#meeting after seven years and you are still SO beautiful

[michyeosseo]

You take a war so lightly. This only proves you have not experienced a real one.

Zeng Li as SHEN MUYUE

THE LEGEND OF SHEN LI (2024)

[joelsgoldrush]

“give me the first taste” | 10k

logan howlett x f!reader

part 2 of “GUILTY PLEASURE”

"Your hungry flirt borders intrusion / And I'm building memories on things we have not said / Full is not heavy as empty, not nearly, my love / Give me the first taste / Let it begin, heaven cannot wait forever / Darling, just start start the chase, I'll let you win." The First Taste by Fiona Apple

SUMMARY: From the moment you first laid eyes on Logan, you knew he was a tough nut to crack. But if there’s one thing you love, it’s a challenge. As your relationship grows, you’re determined to show him that, in this universe, he can also be loved.

WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni - smut 18+ fluff. angst. drinking. dirty talk. slow-burnish. age-gap (reader is 25). once again wade saves the day. domestic!logan. soft dom!logan. logan calls reader “kid”. they watch (500) days of summer. oral sex (f and m receiving). fingering. thigh riding. thumb sucking. throat fucking. multiple orgasms. unprotected p in v. creampie (i would say i’m sorry but i’d be lying)

AUTHOR’S NOTE: jeez. hi guys!!! hope you’re doing alright. this is the 2nd part to “guilty pleasure.” writing for these two has been a total rollercoaster, but god was it worth it. as i always tell you, english isn’t my first language, so if you come across any mistake and you feel like letting me know, there’s no problem. thank you so much for all the support you’ve been giving my posts. i’m happy strangers out there take the time to read my silly stories :)

A girl and a mutant walk into an apartment…

Actually, you’re still trying to come up with the rest of the joke. But one thing’s true: Logan’s about to set foot in your place.

You curse under your breath, putting both your hands to work as you struggle to open the door. “Fucking swollen wood. I hate humidity,” you mutter, glancing back at Logan, who frowns as you keep trying different maneuvers to get the door to function properly.

It’s a shitty situation overall. And having that gorgeous man practically glued to your back isn’t helping in any way. You can tell he wants to give you a hand, but you’re not having it—women in STEM or something of the sort.

“May I—” he starts, though you cut him off before he can finish.

“I’ve got this. Just need to—” you say, ramming your shoulder into the door with enough force to make it finally give away. Almost stumbling over the carpet but managing to catch yourself, you sigh in relief. Meanwhile, Logan stands still, scrutinizing you until you gesture for him to enter. “Welcome to the smallest apartment in New York City. It's nothing fancy, but it’s got everything you need for a comfortable stay on a budget. Make yourself at home!”

Logan narrows his eyes, the tiniest smirk playing on his lips before stepping inside. Each of his movements seems to be premeditated as he tosses his jacket onto the couch, surveying the room. A portrait of when you were a kid, probably six or seven years old, catches his attention. He tilts his head, picking up the picture to examine it more closely, and then flashes you a lopsided grin. “How cute.”

“Well, I’ve changed a lot,” you take the picture from his hands, returning it to the shelf where he had gotten it from. 

“Well,” he echoes, mocking your tone, “your beauty certainly hasn’t.”

His eyes bore into you as you meet his gaze. What amazes you most is that he’s being completely honest. In a heartbeat, you look away, wondering what’s gotten into you. Usually, you’re not this awkward—you’ve learned how to take compliments over the years, knowing how to smile just right, to flutter your eyelashes. To blush and giggle in command. Those were the tools that helped you to survive countless first dates—your dearest aces up your sleeve.

There’s no use denying that they remained just that: first, failed dates. You hope you never have to go back to dating apps after this.

“Are you hungry? ‘Cause I’m starving,” you say, trying to walk away from him, although he’s faster, catching your hand in his. 

“Hey,” he urges you to make eye contact with him, his voice perplexingly soft. “Is everything okay?”

You nod so vigorously that you nearly strain your neck. “I’m fine, I swear. I just never get past this point.”

Inching closer, he presses his lips together for a split second, his brows furrowing in confusion. “You lost me there.”

“Guys who come into my apartment don’t tend to call back,” you admit, a flush creeping up your face, cheeks getting hotter. “I happen to believe it’s a curse, though I’ve kissed, like, a hundred toads so far and it still won’t break.”

“So y’think you’re gonna scare me off,” he raises an eyebrow, grinning. His rough fingers become gentle as they tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “It’s sweet. Should be the other way around.”

Wow. You two are a match made in heaven.

As you detach yourself from his embrace and head to the kitchen, you decide to look for something edible in the fridge, finding different trays of food from days ago, none of which look appetizing or suitable for feeding the Tin Woodman standing behind you.

All of a sudden, the unmistakable metallic sound of Logan’s claws unsheathing rings in your ears, forcing you to spin around. The image that unfolds before you is peculiar, to say the least: he’s cornering your cat against the door.

Why is he about to fight a cat?

“Please don’t kill him?” you take a step in his direction and scoop the little ball of white fur into your arms. Logan stares at both of you, eyes squinted and brows knitted. “I’m sure he’s the cutest feline you’ve ever seen. Have mercy on him.”

“I didn’t know you had a cat.”

“Earnest wasn’t aware of your existence either,” you reply, scratching along the animal’s back. He purrs beside your neck, his yellowish eyes never leaving Logan’s. “Earnest, this is Logan. He has claws just like you.”

“Don’t you dare compare me to that,” Logan warns you, retracting his claws with a sigh. You can’t help but wonder if he ever feels tranquil, at peace. “Y’know, you’ve doomed him to bad fortune with that name. Is he at least toilet trained?”

“Are you hating on The Importance of Being Earnest?” you ask, expecting a retort, though apparently the play’s title doesn’t ring a bell for him. “Oscar Wilde?”

“Who do you think you’re talkin’ to, kid?”

Now’s your time to roll your eyes, setting the cat down and letting it run away. He likes to hide in the bathroom—don’t ask why, because not even you know the answer to that. You flick your gaze up back to Logan, placing your hands on your hips. “See, you gave him trust issues.”

“He’ll survive. Don’t they have seven lives?”

This is the perfect conversation to have with someone who just ate you out thirty minutes ago: how many lives do cats have. Jesus.

At some point, Logan flops onto the couch, stretching out. You shudder as you hear him crack his neck, the popping sound getting on your nerves. He pats the empty side of the sofa, spreading his thighs until he’s almost taking up all the space. “Come here.”

Putting aside all your thoughts, you accept the invitation. You sit down, motionless, and his arm grazes the cushion behind your head, pulling you closer to him. You rest your cheek on his chest, letting out a deep sigh, one that you’ve been holding in since you got to the apartment. Is it possible that he knows you craved this? This proximity, this kind of affection. To be held—it’s been your only wish for months. He drums his fingers on your shoulder blades, then starts rubbing your back ever so lightly.

Far from dozing off, you feel alive.

It’s hard not to lose track of time and space when you find yourself immersed in the warmth he offers, and that’s when you realize how deeply you’re falling for this man. “Logan?” the mere thought of asking him what’s been on your mind terrifies you. The last thing you want is to ruin things—or whatever it is that you have. He hums, a low, heavy sound in his throat, indicating you to continue. “I have a question.”

“Ask away.”

You lift your face from his chest and look him in the eye. The city’s still alive outside, with music and chatter sneaking in through the window. Everything seems to be perfect, and you wish you could stay like this—just staring at him as if he were a painting in a museum, and you the critic who can’t stop writing articles about its beauty.

Okay, that was… weirdly specific. 

Logan tries to hide his smile as you peck his lips repeatedly. For a moment, you almost forget what you were going to ask him in the first place. But then he’s ready to listen, and you a wave of nausea washes over you.

“I know that we came here to… engage in adult practices.”

“Fucking, you mean.”

“I didn’t want to be that straightforward, but yeah,” you say, shaking your head as to rearrange your thoughts. “Would you mind if we stayed like this?” to emphasize your point, you kick your shoes off and put your legs on top of his lap. He observes the whole sequence without daring to utter a word. “Don’t get me wrong. I’d love to try that too. I truly do. But… right now, all I want is to cuddle,” he’s still silent, making you even more nervous. “I’m sorry. Is that okay with you?”

His whole body engulfs yours, your cheek coming to rest once again in its original position. You can feel the rhythmic beating of his heart, each breath he takes, the air he exhales dampening your nape. Logan peppers your neck with chaste kisses before pressing his lips to your temple. His voice comes out strained, partially muffled by your hair. “Who do you take me for, huh?” he’s right there, beside your ear, fucking everywhere. There isn’t a single centimeter of your exposed skin that he isn’t touching, marking as his. You don’t give him an answer, in part because you’re unsure of what to say. He takes your silence as a cue to keep talking. “Let me take you to bed.”

“I can walk on my own.”

“I know,” he mutters, standing up with you in his arms, one arm beneath your knees and the other one under your shoulders. Logan’s not used to being this cautious, this patient with someone he’s known for less than two weeks. You see it in his eyes when he lets his guard down—something that has cracked, a shell that’s been broken.

As he places you gently on top of the covers, he lingers for a moment, crouching beside the bed and searching for your lowered gaze. His fingers are warm as he tilts your chin up. “I didn’t come here just to have sex with you. That was a possibility, of course—but it’s not the main reason why I’m here,” he rasps, words accompanied by the light brush of his lips against yours for a quick, brief kiss. “I care about you. A lot. I’m fine with whatever we do as long as I get to be close to you,” he grabs your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. He then goes back to his usual bossy self, his demeanor changing. “And I don’t want to hear you apologizing for not wanting to have sex ever again. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now you’re making jokes?”

“I can’t have serious conversations,” you confess, observing the look of pure confusion on his face. “It’s true. I once spoke at a funeral and they cut me off forty seconds into my speech.”

Logan laughs at your sudden confession, his eyes crinkling at the edges. Rising to his feet, he begins to unbutton his flannel, pausing after the first few buttons are undone, waiting for your approval. “Do you want me to stay tonight?” 

“If that’s what you want.”

“It is what I want.”

“Are you sure?”

“Don’t make me change my mind.”

His words don’t hide any real threat—that you know.

You stifle your laughter, shedding your clothes. Instead of going to the bathroom to change, you toss your work clothes carelessly to the floor, opting for an old pair of pajamas that are the complete opposite of sexy. They surely have seen better days.

Logan’s eyes trail over you, taking his time to analyze the faded lettering on your wrinkled shirt. “Keep calm and eat pizza?” he reads aloud.

“Hey. I bought it when I was seventeen.”

“You could use a new wardrobe.”

“Well, what about you?” you tease, toying with his belt. “You’re gonna sleep like this in my bed?”

“Can’t wait for me to get my shirt off, huh?” he grins, that all-too-familiar smile on his lips.

You play along, folding your arms over your chest. “You think so highly of yourself.”

Without breaking eye contact, Logan unbuckles his jeans, letting them pool around his ankles. He then shrugs off his flannel, leaving him in just his briefs and vest. You scan his body, and the room suddenly feels a hundred degrees hotter, the air between you thickening. Logan notices your reaction, chuckling. “Don’t get too excited. This is all you’re getting today.”

“I think I’ve already heard that before.”

“Kid.”

You raise your hands in surrender, showing him your palms and mouthing ’sorry’. Approaching your bed, you pull back the covers and slip into it. When you see Logan still standing there, you frown. “Where are your manners? Come here. I’m very impatient.”

He grumbles something under his breath, but he doesn’t make you wait long. He proceeds to get under the sheets beside you, occupying that side of the bed that’s always been empty. As you both settle in, facing each other, you can’t help but giggle, your contagious laugh getting to him. “What now?”

“You’re beautiful,” you whisper, tracing the bridge of his nose with your index finger, a featherlight touch that has him closing his eyes. In the soft glow of the night, with the city’s distant sounds filtering in, he looks breathtaking. “I mean it.”

“Do you have an off switch?”

“I’m… not sure. Let’s find out tomorrow.”

“You need to sleep,” he pulls you onto his chest with firm but gentle hands. He intertwines his legs with yours, holding you close.

“Wait. I have a game to play.”

“It’s late.”

“Please?”

He sighs. “Okay.”

“We have to make confessions until we fall asleep.” 

“You just want to talk—that doesn’t even qualify as a game.”

“It does in this universe,” you reply, feeling his chest rumble with a chuckle as you settle more comfortably against him. “I’ll start: remember the first night you came to the bar?” he hums in acknowledgment. “It wasn’t Burger Night. We don’t serve food. I just wanted an excuse to talk to you.”

He kisses the top of your head, his arms tightening around you. “I knew. You don’t have a kitchen down there, baby,” he falls silent, taking his time to come up with a confession of his own. “I have a fear of flying.”

“Really? You, of all people?”

“I wasn’t expecting to be judged.”

“Oh, don’t be such a crybaby,” you tease, burying your face further into the crook of his shoulder, inhaling his scent. He shivers slightly where your nose touches his skin. “I like you. It’s kind of scary, and I’m sure saying something like this probably goes against the rules of dating 101, but I do. I feel safe with you, like—like this is where I’m supposed to be.”

Almost as if the pieces of the puzzle finally fit together, you think to yourself, though the words stay unspoken.

You’ve come to learn that Logan’s not a man of many words—he’s more of the “show, don’t tell” kind of guy. So when he makes you lift your face, you’re not surprised by the way he kisses you: hungrily. Passionately, like a starved man at an all-you-can-eat buffet. A soft whimper gets lost somewhere in your throat as his tongue makes its way into your mouth, languidly stroking yours.

“We didn’t brush our teeth,” you whisper against his lips, laughing when he groans in exasperation.

“You love having the final say, don’t you?”

“I’m being serious, Logan. Cavities are a real issue for me.”

“You can always get new teeth.”

“But my morning breath—”

“It’ll stink anyway, and so will mine,” he responds, taking a deep breath and clearing his throat once he settles into his ideal sleep position. “Good night.”

“Night,” you murmur, nuzzling your cheek against his neck. Despite your efforts to ignore it, being cradled like this feels incredible. You can’t believe you went twenty-five years without it.

Just as you’re about to drift off, curiosity strikes. “Can you get tattoos?”

“Bub, I was actually falling asleep.”

“Oh, okay. Sorry,” you mumble, feeling a bit sheepish.

More silence.

“Logan?”

“Hmm?”

“What was the Great Depression like?”

“Fuck me,” he mutters, his voice gruff as he shifts lightly. “It was fine. Now go to sleep.”

And you do, but not for long. An abrupt coldness wakes you up, eyes wide open, feeling disoriented. It’s still pitch black outside, far quieter than when you first fell asleep. The clock on your nightstand reads it’s 3:17 am, though it feels like you’ve only been in bed for five minutes.

Then you see him—he’s twitching in his sleep on the far side of the bed, his painful grunts reaching your ears. Most of what he says is unintelligible, but there’s one word he keeps repeating over and over again without fail: “No.”

You don’t usually have nightmares. What’s the best way to wake someone from one? You’re still thinking when he starts mumbling again, his voice thick with distress, and now he’s throwing his arms in the air as if he were fighting off something—or someone—in his dreams.

Pressing your hands to his cheeks, you attempt to hold his face steady. He clenches his fists, his breath quickening the more he battles whatever’s haunting him. “Logan,” you whisper at first, subtly shaking his shoulders, but his eyebrows stay furrowed, deep in his nightmare. This time, you tighten your grip, fully sitting on top of him. “Logan. Logan! Wake up!”

Without warning, you’re on your back, pinned against the mattress. Logan’s straddling your hips, caging you in with his body, the weight of his adamantium skeleton pressing down. Your hands are trapped beneath his, and you watch as he clenches his jaw, teeth bared in a way that looks painful. His eyes are so dark and wild you barely recognize him, prominent veins throbbing in his neck with each labored breath he takes.

“Logan,” your own voice sounds unnatural, forced, as you do your best to bring him back to reality. “It’s me. You’re alright.”

That seems to get through him. Logan stares at you in disbelief, his eyes softening as they take in your terrified expression. He abruptly pulls away, retreating to the nearest wall. He’s gasping for air, slamming his eyes shut, his legs trembling. The only sound you can hear is his rapid breathing. You get up from the bed, taking a step in his direction, but you don’t manage to go any further since he stops you with a shout.

“Stay right there!” he’s growling, pointing his finger at you. “I’m serious. Don’t come any closer.”

“Logan…”

“Please, no!” his voice increases in pitch, not being able to meet your eyes. “Please. Just stay there.”

You comply, not wanting to upset him any further. Sitting back on your knees, you try to appear calm. A man so strong, capable of things you can’t even understand. A weapon turned against himself now stands before you, pushing you away as if his presence were poisonous. He slumps to the floor, the fabric of his vest soaked with sweat.

Once he’s fully conscious, you cautiously crawl toward him, watching his every move. On a random day, this might have been funny for both of you, but right now, there’s no room for laughter. Logan shakes his head, his shoulders tensing when you reach out to hug him, wrapping your arms around his broad frame. It takes him a couple of minutes, but eventually, his body sags against yours. For a while, neither of you speaks. You just thread your fingers through his hair, hoping the closeness will help soothe him. “Feeling better?” you whisper in the shell of his ear, and he pulls back to look you in the eye. You caress his cheek, his stubble rough against your skin. “Welcome back.”

“I’m sorry,” it’s the first thing he says, covering your hand with his. One by one, he kisses your knuckles, still shaking his head. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“You had a nightmare—it’s not like you could control it.”

“But I could’ve hurt you,” he says, lowering his gaze to your wrists, where his fingerprints have left their mark. “God. I’m so sorry. I have to go.”

“Wait!” you grab his arm, your mouth setting in a hard line, stopping him from leaving. “Don’t run away from me, not now. Don’t push me away, Logan.”

“I could’ve done something much worse.”

“But you didn’t. It was a nightmare, baby. You didn’t know,” you kiss his forehead, hoping to talk some sense into him. “Please, stay. Let’s try to get some more sleep.”

“What if—”

You hold his face close to yours, your noses brushing. “You won’t hurt me.” 

This time, he lets you keep him close, the roles now reversed. You can see him fighting his exhaustion, not wanting to fall asleep. But the more you play with his hair, the harder it is for him to stay awake.

“I’m alright,” he says, seemingly reading your mind. It’s hard to tell whether he’s reassuring you or himself.

“I know,” you knead his shoulder, aiming to ease the tension knotted there. “You better sleep, or I might start rambling again.”

A faint, tired hum escapes him, at long last allowing his eyes to close. “I like hearing you talk,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your collarbone, drifting off soon after that.

You continue to hug him, feeling the weight of his body gradually relax against yours as his breathing evens out. The room is quiet, but your mind is far from it: a tornado of emotions swirls within you—concern, relief, love, and something else you can’t quite decipher. It isn’t until sleep finally claims you too that your brain stops going a hundred kilometers an hour.

The most surreal Sunday night of your whole life.

“So… when will you let me see Lolo again?”

Wade’s question makes you stop mid-pour, flicking your eyes between the drink and him. A few seats away, you hand a glass to Adam. Returning to where Wade’s currently sitting, you dry your hands on your apron. “Why are you even here?” you ask, raising an eyebrow, and he gives half a shrug. “Last time I checked, I wasn’t holding him against his will.”

“He’s been crashing at your place almost every night. You have your own methods, woman,” he raises one finger, then quickly adds another, pointing at your shirt. “Two methods, in fact.”

At that, you laugh mirthlessly, shaking your head with a grin. “I’m surprised anyone would willingly date you.”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he retorts, taking a tentative sip of his beer and leaning back in his chair.

You glance at him while you wipe down the bar, looking for something to occupy your hands. “He’s not my boyfriend—yet.”

Wade mimics a punch in his chest, just where his heart’s supposed to be, though you’re starting to question whether he has one. His lips form a small, exaggerated pout. “That must hurt, doll. You got yourself into a situationship with a goddamn fossil. Good luck getting out of that.”

“It’s not that bad,” you say, rolling your eyes. “We’re cool this way. There’s absolutely no need for a title.”

“Okay, let’s rehearse that one more time because you look like you’re about to cry,” he lifts an eyebrow, drawing nearer. “You want the title, right?”

“I don’t.”

He props his chin on his hand, laughing at you. “Yes, you do. You can’t fool me.”

“I said I don’t.”

“I said I don’t,” he mocks you, kicking his legs and puckering his lips.

You can’t help but throw the towel down on the counter with irritation, giving in. “Okay! Of course, I want the fucking title.”

“There she is!” he exclaims, throwing his hands up in a triumphant gesture. “Glad we’re speaking the truth now,” he tilts his head to the side, noticing your sudden silence. “Hey, drop the long face. I’m sure he’s been thinking about it. In order to understand Logan, I usually compare him to elders over ninety.”

“Why would you do that?” you ask, your tone a mix of mild annoyance and curiosity.

“Just think about it! Senior citizens didn’t date for too long in the past. They’d go straight from strangers to lovers. Take my grandparents, for example: in the span of one year, they met at a party, then got married, and had five kids. Do you really want to have a litter of Logan’s grumpy, hairy puppies?”

“Wade, that’s not even possible.”

“The point is,” he continues, finishing his beer and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, “Logan’s rusty in this area, alright? I’d bet a thousand dollars he probably dated Cleopatra.”

“How did you pass History in high school?”

“I never graduated, but keep that between us,” he lifts his shoulders, shrugging. He spins the empty bottle, contemplating his next words. “You should tell him how you feel and what you want. That’s what works best for Vanessa and me. It’s easier that way—you can’t expect him to just guess.”

You wrap your arms around yourself. “I just wish he’d realize it on his own.”

“Well, sometimes you need to give the other person a bit of guidance. I’m just laying out the basics of a relationship here. Did your parents hate each other or something?”

The irony of it all. “They got divorced when I was little.” 

“Oh, god,” Wade sighs, rubbing his temples before glancing at you. “Let me get this straight: Mommy and Daddy weren’t exactly the poster children for love. And you also happen to be a bartender. Anything else, honey? Please tell me you’re at least getting laid, because otherwise, I’m going to feel tremendously sorry for you and your mental health.”

Just then, you hear your name being called. Smiling at Wade, you mumble: “Saved by the bell.” Once you’re back from taking some orders, Wade jumps to his feet, coming around the counter to hug you.

