimidating, and I really wanna impress her, you know? And I think the Hawk’ll be too busy on Friday ‘cause I know that new movie’s out that all the kids wanna see, so what if-”

“Okay,” you say. You’re sharp, voice like a whip, cutting him off before he derails.

He looks at you blankly for a second before saying, “Really? Shit, thank you.”

You look down at the books in front of you, eyes on the printed pages but taking nothing in. “Take her to the Garage,” you tell him quietly.

“What?”

“The Garage,” you repeat, closing the textbook and piling it on top of the others to return them to your bag. “It’s on the east side, on the road out.”

“Yeah, I know where the Garage is, but- Wait, are you headin’ out already? You just got here.”

“Don’t feel like studying,” you say flatly. “The Garage is cool. Rob took me there once. Tara’d love it.”

“Hey, hey-” His restless hands reach over to grip your wrist, to stop you moving, but you’re slippery and quick and far too determined on leaving. “You don’t have to leave, I’ll leave you alone. Your exam’s next week, I don’t wanna-”

“It’s fine, Eddie, I’ll study tomorrow.”

“But-”

“See you around,” you say quickly, tugging on the zipper on your bag and standing so fast it makes your head spin. You can hear him protesting behind you but it’s no use - the only place you want to be right now is home.

Eddie doesn’t call that evening. He doesn’t call the next day either, or the two following that. You float between your bed, the fridge and various shifts at work without so much as daring to call him yourself, though you lie awake at night and worry you’ve done something terrible, something earth-shatteringly cruel by leaving him like you did. Something so bad that twelve years of friendship is lost forever.

“Maybe it’s better like this,” you tell Nancy over the phone. It’s Thursday night, four days until your exam, and you haven’t spoken to Eddie since Sunday. “I was gonna spend forever like that. Maybe now I can move on or somethin’.”

“We both know you’re not going to move on,” she tells you. You groan, turning over onto your back to stare at your bedroom ceiling. Your bed is like a rotten pit, unmade for nearly a week and the past five days’ dirty (and clean) laundry is littered all over the top of the comforter. “And you shouldn’t. You’d just be hiding from your feelings.”

“I hate you,” you tell her, though the way your voice comes out through your smile deceives you. “You always sound so wise, how is that?”

“I am wise,” she says, smiling too. “And I’m wise enough to know that Eddie feels the same, even if he doesn’t realise it yet. Apparently I’ve got the brains for both of us, ‘cause he’s a bit dumb like that sometimes.”

“I wish he wasn’t,” you whine, “I can’t get the image of him and Tara outta my head.”

“I can go, if you want,” she says.

“Huh?”

“I can take Rob to the Garage on Friday, keep an eye on stuff.”

“Shit, would you?”

“Yeah, why not? What’re you doing that night anyway?”

“Dunno,” you say, morose, “Probably heading to the library again.”

“Okay,” she says sympathetically. “You’re gonna smash this exam, you know that, right?”

“Doesn’t feel like it,” you grumble.”

“Well I know you will. And then Indiana State’ll have the best biologist known to man on their campus.”

“Funny,” you say.

“I’m wise and funny? You’re kind tonight.”

“I’m gonna go, Nance.”

“Okay,” she says, laughing. “I’ll call on Saturday, okay? And please eat some dinner.”

“Okay,” you reply, hanging up. You balance the receiver back on its stand and roll back over, willing the tears back when you feel them roll down your temples.

Friday nights are your favourite nights at the library.

Who else spends the one designated social evening of the week in a room designed for quiet? You, apparently, alongside two old ladies knitting in the comfy corner, and a kid who looks like he might be home from college for the holidays. You’re settled at your usual desk with textbooks and papers scattered everywhere - the tabletop, the chair next to you, the floor. You’ve been here for hours, pouring over all of your work, oblivious to most of the minimal movement and chatter happening in the room.

You’ve got a tape in your Walkman - classical, one your dad found at the record store downtown - so you feel Eddie before you see him. He startles you, his wide hand on your shoulder, and you jump, pulling your headphones down.

“Fucking hell,” you breathe, your heart beating a mile a minute. You twist in your seat and put your pen down, looking up at him. You couldn't worry about the warden if you tried, far too enamoured by him despite everything. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

He’s hovering over you, his hair a mess and cheeks flushed pink. You notice he has his nice shirt on - a deep blue, so dark it’s almost black - and his lips are rosy.

“Tara needed the bathroom on the way home, this was the closest place. How’s it going?”

There’s a lilt to his voice that churns your stomach. It’s the one he gets at parties, or that night just before your birthday when the two of you drank wine in his living room and didn’t sleep until six in the morning.

He’s been drinking and, judging by the smell lingering on his clothes, smoking, too, and his smile and the pink blooming over his cheeks only makes the churning worse.

“Fine,” you tell him. “Was in the zone, sorry.”

“No,” he breathes, finally backing away. You fill your lungs and watch him as he rounds the table. His eyes keep moving from you to the door across the room, presumably watching for her. “I interrupted you, ‘m’sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“Gotta run,” he says, face brightening in a way that makes you want to vomit. You turn back around and see Tara in the doorway, waving, beaming. “Don’t work too hard, please? Get some sleep. And eat something- Have you eaten at all today?”

He’s standing a foot or two from the table now, but he stops as he asks you this.

“Uh,” you look down at your watch. 12:07am. “I had lunch.”

“Shit, you need’ta eat something. Please.”

“Okay, Eds. I’ll have some toast when I get home. Have a nice night.”

“You’ve got this,” he says, and it’s here that the silly smile on his face falters. He still hasn’t moved, and you can see Tara looking over, watching. He’s looking at you and something breaks - his smile drops completely and his eyes go all sad and weird.

“What?” you ask, unamused.

“Nothing,” he says. “Nothing. Get some sleep okay? See you later.”

He turns and walks across to the exit, and you watch him leave. He’s slow and slumped, like someone’s just delivered bad news.

You head out fifteen minutes later, and chew unhappily on three slices of toast before you get to bed.

Studying until late is never a good idea.

You’re hopping around your bedroom, pulling stockings up your legs and praying to anything holy that the traffic on your way into work isn’t too bad.

“I know this isn’t really what you wanted to hear,” Nancy’s saying sadly. You’ve got the receiver propped between your cheek and your shoulder as you stumble around and stretch the cord within an inch of its life. “They just… It really did look like they were having fun.”

“He came to see me at the library,” you tell her breathlessly, desperate to think of anything but Eddie and Tara playing pool and laughing like lovedrunk teenagers

“What? When? Last night?”

“Yeah, said she needed a piss on the way home.” You stop hopping, both stockings finally in place, and take the phone in your hand. “He was really weird, actually.”

“Weird how?”

“I dunno. He seemed happy, but then he got all sad.”

“Did you tell him off?” she asks, faux-stern.

“No,” you tell her, “just told him I’d have dinner, and to have a good night.”

She hums, and you look at the clock.

“Shit, Nance, I’m sorry, I really gotta go, I’m gonna be so late-”

“No, no, you go, I’ll see you soon. And good luck on Monday, yeah? I know you’ll ace it.” -

Your body takes you to the library like it’s on auto-pilot or something. You finished the entrance exam three hours ago, and though it seemed to go okay, you daren’t be too optimistic. You’d hovered around town for a while, eating ice cream and watching birds, before your feet walked you right here: your desk on the first floor of Hawkins Library.

It’s here that you’ve been sitting for an hour or so, flicking through novels but finding no interest in the words on the page. Your brain is melted from a near-fatal combination overworking and overthinking, and without an exam to worry about, the latter is now the one clocking overtime.

You can’t get the picture of Eddie’s face out of your head. His eyes had been so sad, his face drooping like the dawning of some cruel realisation. The way he’d walked out of the room had matched it, sorrowful and curled over.