“Dude, what’s the matter with you?” you ask, loosely returning the hug. 

“You’re a fucking survivor,” he whispers in your ear, genuinely sounding concerned. “I don’t know how you do it—you seem so put together. I would’ve lost it by now. A life without sex sounds awful.”

“Jesus, Wade! Get off!” you stretch your arm to punch him in the back, earning a groan from him. “Back to your seat, gentleman. I certainly don’t need your pity.”

“I’m a certified sexologist. Your secret’s safe with me,” he declares with a smirk, gesturing to his empty beer. “But first, I’m gonna need more of this tasty apple juice.”

“I hope you’ve got some cash on you,” you say, getting him another beer. “Why do I get the feeling Logan would kill us if he knew we’re talking about this?”

“Isn’t that what makes it even better?”

Swaying on your feet, you scrunch your nose, momentarily lost in thought. “He won’t let me touch him. I don’t know if it’s me that does something wrong. We do have our… moments, but he takes care of himself. And usually in the bathroom.”

Wade goes white in front of you. “How long has this been going on?”

“Over a month.”

“Oh. That’s bad, like, really bad.”

“Thanks! I’ll be sleeping on the highway tonight. You can always join me.”

“Doll, it’s nothing that can’t be fixed, alright?” he waves his hand dismissively, then sets his palms flat on the counter. “I know I’m starting to sound like a broken record, but talking to him is your best bet. This isn’t something you can just brush under the carpet. You’re like a goddamn radio—put it to good use.”

Just as you’re about to reply, you spot Logan entering the bar. You raise a hand in greeting, waving at him. He meets your gaze and smiles briefly, and so your eyes drift to Wade’s, shooting him a warning look. “If you keep this to yourself, I won’t charge you for today,” you mutter through gritted teeth, to which he answers by pretending to zip his mouth closed.

Logan takes a seat next to him, ignoring his presence. Instead, he focuses entirely on you. “Hey, kid.”

“Hey, homey.”

“Hiya, Wade,” Wade greets himself with a mock cheer, patting his own back, which makes you laugh. He turns to Logan and his whole face lights up. “I’m afraid to tell you I can’t sleep when you’re not around.”

Logan rolls his eyes. “Get your shit together.”

“You’re the worst roommate ever! Can’t believe you got yourself a girl and completely forgot about your bro,” Wade murmurs under his breath, just as his phone rings. “Thank God. I’ve got to go. My love nugget’s calling,” he announces, heading for the door. Before leaving, Wade blows the two of you a kiss. “I hate you both, but I also love you. Peace out, my friends!”

Logan and you exchange glances. “He’s a funny guy, isn’t he?”

“You could say that,” he replies, leaning in to kiss you on the lips. Logan intends to deepen the kiss, but you pull away after a couple of seconds. He frowns, clearly confused. “That’s how you greet me?”

You bite your lip, trying to suppress a giggle. “My tip jar is practically empty, and I hate to say it, but it’s your fault.”

“Do you want me to say I’m sorry?”

“Oh, no.”

“Good, ‘cause I’m not,” he plants a quick kiss on your cheek, making you smile. “You have classes tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah, at 9 am,” you almost grunt, not feeling too enthusiastic about it. “I’m gonna need your help. I can’t sleep through my alarm, okay? The professor said tomorrow’s class is an important one. Midterms are right around the corner, and I can’t take the liberty of failing them.”

“That won’t happen,” he assures you, and you believe him. “I can be of help, don’t worry. You won’t oversleep.”

Oh, Logan. Sweet, lying Logan.

Turns out you ended up oversleeping. Twenty-five years on this earth, and you still haven’t learned not to trust a man, even if his puppy-dog eyes silently beg you to do otherwise. The thing is—you love them. You love men. And you’re especially fond of the one currently sleeping in your bed.

The first rays of sunshine hit your face, waking you up. You attempt to raise a hand to shield your eyes, but moving any limbs feels like a Herculean task. A warm body is pressed against your back, one veiny arm draped over your stomach. Logan remains fast asleep behind you, his steady breathing succeeding in making you feel at ease. You reach back, running your fingers through his messy hair, and he grumbles in his sleep, instinctively pulling you closer.

What a nice, domestic morning. Yep, you’re getting used to this. And nope, you don’t regret it, not even in the slightest bit.

Though there must be a mistake, because you’re preeeeetty sure you had something important to do. 

Oh. You have classes. Had—past tense.

You reach for your nightstand, blindly groping for your phone. The charger is lying on the floor, the plastic of it all damaged. Perhaps Earnest had chewed on it while you were sleeping? You gently pry Logan’s arm off you, sitting up, and your bleary eyes land on something barely peeking out from under the bed.

It’s your fucking phone. The screen is completely shattered, with three distinct holes in the middle of it. Three holes, how strange! You can’t help but wonder who might have left them. Clutching your pillow, you whack Logan in the face with it. “Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty!”

He groans, trying to take the pillow away from you. “What the fuck is wrong with you, kid?”

“I wish I had a UNO reverse card because I should be the one asking you that!” you jab your finger into his chest, showing him the ruined phone. “You broke my fucking phone!”

“What?” he asks, voice laden with sleep, still disoriented. He holds the phone, carefully scrutinizing it. “I think I don’t know how to hit the snooze button.”

“No shit, Sherlock. I believe you’ve made that very clear,” you huff, tossing the phone aside as you flop back onto the mattress. The clock on your nightstand says 11:05 am, and you cover your face with your hands, taking a deep breath. “Next time, when it goes off, just wake me up and I’ll do it.”

Logan settles beside you, resting his head on his forearm as he watches you. “I’m sorry, bub. I’ll get you a new one.”

“It’s fine,” you murmur, sighing. This is your free ticket to be a menace. “I should’ve known dinosaurs and phones would never get along. My bad, pal.”

You don’t even get to see his reaction because he starts tickling you, the room filling with your laughter. Squealing, you try to wriggle away, but his fingers dig into your ribs, expertly finding your most ticklish spots. Your giggles escalate into breathless laughter, your eyes squeezed shut as you desperately attempt to push him away. He’s relentless, chuckling when his own laughter bubbles up. 

“L-logan, stop!” you gasp between fits of laughter, aiming to grasp his hands.

“We dinosaurs love tickling people. Sorry, sweetheart,” he manhandles you until you’re perched on his lap, fisting the fabric of your (his) shirt. Leaning forward, he captures your mouth in a heated kiss. “I’m sorry about the phone,” he slurs the words against your cheek, his lips trailing down to your neck. You tell him that it’s okay, trying to find a comfortable position on top of him, and that’s when his thigh presses against your core, your eyes widening at the unexpected sensation. Logan’s no fool, noticing the way your breath hitches. “What’s wrong, baby? You woke up needy?”

“No, I just—” you trail off as he does it again, his strong thigh coming in contact with your clothed cunt. You search for leverage by placing your hands on his shoulders, glancing at him. “Logan.”

“I’m all ears,” he rests his back against the headboard, the tent in his boxers impossible to ignore. “You want to get off on my thigh,” he states with certainty. It’s not a question—it’s a full-on statement. He knows what you want, what you crave. “Come on then. Grind against it.”

You do as he says, not caring to think twice. You start moving, rubbing your wet pussy against his muscular thigh. The friction sends jolts of pleasure through you, and soon, you’re whimpering his name, your hands trailing down his abs. Why hadn’t you tried this before? It feels fucking amazing.

From his position, Logan stares at you, his lips slightly parted, eyes clouded with lust. Your arousal drenches your panties, soaking through them, the fabric clinging to his coarse leg hair. He glances down at the mess you’re making, his grin widening as he takes in the sight. “Goddamn, woman. I’m gonna make you clean it off, I swear to God.”

“Need your help,” you whisper, lowering your head, the heat in your cheeks intensifying. The coil tightening inside you is almost unbearable. A kiss is what you lean in for, desperate for more, though Logan appears to have other plans. He fists your hair, pulling at your nape and yanking your head back. The roughness of the movement pulls a moan from your lips, your mouth parched like a desert. 

“Eyes up here, okay? You look at me when I make you come,” his raspy voice makes you feel tingly, each word sending shivers down your spine. His hands fiercely grab the flesh of your hips, guiding you, helping you grind harder against his thigh. You think you’re on the verge of drooling when you catch the way his abdomen flexes, working to push you toward that long-awaited release. “That’s it, there you go,” he rasps, relishing the sounds he’s eliciting from you, each of your gasps feeding his desire.

Time slows as the warmth in your belly finally erupts, your eyes fighting to stay open through the aftershocks of your orgasm. No actual words leave your mouth, just a string of whines and moans, some carrying Logan’s name. He swallows every single sound you make, everything you give him, grunting as your legs tremble and shake atop him.

He lets you collapse onto your back, your breathing gradually evening out. “I think I saw fireworks behind my lids,” you confess, your mouth dry, expecting Logan to flop onto the mattress beside you. But he doesn’t. Through your blurry vision, you contemplate as he positions himself between your parted legs, getting dangerously close to your cunt. “Logan, what are you— Oh, fuck,” you moan mid-sentence when you feel him pulling your panties aside to lick a slow strip through your folds, collecting your arousal. He points his tongue, dipping it into your entrance, and you wince, squirming. “Santa Claus, is that you?”

Logan grins against you, closing his mouth around clit for a moment. He then shifts until he’s eye-to-eye with you, two of his fingers sliding into you in one smooth motion. “Give me another one,” he murmurs, his other hand slipping under your shirt to play with your nipples, pinching them. 

You never imagined two fingers could bring such intense pleasure. You just lie there, taking it like a good girl, as Logan sometimes call you. “Please, I need you,” you cry out, your fingernails scraping against his torso.

“I know, darlin’. I’m right here,” he rasps against your temple, moving his fingers in and out of you with more enthusiasm. But what he doesn’t understand is that you need all of him. Your hands itch to touch him, to feel the weight of his cock. The corners of his mouth turn up as he watches you struggle to find words. “Wish you could see yourself like this. Such a pretty girl, so gorgeous like this,” his fingers keep grazing that bundle of joy deep inside you, and he goes in for a kiss, the sour taste of your slick invading your taste buds. “Tightest pussy I’ve ever had. Need to stretch you real good before fucking you with my cock.”

Bingo! That last sentence does it for you, and you come for the second time in the morning, your cunt clenching and spasming around his fingers. You hide your face in his neck, mouthing at his Adam’s apple. He hasn’t trimmed his beard in days, and it shows because you can now feel a burning sensation on the soft skin of your inner thighs.

“You’re allowed to break all my phones from now on,” you suggest, only to hear Logan’s laughter in your ear. He snakes a hand through your hair, shoving it back away from your face. You feel him kiss your sweaty forehead, and as you press yourself closer to his body, something hard nudges your hipbone.

Absentmindedly, you trace the waistband of his boxers with your index finger, your eyes snapping to his face. Logan freezes on the spot, and it’s almost as if he’s stopped breathing. Without a word, he rises from the bed, his movements sudden and almost mechanical. You watch him, puzzled, as he heads toward the bathroom, the intimacy of just moments ago being abruptly replaced by a dreadful silence.

“Logan, is everything okay? Do you need something?” you ask and he pauses at the bathroom door, his back to you. For a brief second, you think he might actually open up, but when he turns around, his expression is neutral, masking whatever thoughts are running through his mind. At last, he flashes you a quick smile.

“I’m fine,” he says, his tone gentle but distant. “Just gonna take a shower. Then we can have breakfast together, right?”

You nod, his words easing the growing sense of frustration gnawing at you. He disappears into the bathroom, and the sound of running water soon follows. You sink back into the bed, staring up at the ceiling. You take your pillow and bury your face in it, letting out a muffled groan. There’s something he isn't telling you, something hidden deep beneath his usual gruff exterior. Although you try to piece together the fragments of his behavior, they don’t quite fit.

The minutes drag on, and the sound of the shower becomes a distant, constant background noise. You close your eyes, visualizing your happy place, but your thoughts keep spiraling. All you can do is wait—wait for him to come back and act as if nothing had happened.

Logan’s right there, just a few feet away—yet in moments like these, he feels miles apart. It’s one of those days in which, no matter how hard you try, you can’t seem to bridge that distance. 

It had all started with you asking Logan “Have you ever watched (500) Days of Summer?”

Of course, he had refused to watch the movie at first, and of course, you had threatened him with phoning Wade to let him know that Logan wanted to have a sleepover. That had done the trick.

You had asked for a day off at the bar, and surprisingly, your boss hadn’t objected. That turn of events led to this moment: sprawled out on the couch with Logan, the two of you watching the final minutes of your favorite film. Logan takes a long drag of his cigar, eyes trained intently on the screen. He’s only wearing sweatpants, which had caused your attention to drift from the plot a few times. The fact that you managed to sit through the entire movie without needing to pause it makes you feel particularly invincible.

Hey.

You again.

Yeah. I, uh, was just wondering if maybe after this, if, um, you— you want to get some coffee or something.

Oh, I’m sorry. I’m sort of supposed to meet someone after this.

Okay.

“That poor fella,” Logan murmurs, taking a slow sip of his beer. You look up at him from where your head rests on his lap, a contented smile playing on your lips. His fingers absently stroke your hair.

“Just wait,” you say, pointing to the screen of your laptop.

Sure.

What’s that?

Why not?

Okay. Well, then I’ll just, uh— I’ll wait for you.

We— we’ll figure it out.

We’ll figure it out.

“They’ll figure it out!” you exclaim, but Logan quickly shushes you, his attention unwavering.

My name’s Tom.

Nice to meet you. I’m Autumn.

When the movie comes to an end, you’re met with Joseph Gordon-Levitt breaking the fourth wall, staring straight at the audience as if he knows he’s about to get himself into a mess with another girl named after a season. You sit up, your eyes eagerly searching for Logan’s. “So? Did you like it? I’ve watched it seven times now. Can’t understand how it gets better each time.”

Logan closes his mouth around his cigar, inhaling deeply before answering. “Yeah, it was pretty good,” he says, his hand finding your cheek, thumb brushing softly against your skin. “Summer’s a bitch, though.”

“I respectfully disagree,” you tell him, grabbing his beer and giving it a try, only to grimace at the taste. Shuddering, you set it back down. “Why don’t you like her character?”

“Well, for starters, she did Tom dirty. Played with him like he was a damn rag doll.”

You raise an eyebrow, hugging a cushion closer to your chest as you lean back into the couch. “He knew from the beginning she didn’t want to be his girlfriend. Summer was clear—Tom just though he was smart enough to change her mind.”

“They acted like boyfriend and girlfriend the whole movie,” he scorns, placing his cigar down into the ashtray with a bit more force than necessary.

Is your first argument going to be over a movie? Exciting.

“Logan, they weren’t even official.”

“But she made it seem like they were,” he insists, the frustration in his voice growing.

“They were in a situationship—the perfect example, really. That’s not the same as being a couple.”

His gaze dips to the floor, brows knitted in a deep frown. “I think you’re relying on the technicality that they never used those titles. I mean, they did everything together. Isn’t that what normal couples do?”

Lord have mercy.

“Logan, who am I to you?” you inquire, crossing your arms over your chest.

He hesitates, narrowing his eyes, the question clearly catching him off guard. “You are—what? I don’t understand. Is this some kind of mind game you’re playing?”

“It’s actually very simple: if someone were to ask you about me, what would you say? Am I a friend? A bartender?” you inch forward, holding your breath, your tone faltering slightly. Meanwhile, Logan’s hands tighten into fists at his sides. “A fling? Your girlfriend? You complain so much about Summer, yet you can’t even name what we have.”

The living room falls into a heavy silence. Logan blinks slowly, his forehead creasing as he processes your words. “Why are you doing this to me?”

“Because these are the kinds of conversations we need to have. I understand you don’t want to have them, but I do.”

“Fine. Then tell me what it is that you want,” he asks, his mouth snapping shut when he sees you snorting in response.

“I don’t— I don’t know! To know how you feel, if possible?” you stand up from the couch, taking the cushion with you. You grind your jaw, gnawing on your bottom lip. “Why is it that every time I try to touch you, you push me away?”

He scrunches up his face, mirroring your movements and rising from his seat. “Bub, can we please talk about this tomorrow—”

“No! You don’t get to make all the choices, that’s not fair. Deciphering you isn’t easy, Logan. I’m not asking you to tell me everything you’ve been through. I just wish I could know how you feel about me. I can’t stand in front of you and pretend I don’t mind where this is going, because I’m more than sure I’m falling in love with you. “

“You can’t. You shouldn’t,” he says, his expression hardening. He turns his back to you, running his hands over his face in frustration before heading to the kitchen.

“Well, what were you expecting?” you follow him into the kitchen, finding Earnest on top of the fridge, beholding the scene with a curious gaze. “You basically moved in here, gave me a free trial of what life with you might be like, and now you have the audacity to appear surprised when I tell you I’ve caught feelings?” salty tears start rolling down your cheeks, and you spread your arms wide in exasperation. “Oh, but you’re right. How could I’ve been this stupid, to fall for the damned Wolverine!” you laugh bitterly, expecting him to break eye contact, but he doesn’t. “You think you’re so bad, so broken. Guess what: you’re not, because I love you, and I couldn’t care less about your past. You may think you’re unlovable, but you’re not, you hear me?”

For a heartbeat, the world seems to pause. And so he says:

“You are the most exasperating person I know.”

“Wow. Thank you so much!” you retort, your voice dripping with sarcasm. You run a hand through your hair, infuriated. “That makes me feel better!”

“Let me do the talking now,” he says, taking long strides toward you, and the proximity makes you lower your head. “You’re not getting the final say today. Just because I’m not over-sharing my feelings all the time doesn’t mean I don’t have them! In fact, I do. I may not express them openly, but they exist. And I wish you could see inside my head! You’d be delighted at how much time I spend thinking about you,” you cackle at his words, rolling your eyes. His fingers grip your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. “There hasn’t been a single moment since the day we met that I have stopped wanting you. Your voice is like a goddamn radio that, no matter what I do, I can’t turn off. It’s like I’m infected by you, and I hate it!” his eyes burn with a mix of anger and affectionpur, his pursed lips softening as he continues. “No good ever comes from caring this much about someone. So excuse me for being scared of ruining the only good thing that’s happened to me in years!”

You hit him with the cushion—not with enough force to make him hurt, but enough to make a point.

“Drop it, kid.”

“I’m—” you hit him again, “not—” and again, “stupid. I know what I’m getting myself into,” as you attempt to raise the cushion once more, Logan takes it from your hands, throwing it on the counter. Your shoulders sag, trying to find the strength to keep going. “And I know for a fact,” you add, glancing at his conflicted eyes, “that the easiest thing for me would be to walk away from you, but I can’t. It’s too fucking late.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I do! These are my feelings, okay? Mine, not yours. You don’t have the right to decide who I love and who I don’t.”

Logan’s eyes squint, scanning your face. “You’re… obnoxious.”

“Yeah, tell me something I don’t know.”

“And I—I love you,” he confesses, his nostrils flaring with emotion. Opening your mouth to say something, you close it moments later, your gaze locked on his. “You could take what you said, pretend as if I didn’t exist, and I wouldn’t say a thing, y’understand? I would move cities if you asked me, because I love you that fucking much, and I want you to be happy.”

You reach for his hand, briefly intertwining your fingers with his. Looking at him through your eyelashes, you rub your fingers over his stubble. “And what if my happiness comes from being with you?”

Logan lets out a harsh breath, his arm curling around your waist, pressing his chest to yours. “I can’t promise I’ll be the perfect boyfriend. I’ll probably makeplenty of mistakes.”

“Fine with me.”

“And you’ll be mad at me. A lot.”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll make sure it’s mutual.”

Both of you laugh then, and you’re taken aback when he brushes his nose against your cheek, silently seeking permission to kiss you. His lips move hungrily against yours, trailing his hands down your spine, pulling you closer. He breaks the kiss and laughs at your eagerness when you chase after his mouth. You end up perched on his lap as he settles into one of your kitchen chairs. Logan stares into your eyes, his gaze drifting lower. “I won’t push you away this time. Not anymore.”

That’s your cue to finally do what you’ve been yearning for weeks. You fall to your knees in front of him, shaky fingers that graze the hairs on his happy trail. The bulge in his sweatpants is close to your face, and your mouth waters at the thought of having him between your lips. “Can I?” you ask, your voice a touch higher. 

He draws a long breath, tilting his head slightly. “You may, baby.”

You pull at his sweatpants and boxers, sliding them down his legs just enough to free his hard cock. As you take a look at it, you find yourself at a loss for words, the sight overwhelming. Nothing could’ve prepared you for the first taste of his precum as you envelop his head between your lips, that musky scent of his hitting you.

A whimper escapes you, and Logan hisses when you run your tongue along the slit, his hands gripping the back of your neck tightly. “Fuck, darlin’. Thought about your mouth so many times, but never imagined it’d feel this good,” he cants his hips up, causing your movements to stutter. “You can take a bit more, can’t you?” his question ends with a guttural grunt, his fingers tightening on your hair. “Gotta show me how much you want this.”

Logan takes all that you give him. You lower your head further, taking in another inch of him. Sex’s supposed to feel good, but this? It feels even greater. And he’s not even inside you yet, you hear a voice murmur in your head. The hand on your nape encourages you to move faster, and you sneak a hand between your bodies, grasping him by the base. You swallow around him, eyes fluttering open when he tugs sharply at your hair..

“Thaaaat’s it, honey. Just like that, want you to choke on it,” he grumbles, running his mouth just the way you like. The tip of his cock nudges the back of your throat and tears fill your eyes. You pull away to catch your breath, still stroking him as you regain composure. Logan’s gaze is intense, and he stares into your soul, his chest heaving. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? Dick got your tongue?”

You’ll definitely get back to that joke later.

“Will you—can you—”

“Come on, beautiful. I don’t have all day.”

God, you love it when he’s mean.

“Fuck my throat,” you plead, your voice barely above a whisper.

A smile dangles on the corner of his lips. “We both know you can be nicer.”

The fucker makes your pulse race. “Can you fuck my throat?” you ask again, more insistently. “Please.”

He guides himself into your mouth, smirking as he watches how your eyes roll back in pleasure. “How polite of you to say please. Some good manners you’ve got.”

You whimper around him, your body responding to the rhythm he sets, fully immersed in the intensity of the moment. And for a while, you drift away, losing your sanity with each thrust of his hips, every tug at your hair. It’s almost impossible not to compare him to your past hookups. You try to recall at least a single instance when another man made you feel this way, but no memory surfaces.

Time seems to stretch and warp. You don’t really know when it happens—he pulls you off his cock, cradling your face, examining you. “You fucking love that, don’t you?” he asks with that sweet, syrupy voice, brushing away your tears. There’s no room left for embarrassment, so you nod, closing your mouth around his thumb. Defeated, Logan shakes his head, pressing his finger against your tongue. “I was planning on coming on your mouth, but I think I’ve got a better idea.”

In the blink of an eye, you’re in your bedroom. Not even a metaphor—he picks you up and basically runs to your room, closing the door behind him. You prop yourself on your forearms, trying to process what’s about to happen. Logan, already naked, climbs onto the bed after you, He kisses you slowly, tracing the curves of your body. “You still want this?”

“I do. I’m just… nervous, that’s all,” you admit, flashing him a quick smile. “It’s been two years of celibacy for me. Will it fit?” you ask, glancing down at his cock, and Logan stares at you in confusion. “Also, how many girlfriends have you had? Just curious.”

“I don’t think this is the time for that conversation.”

“You’re right,” you agree, lying back on the mattress, bracing yourself for what’s to come. “Were they pretty?”

“Bub.”

“Yes?”

“Shut up,” he replies with a smirk. “Focus on me, okay?”

Despite your tries to crack jokes at the worst possible moment, things escalate pretty quickly. Logan’s got three fingers inside you, pumping them in and out. He’s already made you come once with his mouth—to get you more relaxed, he had said. Wanting sounds slip past your lips as he doesn’t miss the chance to hit that spot that makes you squeeze your legs together. The tip of his nose drags long lines up and down the skin of your neck, mouthing at your jaw.

“I’m ready,” you mumble after some minutes, reaching for his cock and stroking him. “Let’s break the bed.”

“You’re lucky you’re this cute,” he says, catching your lips in a kiss. “Condom?”

“Negative, Sergeant.”

“You don’t have any?”

You shake your head, biting the inside of your cheek. “I don’t want you to use one.”

The way his gaze darkens doesn’t go unnoticed by you. His hand guides your face toward his cock. “Get me wet,” he commands, and you oblige, sucking him into your mouth. You hum around him, unable to contain yourself, and you hear Logan chuckling above you. “Can’t believe this is what it takes for you to shut up. Gotta keep your mouth full all the time.”

Once he’s satisfied with the way you’ve slicked him, he positions himself over you, caging you between his arms. Logan pins you down with his body, his hot breath mingling with yours. When you stare into his eyes, all you see is pure love, and your heart swells with affection. “Will you fuck the bad jokes out of me?”

Logan laughs, rubbing his length along your folds, grazing your clit for a fleeting second. “I sure as hell will,” he assures you, lining himself up with your wet entrance. He looks into your eyes for approval. “Ready?”

“I was born rea— Fuck!” you nearly scream as his head breaches you, your eyes squeezing shut. Turns out his fingers weren’t enough. “Fucking mutant dick.”

“You’ll love it, believe me,” he husks next to your ear. His arms shake where they rest on each side of your head, seemingly as affected as you are. Logan pulls out, and then fucks into you with a little more force.  “How are you still so tight? You’re killin’ me here.”

“I’ve got no idea, but you feel—amazing,” you gasp, latching onto his back, holding him close to you. His thrusts gain strength, and suddenly he’s bottoming inside you. “Oh, god. I can feel you in my stomach.”

“I know, baby, I know. Can feel it too,” he curls one of his hands around your throat, keeping you in place. From his position, he can watch the way your face contorts in pleasure. Lowering his head to envelop one of your nipples between his lips, he sucks hard. “You were desperate enough to get on your knees in the damn kitchen. You’ll be good now too, am I right?”

“Yes. Yes. I can be good,” you pant, eyes wide and pleading. “Anything you want. Just don’t stop.”

“I’m not stoppin’, princess. Don’t worry,” his mouth curves into a wicked grin as he drives into you again, this time even deeper. His hand on your throat tightens slightly, just enough to make you feel the pressure, grounding you in the moment. “That’s my girl,” he murmurs against your chest, his voice laden with need. 

Each thrust has you gasping, your body arching off the bed to meet his. Logan’s grip on your neck loosens as his hand slides down to grasp your hip. He squeezes your tender flesh, pulling you harder against him, as if he can’t get close enough. The bed creaks under the intensity, but you barely notice, too far lost in the rhythm of his movements.

“You’re perfect, all I’ve ever wanted,” he slips his free hand between your bodies to find your clit, and the moment his fingers make contact with it, you can’t help but whine. “So fuckin’ perfect,” you hear him repeat, more to himself than to you, his voice stranded as he tries to hold himself back, letting you chase your own release first.

The pressure inside you builds up, tightening with every skilled flick of his fingers. You’re sure you must look like a mess, sweaty and sticky, though the way he looks at you makes you forget everything else. “Logan, I’m—” you croak, the wind being knocked out of your lungs with each relentless thrust. “I think I’m gonna come.”

He picks up speed, snapping his hips faster. “I’ve got you, let go for me. I’ll take care of you, baby, I swear,” his pace becomes erratic, digging his fingers into the softness of your thighs as the headboard keeps slamming against the wall. Your body obeys him, a shuddering release tearing through you, moaning Logan’s name and gripping him like a vice. “That’s it, fuck, that’s it,” he doesn’t stop, driving you through your orgasm. His eyes snap to your face, contemplating how wrecked you look. “Tell me where—please, sweetheart.”

“Inside.”

“What?”

“I said inside. Come inside me, Logan.”

He’s not strong enough to deny you such a thing. Logan buries himself to the hilt, groaning your name as his cock twitches and paints your walls with his thick seed. Beside your head, his claws unsheate, tearing into the pillow. He ruts against you, his body trembling and writhing against yours, already apologizing for the pillow incident while pressing his forehead to your shoulder. “Sorry, I’m sorry. That hasn’t happened in a while.”

When Logan collapses beside you, he pulls you into his arms, kissing you eagerly. You return the kiss, wincing as you feel a bit of his cum slip out of you, rolling down your thighs. He stares at your glistening cunt without an ounce of remorse, and you close your legs. “That’s private.”

“It wasn’t very private a minute ago.”

“Logan?”

“Tell me, bub.”

“Knock, knock.”

He must truly love you, because he plays along: “Who’s there?”

“Ice cream.”

“Ice cream who?”

“Ice cream for you all night long.”

“Guess I didn’t succeed in fuckin’ the bad jokes out of you,” he teases softly, letting his head fall back on the bed. “But it’s fine. I’ll just have to keep tryin’.”

This is the story of how you end up dating a man who’s two hundred years old. But it’s also the story of how that same man learns to let his guard down and open his heart. So, remember this, kids: the sky’s the limit, especially when it comes to love—and yes, even when it involves dating mutants.

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

[foolinafable]

family matters

Five Hargreeves x Fem!Reader Synopsis: You and Five return after seven years away in a different timeline- but you don’t return alone Word Count: 1.8k Tags: Fluff, No Lila and Five, Pregnancy, Children, Season 4 fix it (kinda) Note: Got so much love on the last one I wrote this! Try to ignore spelling mistakes it's currently 3am.

Stuck with only your irritable CIA colleague Five Hargreeves was anything but a good time. You both got lost at the godforsaken subway station he mistakenly teleported you both to. Travelling for a year by his side certainly mellowed you out. His personality slowly making you feel comforted as you both explored multiple timelines together trying to find your way home.

Surprisingly, the idea he possessed powers was the easiest thing for you to come to terms with, probably due to your job at the CIA making it seem plausible to you that the government does hide a lot- they’re even hiding the whole science of separate timelines.  After around a year of trying and failing to find your way home, you and Five decided to ease off the vigorous schedule you unwittingly created, finding a timeline safe enough to stay in for a while allowing you both to rest and brainstorm ideas of how you could both find a way home to your families. 

You both made a mistake. Falling to know how long a while would be you find yourselves still in the timeline you chose as your ‘temporary’ home six years later. Finding each other a lot less frustrating than at the start of this. You suppose that’s an understatement as you watched Five play with your child, a girl who possessed brown hair and green eyes not too dissimilar to her father’s. It almost wasn’t fair how much her features favoured his. But, seeing his beauty reflected upon her features could never be something you would complain about. 

“Maybe if we get lucky the next one will resemble you more,” you remember his words from a few days earlier when you started to show a hand placed under your abdomen smiling as if this was the greatest gift he could ever receive. But you don’t think it would matter if this one ended up looking like their older sibling and their father. If anything you would prefer it- not that you would ever admit it.

Picking another fresh strawberry from the greenhouse of the abandoned home you now called your own. You placed it into the basket plans to make jam and jelly already filling your mind when you felt yourself begin to flush from the sweltering heat of the sun beating down upon the glass. Your skin heating up to a point of large discomfort, sweat beginning to gather at your temples. You sighed knowing that you couldn't continue to harvest anything else unless you wanted to face Five’s rath over you overheating again. 

“Mom!” Maxine ran towards you eagerly hands encircling your legs as she got close enough for a welcoming hug. She quickly looked up towards you big green eyes staring at you prettily 

“Hiya munchkin” You stroked the top of her hair as she smiled up at you with glee

“What doing?” the three-year-old questioned head titling as she waited for your response 

“Strawberries” was all you replied grabbing the basket to show her 

“Have one?” she asked pointing at the basket, batting her eyes to try to sway your decision. You simply plucked one out of the basket and gave it to her relishing in the delighted smile she sent your way before biting into the sweet fruit. You smiled at her before looking up to meet the other pair of green eyes that had made their way into the greenhouse. Five watched the interaction of his favourite girls softly only moving closer once you looked at him.

“Everything alright mumma?” he questioned noticing your flustered expression from the moment he and Maxine stepped foot in the conservatory

“A bit hot” you admitted with a shrug of your shoulders as he drew closer, trapping Maxine in between the two of you as the back of his hand touched your forehead he hummed in agreement with your words

“Let’s get you inside the house, don’t need you getting heatstroke” You forced down the urge to roll your eyes at his dramatics and simply nodded in agreement

“Some cold water and a sit down would be nice.”

He grabbed one of your hands and Maxine’s with the other leading you both back towards the house. After placing the basket of strawberries in the kitchen you quickly sat down on the couch feeling a slight ache in your feet while Five grabbed you a glass of water with more icecubes than you could even count, you smiled in thanks as he passed it to you while Maxine sat next to you, a small children book in hands that she was determined to read to you and her younger sibling as she wanted them to be just as smart as her. 

You could hear Five pattering around the house, tidying up before you could even think about it. Maxine had quickly given up on trying to read, getting bored after two pages and was instead sitting playing with some wooden blocks by your feet. You furrowed your eyebrows when you couldn’t hear Five moving around anymore a stark silence surrounding you now.

“Everything alright?” you shouted trying to figure out where he had gotten to, heart fluttering when there was no reply. Setting your glass down on the table in front of you as you rose from your rather comfortable spot on the couch, you walked into the other room where your lover was his body was stick straight, eyes not daring to leave the notebook in his hand. “What?” you questioned softly walking towards him, eyeing the words on the book as you got close enough.

“This” he began astounded “Is our way home, it’s written by me but I didn’t write this. Another me did.” you simply nodded before smiling  

“Looks like we’re going home.”

── ✧

You and Five found yourselves outside of what he assured you was his brother Diego’s house. Maxine who was resting her head on his shoulder, legs wrapped around his middle looked astounded by the snow while nerves filled you- the last time you saw any of his family was when you were put on the case that got you lost in the timelines to begin with and even then you barely saw his brothers and sister-in-law as they were quickly taken to hq for a show round to get them out of the way. You didn’t even want to think how you would explain this to them let alone to your own family but you guess this is the easier of the two as they all had powers and also been to multiple different timelines. Five set Maxine down next to you as he rapped on the door you quickly grabbed her hand before she could run off into the snow when the door opened 

“You back!” the man, Diego you assumed, smiled as he looked at Five 

“I am” he stared at his brother almost in shock that he had seen him for the first time for him in seven years

“Good” the man confirmed “We were all starting to get worried.” his eyes then turned towards you and the brunette-haired little girl who was trying to hide behind you “And you are?” he questioned and you quickly gave him your name his eyes sparking in recognition for some reason as he crouched to the ground to greet your daughter “And who is this little princess?” he asked quietly as Maxine started at him 

“This is Maxine” is all you said feeling Five’s eyes on you knowing he wanted to wait until you got inside to drop the bomb you could see Diego begin to connect the dots as he introduced himself to you but he was clearly confused because he would know if Five had a child in the last three years in this timeline at least.

“I will explain everything once we get inside- can’t let the missus get cold” is all he said to Diego as the man allowed you into his home. 

He quickly led you to the living room where to sat on the sofa, Maxine being picked up by Five and placed on his lap when she tried to climb onto yours, you turned towards him to complain but quickly stopped when you met his glower instead choosing to put a comforting hand on your tummy a habit you kept from your first pregnancy. Diego called for his wife Lila to come to sit with him when the door opened revealing more of Five’s family he whispered their names to you as they walked in all choosing to sit down when Diego told them that Five was going to explain where he’s been and why his colleague, a word you hadn’t been referred to as in a long time, was here. With most of his family here excluding Ben and Viktor, he cleared his throat to get their attention

“As you all know the marigold has made our powers a little different to what we are used to” They all made sounds of agreement “My blinking takes only to a tube station where each stop is a new timeline and we” gesturing to you “got stuck, unable to find our way back until now. We were away for seven years but for you has only been a few hours” he took their silence as a sign to continue “This is my wife” he spoke your name “And our daughter Maxine.” you sat in silence for a moment.

“Wait! This is the colleague he was always telling us about?” Luther asked excitedly you turned to the larger man confused when Klaus and Allison quickly agreed with him

“I thought he was joking when he said there was a cute girl who he worked cases with” Claire, Alison’s daughter, announced making her mother and uncles laugh

“I can’t believe you have a child” Lila spoke eyes wide

“Well he is going to have another one in a couple of months,” you told the already shocked woman who quickly smiled at the revelation while the others called out congratulations to their brother 

“How far along are you?” Allison asked as she came up to you silently questioning if she could touch the small bump you simply nodded “We think around thirteen weeks” looking to Five who simply nodded

“She only started showing a few days ago”

“I can’t believe it” Luther called out while pulling funny faces making Maxine laugh as she got a little less shy around her family.

You smiled as you watched Maxine get up and walk towards Lilas’ children playing with them as Five’s hand found its way to yours stroking your knuckles. You never thought you could ever get home let alone come back home happier than you had left it. You suppose a thanks was due to your rather irritable husband and his wacky powers.

[pedgito]

𝐃𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘 𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐑𝐘 | Joel Miller x reader

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summary | you've got an issue and joel's willing to solve it. after all, what are neighbors for?

author's note | this was a prompt from a meet-weird thing i saw ages ago that was originally supposed to be javi, but jo (@undercoverpena) gave me the beautiful idea of making it joel and it spurred this monster.

content warning | established friendship, caught during sex, does the apocalypse having working appliances? probably not, but for the sake of this fic distend belief i beg. oral (eating out from the back), unprotected piv, subtly cocky!joel miller, he's a good ass neighbor, okay?, unbeta'd.

word count — 5.6k

Joel’s fixed this damn machine seven times, convincing himself every time that it was the last time. Shocker, it wasn’t. This time didn’t even last a month. He’s desperate now.

He would usually haul the load all the way to the communal laundry house closer to the group of joined townhomes that housed most of the younger adults—the spry and bright-faced ones who sprung up at the mention of patrol or work, any prospect of toting a gun around with any sense of leadership. They were eager, he couldn’t say the same for himself.

He was old, weathered—years of routine he had created to get the job done and get the hell home.

And truthfully, as he tapped the wrench against the metal machine, chin tucked into his palm as he scratched at his beard, he almost complied with the idea that he would just have to tough it out. Scrounging for parts was nearly impossible—dumb luck, really. In the past several years they’ve picked this town clean, bone-dry.

He’s elbow deep inside the barrel of the dryer when he hears the knock at his door, bumping his head against the rim of it as he exits and cursing under his breath as he pushes to stand, joints creaking and popping in disapproval. 

He can smell you before he sees you, the familiar scent of fresh-baked goods following you everywhere—Joel couldn’t feel guilt for being one of the folks addicted to your cooking. 

Grains had been hard to come by since the epidemic hit, everything was tainted on a global level. It took years and years of Jackson growing its own stock of wheat for things like pie or a nice, gooey cinnamon roll to even be plausible anymore. But, they were managing well so far.

“Saved ‘em for you and Ellie,” You tell him, a small plate of still hot brownies covered with parchment paper, dawning that trademark smile that Joel has come to love, tapping his fingers against the door frame as he passes the plate off to a quickly approaching Ellie.

“Girl’s got the nose of a basset hound,” Joel looks on in amused bewilderment as Ellie throws a mouth-stuffed thanks over her shoulder, “sorry ‘bout her.”

You wave her off whole-heartedly, taking in his sweaty appearance and casual attire. You were used to him in jeans and thick flannels, not a graphic tee and pair of sleep pants. He’s almost always dressed like he had to run at a moment's notice, you weren’t even sure he owned anything different until now.

“Everything good?” You question him, a small laugh escaping your throat.

“Damn washer and dryer is out again,” Joel explains, throwing a hand vaguely over his shoulder.

“Both of them this time?” You ask, “Damn.”

“I can fix ‘em, just a matter of finding the right parts,” Joel tells you, “ looks like I’m gonna have to hand wash again.”

Joel was a friend. You helped friends. It seemed like a no-brainer really, opening your mouth without thinking it through, the kindness tumbling out despite yourself.

“Oh, you’re welcome to load yours up at mine,” You offer and Joel looks immediately apprehensive, the southern charm and well-mannered tone gearing to creep up on you.

“Now, I don’t mean to make you feel like you have to—”

“Joel, I wouldn’t offer it if I didn’t feel comfortable with it,” You remind him, “seriously—anytime, just try and bring your own detergent—and for the love of god, empty your pockets before you put ‘em in.”

Joel chuckles tiredly at that, rolling his eyes as he nods in agreement.

“Got it, of course, sweetheart.”

“I leave an extra key under the rug, so if I’m ever not home just come in,” Given that Joel was Tommy’s brother, you knew he wouldn’t be up to any trouble, “sound good?”

“Yep. Anytime—just make myself at home.” Joel confirms and you nod with an even wider smile, waving a pleasant goodbye as you trailed down the stairs and made your way to the house you inhabited next door.

Right, anytime.

Unfortunately, Joel took that a little too literally.

-

Joel managed to scrounge up the courage a day later, tumbling into his house on tired legs after a lengthy patrol up at the cabin lookout, scooping the basket up in his arms and heading out his front door, taking the short walk to your house.

The lights were off, but that wasn’t unusual. Joel knew you liked to stay late nights in the town’s mess hall, often working on prep for the following morning to make the load a little lighter and sleep in a while longer, so when he fishes under the doormat for the key he thinks nothing of it.

And as the door swings open, it is still fairly quiet. Though, he can hear your own dryer running upstairs. He’s got the layout down too, having shared more than a few nightcaps with you. Friend to friend and nothing more, even if you had always felt a little more strongly toward being affectionate. A hug or a kiss on the cheek from time to time, he never pushed you away. Joel never seemed like the type of man who openly showed affection, even toward a friend. But, he was good, reliable–most of the time.

He reaches the stairs with trepidation as the sounds grow louder and part of him wonders if by some uncanny coincidence your dryer might be growling and rumbling on its own final leg. 

The moment his hand reaches that doorknob and turns he realizes he’s made a mistake.

He’s caught you at a…bad time. Head thrown back with your mouth hung wide, whatever noise you’re making was mostly drowned out by the nagging sound of the dryer as it tore through the spin cycle but he hears the tailend of it, a soft moan of pleasure from the man who’s buried inside of you right now, both of you naked from the waist down but your breasts on full display with your shirt tucked under your neck.

“Benny?” Joel asks, slightly amused.

You lift your head at the sound and spot him, your feet nearly slipping out from under you as you scramble to push Benny away, who perks with an even more perplexed, “Joel?”

“Goddamn it, Joel,” You curse behind gritted teeth, furiously readjusting yourself, pulling your sweats back on and over your ass and your shirt down, “What are you doing here?”

Joel looks down at the basket still clinging to his hip before back up at you, wordlessly.

You sigh through your nose with a tight lipped frown, cheeks puffing out as you brushed your fingers through your hair and down—Benny was still scrambling to redress behind you, unable to pull his gaze away from Joel.

“Benny?” Joel mouths at you quietly, eyebrows raised curiously.

You walk toward the now open door slowly as Benny buttons his pants and you shoot Joel daggers with your stern gaze.

Cut it out.

Joel smirks slightly, cheek dimpling with the action as he side-steps Benny, who leans around you and kisses your cheek—it was a kind gesture but given the situation, in horrible taste. You force a polite smile and once Benny is a far enough distance you hit Joel firmly in the arm as he passes by you and into the laundry room.

You walk Benny to the door with a million thoughts racing through your head, offering a distracted goodbye before you’re locking the door and racing back upstairs with determined footsteps and Joel has already loaded his clothes in the washer, turning the knob to set the load size and time.

“Benny?” He echoes his earlier questions, “Really?”

“What? Are you judging me?”

“No—just, that kid’s had quite an obsession with you for some time now. Just…surprised is all.”

Your lips pull together in a disapproving but nonchalant frown, taking his words for the bullshit they are.

“When I said anytime that did not extend to the middle of the night, Joel.”

“You’re usually still at work,” He supplies—and really, he’s not wrong, “M’sorry. I mean that.”

“Well, now I’ve gotta deal with the fact you’ve seen me naked,” You cross your arms over your chest and lean against the doorframe and Joel’s eyes track you for a moment, smiling with amusement at the thought.