Worst of all, he hasn’t called.

There’s only two reasons you can think of. Firstly, he’s busy calling Tara instead of you. He’s telling her about his day, spinning new inside jokes and letting her hear his pretty laugh.

Or second: he doesn’t want to talk to you anymore. You’re too cold, flat, uninteresting. Tara is cool.

There is a third possibility that you daren’t think about for the sake of your own heart: that both are true.

You slam the hardback in your hands shut and place it roughly on the table.

“Woah, was it that bad?”

You look up and find Eddie standing across from you, precisely where he’d been that moment something had changed on Friday. He’s far less put together now, dressed in his usual bedraggled jacket and jeans.

He laughs as you stare at him. After a minute, he takes the seat opposite and pulls the book towards himself.

“Weird choice for you, sugar.”

“Quiet,” you tell him in a whisper, nodding to your right where the warden is circling.

“Sorry,” he whispers back with a smile. “What’re you still doing here? Wasn’t the exam this morning?”

“I like it here,” you tell him. A half-truth - you do, but you’d really rather be anywhere else right now.

“Right,” he says, clearly not buying it. “And how’d it go?”

You shrug. “Okay, I think. I hope.”

“You’re the smartest person I know. You’ll do great.”

“I wish people would stop saying that,” you say, looking out of the window to your left.

“What? That you’re smart?”

“That I’ll ace it. I have no idea.”

“No, you don’t,” he says. “But you’ve definitely got a better idea than me.”

“What’s that mean?” you ask, turning back to look at him.

“I just… You’ve got more brains than me, that’s all.”

He’s fiddling with his rings again, eyes trained on the tentative movements of his fingers rather than you. It gives you a chance to take in his face properly: tired, sallow, unhappy.

“How was Friday?” you chance. He shrugs. “Just okay?”

“Fine, yeah,” he says, voice flat and unfeeling. “Had fun, ‘til we came here.”

Your instinct is to be offended. You didn’t say anything cruel or unwarranted; in fact you barely said a thing at all. How could you have ruined the evening?

“What?”

“Tara, she, uh… She said bye when we left. I was walkin’ her home, only stopped here for the can, I mean- You know we’re miles from the park, took me forever to get back to mine. Thought, y’know…” You hum so he doesn’t have to utter the inevitable and break your heart.

“What happened?” you ask softly, hands on the table in front of you like an offering.

He looks troubled, truly, and it hurts - you may have gone a week without contact, the longest since he went on a fishing trip with Wayne when you were both 18, but he’s your best friend, and his pain is your pain.

He closes his eyes tight and sucks in a breath.

“When we left, she said… She told me I need to ‘really think about things’, which made no sense to me at the time, I guess ‘cause I was, like, 4 whiskey sours in and we’d smoked on the way over, and then she used the payphone outside to call a cab so I waited with her and walked home, and the next morning I realised what she meant.”

You look at him with nothing to say. He takes another deep breath.

“She probably saw me over here with you, y’know, and I’m sure to other people we seem pretty… Comfortable. And then you said you hadn’t eaten, and you looked so tired, I- All I wanted to do was take you home and make you dinner. And then the next morning, and, like, all weekend, all I could think was that one day some other guy’d be doin’ that for you, some college guy or somethin’, and I’d have to watch, ‘cause you’re my friend.”

“Eddie, I don’t understand.”

You’re genuinely bewildered. He’s still whispering, or at least talking in a low voice, and at multiple points during the past five minutes you thought you’d completely misheard him. It’s definitely your Eddie sitting opposite you - he has a tendency to be a little dramatic, and this is certainly that - but he’s never been so brashly honest like this with you before.

“I had fun with Tara, really, but… I realised I’d spent all night thinking about how much better it’d have been if you’d been there.”

You can feel the flush like fire up your neck and across your cheeks. Your palms are clammy so you pull them inwards, back towards yourself, to save yourself the embarrassment.

“I think I need to get some air,” you say, standing and leaving without waiting for him.