“What? You want a fair trade?” Joel teases, “‘Cause, darlin’. I don’t mind—but it was an accident. Besides, ain’t nothin’ I haven’t seen before.”

He means it in a broader sense, but you can’t help the eye roll it induces. 

“No, no,” You chew at your bottom lip, watching Joel place the empty basket on top of the washer, “I can finish that up if you want to get some sleep. I know you had a long patrol today.”

“Oh, did you?”

He’s teasing you.

“Don’t push it, old man,” Joel shakes his head at that jab and chuckles, “Ellie clued me in when she picked up some sandwiches for her and Dina earlier.

He’s not going to pass on the offer, though. He nods, rubbing a hand over his tired face.

“Jesus—just…Benny?” Joel reiterates again, “Didn’t think the kid had it in ‘em.”

“Out,” You say with an over-pronunciation as you drag his slow and progressive steps further out of your laundry room and into the hall, “or you’re off my dessert list for a month, Miller.”

Joel smiles at you knowingly, “You wouldn’t dare,” He retorts, knowing you too well.

You wouldn’t make him suffer like that. Or Ellie, who wouldn’t hesitate to murder Joel if he robbed her of that pleasure. Not literally…but, she would carry a few choice words for him.

“Seriously, though, thank you,” He nods, leaning down to press a kiss into the crown of your head—an often familiar gesture when you parted after a long night of nonsensical talk and a couple glasses of wine or whiskey, depending on how hard the day had been, “I appreciate it, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, yeah—”

“And I do apologize for…not knocking and showin’ up at such a weird time.”

You shrug, “You’re forgiven. Just…don’t give Benny a hard time. He’s a good guy.”

“You’ve got my word, darlin’.”

Joel was determined to be on his best behavior, clearly.

-

It takes Joel a couple weeks to find the parts he needs and luckily there are no more run-ins on your midnight sex-scapades, still feeling the embarrassment from the first one. Joel doesn’t even seem to remember it after a couple days, thankfully. He was bypassing it for your own benefit, truthfully. And you knew that.

Selfishly, you're glad to have your appliances back to yourself. 

They’re good, solid, reliable—until they aren’t.

Your washer shits itself mid-load and you can hear it from downstairs. A loud screeching noise before an even louder pop that has you groaning loudly because you know. You can feel it.

You can’t even bring yourself to go check, peering through the window of your kitchen and catching a fresh pot of coffee in the house across from yours, a man coming into view and his stark white shirt contrasting the black coffee cup in his hands. He catches you out of the corner of his eye and looks at you with a quizzical amusement, smile tugging at his face.

Joel was always up before the sun rose, so with the sun just creeping into the sky you’re sure that’s his third or fourth cup of coffee. He reaches over his sink and fiddles with the latch on his window before heaving it up, watching as you struggled to do that same but eventually managed.

“You run outta coffee again?” He asks, sipping at the bitter, black coffee in his mug.

“No,” You reply quickly, slightly exasperated as you chew at your bottom lip, debating how to pop the question and feeling nervous under Joel’s intense gaze, curiously wondering if he’s still picturing you naked. He’s never explicitly mentioned it since, but you have caught him in the act.

Wandering eyes, gazes catching when your back is turned for half a second as you bend down or move in a way that exposes too much skin.

“My washer broke,” You cut to the chase and Joel chuckles at how comical it is, in hindsight.

Was this karma? It was definitely karma. 

You’ve never asked Joel for anything—despite your often bouts of kindness toward him you never expected anything in return, not even a favor.

“Doors open,” Joel nods toward his front door out of view, an invitation like you offered him.

You didn’t even hesitate, pushing the window close and bounding up the stairs.

-

You’re already loading your things into his washer before he appears around the corner, peeking his head in, coffee cup still in hand as he takes a few more steps and leans against the wall beside the washing machine and your eyes glance at him briefly before you continue moving the clothes, watching him watch you from behind the rim of his mug.

“I can start them and come back,” You tell him, “so I won’t be lingering around here all day.”

“No Benny?”

You stand up as you close the washer, deadpan stare pointed in his direction.

“You can be such a nosy neighbor, you know that?”

Joel shrugs, a smug smile covered behind his sip of coffee.

“It was just a few times. Besides he’s…too much for me.”

You turn the dial to start the load and it rumbles to life with a simple press of a button.

“You wanna talk about it?”

It wasn’t completely unnatural for you two—you knew quite a bit about Joel now: his life before, his work, his daughter…all things that come with trust and time. He’s waited patiently for you and you’ve given him peeks into your life, but nothing like this.

“It’s a long story, Joel.”

“Got time,” He smiles slightly, “I’ll go grab you a cup of coffee—sit down.”

You look around briefly, not a chair in sight. So, you raise yourself up just enough that you can slide your ass over the top of the washer, bare feet dangling off the floor and you wait, the subtle and quiet shake from the beginning of the load process keeping the awkward silence at bay.

Joel turns the corner a few minutes later with your cup, made up just to your liking and you nod with a gentle smile, taking the cup from his hand and allowing yourself a few generous sips.

“So—that night, you caught us,” You can laugh at the instances now, so you do in a soft, clipped manner, “it wasn’t the first—it had been a month by that point and he just caught me by surprise, showed up that night and things just got a little out of hand.”

Joel’s eyebrows raise in interest but he urges you to continue, leaning against the wall in front of you now, resting his mug on the shelf just above his head as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“He’s a good guy, don’t get me wrong—but I don’t do serious…I can’t, now with how things are. And I know a lot of people think the opposite, seize the moment and all that shit,” You sigh, a deep and heavy sound that expands and releases from your chest, “he was already talking about moving in, the idea of us having kids—so that night I just tried to distract him.”

“With sex? Seems a little…counter-productive, don’t you think?”

“Don’t judge me, Joel,” You warn him but it’s edged with a playfulness that Joel recognizes. You didn’t have a mean, deceptive bone in your body and Joel knew that from the first conversation he had with you.

“I needed him to shut up,” You groan at the thought of the conversation as it replays in your mind, “I’m trying to wash my clothes, he’s talking to me about babies. I do not want kids, Joel. Ever. At least none that are biologically mine. Who would want to bring a kid into this world?”

Well…Tommy. The thought comes to you after the words have already left your mouth and your heart sinks into your stomach, looking at Joel apologetically.

“Sweetheart, don’t even try to apologize. Ain’t nothing wrong with it.”

“It makes me sound horrible, I know but—”

“I’ve done my time—it’s none of my business how others choose to live. Besides, I’m pushing sixty, I don’t have to worry about all that…sorry, I’m not trying to be crude here.”

You nod knowingly with a smirk tugging at your lips, taking another sip of coffee before handing the mug off for him to place it next to his own, ready to slide off of the washer before Joel interjects with another question that catches you off guard.

“He treat you right, at least?”

You tilt your head with that same knowing smirk, pushing Joel away at his hip with your foot as he leans up from his position against the wall—Joel’s never flirted, always promptly skirted around the issue and went about it more gentlemanly. He’s not abrasive and straightforward like most of the men in Jackson, but damn did he know how to make you feel special.

Undivided attention, constant subtle compliments, giving up some much-needed sleep for a simple late night drink with you—part of you was too terrified to make your own move and make it clear just how badly you wanted just a small taste of him.

You’ve heard whispering, minimal talk from a few of the women in town. Joel didn’t often make his rounds but when he did, he left an impression. And you had every right to be jealous, because with him standing in front of you now—you knew it would be easy to say no and he would fix you right up, finally crossing that line that he’s been carefully dancing around for a few years.

“He’s a bit…timid,” You shrug, “and he doesn’t really…”

The air lingers and the side of Joel’s mouth pulls up—you don’t have to say it.

“Joel, don’t do that,” You shove at his shoulder as he approaches you, his hands pressing into the contraption you’re on, curled around the metal, “—he’s just…eager, but not in a good way.”

There’s a glint in Joel’s eye that leads you to believe he’s not thinking about Benny’s less than experienced sex life, feeling the sudden jitteriness from the coffee as your chest rises with a deep, shaky breath and Joel eyes the time over your shoulder.

Forty-five minutes and some change, plus the time to dry because Joel already knows you aren’t going to trouble yourself with walking the damp laundry through this cold, muggy weather.

“So, no then?” Joel asks.

He could have treated you better, sure. But, he wasn’t the worst.

But, the way Joel is staring at you knows makes everything and everyone dull in comparison.

You shake your head in agreement, chewing at the inside of your bottom lip as your hands fall to your lap, his hands ncreasingly closer to the tights covering your legs, suddenly feeling his thumb graze your hip. You both glance down at the action and your breathing halts, watching as his right hand slowly engulfs your thigh, fingers digging into the soft material and dimpling your skin underneath, his thumb only a few centimeters from dipping into the inside of your thigh.

They part on their own, welcoming Joel in wordlessly and his left hand echoes the other. His face is level with your own, staring down at your lips briefly before meeting your eyes and you’ve seen that look before—the adoration when he thought you weren’t watching, secretly you had become good at catching those glances, but Joel wasn’t trying to hide it now.

And it quickly dawns on you in the moment—he was jealous. Of Benny. Or really, any man that had come before him. But, he was using him as the scapegoat.

Honestly, you couldn’t even care.

“You want someone to treat you right?” He speaks softly and if you weren’t so close you wouldn’t have heard him, “I got you, sweetheart. I swear.”

He’s not looking at you anymore, eyes dragging down the bridge of your nose to your lips again. But, you are looking at him, flooded with that tricky feeling that creeps up on you when you want things you know you shouldn’t.

“Joel, I told you—I don’t do serious,” And you hold your breath for the response, wondering if that would send this moment crumbling to dust, but Joel doesn’t miss a step.

“Good for you,” Joel dotes, “neither do I.”

Then he’s on you, the press of his lips in a heated kiss sends you tumbling back, caught by the warm slide of his palm over your back to pull you in, throwing your arms over his shoulders as he pulls back briefly, just enough for you to open your mouth to speak, but his tongue finds its way inside and the words fade away.

Just friendly, my ass—you think.

If you had known he kissed like this—you would’ve jumped at the opportunity months ago; a night spent drinking too many glasses of wine and laughing over some movie far before your time, but not his. 

He was so entranced, giving you all the details, but you couldn’t help giggling over it, too touchy to be considered friendly.

You’d both cut it short quickly when Ellie popped in halfway through the movie, and beyond that, it never grew.

Until now.

“Sweet,” Joel notes with a subtle smile, his hand dwarfing the size of your neck as his fingers wrapped around the column of your throat, holding you firmly in place as he maneuvered you toward and away from the kiss as he pleased, swallowing every tiny moan that escaped your lips when his other hand squeezed at your thigh just a little too hard.

“All that sugar,” In your coffee, the taste lingering on your lips and he licks around them teasingly, pulling away briefly to look at you, your eyebrows raising in question as the gears turn in his head, “—you still with me?”

“I’m just wonderin’ if you’re okay with this,” Joel speaks candidly, his eyes trained on his thumb as it rubs against the middle of your throat, traveling up under your chin and tipping your head up slightly, watching as you swallowed, “before I take this further, jus’ need to know.”

You nod jerkily, not even a second of hesitation. 

“You would have known the moment you kissed me, Joel.”

In turn, Joel nods slowly before he speaks, stealing the air from your chest.

“Alright then, pull these down for me,” He tugs gently at the material clinging to your thighs before both of his hands find the spot behind your knees and tug until your feet hit the floor, “and push that pretty little ass out for me.”

The absurdity of this language on his tongue makes you giggle but abide in an instant, struggling slightly as the material bunches at your ankles and Joel helps you the rest of the way, tossing your pants aside before he’s kneeling despite how his body protests, too eager to give you a taste of the pleasure you deserve and he’s grabbing the cheeks of your ass and squeezing them between his hands before he’s leaning up to bite playful at the soft flesh.

He groans quietly against your skin, the press of his aquiline nose against your ass as his fingers fold around the string of your underwear and pull, dropping them down to your ankles and off and then his tongue is flat against the seam of your cunt, gasping as you fall forward and your own fingers clawing against nothing.

“Joel!” You squeak out as his fingers dig hard into your ass, forcing you up on your tiptoes as devours, licking into your cunt as it quivers around his tongue. 

Your hand pressed against the wall in front of you to keep your chest from hitting the washer, feeling your pussy tighten around the finger that enters alongside his expert tongue, a soft groan erupting out of him from behind you. That smug motherfucker was attempting a teasing huh under his breath as he busied himself with the task of eating you out from the back and you couldn’t even think straight. 

‘C’mon, baby,” He coos between his alternating licks and slurps of the heady slick that dripped from your cunt, “come all over my mouth, let me taste that sugar.”

It’s absurd, the way he’s speaking to you now. Your eyes squeeze shut as his thumb finds your clit amongst the chaos of his tongue and fingers, face heating up at how noisy your cunt sounded over the dull shake of the washer and Joel’s satisfied moans, occasionally massaging at the back of your thigh when your legs shake with the creeping feeling of your impending orgasm.

“Oh,” You squeal, reaching behind you to dig your fingers into his hair, panting out in desperation, “—fuck, don’t stop! Joel, right—right there,” and then glance you take back at him, his eyes peeking open from his position below, on his knees and dutiful to you and you alone, well…

It sends you tumbling over the edge as his thumb rubs over your clit quickly, soothing you through the aftermath as he laps up the mess you’ve made all over yourself, dragging his tongue along the inside of your thigh because if you knew anything about Joel, he didn’t waste a meal. 

And you were just about the finest he’s tasted.

You clear your throat as you rest your feet flat on the floor, feeling the faint quake in your legs as Joel rises slowly, forcing you to swallow down a giggle as he winces and he can see it on your face.

“Worth it,” He excuses himself, “don’t look at me like that.”

“No old man jokes?” You sound sad and Joel can’t believe it.

He shakes his head.

But, the smile that breaks out on your face quickly diminishes any comeback he has.

You begin to push him away with a hand gripped in his shirt, carefully avoiding the obvious bulge in his sweats as you reach for your tights, ready to redress and drop to your own knees as a favor but his fingers are wrapping around your wrist, pulling your attention back to him.

“I meant it,” Joel tells you, tilting his head to catch your gaze.

You smile wide and tilt your head to mirror him, “I think you proved your point—Benny is a pathetic man who doesn’t know how to make me come, blah blah…”

“My job ain’t done if you’re still thinkin’ about him, darlin’.”

His eyebrows raise in challenge.

Okay, you’re game.

Wordlessly you allow the hands at your hip that guide you toward the front of the joined appliances, his fingers sliding under your top until you get the hint to pull it off, your breasts bouncing free from the shirt—the few bras you had were already in the wash, big deal.

Joel chuckles and stops for a moment, admiring the sight of your breasts for the second time that month, albeit more openly this time. He reaches forward and rubs his thumb along your nipple, watching the nub harden under his touch and you bite at your bottom lip, eye fluttering closed at how sensitive they were to touch, something other men never took the time to notice.

“You like that?” Joel asks with a creeping grin.

You nod, watching as he squeezed your tits in his hands, showing your nipples ample attention as he circled them with his thumb before leaning down slightly and swiping his tongue over the hardened nubs, sucking your breast into his mouth and his eyes peer up, gauging your reaction which quickly developed from a soft giggle to a loud moan.

“Clothes,” You breath out, “off—if you still have a point to prove.”

A point that you wanted proven. Hard.

Joel pulls away and yanks his shirt over his head, allowing you an unobscured view of the mix of muscled shoulders and his softened stomach, running your hand over the patch of hair at the center of his chest and down, right along his hips until his own fingers hook around the fabric and pull his sweats and boxers down in one motion, his cock catching against the edge of his waistband before it bobs back up toward his stomach.

You find yourself smiling despite yourself, forgetting for a moment that Joel was standing there and watching you, feeling your mouth water at the sight of him hard and leaking at how just getting a small taste of you had turned him on that much, precum leaking slowly from the tip and he wraps his hand around himself, other hand tapping at your chin to drag your attention back up to his face, reminding you he was still there.

“Got somethin’ on your mind, sweetheart?”

You shake your head furiously, “No, no—no, nothing. Just, uh—”

“I’ll start slow,” He tells you and with the size of him, thick and girthy in ways you’ve only imagined or pictured in your head, it’s daunting, “are you still alright with all of this?”

Your face softens and you nod, appreciating the repeated check-ins, the need for confirmation, but it pulls at your heart as you wonder why he feels the need to ask so much. As if he was fearful you would change your mind on a dime—Joel was fine with that, but he was more worried about the change in dynamic. Thankfully, you were determined for that not to be the case.

“I’m pretty tough,” You shrug, a playful smile gracing your face.

Joel nods absently as his fingers drag along your waist before catching behind your knee and pulling it up over his hip, both of your eyes dragging down to his cock as he tugged at himself a few times, his brow furrowed as he spread your lips apart with the head, dipping his hips down slightly to catch against your hole before he pushes in slow, one solid stroke that steals the sound from your throat and transfers to his own. Joel groans out softly as he pushes into you, his hands gravitating toward your face and wrapping around the sides of your neck, tilting your head back to mouth at your skin, his tongue dragging along your collarbone before sucking and nipping gently at your skin.

“Don’t I know it,” Joel responds after a while, “find something to hold onto.”

Your soft giggle of excitement shoots down to your core and your fingers wrap around the edges of the washer and Joel pulls back swiftly before he’s snapping his hips back into you before repeating the process several times, the jolt of the machine hitting the concrete wall behind you drowned out by your loud moans, quickly swallowed up by Joel’s lips as he pulls your mouth to his, breathing into it with every sharp snap of his hips.

“Harder,” You beg, biting at his bottom lip as he groans, using his fingers intertwined into the hair at the nape of your neck now to pull your head back and he pulls his hips back quick, bottoming himself out inside of you so forcefully you feel like your legs might give out, his cock rubbing against your already too sensitive g-spot and continuously finding a way to bring you closer and closer to the edge, “fuck—yes, yes. Joel, oh my god—”

“Yeah,” Joel goads you, his eyes drawn closed as he tries to keep his own orgasm at bay, “give it to me, baby—wanna watch you make a mess on my cock, alright?”

Easy, you laugh airily and feel the instinctive squeeze of your walls around Joel’s cock as he pulls your face to his, foreheads pressed against each other as he angles his hips back and slams into you one last time before you come undone, head falling back in a similar position to how he caught you a few weeks ago, this time for him. 

Your grab for his shoulders suddenly, blunt fingernails digging into his skin and he takes a few harsh breaths through his nose before he’s pulling out, hand grasping his cock as he jerked himself a few seconds before he comes in thick, short spurts against your stomach, squeezing at the head of his cock as he drags it through the mess he’s made.

His expression is nothing short of mesmerizing, mouth hung open just enough that his tongue can drag over his bottom lip before his teeth are taking its place, eyes drawn to your skin.

Wordlessly, he pulls away on his own pair of shaky legs as he reaches for his wrinkled, worn shirt and brings it to your stomach, cleaning up the mess with a faint smile on his face.

“You know, I think it might take me a bit to fix my washer,” You tease, “so—I might be over here bothering you for a while.”

Joel peers up at you, his head still tucked down as he wiped at your stomach.

“Fine with me.”

Then he’s peering over your shoulder, watching as the washer time inched toward zero, dinging behind you. You turn around, letting your leg fall from his hip finally, ass brush against him in the process and Joel can’t help the way his eyes refuse to leave the sight of it.

Only feeling slightly guilty when you catch him this time, not giving him the pass you usually do.

“We’ve still got about an hour left if I dry them here,” You tell him, “anything else you wanna prove?”

Joel’s tongue pokes at the inside of his cheek, eyes dragging up toward the upper level of his house before flicking back toward you, a smile plastered on your face.

“I can think of a few things.”

divider creds: @/cafekitsune

[hargreeves-duncan]

Hey, I read your last Five fics which I absolutely loved and I was wondering if I could request a (Five x Reader) or (Five x OC) in which Five betrays the MC with Lila in the subway and when they come back MC leaves him and meets someone else who she falls deeply in love with (probably married her new partner and even has children) and years later Five finds her and he tries to fix everything because he realized that whatever happened with Lila was not real love and then he witnesses MC with her new family and realizes that it could’ve been him if only he would’ve treasured her love and stayed loyal to her?

I just love angst with a happy ending for the person who was betrayed and a miserable life for the traitor.

a/n: i’m inclined to agree, bad people deserve to get what’s coming to them!! i know everyone really wanted a pt. 2 to the cheating!Five fic and that’s what this turned into so… hope you enjoy!❤️

summary: you’ve moved on, five’s still recovering from the life that could’ve been

warnings: cheating

word count: 2.2k

tags: @snixx2088

pt. 1

Five checked the address in his notepad for the hundredth time since he’d left his apartment. He looked back up at the house with its neat entryway and wide, glorious front garden. There were cream roses spiralling around the white picket fences and he wondered if you were the one who’d painted them. You'd always had a knack for fixing things up and making them shine better than they had without you, himself included. Your entire house, no, home, was beautiful - but what else did he expect? It was yours, after all.

He took a deep breath, wringing out his hands that were already sweating profusely. He hadn’t felt nerves like these in years. It had been so long since you’d last seen him and your life looked so perfect and picturesque without him in it that he felt selfish for dirtying your lawn with his presence.

Things had been difficult during the split, you couldn’t even hold his eye or be alone in the same room as him after the events of Christmas Eve. But even after everything, you’d still been straight with him, and civil too, when you told him that you were going to stay somewhere else for a while. You'd needed some time before the two of you could be close again and, of course, he’d agreed. To tell the truth, at the time he hadn’t even minded. He had Lila then. Why was there any need for you to stay around?

But after a while, she had left too. For Lila, their seven years together really only had been a fling, a spur of the moment. She went back to her husband, her family. And Diego, being softer than you were, let her, no matter what she’d done or how badly she’d hurt him. The two of them had pushed forward and eventually they’d made it to the other side. They weren’t the same couple as they had been, but they were doing better, and for them that was enough.

After that, Five had grown bitter towards you and the way you’d reacted. Why couldn’t you see things the way Diego had? Why hadn’t you taken him back and reassured him that you would fix it all, like his brother had done for Lila? That was how things were supposed to go.