You hear him behind you as you descend the stairs and push the clunky glass door open. You’re met with a wall of cold air and you breathe a heaving sigh as you stand in its frost.

The door opens again only a few seconds later, and you turn to face your friend.

“Eddie,” you begin, “I need to know that you’re telling me what I think you’re telling me.”

“You left your coat,” is all he says, handing you the jacket. You don’t move, too stunned, so he steps behind you and you let him manipulate your arms into the sleeves like a sullen child.

“Eddie,” you bite, impatient and frustrated.

“Yeah,” he breathes behind you. When the coat’s on, he squeezes your shoulders, and you round on him.

“Please just tell me what the fuck is going-”

“I think I love you,” he says, louder than you. It’s a declaration, said without hesitation or subtlety. It’s so confidently loud that a couple of people leaving the library turn to look.

“It shouldn’t have taken me taking someone else out to realise it, but fuck, once I did I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I guess ‘cause we see each other all the time I never really questioned why I think about you so often, or whatever, but… I wanted to take you home and make you dinner on Friday, make sure you got some sleep, fuckin’ look after you. Made me feel dumb as hell because you’re not a kid or anythin’, but I just want you to be okay.”

You’re not sure when you started crying. Maybe it was as early as the declaration itself, but you know that by the time he told you he wants to take care of you, tears were rolling over your cheeks, unstoppable and filled with elation.

“Shit,” Eddie whispers, stepping toward you without thinking, reaching out to hold you somehow. He settles for a hand on your upper arm, almost at your shoulder. “Fuck, I’m sorry, please don’t cry, I-”

“It’s fine, I’m okay, I’m, uh- I’m happy,” you say, giggling, your tears making it wetter, thicker. “They’re happy tears.”

“Oh, good,” he breathes, shoulders sloping. You spot the beginning of a grin through cloudy vision. “Thank god.”

While you wipe your face with the sleeve of your jumper, Eddie’s hand moves from your shoulder and to your neck. You feel the heavy weight of him pressing there, not threatening but a comfort. It forces you closer, until you’re both looking at each other and laughing.

“The exam went really well,” you tell him. “Honest.”

“I knew it would,” he says, curling a finger behind your ear to move a piece of hair from your face. “You’re gonna kill it at college.”

“I’ll miss you. And everyone else.”

“We’re not going anywhere any time soon,” he says softly, fingers dancing until he’s cradling your face. His other hand is stuffed in his pocket, and you’re close enough that you can reach in and grasp it, pulling it out so you can wind your fingers between his. He looks down and smiles.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks. It’s almost a whisper and you almost miss it - almost. “For the exam, I mean. You did well, y’deserve a kiss.”

“Sure,” you say, laughing again. “For the exam, yeah.”

He chuckles before dipping his head just enough. You lift up to meet him halfway and he presses his lips to yours, firm but quick.

“Again,” you breathe, and he doesn’t ask questions. He bows again and kisses you, his force solid and homely. You kiss him back, breathless and keening.He’s warm and you want to take, take, take. You only stop when the door opens behind you again, creaking and followed by quick footsteps as someone else leaves.

Eddie kisses your nose and says, “Shit, you’re cold.”

“Can we go home?”

“No,” he says, and before you can finish protesting, he adds, “We have to celebrate. You’re done with studying! Let’s go get milkshakes or something.”

You wrinkle your nose, determined that you won’t be going to the diner you work in. “How about pizza?”

“Whatever you want, smartie pants.”

You physically bristle at the petname, cheeks flushing again despite the chill. Eddie’s arm settles around your shoulders and squeezes as he kisses your temple.

You stop walking once you reach the end of the block. He stops with you and turns to look at you without dropping your hand.

"I think I love you too, by the way," you tell him. "I didn't say- Back there, I should've said it. I- Well, I know I love you."

He smiles - beams - at your return of his declaration. He squeezes your hand in his and tugs.

"C'mon, pretty girl. Let's go."

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