He was angry at Lila for a while too, for choosing her family over the future he wanted with her. He hadn't understood how their affair was formed by circumstance, not love. He knew better now.

Looking back, a small part of him actually respected you more for turning him away. It was strong of you to choose yourself for once and he was proud of how you’d pushed through, even when he had begged and pleaded for you to take him back. 

He wouldn’t do that today, he promised himself, as he marched on and up the steps of your front porch. He brushed his hair out of his face and then he reached up, knocking on the door. He heard the soft thump of feet on the hardwood floors draw closer.

The door opened and there you stood, smiling, “Hi!” You paused as you registered who it was that stood in front of you. Shocked, you said, “Oh! You are not the mail.”

Five laughed softly, shaking his head, “Uh… I am not, no.” He silently looked over you, taking in the ways you’d changed since he last saw you. Your hair was slightly longer than it used to be, but it looked good, suited you. As did the outfit you were wearing. He didn't dare to say that out loud though.

“I… Hi, Five. What can I do for you?” You asked, stepping out onto the porch and gently closing the door behind you. He’d missed your soft-spoken voice and hearing it made a dreamy smile form on his face.

“I wanted to check on you, see how you’ve been.” He gestured to your front door, “May I…?”

You hesitated for a moment but then you sighed, nodding and smiling weakly, “Yeah, of course. Come on in.” You say, opening the door again and leading him inside. You’re walking three strides ahead of him as you ask, “Can I get you anything? Tea? Coffee?”

“Uh, yeah. Coffee would be great, actually.” He says, blinking up at you in slight surprise as he steps into your home. He was expecting more resistance. The interior of your home is just as nice as the outside. It’s warm and so clearly full of the love that you’ve put into it. His eyes are drawn to the pictures on the shelf in the walkway.

There are a few of you with his siblings. He’s not surprised about that. In the wake of your divorce, it was you that they’d sided with and, even now, they were still treading lightly around Lila and him at family functions. What does surprise him are the two children that Klaus has his arms wrapped around in the family portrait at some celebration or other. They feature in several photos, dressed in pretty dresses and sporting toothy grins in almost every one.

Before he can overthink it, your voice is calling out to him, “Five?” You poke your head out of the kitchen door and he smiles resignedly. He stands up and follows you into the kitchen. He sits on one of the stools at the island.

The only sound comes from you, pouring out his coffee. You fetch yourself a water and then slide his mug towards him. He smiles gently, taking the warm beverage into his hands, “Thank you, love.”

Leaning on the counter, opposite him, your head snaps up to look at him as you laugh nervously. Catching his mistake, Five shakes his head, laughing a little himself, “Sorry. I guess it's still a force of habit.”

“It’s fine.” You say with a small smile, sipping from your own glass. The silence becomes comfortable. There was something familiar about this routine, enjoying the quiet company of one another and it settles any nerves left in Five.

Steadying his breath, his eyes search the kitchen for answers of what your life has looked like these last few years. More than a few times, he’d asked his siblings and they’d given little or sometimes even nothing to work with. He wished he still knew your ins and outs like he used to.

He finds his answers hanging up in a frame on the far wall. It’s a nice photo of you, your happiness shines out of it and watches over the room. There’s someone else in it too. Five doesn’t recognise him but by the placement of his hands, he knows what he must mean to you.

Five clears his throat, pointing to the photo with his mug, “Who’s the guy?”

You look up and feel your cheeks flame as you find the photo you had taken on your last vacation, “He’s my partner.” You say and your smile is shy as you talk about him. One mention of this guy and you’re already indescribably smile-y.

It makes Five’s stomach churn when you say, “We’ve been together for nearly five years now.”

“Oh, wow…” He says, eyebrows raising. He’s trying and failing miserably to mask his surprise and pain. It’s not as if he expected you to come running back into his arms with some crazy love confession or anything, but he didn’t think you’d have moved on either.

What hurts the most is how happy you look to be talking about your new partner, your eyes lit up with affection that used to be reserved for him, “That’s… that’s amazing, congratulations.”

You smile softly, wrapping your arms around yourself as you set your glass down, “Thank you.”

“And the kids in those photos in the hallway…?” Five says, glancing over his shoulder as if they’ll come barreling in at any second. He’s not sure he could face two girls with eyes just like yours staring back at him.

You nod, “They’re mine, yeah. They’re three. At pre-school right now, but, you know…” You answer, shrugging and smiling at the thought of your twin little girls.

After your time at The Commission, you’d been terrified of the mother you'd be. Some days it still felt like you were waiting for the other shoe to drop and for you to turn into a cruel, awful person. But, you hadn't so far and your partner was always there to soothe you when those thoughts started to creep up on you.

You were still learning that it was okay to be a mother and have had your own life before that as an assassin. Being a good killer didn’t stop you from being a good mother and you were more than capable of giving your girls the love they deserved. Everything you did was for the good of them and you were doing an amazing job at giving them a happy and completely normal life.

“Jesus, wow…” Five laughs to himself, running a hand over his face as he looks back at you. He’s speechless, hearing about the wonderful life that you’ve built yourself. He feels a deep-rooted guilt spring up in him. He never gave you that life but it was plain to see how much you craved it and how you were thriving in it.

He’d spent so long saying that maybe, one day, in between all of the chaos of your lives, you’d find time for a quiet life like this. He’d spent every waking moment pushing the future and its commitments as far away as he could, arguing that all he wanted was to focus on you whilst he had you in his arms. But he had never given you what you wanted and now you’d found it with someone else.

Swallowing down the ache in his chest, he pulled his mug closer to himself, seeking out the warmth of it on his palms to ground him, “You look really happy.”

“I am, I really am.” You say, smiling softly at him. You were happy that Five had come here today, that you could get some true closure on your time together, it felt like a lifetime ago now. Sunlight poured into the kitchen and your bracelet shimmered under its rays, a dazzling silver.

A strained smile makes its way onto Five’s face at the sight of it, yet another symbol of the fact that didn’t belong to him anymore. It hurt to admit it but silver suited you far better than gold ever did, and he’s sure that there’s a metaphor somewhere in there but he wasn't ready to face the truth behind it yet.

You take another sip of water and there’s a peaceful silence that falls over the room that gives you both the chance to absorb everything that’s passed between you in the last two decades. You look over his features and tilt your head to the side, “What about you, though? How’re you doing?”

Five could answer with what he’s really thinking - that he’s sorry for putting your dreams on the back-burner and that he didn't treasure you the way should've the first time around. He wants to tell you that if you go with him right now and give it all up that he can be the one to provide for you instead and he wants to tell you that he would be so much better than your new partner ever could - but he won’t, he promised he wouldn't.

Instead, he smiles weakly, shrugging his shoulders as he sits up, “I’m doing okay.”

You’ve said it yourself, you’re happy as you are and, unlike him, you're not hung up on the 'what ifs' and the 'could've beens'. You don't need him anymore and he's not selfish enough to risk ruining your happiness just to make some pathetic promise that you both know he won't keep.

“Yeah? That’s good. I’m glad.” You smile and the genuinity in your voice is the real kicker. You’re such a good person that you still care enough to want to know that he’s alright after everything, when he's still weighing up whether he should ruin your relationship or not.

He can’t help but question if he ever deserved you in the first place.

There’s a knock at the door and the both of you jump slightly. You laugh, “That must be the mail.” You set your glass down, padding out of the room.

He chuckles to himself, nodding, “Looks like it.” He mutters, finishing the dregs of his coffee and places the mug down on the counter as he stands up. He has to get out before he ruins your life all over again with words that you don't want to hear.

Walking back into the room with two boxes on your hip, you watch as he picks up his coat, “Oh! Please, don’t feel rushed, you don’t have to leave yet. I don’t have to go get the girls for another few hours.”

Five shakes his head, “No, it's alright. I’ll get out of your hair.” He says, walking into the hallway, “Thank you, by the way, for the coffee.”

“Of course, you’re welcome.” You say, following behind him as he walks out of the door.

He hovers on the porch and you smile kindly at him, “Just... please, don’t be a stranger, Five.”

“I couldn’t even if I wanted to."

[luveline]

Craving a postprison!Spencer x stripper!reader fic, please ma’am.

Maybe she gets a daytime job at a coffee shop or a bookstore - to “supplement her income”/ not have to dance as often (not that she’s ashamed!!) and Spencer is just so proud of her for trying and can’t quit kissing her and praising her because I know in other fics you’ve mentioned she didn’t think anyone would hire her because of her profession/self esteem, plus after prison she didn’t want to dance because she wanted to be with Spencer. 🥺

Or really just anything with a proud Spencer x stripper!reader doing anything.

Your work is fantastic and I’m in love with everything you do!! 💕 thank you and it’s totally okay if you think this request is lame or don’t wanna write it!

thank you angel! —you find a new job while making decisions about your old one after Spencer returns from prison, and Spencer would praise you for breathing, so he’s extremely proud. fem, 1.8k

Statistics differ, but estimates suggest that there are around twenty thousand strippers in Las Vegas. With a population of seven hundred thousand people (estimated up), that means that one in thirty five people living in Las Vegas dances for a living. 

It’s more than you’d think. Spencer knew of plenty of women who worked as strippers, exotic dancers, or private entertainers when he was still living at home. And while the numbers are much smaller in Washington DC where he lives now, it’s far from zero. More surprising for the average person to be one, perhaps, but not for Spencer. 

It used to make him blush like a steam train, sure, but it never did any of the things you were scared of. He’s never looked down on you for it, never been jealous (well, never acted like a jerk because of it), never positioned it as anything other than work. His only complaints are in your concern. You don’t like the club, most of the time. You feel unsafe often. The risk of femicide is yards higher for you as a sex worker than it would be otherwise, but who is Spencer to talk about danger? He still has stitches in his leg. 

Your job used to feel more urgent, a red flashing light above your head, because you’d come around with bruises or cut knees, tear stained cheeks, and you couldn’t make ends meet for all your efforts, but things have changed. You’re reluctant to depend on him, but you’ll accept the help when you need it. Nothing keeps you there if you don’t want to be there, and when you do you’re a marvel. You are beautiful, in Spencer’s eyes. Your dancing when you’re having a good night is one of the prettiest things he’s ever seen —more than pretty, sometimes. A hot coal in his stomach. 

But the fact of the matter is that Spencer’s home, and you don’t want to dance. You haven’t been to the club for weeks as far as he’s aware, and he’d consider himself well informed. You spent all your savings and started spending his instead and he couldn’t care less, what’s his is yours, whatever keeps you aloft while you make whatever decision it is you’re working toward. Not that it presented itself that way. 

I’ll have to go back.

Spencer on his back, you sitting with your head turned from the TV and toward him, your hand on his hip, just resting. Where?

To work. I have enough money for the next two weeks, and then I’m all out. 

Spencer wouldn’t do something as unkind as rolling his eyes, but the point of you moving in was to cement that he’d look after you no matter what. He’d turned his head to you on his pillow and reached for your elbow. You’re still resting. 

You’ve been home for two months, Spencer. I’ve rested enough. I… I only managed this long because you haven’t asked me for anything and that’s not fair, we both live here. 

I earn more than you, so I pay more, he’d said, confused. It’s not as though it hurt him to continue paying for an apartment he’s been living in for years. 

I won’t be your leech. 

You’re not my leech, don’t say that.

I can’t just not have money. 

Well… he’d said. He’d never discussed it with you so openly before, always stopped at the first suggestion, but there’s a first time for everything. You know you can have whatever you want from me. Anything you want, you don’t have to ask. 

Spencer… you’re my boyfriend. 

Exactly. 

No, you’re my boyfriend. You don’t have to keep me. I don’t want that. 

He understood the ‘want’ most heavily. What do you want, angel? he’d asked, dragging your hand up his naked chest to rest over his diaphragm, your arm moving up and down in time with his breathing. 

You’d seemed stricken, but not upset. Like the question surprised you in having no answer. Not sure… you’d said eventually. Mostly you. 

A week passed, two. A third and you’d asked him to borrow money, just for a little while, and with the vehement promise you’d pay him back. 

He’s not expecting it. So soon, either. But here you are standing in front of him with a beaming smile and little book in your hands, unzipping one of the book's inner pockets to count out the money you’d ’borrowed’. “Here you go, my angel, there’s everything.” 

Spencer just looks at it. “What is it?” 

“The money I owe you.” 

He presses his hands to his stomach to stop you from forcing the notes into them. “You don’t owe me anything.” 

“No, seriously, please take it.” 

He shakes his head. “Seriously. I don’t want anything from you, I love you. That money was for you to do what you wanted, or needed. It was yours as soon as I gave it to you.” 

You try regardless to put it in his hands. Your hair was done freshly a week ago, your nails manicured but unpainted, your face adorned with some new makeup he’d seen on his (your) vanity a few days ago. It honestly hadn’t crossed his mind why you’d suddenly given yourself a refresh, and he had no suspicions. You would’ve told him if you went to the club, even just via text, because it’s important he knows you’ve had access to your phone or that you’re coming home. (Plus, he’d notice you leaving at night. You’ve spent the last few evenings laying across his lap.)

“Where did you get this?” he asks, smiling softly, wondering if he’s come to the right conclusion. 

You drop the money on his thigh and take a couple of steps back. 

“I,” you say, holding your little book to your stomach, “got a job as a barista. They gave me my first paycheck today, a direct deposit. So I took out what I owe you and the rest of it is in here.” 

“You what?” he asks. 

“I’m working at the coffeehouse by the library,” you say, nodding, parts proud of yourself and parts shy. 

“For how long? Why didn’t you tell me?” 

You bite your lip. “Just this week. And honestly, I didn’t want you to know if I couldn’t do it.” 

Spencer stands up but doesn’t cross the room to you. He could reach out and catch your hand. “How could you work somewhere new all week without me noticing?” 

“You weren’t here on Monday, Tuesday, or Wednesday morning, and they gave me Thursday off, so I just told you a very small lie this morning about going to the store. I knew you’d get distracted by your Persian poetry again.” 

He did get distracted, very much so. You’ve been and worked a whole shift without his worrying, which is a bit awful in itself (he really does love you, and he’d like to know where you are), but is also, frankly, a great thing. You should be able to work without worry. You should do anything you want to do. 

Still, a whole week at a brand new job without any support, and to stand there with your paycheck as unmistakable waves of satisfaction melt off of you unkissed is insanity. Spencer’s laughing as he ushers you into his arms, as he hugs your shoulders tightly, “Oh my god!” he says, “Wow, congratulations!” He pulls back just a touch to see your face. “Please don’t lie to me about where you’re going, that’s so dangerous. I love you!” 

He takes your face into both hands with your arms hanging loosely behind his back and begins a reckoning of kisses. The slope of your cheek, the skin between your nose and lips, Spencer couldn’t care less where the kisses land, he just wants them all over you. You laugh softly as he goes, almost stickily, a sound that comes deep from your chest. “I’m so proud of you,” he says, pressing a quick, mildly rougher kiss to the corner of your mouth. 

“I might still strip,” you say. 

“Whatever you want,” he says, squeezing your face between his palms. “What’s it like? Do you like it? Is it hard?” He kisses you again. “I wish you’d told me,” he says against your lips. 

You’re quieter than he expected, and warm. He pulls away more sternly to see what’s gone wrong. He could’ve asked the wrong questions. Maybe he’s embarrassed you. 

“I just wanted to make sure I could do it. I didn’t want to fail and… and have you know. I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be, I get it.” God knows he’s failed a hundred times for you to see it. He wishes he would have hidden a lot of that from you, spared you some heartache, but he also knows how lucky he is to have you near. “That’s what we’re supposed to do, right? We should be together when stuff goes wrong.” He beams. “But it didn’t go wrong.” 

“I think I’m pretty good at it.” 

“Yeah?” 

You hold his wrist. “And I get tips, did you know that? Not as many as before,” —you laugh to yourself loudly— “but still. It’s really cool. They pay me even if nobody wants coffee, and when people want coffee I get extra.” 

Spencer kisses the corner of your eye. He kisses up to your eyebrow and down again, all over your cheek before turning your face to the other side to kiss circles into the other. “I,” —kiss— “can’t,” —kiss— “believe it.” Kiss. “Actually, I can, but I still can’t.” 

“It’s just a part time job.” 

“That you didn’t think you could do,” he says. “But you can do anything, I knew you could. I’m amazed by you.” 

He grins and throws his arms over your shoulders. 

You squeeze him right back, the two of you swaying, almost falling over. He can feel how proud you are of yourself. You deserve to feel this way no matter what. 

“I like dancing,” you say, “I do, I just wish I could do it in a different… world? Is that stupid?” 

“No. You’re never stupid.” He smiles as your hand weaves into his hair, fingertips scratching along his scalp, his curls caught between your fingers. 

“Do you think you could come on Monday? I can make you a cup of coffee. It’s not as hard as it looks.” 

“Please, I’d love for you to make me a cup of coffee.” His smile presses to your shoulder, where he breathes you in briefly, before remembering something very important. “Hey, do you wear an apron?” 

“Of course I do.”

Oh my god, he thinks. There are more than half a million baristas in the United States, and Spencer will bet his monthly paycheck that you’re the cutest one to ever exist. You look cute right now in your jeans and your button up shirt, but put an apron on top of that? To see you standing behind a bar mixing drinks and pouring latte art? Monday can’t come quick enough. 

[maevesheart]

only angel (2)

FINNICK ODAIR X FEM!READER

note: wasn’t originally planning on making a part two to this but it just seemed so unfinished??!?! and i love ruthless reader idk she’s a queen

summary: through your alliance with katniss, you and finnick rekindle some buried feelings.

wc: 5.2k

tw: violence, death, brutal!!reader, blood, allusions to forced prostitution

only angel (1)

SEVEN YEARS EARLIER, THE 68TH HUNGER GAMES

Brutus and Enobaria sat in front of you and Mace, your district mate.

They reminded you of strategies that you had been taught your whole life, ensuring that as long as you two played into the Capitol’s hands, you’d get plenty of sponsors and come out alive.

Mace and you had never been close back home, but you saw him in the shopping centers, had some mutual friends. It was someone familiar, and even though your two mentors spent more time perfecting your wielding of knives and crocodile tears, you hoped Mace could somehow make it far in the games. Like you knew you would.

Enobaria and Brutus had introduced you to the various other Career Tributes, taking their time to butter up the other mentors, ensuring a ticket for your survival.

You were small compared to the other tributes, even the girl from Twelve was bigger than you.

But you trained, and you trained hard, showing off the various knife and sword tricks that had been engraved in your brain since you were a child.

Enobaria helped with your endurance, shocked by how fast you were. She had instructed you to not show that off to the other tributes, don’t give too much away.

After the private sessions with your mentors, you were stronger, faster, and more agile than Mace could even dream. You almost felt bad, the way Enobaria and Brutus were setting him up for death.

But, at the end of the day, only one can make it out alive.

Enobaria was strategic, determined for you to win. She instructed you to not show too many strengths in the private session with the Gamemakers, just enough to get a respectable score for someone from a Career District.

You followed her instructions to a tee, refusing to be one of the 23 fallen.

For the interviews, Ceasar laughed at your innocent comments and jokes, complimenting the head piece you wore, noting how it looked like a halo.

“Beautiful, like an Angel,” he smiled, the crowed cheering in agreement.

You giggled, smoothing down the uncomfortable golden dress they had sewn you into.

The crowd roared with your unwavering confidence, the arrogance paired with your baby-face and innocent smile was enough to send them into a fit of convivial.

It was just too easy.

The night before the games you had snuck out of the floor for Two, going up to the rooftop in hopes of having a moment to yourself.

You perched on the ledge, a small nightgown barely covering your shivering body.

You closed your eyes to relish in what could possibly be your last moments of peace, before being snapped from your trance by footsteps echoing.

You whipped around, teeth barring and senses on high alert. You were already acting like the wild animal Enobaria had been training you to be.

“Not in the arena just yet,” a smooth voice sounds out, a boy a few years older than you coming into view.

You recognized him as Finnick Odair. He had won a few years back, and was now returning as a mentor.

You ignored him, turning back to the outline of the Capitol.

He approached you slowly, leaning his body against the glass railing you were propped against.

You looked up to him, tired-eyes meeting his, somehow seemingly sparkling.

“Unfortunately,” you spoke, your mouth in a straight line. Enobaria had introduced you to him during the parade, but his tributes were not ally-material.

He laughed at your response. You stared at him, unamused.

“Feisty,” he smirked, watching you look away from him and back to the skyline.

“Not really in the mood to talk about my fate,” you said, his eyes still burning two holes into the side of your face.

His smile dropped slightly, having once been in your position himself.

He reminded himself you were only 15. A year older than he was when he won.

He had only won 3 years ago, and stood on this same rooftop. Looking out on the same city skyline.

Your peripheral vision caught him lean both his forearms onto the glass, shifting closer to you.

“Is it just as scary as it seems?” You ask. You were a child. A child that had been trained to hunt and kill. But deep down, you were just a scared kid. How would you kill all those people?

Finnick hums, acknowledging the same question that wracked his mind the nights before his games.

“It is,” he recognized your fear, but refused to give you false hope that it wouldn’t be as brutal as it truly is.

The words Enobaria had spoken to you earlier bounced around your brain, it’s just killing. Self-defense. All of it. Don’t be scared to kill someone who isn’t scared to kill you.

You let out a long breath, closing your eyes.

“I don’t want to die,”

It was quiet, but Finnick heard it, head perking up and turning to stare at you.

The role as a tribute was meant to bring great honor to someone from your district, but you were terrified. You were young, passionate. You had so much to give and so little time to give it all.

“Enobaria told me to hide my strengths, and I did. I’ll be able to kill them, once it comes down to it. But how will I live with myself?”

Finnick asked himself the same question everyday. How did he kill all those people? Sure, it was survival. Him or them. But how do you continue your life, pretending like you hadn’t murdered people on live national television?

“I—“ Finnick fell short, eyes still watching the side of your face.

“How do you cope with it all?” You finally turned to him, salty tears on your cheeks.

He knew you were preparing yourself for the inevitable. He had heard Enobaria boast about you, and had seen you in training. Other tributes would be frightened to get close to you.

He didn’t answer, swallowing thickly. You would soon understand, you would be in his position.

You choked out a sob, hands wrapping around your body.

He watched with wild eyes, before pulling you into his warm chest, head burrowing in his body.

You made no move to remove yourself from his body, and his arms were snug against your back.

“Kill as many as you can, as soon as you can. Then lay low, hunt. Don’t fall for any of that ally-bullshit.”

His voice was rushed, eyes filled with emotion. He felt for you, a scared child. He remembered his fear all too well.

You sniffled in his chest, hands balling at the thin fabric of his top.

And you listened to him.

In those next few hours, during the bloodbath, you killed two, both with knives to the chest. The Capitol citizens cheered as your face reflected the highest kill-count. You knew it was nothing to be proud of.

That next evening, while the rest of the Career pack slept, you stole the boy from One’s — Yves — backpack, shoving their weapons into it as quietly as possible.

Your small size came handy, being able to stealthily move around them, you were lucky the arena was a desert, sand not making a noise.

The girl from One — Aithon — began to lightly stir, and you knew it was now or never. Finnick’s words from the night before mixed with Enobaria’s, and that was all you needed to take a sword in each hand and take down the two tributes from One.

Their deaths were quick, the canons sounding out and Mace waking up, his laying figure looking up at you. Small but powerful.

You stood over his body, one foot on each of his arms, keeping him from reaching up to you.

His face twisted in confusion, looking over to the blood pouring from Yves and Aithon, each who had just been sleeping soundly next to him.

Your knife neared his face in milliseconds, and you had to force your arms down as he began to scream.

“I’m sorry,” was all you could whisper, guilt beginning to cloud your senses.

But you pushed past it, knowing you had to come out alive. No other option.

“Y/N! Please!”

And then there was silence.

He wasn’t anything special, but he was from home.

You held in tears as the canon sounded, running from the three as quickly as you could.

Whilst you hid behind one of the large cacti around the arena, Enobaria grinned as Capitol citizens celebrated her and you, her star tribute.

Finnick watched, heart tugging, knowing that he had encouraged the killings, he had told you to trust no one. And you had listened.

And from then on, you became the Capitol’s angel, their winged symbol of purity, despite the blood and deaths of many on your hands.

When Snow placed the crown on your head, you smiled, naively, and thanked the crowd. Thanked them for their donations, and their belief in you from the beginning.

But that’s all you were to them: a spectacle. A little girl who killed five in one day, a little girl who’s life had been dedicated to these games, to win. A little girl who would never get her purity back, never get to sleep without seeing Mace’s terrified face before she killed him.

He didn’t deserve it, none of them did. But it was life or death. And there was no way you were going to die.

PRESENT DAY, THE THIRD QUARTER QUELL

Your group continued up to the Cornucopia, you and Finnick taking the tail.

Peeta and Finnick drew a map in the dark sand, you leaned against the side of the metal Cornucopia, Johanna plopping down next to you, and Katniss on your other side.

It all happened in a blur. One second, Wiress was singing her song about a mouse and the clock, and the next, Gloss was on top of her, knife straight into the heart.

Katniss’s arrow struck him, you grabbing your swords to get Cashmere who was standing behind him.

Finnick rushed after you. He knew you could take Cashmere, but what happened if Brutus appeared? Brutus had never been kind to you, and it was doubtful he would start now.

Your sword stuck Cashmere in the leg, and she screamed, falling onto the little amount of ground that the middle sector offered.

She turned over, knife in her left hand, grazing your ankle slightly. Luckily your stylist had dressed you in thicker socks; she had been an absolute idiot about most things, but at least she had your back in the arena.

Your thigh was still slightly burning with pain, but you pushed through it, sticking both your swords into Cashmere’s chest, a strangled gasp leaving her lips and her head falling back against the ground.

The canon sounded out, but you continued to pull your swords out and drive them back into her chest, more blood pouring out.

You were grunting now, mind hyper-aware of your actions, but refusing to stop.

You kept driving the sharp tools into her chest, her body slightly moving up when you retracted the metal, and then caving in as you pushed them back.

You weren’t going to die; you refused to.

Hands were on your shoulders, pulling you backwards, and you turned, swinging.

Finnick let go and backed away, hands held up. He knew you’d never hurt him, but once you’re in the killing mindset, it’s very hard to break it.

You dropped the weapons to your side, a long breath leaving your lips that you hadn’t realized you’d be holding in.

Finnick pulled you along with him, hand on your side as he brought you over to everyone else.

All of them were staring with wide eyes — besides Johanna of course.

Katniss knew you were brutal, but she didn’t realize how quickly you did turn into the angel of death. One second you were smiling, laughing at something Johanna had said.

Then your eyes were lit with a fire, teeth out, and running, faster than Katniss had ever seen someone move.

She had watched you kill Cashmere in seconds, continuing to drive the weapons into her, sounds of exasperation leaving your lips but you were unrelenting.

You felt like you were fifteen again, scared and angry, brutal to anyone who crossed your path. Your swordsmanship was uncanny, and Katniss dreaded the moment that she had to try and kill you.

And then the Cornucopia began to spin, extremely fast. You grabbed onto Finnick, a sword sucking down into the water, your other tight in the palm of your opposite hand.

You and Finnick fell to the ground, grabbing at the hard rocks to keep from flying to the water.

And then you heard Peeta scream Katniss’s name, and the two of you both yelled a loud, “shit!”

You pushed off the hard ground, crawling to the side of the island, hand reaching down to grab Johanna’s axe and try to hoist the two of them up.

You grunted, holding onto a small portion of the metal that wasn’t sharp. Your feet dug into the ground, sword shoved into the rock to keep you grounded.

You watched as Katniss went flying down, and then Johanna was on top of you, the two of you gasping for oxygen when the spinning stopped.

You and Johanna were back on your feet, rushing to help Katniss out of the water.

You all made your way back onto the sand, where it was relatively safe.

You discussed strategy, your fingers tracing different shapes into Finnick’s thigh.

“Who’s left then?” Katniss asked, eyes flickering between you and Johanna, the two of you having a conversation with your eyes.

“Brutus and Chaff, I think that’s all,” Peeta announced, all eyes shifting to you at the mention of your district-mate.

“I get Brutus,” you spoke clearly, eyes hard.

“Y/N…” Finnick spoke, hand smoothing down your arm.

“Just… I know him. I can handle it, I swear,”

He had helped train you, of course you would know his methods like the back of your hand. You had been seeking revenge for years, waiting for the day you could get him back.

What had the games done to you? Fantasizing about killing someone?

And then you were back there, back to the moment your life really ended.

You were dressed in clothes Snow had picked out, a hairstyle Snow had picked out, makeup Snow had picked out. You were his newest doll, malleable to his every demand.

It was your victory tour, and Enobaria and Brutus were accompanying you, helping you with speeches and coming to terms with your new life as a Capitol pet.

You were finishing up in the Capitol, the final destination. Snow had laid out his conditions for you: your pride and body now belonged to the Capitol, and with it, they could do what they pleased. Your company came with a high price.

He had threatened your family back in Two, describing in detail what would become of them if you didn’t comply with his wishes.

You had gone back to the train and told Enobaria and Brutus, eyes spilling hot tears when Enobaria pulled you into her arms, hands stroking your hair. At least she was kind.

Brutus, however, was not.

His boisterous laugh rang off the walls of the train, your eyes peeking out from Enobaria’s embrace to glare at him.

“Let me know when you start, sweetheart,” he smirked, a scowl overtaking your features.

You had been waiting to get him back, to show him that weren’t a little slave for his disposal. Finnick understood your rage, more than any other person could.

He wanted to kill Brutus just as badly as you did.

No one else asked any questions, and for that you were grateful.

And then the screaming started, and you jumped to your feet, eyes frantic and scanning the area.

Whoever it was, they were screaming for Katniss, and rather brutally as well.

And off she took. You were the fastest, so you caught her first, arms around her shoulders to steady her, but she kept moving, screaming back to the voice.

She stopped abruptly, and shot an arrow into a large black bird that was flying over your heads.

The screaming stopped immediately. And then it began again, this time, it was the voice of Mace. And you felt the blood drain from your entire body, legs suddenly shaking and threatening to go out.

The words he had screamed to you before you had slit his throat were wrapping around your body, swallowing you whole.

“Y/N! Please! Y/N!” You were running then, the screaming getting louder and louder, tears streaming down your face as you tried to escape it; the horror that would haunt you forever.

“It’s not real, they’re jabberjays!” Katniss assured you, running behind you, trying to catch up.

You saw Finnick and Johanna’s faces ahead through your blurry vision, and you sped up, Finnick’s arms wide for you to run into.

But it was a force field, and you collided right into it, falling to the ground in a heap of tears and painful memories.

You covered your ears, head digging into the ground to stop the noise, but it wouldn’t stop. You wailed, and Finnick was hitting the force field, which he was standing on the direct other side, but there was no avail.

He was screaming for you, to look at him, listen to his voice. But the field was soundproof, and he had to watch with a heavy heart as you sobbed, the sounds of the person you betrayed all those years ago the only thing you could focus on.

Finnick’s hands were all over you, smoothing down your hair, checking your face, helping you stand.

Peeta was doing the same with Katniss, the both of you having tear-stains down your cheeks and dirt smudged into your cheeks.

You were frozen solid, eyes big and wide, legs slightly shaking. You had never felt worse about something than what you did to Mace that dreadful night. His screams haunted your dreams, and to have the Gamemakers play into that weakness reminded you just who the real enemy is.

“Y/N, look at me,” Finnick’s hands were on the sides of your face, pulling you closer to his protective figure.

“It wasn’t real. It wasn’t him,” he shook his head lightly, your lips still quivering from fear.

You could only muster the strength to simply nod, telling him that you knew, but the Gamemakers were cruel, so cruel, and they had hit you right where it hurt.

Just as you were beginning to regain your usual automatic-kill mindset, a small box flew down, straight into your hands.

Everyone gathered around you, curious as to what could’ve been sent.

You knew Enobaria would have your back, and considering the sponsors this year were based upon what you had left over from your games, you were lucky. You had a large pot of donations under your name, not needing much assistance when you were in your first games.

You screwed off the top, being met with a small vile of Crave Cure, the very concoction that she had sent you during your games. It came with a note reading: remember who the real enemy is. I’m always rooting for you. - Baria

That assured you of Enobaria’s stance, likely scheming with Haymitch and Plutarch behind the scenes, ensuring your protection by Thirteen.

Finnick smiled next to you, Johanna calling out with happiness.

“Finally!” Johanna cheered, axe thrust into the air.

You even broke a smile, suddenly distracted from the traumatic experience you had just endured.

You looked up, seeing the confused looks on Katniss and Peeta’s faces.

They would’ve never heard of Crave Cure, it was the most expensive thing a mentor could send their tribute, and required many sponsors. It was usually only sent to the Careers, both you and Finnick had received it during your games.

“Crave Cure,” you spoke, Katniss’s eyes meeting yours.

“One drop on your tongue and it cures hunger for 12 hours,” you smiled to them, picking up the vile.

“Enobaria is a saint,” Johanna spoke, watching as you dropped a tiny bit of the brown liquid onto your tongue, a content sigh escaping your lips.

Beetee went next, then Finnick and Johanna.

Katniss and Peeta stood awkwardly to the side, not knowing to approach or not.

“Oh, enough of that! We’re allied, aren’t we? Take a drop,” you urged, placing the vile into her hands.

Peeta nodded, and that seemed to be all the convincing Katniss needed before mimicking your action and gagging when she tasted the fluid.

You laughed at her expression, a light-hearted tease. “Not the best, but it does do its job,”

You figured you had really won her trust, considering how she walked next to you during the hike to the big tree.

The two of you talked about your families back home. You complimented her dedication, to protect her little sister.

She had killed your Cato and Clove; the two you had spent hours coaching, assuring they’d be okay in the end. Words you had needed so badly during your games.

Through talking with Katniss, you realized no one deserved to win as much as she did. She was selfless, willing to sacrifice herself for both her sister and Peeta, placing herself as a protector, not a victim.

And then the peace you had all been building crashed down, Katniss suddenly retreating from the trust you all had built after Beetee offered she go with you and Johanna.

“Why can’t Johanna and Y/N go? I’ll protect you with Peeta,” she spoke, and you met Finnick’s gaze. You read the fear in his eyes, knowing this the was now or never moment.

“Katniss,” you spoke, hands resting on her shoulders.

“You know who the true enemy is,” you whispered, holding her intense eye-contact.

Her eyes softened at your words, everything seemingly clicking into place. With a nod, you grabbed her hand, and pulled her with you and Johanna.

A look over your shoulder to Finnick, and a nod. Your eyes said it all: I love you. I’ll see you soon, once we are safe and out of the Capitol’s hands.

You and Johanna halted your movements, stopping Katniss as you did.

“Stay down,” Johanna instructed Katniss, grabbing her arm.

“What-“ Katniss was about to scream, and you could not let that happen.

You grabbed her face with your hands, eyes frantic for her faith.

“You can trust us,” you whispered, barely loud enough for the cameras to pick up on.

But the raw emotion in your eyes calmed Katniss, giving Johanna the opportunity to cut the tracker out, Katniss’s arm beginning to bleed heavily.

“It’s alright,” you soothed her, your arm out to Johanna, waiting for the inevitable sear of pain.

And then it came, and you placed your body over Katniss’s not allowing her to get up and try to attack.

But then you spotted Brutus over the rock, his hard eyes staring straight into yours.

“Y/N,” Johanna warned, watching the familiar fire begin to brew.

You were up in seconds, sword in one hand, knife in the other, running up the rocky hill. The pain in your arm was masked by the rush of adrenaline you ran high off, killing spree — if you will.

Johanna grunted in anger, but she knew not to expect anything different from you.

“Do not move,” she instructed Katniss, picking up her axe to follow you.

You had reached Brutus quickly, pouncing onto his back and driving your sword straight through his abdomen.

He cried out in pain, blood soon coating your legs that wrapped around his waist.

You pulled the sword out, taking the knife to his neck. He was dead in seconds, the familiar canon sounding throughout the arena.

After registering what you had done, images of Katniss flooded your mind and you internally cursed yourself, rushing back to the spot you had left her and Johanna.

Johanna was back to your side, but Katniss was no where to be seen.

“Fuck!” You cursed, sprinting back towards the tree where Beetee, Finnick, and Peeta were.

She had likely gone back to protect Peeta and kill Finnick, and you were not about to let that happen.

Johanna tried to keep up with you; but even with a gushing arm and slit leg, you were fast. Much faster than anyone else.

“Finnick!” You screamed, feet pounding against the hard ground, propelling you towards the tree, where you watched Katniss aim her arrow straight at Finnick’s head.

Beetee was on the ground, and you crouched, feeling for his pulse. His heart was still beating and you hovered over him protectively, in case Katniss decided to turn around and fire at you too. Which seemed very likely.

You watched as Finnick said something to Katniss, obviously resonating with her, the bow slightly lowering.

“Johanna! Give me your arm!” You swung around, panic-struck and searching for the familiar face.

And you saw her a few feet below, trying to climb the vines you had mounted with ease.

You looked between Finnick and her, torn as to which to try and protect. You knew Finnick would hold his own, so you turned back around and began to move for Johanna, quick feet avoiding possible injuries.

But just as you were in grabbing-distance of her, Finnick’s voice rang out, screaming, “Get away from that tree!”

A crack of something echoed around you, and you turned wildly, trying to figure out what had just happened.

Then you understand what Finnick had meant, a loud crack of lightening rained down and sent you flying, reaching for Johanna as you flew past her, her terrified eyes meeting yours.

The last thing you remembered was being pulled up into the air by a large claw, head and limbs limp as you were hoisted up; sword still secure in your palm, a protection habit you had picked up since your games. You always needed to be armed, after all, life was the arena.

You awoke to the sound of a heart monitor, steady beeping lightly calming your high-alert nerves.

You winced sitting up, large bandages wrapped around your forearm and thigh.

You inspected your surroundings, two empty mats in front of you, and Katniss sleeping to your left.

You stood, hushed voices on the other side of the door that reached the ceiling of the craft you were on.

You looked for a weapon of sorts, not willing to go in unarmed. On the other side of the empty room was your sword, glimmering and coated in blood.

You walked over to it, legs sore and aching, the familiar metal calming against your palm.

The door immediately opened as you approached it, Haymitch and Plutarch’s widening as they spotted your weapon of choice clutched in your ruthless hands.

But it dropped to the floor with a loud clatter when your tired eyes met Finnick’s, a relieved smile coming over your features.

You rushed to him, throwing yourself into his arms. His lips met yours halfway, melting into his strong hold around your body.

The two of you fit together perfectly, like you had been made in the same mold.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him tighter to your already close bodies.

You poured all your pent up feelings into the kiss, all the feelings you had suppressed since the fight that had ended your relationship.

It was the most relaxed you had been in the whole week, since your name was plucked from the bowl of living victors.

His lips moved against yours as he squeezed your hips, hands feeling everything they could, to ensure that it was in fact you, and you were alive and safe in front of him.

You pulled a part, a grin across your small face.

He smiled back, but your bliss was interrupted from the clearing of a throat behind you. You spun around, eyes meeting the expectant ones of Haymitch, Plutarch, and Beetee.

The look on your face said it all. And Haymitch nodded, validating all the thoughts that had been running through your head.

You were safe, headed for the secret hideout of Thirteen. All was okay.

You almost began to laugh thinking about how the Capitol would react, their Angel and Darling being two of the biggest conspirators in a rebellion. How ironic.

And Katniss was on the ship, you had successfully carried out your tasks.

“Where’s Johanna?” You asked, a smile still dotting your face.

Finnick’s composure broke, and your heart dropped, realizing the obvious.

“No, no, no, no,” you began to back away, spine hitting the hard metal of the table.

“I went after Brutus, I didn’t cut the tracker… fuck! Oh my god, Finnick, oh god,” you began to dry-heave, accepting her capture as your fault.

Finnick’s hands were on your biceps, steadying you and pulling you back into his chest.

“Johanna and Peeta are in the Capitol,” Plutarch spoke, your worst fears being confirmed.

“It’s all my fault,” you groaned, head in your hands. You had killed, hunted, and tortured. But the idea of a friend’s death being on your hands hurt more than any of those ever did.

Haymitch spoke reassuring words behind you, but Finnick’s hold and the idea of betraying Johanna was all you could focus on.

How would she forgive you? Was she alive? How would you ever cope if she wasn’t, and it was all your fault? Of course, you let the murderer take over, and went after Brutus.

Finnick’s arms soothed down your back, keeping your grounded as you were flooded with grief, with the heavy weight of betrayal.

Johanna and you were close friends, you were supposed to protect each other in the games. She had protected you, always by your side, and you neglected to do the same.

“We’re going to try and rescue them as soon as we can,” Haymitch said, even though you all knew that might be an impossible task.

And then Finnick slipped his hand into yours, fingers curling around yours and softly rubbing your knuckles.

You composed yourself, closing your eyes as you took in a deep breath, regaining focus on just your interlocked hands. Finnick always knew how to relax you.

All you had wanted initially was to get out of this quarter quell alive, to return home to your big mansion and family. To hug them again, to prove to the Capitol that they could take everything from you, but they couldn’t kill you.

But now, you realized that all had been in vain. Where you really belonged was here, holding hands with Finnick, discussing how you were going to break your friends from the Capitol’s mean grip.

You’d die for him, for them. You’d flap your wings once more to ensure they’d all live.

When Katniss first volunteered for Primrose, you hadn’t understood how she would sacrifice her life for another.

But now you knew, and you knew you’d do it too.

You finally had something to live for, someone you loved, who understood all that you had gone through better than anyone else.

Life was the arena, and if it came down to it, you knew the angel would sacrifice herself for the darling.

**

[ashherahh]

your next major relationship

Note: Please take it if it resonates, leave it if it doesn't. Meditate before making your decision. It's completely okay if you don't resonate with this reading. The collective is huge and I'm sure you'll receive the messages you need in due time.

pile 1

Cards: Seven of Wands, The Fool Rx, Five of Pentacles, Two of Cups Rx.

You're very close to achieving your goal.

Luck is on your side.

I am surprised that you actually still believe in relationships and love after the absolute shit shows of the past. You must feel like the most unlucky person when it comes to love.

Past relationships always brought out this kind of cold war with you and your partner, as though you were always at odds with your partners. Part of you felt like you were the problem for the longest time because you know, common denominator but upon more reflection, you've come to terms with the fact that you were asking the wrong people for what you need.

Those experiences hardened you. I'm seeing that it'll bleed into this next relationship to a certain degree. Your next relationship will heal a lot of those wounds of the past. You'll go from someone who always finds themselves explaining themselves and having that turn into a fight, to someone who no longer has to worry about being misunderstood.

When the cards first popped out, the messages were quite clear. Past relationships may influence your next major one, but you can always turn that around. You literally have luck on your side, your next major relationship is going to be a good one if you let it.

Love requires trust, and that might be the most difficult thing for you now but it'll be worth it.

pile 2

Cards: Two of Pentacles Rx, Two of Cups, Nine of Pentacles, Knight of Pentacles Rx.

The answers you need are coming.

A time for healing.

You build something in your next relationship. Possibilities are endless, but it'll definitely redefine how you see yourself and your life. It's a leveling up in life.

Gone are the days of feeling uncertain and uncomfortable about making decisions about your life. This next major relationship kicks everything into gear, an inspiration is birthed from this union that brings you closer and closer to the life you've always dreamed of living.

It'll come in suddem but it'll last. This is a relationship you'll have for years and years, this person will be around and see you through so many phases of life.

Maybe you have some planets in the 7th house or some of them are in Libra. Those placements usually thrive in partnerships because it acts as a reflection, it helps them delve deeper. Even if you don't have those placements, that is what this relationship will be.

This will truly be a beautiful partnership. One that is filled with mutual trust and love and ways of thinking. It'll be one that is so understanding and deep. This is someone you can truly be yourself with.

pile 3

Cards: Strength, Five of Wands, The Emperor, The Moon.

Believe in the impossible.

Balance spirituality and practicality.

This will hit you like a freight train. No one truly expects to meet someone who will become an integral part of their life, it usually builds slowly over time. Not this person though, you'll know when you meet this person. It'll be so immediate and in your face, you won't be able to deny the importance this person will have going forward.

Your connection will feel surreal at times. It's giving Edward and Bella. Get a room, honestly. The emotions are big in this relationship, it's very intense. But it's the kind of partnership that is strong through all trials and tribulations.

You know you can depend on this person no matter what you face, they are solid and strong. Their strength gives you strength in a way.

This next major relationship really exhances who you are. It influences you in a way that solifies your character and who you are. The relationship is quite balanced, giving and receiving is done in great degrees and in your own unique ways.

This is not the kind of relationship you lose yourself in at all. Individualism is respected by both you and your partner.

[lqveharrington]

If Only | L.M.

summary: You and Lucifer were bond through the soulmate system, but how could you be soulmates when he had Lilith?

pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x fallen seraphim!reader

includes: kinda soulmate au? fluff, angst, mentions of death, lucifer feeling like a bad parent (that’s pretty much it, let me know if i missed any!)

a/n: i wrote this at night the other day. toward the very end i was very proud of what i wrote 😭🙏 time for my requests i’ve gotten !!!

Ever since Lilith left Lucifer seven years ago, he never expected to meet another who made his heart soar. He fell into a deep state of depression and only started to get out more when Charlie invited him to stay at the hotel after the latest extermination. He got his own royal suite and joined in on Charlie’s lessons, but it still wasn’t enough to keep up with his daughter’s upbeat attitude every day.

It wasn’t enough to help pull him out of his depression until you came along to the hotel.

The moment you stepped into the hotel and greeted Charlie with the same enthusiasm made him smile. It was just another plus that you were a fallen angel, more so a fallen seraphim. And he swore that when you first met his gaze for that split second your eyes glowed pink as he felt his eyes do the same. He thought that would never happen again, but here he stood with an adoring face while you spoke to his daughter like you’ve known her since she was a child.

Soon enough, you and Lucifer were introduced to one another properly, the pink glow in both your eyes returning.

“It’s nice to meet the head man himself.” You grin as he kisses the back of your hand. “And such a gentleman as well.”

“What can I say? I’m quite the ladies' man.” He winked as he saw you burn bright.

As months passed since your first official interaction, you and Lucifer grew closer, bonding on your similar and different experiences. Whether you bonded over one of Charlie’s redemption activities or relaxed in his suite, you both found contentment in each other, letting each other enjoy the company.

“You know, I’m not going to relax when you keep tugging my book away.” You grab his wrist as he reaches for the book for the nth time in thirty minutes. “I’m going to leave your room.”

“Please don’t.” He tugged you closer to his side, head resting on your shoulder. “I don’t want to move from this spot again.”

You tilt your head toward him, eyes glowing a faint pink. “Then let me read.” You let a small smile slip through when he grumbled an incoherent sentence.

Lucifer’s eyes softened when you returned to read your book, watching your eyes scan the words in front of you. His mind and heart racing a million miles per hour whenever you were around. He couldn’t decide what was right. Was his heart telling him to move on? Or was it just aching to be affectionate with another?

The signs were pointing in different ways, but surely the answer was right in front of him. He just had to understand what it was before the magic between you two would fully disappear.

“Staring is highly distracting, Luce.” Your eyes flit up to meet him again. “I can’t focus.”

“You must really like me then.” He gave you a cocky grin

You roll your eyes, shutting the book. “You’ve ruined the book for me. I’m never going to finish that book now.”

“That book wasn’t good anyways.” He brought the comforter up and over the both of you. He locked his arms around your waist, pulling your back to his front. You felt yourself loosen up by his touch, letting out a small breath of exhaustion. “I’m spent after all the bonding activities today, beautiful. I think we can skip our kitchen run tonight and just go to bed.”

“Were you really waiting for me to finish reading so we could sleep?” You murmur as you feel him nod. You let out a small laugh, “Wow, I would have never stooped so low.”

Lucifer shushed you, “I’m sleeping, good night.”

A soft smile takes over your burning face, turning in his arms to face him. “Good night, Luce.”

He didn’t say anything else but quietly played with your hair, listening to your steady breathing as sleep consumed you. Lucifer always made sure you fell asleep first, wanting you to get a good night's sleep before he did. Yet, he didn’t exactly know when you both went from friends to whatever this was, but he wasn’t complaining if he got to see you sleep in his arms every once in a while.

And it wasn’t like Lucifer was the only one to notice your unusual relationship with one another. You noticed it as well. From the soft touches to the sleepovers at his suite, you knew it was more than just a simple friendship. But what could you do when he still wore his wedding ring?

“What’s happening?” You lay your legs across Lucifer’s lap, taking a glance at the news channel cast upon his suite’s television.

Lucifer rubbed your calf, golden ring a cold contrast to his warm fingers. “They’re interviewing Charlie for her hotel. They know how the extermination happened this year, so I’m hoping the questions are more targeted toward how her hotel will work than how it was fighting angels.”

You frown at the feel of his ring, even more so when he mentions the death of angels. “What happened the last time they interviewed her?”

He scoffed, “They were so rude to her. I mean, I understand we’re in Hell, but she’s their fucking princess. They only brought down her ideas, not asking enough about how she intends to accomplish redemption. I wish I could have done something back then, you know? Show them why I’m the King of Hell.”

You reach across to link a hand with his, giving him a small smile when he meets your glowing pink eyes that match his pair. “Luce, you’re a wonderful parent. I know you want to protect your daughter, but it’s in the past. She knows you love her and look at you two now! You’re supporting her dreams and whatever lies in store for them.”

“Thank you…” He felt the golden ring become heavy on his finger, an uncomfortable weight that was never there appearing. “You’re not half bad of a parent yourself.”

“What?” You let out a confused laugh, thumbing his hand. “I’m not anyone’s parent.”

“Yeah, but—“ He gestured toward the television where they switched the camera toward Charlie before switching to a quick commercial break. “—You've been more of a mother to Charlie than her biological mother in one year. The second you stepped into this hotel, she lit up around you.” His downturned smile grew bigger when you tilted your head. “Charlie may be a very trusting person, but she knows when someone is going to support her with anything she accomplishes. You were one of those people.”

You feel yourself warm at the small confrontation, “I’m sure she thinks of me as any other resident at the hotel, Luce. Don’t boost my ego, you have enough for the both of us.”

“Hey now.” He squeezed your leg. “I’m being nice, and you’re just hurling insults at my face.”

“Me? Never.”

He continued to rub a small pattern, thoughts running back and forth before turning back to you. “I’m serious though. She really loves you�� Almost as much as I do.”

Your eyes widened, meeting his eyes that were now glowing a much brighter pink than usual. “You… I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“I admire you a lot, beautiful.” He confessed, confidence boosting his voice. “Ever since I laid my eyes on you, and not just because of your looks. You handled Charlie better than I did in the last seven years, and I couldn’t ask for a better person to let her be herself when I’m not around.”

Your eyes glowed brighter at his words, squeezing his hand. “Lucifer, I admire you as much as you love Charlie, but it’s a matter of soulmates versus those of the past.” You gesture toward his ring, pursing your lips at the sight. “Are you sure you’re truly ready to move on? From the entire time I’ve known you, you’ve never taken that ring off.”

“I’m sure.” He let his hand holding yours drift up to cradle your cheek, snapping his finger to get rid of the ring and away in his back drawer. “She’s left me for almost a whole decade, I think I have the permission to move on.”

You melt into his hand, pressing a soft kiss to his palm. “If it’s what you really want, Luce.”

“It is.” He left a small kiss at your temple. “Because I know you’ll still be with me when all of Hell falls apart and all my magic is gone.”

“You’re so cheesy.” You lean back on the couch, letting your head rest on his shoulder. “Will you officially be mine, Lucifer Morningstar?”

“Always, beautiful.” He kept your hands linked as he pressed a promise kiss to your ring finger. “Always.”

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

[misspygmypie]

Unexpected Return

Part of the "Meet & Greet... and more?" Universe Pairing: Lando Norris x Reader, Lando Norris x Noah Words: 1543 Request: How would Lando react if Noah's dad came back? And him wanting to know Noah but only so he can met all thease famous people? Masterlist

Please do not repost, thank you, and leave some feedback :)

Lando and Y/N had built a beautiful life together. From the day they met there was an undeniable spark between them, one that grew into a deep and fulfilling love. Lando, with his warm smile and unwavering support, had become everything Y/N had ever hoped for. They married in a cozy ceremony surrounded by close friends and family and Lando even adopted Y/N’s son, Noah.

Noah was now seven years old, full of energy and curiosity, a constant source of joy and laughter in their home alongside their daughter Maebry. Lando had embraced his role as a father with all his heart and Noah adored him in return. Their bond was unbreakable but one fateful day their happy bubble was about to be burst.

Lando sat at the kitchen island, staring blankly at the stack of papers in front of him. They were from a lawyer’s office, detailing the request for a meeting with Noah’s biological father, Tom. The words blurred together as a storm of emotions swirled in his mind.

He had been up all night, grappling with the realization that Tom was back. The man who had left Y/N and Noah without a second thought, the man who had abandoned them in their most vulnerable time, was suddenly reappearing as if nothing had happened. Lando’s heart pounded with anger and disbelief. How could he just show up now, after all this time? After not giving a damn for seven years?

He remembered the early days when Y/N had told him about Tom’s departure. The pain and uncertainty she had faced while raising Noah alone had been palpable. Lando had stepped in as a steady presence and he had come to love Noah as his own. To him, Noah was his son in every way.

The idea of Tom coming back now felt like an intrusion, a violation of the family that Lando and Y/N had worked so hard to build. He couldn't help but think of all the moments Tom had missed - the shared hot chocolates on a cold night, the splashing in the water together on the beach, the late-night cuddles on the sofa and the countless days filled with laughter and love.

He paced the kitchen, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. The thought of Tom sitting across from Noah, trying to claim a place in his life after so many years of indifference made Lando’s blood boil. It was about Noah’s well-being, his stability and the family Lando had fought so hard to create and nurture. Lando’s role was to ensure that Noah felt safe and loved and now Tom threatened that.

When Y/N walked into the room, her eyes filled with concern, Lando’s frustration bubbled to the surface. “I just don’t get it,” he said, his voice rough and loud. “He didn’t give a damn about Noah. Now he shows up like he’s entitled to something?! How can he just come back after all this time?!”

Y/N moved to his side, placing a calming hand on his shoulder. “I know it’s hard, Lando. It feels like a betrayal and it’s not fair but we have to handle this carefully. Noah deserves to understand his past but he also needs to know that we’re here for him, no matter what.”

Lando nodded, though the anger still simmered beneath the surface. “I just can’t stand the thought of Noah being hurt or confused. He’s my son. I want to protect him from this.”

Y/N squeezed his shoulder. “I know you do and you will. We’ll take this one step at a time, together. Noah’s safety and happiness are our top priorities. We’ll show him that, no matter what happens with Tom, you are his dad.”

They gathered in the cozy corner of the living room, the same spot where they had spent countless evenings reading stories and sharing moments of joy. Noah, sensing the seriousness of the conversation, nestled into the cushions of the sofa, his small frame wrapped in his favorite blanket. Y/N and Lando sat down beside him, their expressions tender but concerned.

Y/N took a deep breath and began gently, “Noah, there’s something we need to talk to you about. It’s very important and might be a bit confusing but we want to be honest with you.”

He looked up at her. “What is it, mommy?”

Lando reached over and gave Y/N’s hand a reassuring squeeze before speaking. “Your biological father has reached out to us. He wants to meet you.”

Noah furrowed his brow, trying to process the information. “But... why?” he asked, his voice small.

“We don’t have all the answers right now, sweetie,” Y/N leaned in closer, her voice soft and comforting. “He’s reached out because he wants to be a part of your life but what’s most important to remember is that nothing changes for us.”

Noah glanced over at Lando, his eyes searching for reassurance. “But I have a dad,” he said softly. “You’re my dad.”

Lando’s heart ached at the vulnerability in Noah’s voice. He smiled gently at the boy next to him. “I am, buddy. Nothing is going to change that. I love you and I always will. No one can take away what we have together.”

Noah’s face softened at Lando’s words, though the confusion still lingered in his eyes. “So... what happens now?”

Y/N wrapped an arm around Noah, pulling him close. “We’ll take things one step at a time. We’ll be there with you. And if you have any questions or need to talk about how you’re feeling, we’re here for you, always.”

Noah nodded slowly and looked up to his parents. “Okay,” he said quietly. “I guess we can figure it out together.”

The next few weeks Lando watched as Noah met Tom under supervised conditions, feeling every pang of discomfort and mistrust. Each visit was a reminder of the betrayal that Tom represented but Lando remained composed. Through it all, Lando’s love for Noah never wavered.

As time went on, it became clear that Tom’s presence did little to alter their family dynamic. Tom’s attempts were weak and in return it was almost as if Noah didn’t care at all about the man who tried to insert himself into his life.

The meetings with Tom had left Lando feeling uneasy and he couldn’t shake the nagging suspicion that Tom’s motives went beyond a genuine desire to reconnect with Noah. Lando had seen enough to know that something was off.

One afternoon Lando’s suspicions were confirmed. He received an unexpected phone call from a close friend in the entertainment industry, someone who had become familiar with Lando’s life through various public appearances. His friend revealed that Tom had been dropping Lando’s name in circles, speaking of the “potential” opportunities his association with Lando could bring. The friend had heard Tom’s comments about meeting famous people and leveraging Lando’s status for personal gain.

The realization hit Lando like a ton of bricks. It was as if Tom’s return was nothing more than a carefully orchestrated scheme to benefit from Lando’s fame and connections. Tom wasn’t interested in being a father; he was interested in the perks that came with being connected to someone like Lando.

His anger flared. He felt nothing but betrayal - not just for himself but for Noah, who had been unwittingly caught in the middle of this. The thought that Tom could use Noah as a stepping stone to further his own agenda was infuriating and he had to tell Y/N.

Y/N sat on the edge of the bed, her body tense and her eyes brimming with tears. She looked up at Lando with a mixture of disbelief and heartbreak. The weight of what she had just heard was clearly overwhelming.

“Are you sure?” she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.

“I’m positive,” Lando said, his tone resolute but edged with a deep-seated rage. “It’s clear that he doesn’t care about Noah or us, he just wants to use this situation to benefit himself.”

The tears she had been holding back now spilled freely down her cheeks. “How could he do this? How could he be so selfish?!” she choked out, her voice breaking with each word.

Lando’s heart ached at the sight of Y/N. Seeing her so devastated made his anger toward Tom burn even hotter. He moved to sit beside her on the bed, his own emotions threatening to overwhelm him. “I know, love,” he said softly, his voice filled with pain. “I hate that he’s causing all of us this hurt. He doesn’t deserve to be anywhere near us, especially not around Noah.”

“We can’t let him do this,” Y/N leaned into Lando, seeking comfort in his embrace. “Noah deserves so much better,” she said, her voice muffled against his shoulder.

“I won’t let him hurt you or Noah. Never.”

The next step was clear. Lando and Y/N made the difficult decision to formally sever contact with Tom. They consulted with legal advisors to ensure that Noah’s well-being and safety were protected, ensuring that Tom’s presence would not be a part of Noah’s life moving forward.

________

AN: This was actually a bit challenging, so Anon I hope you like it and if not let me know and I can rewrite 😊🫶

Taglist: @eloriis @pacifierbby @landossainz @littlegrapejuice @barcelonaloverf1life @poppyflower-22 @itsjustfranzi @vickykazuya

[cumonstevie]

Home Sweet Home Part 2

Summary: "It's good to be home," you think as you arrive back in Hawkins, Indiana; not only three years older, but also as a mother.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

Warnings: none

A/N: Here's part 2!! I hope you guys like it! this was 4.7k words and now I'm exhausted. I'll proofread this tomorrow when I wake up <3

 Steve is still standing at the entrance of the living room, dumbfounded at the sight of you sitting only a few feet in front of him. He blinks a few times, thinking he’s seeing things but nope, there you are sitting on the couch next to your mutual rockstar friend.

Three years. It’s been three years since he’s seen you; since he’s even been in the same room as you without you scurrying off. He notes that you’ve gotten even more beautiful since the last time he saw you, if that was even possible.

His mouth is open, but no words are coming out of it. He’s just staring at you. He never thought he’d see you again. Not after-

“What are you doing here?” Eddie’s voice cuts through his thoughts.

“What,” Steve’s eyes leave yours and focuses on his friend beside you. “Can’t hang out with my friends?”

“I didn’t invite you for a reason, Steve-”

Steve glances at you. “I see the reason.”

“-so how did you know we were hanging out today?”

“Um,” a voice says from behind you. Dustin walks into the middle of everyone with his pointer finger raised and a pained look etched on his face. “I sort of, kind of, maybe accidentally told Steve we were all meeting up at your place to hang out.”

“Dustin!”

“I’m sorry!” The curly haired boy exclaimed. “I didn’t know that he wasn’t supposed to know!”

“Wait, why didn’t you invite Steve?” Robin asks what everyone else wanted to know.

“Because Y/N didn’t want to see Steve because he-” Eddie is stressing but stops himself from spilling something that he shouldn’t. “Do you guys not remember that Y/N and Steve stopped being friends? I didn’t invite him because I didn’t want to make Y/N uncomfortable.”

You’re glad he didn’t say anything more. Your friends never knew why the two of you stopped speaking and they were too scared to pry for answers so they just let it be.

However, Steve knew exactly why he wasn’t invited the moment he saw you sitting on the couch.

Poor Dustin felt bad, but he didn’t know you’d be there. He thought it was a regular hang out. The other day when Steve was driving him home, he let it slip.

“Since we’re all hanging out at Eddie’s on saturday, do you think you could pick me up and then we’ll head over?”

Steve shakes his head. “Nah, I can’t, I have a shift that doesn’t end till- wait, everyone’s going to Eddie’s on saturday?”

“Yeah, he didn’t call you?”

“No. What the hell?”

The younger boy shrugs and fixes his hat. “Maybe he just forgot to tell you. You know Eddie forgets things from time to time. He told us to be there at 5, specifically.”

Steve lets out an irritated sigh as he stops at a red light. “I’ll come by after my shift.”

Dustin is excited because this is the first time Steve is actually going to come hang out with them in a while.

His excuse for not spending a lot of time with them was because he was busy with work which was true and Robin can vouch for him on that one. He had been taking more and more shifts to make more money which decreased his free time. By the time he was finished working for the day, he was so tired all he would want to do was go home and sleep.

Wake up.

Go to work all day.

Come home.

Sleep.

Repeat.

He was doing that every day, seven days a week. It wasn’t healthy but he refused to give in and work for his father, so he did what he had to, to make ends meet.

The light turned green and as Steve stepped on the gas pedal, he grumbled out, “I can’t believe Munson didn’t call me.”

“I’m sorry, alright?” Dustin says again.

“It’s okay, Dustin.” you tell him, trying to defuse the situation. “Don’t sweat it. I can handle it, I’m a big girl.”

“Are you sure, Ace?” Eddie asks, worriedly. “I can tell him to get lost.”

“Hey!” Steve complained. “I’m right here, you know.”

“I’m sure. It’s been three years.” you tell the musician in a hushed tone.

“Yeah but-”

“He’s your guys’ friend too. I’m not gonna be the asshole that makes him leave because I’m uncomfortable. He can stay. It’s okay, Eds, really. I’m twenty now, not seventeen.”

“Fine.” Eddie sighs, turning to Steve. “Make yourself at home, Harrington.”

He looks between you and Eddie as he sits down on the couch across from you. “Thanks…”

It’s awkward after that. The silence is overbearing and you wish you could dig up a hole and throw yourself in it. You knew it was inevitable that you’d run into Steve after moving back home but you never pictured it being like this.

You’re uncomfortable.

Steve’s uncomfortable.

Robin, Jonathan, Eddie, Nancy- uncomfortable.

Robin clears her throat loudly. “So, uh, that was-”

“Mommy!” Penelope interrupts as she runs over to you. “Block!”

“Block?” you question before she hands you three blocks stacked on one another. “Oh, how pretty! Did you make this all by yourself?”

“Ya!”

“Oh my goodness, you’re so talented, Penny!” You praise the toddler and scoop her into your arms. She blushes and lets out a giggle.

Steve’s world starts spinning. It was spinning the moment he heard the toddler say mommy.

You’re a mom? Since when? And nobody told him?

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

And here Steve goes again, mouth trying to form words as his eyes move between you and Penelope but nothing comes out. You don’t even notice that he’s looking at the both of you, too occupied with Penny and her magnificent three story tower made of blocks.

You’re in the middle of praising your daughter when Eddie clears his throat and elbows you in the side.

“Ow! What the heck, Eds?” You rub your side as you look at your friend. He motions to Steve with his eyes and your mouth forms an ‘o’.

Shit, you think.

“Oh, um, Steve, this is my daughter Penelope.” You introduce, hoping no one can tell that your voice definitely faltered a bit in the process. “Penny, look,” you gain your daughter's attention as you point over to Steve. “That’s mommy’s friend, Steve. Can you say ‘hi Steve’?”

“Hi Steeb…” She gets shy, hiding behind her hands but peeking to look at the brunet that was sitting across from you.

Hi Pen- Can I call her Penny?” His eyes shift to you.

“Of course.”

He looks back at the toddler. “Hi Penny,” Steve says lightly as he takes in her facial features. “You’re so pretty.”

Penelope giggles at him then turns and points to you. “Mommy pwetty.”

Steve smiles. “Yeah, your mommy is pretty. Guess that’s where you get your looks from, huh pretty girl?”

Penelope giggles again and you feel your cheeks flush. Robin and Nancy have a smug look on their faces after his comment and you swear you hear Robin call Steve a dingus.

“Here,” you hand your toddler the blocks. “Go build another one, Penny.”

“Otay!”

Max beckons the toddler over and you watch as she runs straight to the red haired girl. Your eyes fleet over to Steve who is looking at your little girl like he’s trying to figure something out. His eyebrows are pinched ever so slightly and he looks deep in thought.

“Hey, um,” he starts slowly, trying to form a coherent sentence, “who-who’s the um… you now, the-”

“You don’t know him.” Nancy cuts him off from his blabbering.

“None of us do.” Jonathan adds.

Robin then chimes in, “Yeah, he’s some asshole that- Oops! Sorry, Penny! He’s some idiot Y/N met in Michigan who left her when she told him she was pregnant.” She then scoffs. “Douchebag.”

You visibly see the cogs in Steve’s head halt after what Robin said and you say a silent thank you to whoever may be listening to your pleas. You tell yourself that you’ll tell Steve that Penelope is his eventually but not right now, not in front of all of your friends who you’re seeing for the first time in three years. That could be a conversation for a different day.

“Hm,” Steve hums, “what a prick.”

You shrug and loosen up a little bit. “I’ve been managing fine. My parents are a big help too.”

“And now you have us.” Nancy smiled.

“Yeah,” you smile back. “I do.”

-

For the rest of your time there, things seemed to get less awkward and soon enough it felt like old times, hanging out with everyone.

You’re laughing at something Robin just said when your eyes drift over to the clock on Eddie’s wall.

“Shit,” Your eyes widened.

“What?” Eddie is the first to ask.

“It’s almost 8:30,” you say as you stand up from your seat. “Penny’s bedtime was an hour ago. Crap, I hope this doesn’t mess up her sleep schedule.”

Eddie shrugs. “She doesn’t look very sleepy to me, Ace.”

“That’s because she’s been playing with the kids.” You tell your friend. “She’ll probably crash out when we get home. Sorry to be a party pooper guys, but I gotta get home and put Penny to sleep.”

They tell you that it’s okay and you even plan to hang out again soon.

“Penny, it’s time to go.” You say sweetly as you crouch down next to your daughter. “Say bye-bye.”

She fights it for a few seconds but ultimately gives up and waves bye to the kids.

“See you guys later, alright?” You tell the Party. “Here, I’ll write my number and address down for you guys if you ever wanna call or stop by to see Penny, okay?”

The younger kids nod and you quickly find a pen and paper and scribble down your number and address before handing it to Max who was the closest to you.

“Share it.” You tell them as you pick Penelope up. “Eds,” you turn to your friend who was nursing a beer. “You ready?”

Eddie frowns as he looks down at the beer in his hand. “I’ve been drinking and I don’t want to put you or Pen at risk. Why don’t you stay the night? You two can take my bed and I’ll crash on the couch.”

You frown as well. “I would but Penny won’t be able to sleep without Bun.”

At the mention of Bun, Penelope looks at you with a pout. “Where’s Bun?”

“Who’s Bun?”

“Penelope’s stuffed animal. It’s a bunny. She can’t sleep without it lately.”

Eddie rubs his face with his hands and sighs. “Gosh, Ace, I’m sorry. I should’ve stopped drinking a while ago. How about I-”

“I can take you home.” Steve cuts him off. Your heart thumps against your chest. “I don’t mind.”

“You don’t have to, Steve, I can-”

“No, seriously.” He shakes his head. “I really don’t mind at all.”

Is this a good decision? Letting the father of your child (who doesn’t know he’s the father of your child) drive you home? Who knows. But you do know that you have to get you and Penny home soon and Steve seems like a better option than a complete stranger driving a taxi.

Your eyes lock on Nancy, Jonathan, then Robin who all give you a little frown as they nod over to the kids. Of course they wouldn’t have any space for you and Penelope, they have to take the kids home. Crap.

“Y/N?” Steve’s voice snaps you back to reality.

“Huh?” You look at him, blinking a few times. “Oh, yeah, if you really don’t mind-”

“I don’t.” He gives you a small smile. “Do you have a car seat for Penny?”

“Yeah,” you breathe. “Eddie-”

“I’ll unlock my car.”

“Thank you.”

You make your rounds, saying bye to everyone and Eddie gives Penelope a big kiss on the cheek before you exit his apartment which makes her laugh. Before you could even offer to help, Steve is pulling Penelope’s car seat out of Eddie’s car and buckling it up in his backseat. He tugs at the car seat a few times, making sure it’s secured safely before turning toward you and stepping aside.

“Good to go.” He tells you.

Steve watches as you buckle Penelope up and you kiss her forehead before shutting the door. You didn’t even notice when Steve walked around you to open the passenger door for you.

“You know you don’t have to do that, right?” You say as you slide into the seat.

“Come on, Y/N,” he smiles. “When have I ever let you open the car door for yourself?”

Never, but you're not about to answer him. Instead, you playfully roll your eyes and say, “Get in the car and drive me home, Harrington.”

-

“Make a left here then keep going straight.” You tell him and he does as he’s told.

It fell silent and the only thing that could be heard was Penelope’s soft snores coming from the back. She had fallen asleep a few minutes after you had left Eddie’s. So much for not being able to sleep without Bun..

Steve kept glancing at you every chance he had but you paid no mind as your eyes were scanning the environment outside of your window. His slender fingers rapped against the steering wheel and he tried to think of something- anything to say to you.

“Hey,” he finally says.

“Hmm?”

“I-I just wanted to say that you look good, you know? Motherhood looks good on you.” Really, Steve? That's all you got? “I mean, you’re a great mother, but I’m pretty sure you already knew that. What I’m trying to say is three years did good to you, you know? Wait, that kind of sounded horrible. I mean, like-”

“Steve,” you let out a soft laugh at his stuttering. “Three years did good to you too.”

He smiles as he continues to drive.

“Make another left up here and it’s the fourth house on the right.”

It’s silent again. You watch as you pass by all the trees in the neighborhood and Steve’s back to tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. He pulls up to your house and there’s another minute of silence before he speaks again.

“So,” he lets out an awkward cough. “Can we talk about the elephant in the room?”

You face him with a confused look. “What elephant?”

“You know,” his eyes drop to his lap and he nervously plays with his fingers. “The fact that Penelope is my daughter.”

He’s looking at you now but he’s not mad. He looks… Hurt.

It feels like all the air has left your lungs because it suddenly gets harder to breathe. There's no way he figured it out. You thought he bought the whole ‘Michigan baby daddy who bailed on you’ story just like everyone else did.

Nowhere in his facial expressions did it seem like he knew the truth, and you’ve known Steve for so long to know that he absolutely sucks at having a poker face.

“How.” You take a deep breath in, then a deep breath out. “How did you know?”

“She looks just like me, Y/N.” He tells you, shifting in his seat to face you. “And Robin told me she’s two and a half; I did the math. Unless you hooked up with someone else who looks like me around the same time we did.”

“I didn’t.” The words tumble out of your mouth before your brain could even register. “I mean, I wouldn’t. I-I…” Breathe, Y/N. “I only slept with you.”

It came out softer than a whisper and Steve’s convinced that if a gust of wind had come by, he would’ve missed what you said. Your confirmation has his brain working overtime and his heart about to beat out of his chest.

Steve’s a dad. A dad.

He has a daughter.

Holy shit, he has a daughter.

A daughter whose life he’s missed out on for almost three years. Shit.

Steve drops his head down on his steering wheel and squeezes his eyes shut. “Why didn’t you tell me, Y/N?” He suddenly snaps his head toward you. “I could’ve helped! I would’ve moved with you or-or-”

“Steve,” his name falls from your lips softly, but assertively. “Can we please not talk about this right now?”

“Y/N, this is a big deal-”

“I know.” You say. “I know it is and trust me when I say I’ll answer every question you have but not tonight. I need to get Penny inside.”

You see his eyes gloss over and you feel like even more shit than you did a second ago.

“Steve,” you watch as he bites the inside of his cheek to stop his tears from falling. “Listen to me. We can talk about this another time, okay? I promise. We can meet up at my place or yours; anywhere, okay? And I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

Steve takes a deep breath in, then out before his eyes lock on his daughter, who is sleeping, from the rearview mirror.

“Yeah,” he nods. “Yeah, okay.”

-

The next day you decide to tell your parents everything. They knew someone from Hawkins had gotten you pregnant but they didn’t know who and as much as they pressed you for answers, you refused to tell them. You didn’t want them to look at Steve differently, despite everything that happened between the two of you.

You told them during dinner and your dad nearly choked on his food while your moms eyes grew wide like saucers.

“Penny’s father is Steve Harrington?!” Your father exclaimed after he stopped coughing. “I let that boy into my home! If I knew you two were having s-”

“We weren’t!” You cut him off.

Your father gave you a look that said ‘really?’ as his eyes drifted to the toddler who was sitting in her high chair beside you.

“It was one time, I swear!” You add.

Your father shook his head in disappointment. “One time and you end up pregnant with his kid and that little sh-” he stops himself from cursing in front of Penelope. “He left you alone to raise Penny by yourself. I never thought he’d be so selfish. How could he-”

“Actually…” You start. “He had no clue that I was pregnant. I found out after we moved and I didn’t… tell… him.”

“What?!”

“Sweetheart-” Your mom tried but your dad shook his head.

“Y/M/N, she didn’t tell him she was pregnant!” He exclaimed before turning back to you. “That was selfish on your part, Y/N. We didn’t raise you like that. No matter what happened between you and Steve, he had the right to know that he was about to be a father.”

“I know but I was scared and-”

“No buts,” your dad says. “Matter of fact, you're gonna find him and tell him as soon as possible. He has the right to know he has a daughter.”

You look down at your plate as you speak. “He already knows.” Your parents look at you very confused, so you continue. “Yesterday when me and Penny went with Eddie to his place, he invited everyone over as a surprise and Steve showed up too. He knows.”

You hear your father sigh. “I’m very disappointed with you, Y/N.”

“I know…” You murmur. “But I plan on inviting him over tomorrow so we can discuss what happens next.”

“Good.”

The rest of dinner is a bit awkward, but you pull through.

The next day rolls around rather quickly. Both of your parents head to work and you get Penelope ready for the day. You put the toddler in her high chair before walking over to the phone and dialing Eddie’s number. It rings twice before he answers.

“Hello?”

“Eddie,” you say into the phone, “can you give me Steve’s number?”

“Visiting old flames already?” You could practically hear the smirk on his lips. “My, my, you work fast, Ace.”

“Shut up, idiot.” there’s a beat of silence before you speak again. “He knows.”

“Uh, he knows?”

You roll your eyes. “About Penelope. He knows she’s his.”

“Oh my god,” Eddie says. “You told him?”

“No! He knew the whole time!” You exclaim softly. “Said it was because she looks just like him.”

“Well, he’s not wrong.”

“Eddie.”

“Sorry,” there’s shuffling on the other end. “Well, he’s at work right now so he won’t answer his house phone but I could give you his work number.”

“That works.”

You grab a pen and paper and scribble down the number Eddie tells you, thanking him before hanging up. You punch in Steve’s work number and it rings a few times before someone answers.

“Family Video, how can I help you?”

The voice is sickly sweet and your nose scrunches. “Robin?”

“Y/N?” Her voice is back to normal. “What’s up?”

“Is Steve there?”

“Yep.”

You wait in silence for a bit, thinking she’s going to call Steve over or hand him the phone, but she doesn’t.

“Can you give him the phone?” You say after a bit.

“Oh! Totally.” You assume she takes the phone away from her ear because she sounds a bit far. “It’s for you, dingus.”

“Who is it? Dustin?” Steve says as his voice sounds closer.

“No, Y/N.”

There’s a thud on the other end and you hear Robin say something but you can’t make it out.

“Y/N, hey, what uh, what’s up?” Steve sounds out of breath.

“Hey, sorry to bother you at work-”

“It’s no problem.” He speaks. “Is something wrong? Is Penny okay?”

“She’s fine.” you reassure him. “I was just calling to ask if you’d wanna come over to my place so that we could… talk.” Your fingers nervously play with the cord attached to the phone. “It doesn’t have to be right now! It could be after you get off of work or even tomorrow or something-”

“I’ll be right over.”

“You don’t-”

He hangs up before you can finish and you turn to Penelope who’s looking at you with big eyes.

“Your dad is a crazy person, Penny.”

She giggles.

As you wait for Steve to arrive, you make some breakfast for yourself and for Penelope… and maybe a little extra. Just in case, you know? You had just put Penelope’s food down in front of her when there was a knock on the door.

“Who is it, Penny?” You ask her as you make your way toward the door.

“Mmm… Poppy!”

Poppy is what she calls your father.

“Let’s see…” You open the door, revealing Steve and not Poppy.

Steve smiles as he sees you on the other end of the door. “Hey.”

“Hey Steve.” You say, moving to the side. “Come in.”

He says thanks and as soon as Penelope gets a good look at him, she yells out, “Steeb!”

His eyes are on her immediately and his smile grows bigger. “Hey pretty girl, you remember me!”

Penelope giggles and continues to stuff her face with her breakfast. You move toward the food on the counter and look at Steve.

“Are you hungry?” You’re already grabbing a plate for him.

“I don’t want to impose; I can get something later-”

“Shut up and eat, Steve. I made more than enough.”

You put the plate of pancakes in front of him and he bites back a smile. “Yes ma’am.”

He takes a seat beside Penelope and the two start eating in sync. Yep. There is absolutely no doubt that Penny is Steve’s daughter.

The three of you are enjoying breakfast and every now and then Steve will point to something on Penelope’s plate and ask her what it is. She answers the best she can and he praises her for trying. It’s like a little glimpse into what life would’ve been like if everything went RIGHT.

“So,” you clear your throat, “I think I owe you an apology.”

Steve’s eyebrows crease and he tears his gaze from Penelope and moves it to you. “What? No you don’t. If anyone’s apologizing, it’s me.”

“I owe you one too. I should’ve told you about me being pregnant when I found out instead of keeping it from you.” You say as you move a piece of pancake around on your plate.

“I understand,” Steve nods. “I mean, it sucks knowing I've missed out on Penelope’s life thus far but I-I know I hurt you, and… God, Y/N, I’m so sorry.”

“Steve-”

He shakes his head. “Please let me say what I need to say.”

You give him a curt nod and he takes a deep breath. “I know it seems like I used you that day but I need you to know that I meant it when I said I felt the same way for you. There is no excuse for me calling you Nancy after we were done-” he glances at Penelope before his eyes focus back on you. “Snuggling.”

“Pfft!” You cover your mouth immediately. “Sorry!”

“Hey, I’m not about to taint my daughter's innocent ears.” There’s a fake frown on his face before he breaks out with a smile. It lasts for a few seconds before he gets serious again. “I need you to know that I really am sorry. At that point, I think I had liked you since eighth grade and I waited to see a hint that you might’ve liked me back but when I didn’t see one, I thought it was time to move on. I was also terrified that if I told you how I felt, that it would ruin our friendship and I didn’t want that to happen because you were my best friend.”

He sits back in his seat and frowns. “Then, I met Nancy and I really liked her… but then she broke my heart and I was a wreck after that. I thought I was over her completely after all those months of us being broken up because… my feelings for you came back. In that moment, I didn’t even realize I had called you Nancy and I am such a piece of crap for doing that to you. Seeing you cry… I never wanted to make you feel like that and I’ve beat myself up about what I did since it happened. I am so sorry if I made you feel like you were the second option, Y/N. I shouldn’t have let my impulses take over when you told me you had feelings for me. I should’ve taken you out on a date, court you for a bit so you knew that I was serious about my feelings. I-I should’ve-”

“Steve.” You snap him out of his thoughts. “Take a deep breath, please.”

He nods and takes a deep breath, visibly calming down.

“I forgive you, Steve.” You tell him. “We were seventeen; we were idiots. I’m sorry for not telling you I was pregnant. I was hurt over what happened and thought you were still into Nancy and I just didn’t want to be a bother. Now I just want the past to be the past and to move forward. If not for ourselves, then for Penelope. I don’t want to dwell on what happened three years ago.”

“Done.” He agrees. “We move forward.”

“As friends.” You tell him and his shoulders slouch a bit. “I don’t think I’m ready to revisit this-” you point between the both of you. “-romantically. And I don’t mean that in a mean way. I think we should just focus on being the best parents we can be for Penelope and learn to co-parent well. Our priority right now should be Penelope… that is, if you want to be a part of her life. You don’t have to if you don’t want to, sorry for assuming-”

“I want to.” He cut you off. “More than anything, I want to be a part of Penny’s life.”

“Okay, good.” You look at Penelope who was still munching on her food. Half of it was in her mouth, the other half was all over her face. “We can talk about you coming over to visit her here? I want to ease her into this slowly. All she’s known since she was born was me, my mom, and my dad and I don’t want to overwhelm or scare her with this change.”

Steve nods. “I’ll go at whatever pace you set, Y/N. I’m just glad to be a part of her life now. And… yours.”

“As friends.” You remind him.

“Yeah,” he smiles softly, “as friends.”

Tags:

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[lilia-calderus-pet-goat]

In case you forgot just how impressive the acting is in episode seven of agatha all along, let me take you back again.

Lilia is five hundred years old. Four hundred and fifty? Maybe. When we first meet her, she may be kooky, and she may be strange, and forgetful, but she doesn't immediately seem vulnerable, or lost. She's a grown woman, damn it—and a fraud, a liar. She's toughened with the passage of time in her unique isolation.

And in the next episodes, we see her sweeten here and there—and we see more vulnerable moments—but she still stands on her own two legs. In her dynamic with Rio, for example, or whoever else, she exhibits the 'no bullshit' attitude of her maestra. She's softer, of course, more empathetic, less cynical—like in Alice's trial, where she's posed much like s comforting grandma. But even then, she is a grandma. She is the one who does the comforting, or the one who disapprovingly shakes her head at you and judges your life choices.

But when she talks to her Maestra?

Lilia is a little girl. She's childish.

In no other scenario does Lilia speak with herself center-stage. She always thinks of others first, even in her own trial.

But when she talks to her maestra, she acts like a wounded child, a wounded fawn, who can only focus on her own pain. Who has not yet developed mechanisms for processing her emotions—and who just wants—needs—her mother. And she speaks, and she says things she shouldn't say, floods her maestra with her own grief, overwhelms her with information that Lilia has known as fact for hundreds of years, but for her maestra—it's her first time hearing it. Because the little Lilia on the chair is having her first divination lesson. She hasn't predicted the fever yet. But Lilia can't think of that right now—she's overwhelmed, she's hurting, she's visiting her maternal figure after centuries—and so she's snappy and impatient and vulnerable like a child.

And her maestra knows she can't help it. And she knows that right now, she's needed by her child who is hurting. Who has been hurting—so much fear, even now. She must swallow the shocking piece of information that she and her covenmates, her sisters, her students, her children, will be wiped out by a terrible fever—treat it like a given fact, because she's not the focus right now. Because she needs to be a guiding light for Lilia, even centuries later, because she needs her. Centuries later, she needs her. And she's a tough woman, a no-bullshit woman. She's a thick-skinned, old, Sicilian witch, much reminiscent of my own greek grandparents—those who have lived through so much and so nothing affects them, really. Because 'back in their day' they had 'more serious issues,' like war and famine and plague. This woman lived through the dark ages. And she delivers. She's nonchalant. 'Death comes for us all' - It means, this isn't about me. I have to brush it off.

But I still have to wonder where within her she proceeded to bury that piece of information about her own coven's untimely demise. Not only to focus on future Lilia, but also, later, to keep little Lilia calm and focused. To—knowing all the suffering she'll be going through and the state in which she'll visit centuries later—keep her innocent for just a little time longer. Give her time. Until eventually, she predicts the fever herself.

And how beautiful is it that, after all this time, she sought help in her maestra—?

How beautiful is it that—for the second time—Agatha Harkness is saved by a woman whose empathy was bred by a mother's unconditional love? A woman who sacrificed herself just when she found herself, for no other reason than the fact her mother never stopped putting her first, so now, it was her turn to do the the same for her family—?

[cllightning81]

Best Friends Part 2 [OP81]

Summary : After telling the grid that you're married there's now a rumour that you're hiding a child

Pairing/s: Oscar Piastri x Wife!Reader, Logan Sargeant x reader, F1 Grid x Reader

Warning/s : Pregnancy, kind of a weird one I just wanted to end this fic before my weekly exam panic

Word Count : 1.4k

Masterlist

Oscar Piastri Masterlist

Coming Soon

Taglist

The next weekend in the paddock felt a little different. There was a rumour circulating on social media that one of the drivers had a hidden child. Obviously, you and Oscar had caught on to the rumour. 

The rumour was about yourself and Oscar, except it wasn’t true. Logan was yet to catch onto the rumour and was in a mood with yourself and Oscar, having not seen you yet to ask about it. 

It was just a media day today, and Oscar was going to the drivers press conference today so he could clear any rumours up on that side. As for Logan in between meetings, you went to find him. 

Finding him moping in his drivers room, you sat on the massage table looking at him 

“Came to tell me something?” He asked, causing you to laugh 

“Logan. You were at our house last week. Like not our hotel room, our actual house, where did you see the signs that we have kids?” You asked, causing him to frown in thought 

“I didn’t?” He questioned 

“Exactly. Someone obviously caught Oscar and I talking about you” You smiled moving to sit next to him 

“About me?” He asked, causing you to nod 

“We had been trying to get Lando to catch on that we were together for ages, so we resorted to calling you our son, jokingly at first until we realised that you basically are like our son. Even if you’re older than him you’re still our kid” You rubbed his back, and he nodded 

“Now I heard you’ve got interviews to do” You smiled, and he groaned

“Come on. I’ll come with you” Logan got up, walking out the room as you followed behind him. In the main garage, Emma explained the plan to Oscar as you spoke to Elias about Logan. 

Being new to training Logan, Elias was struggling to reach him and understand certain things about him that Benny used to understand because they’d been working together for the past seven years. Luckily for Elias, you were willing to help him understand Logan, and Mclaren didn’t really care knowing your strong bond with him. 

That night, there was a grid dinner where all the drivers were meeting for dinner. Looking at the outfit you had on in the mirror deciding if that’s what you actually wanted to wear to the dinner. Oscar’s hands slid around your waist as you looked at him, though the mirror 

“What do you think? The dress just doesn’t feel like me, but I didn’t really pack anything else except Mclaren uniforms and work out clothes” You asked, resting your head against his shoulder 

“I think it looks beautiful, love. No matter what you wear, you look beautiful, especially when you’re not wearing anything” He smirked, pressing kisses to your neck. 

“I’ll just put my shoes on and finish up then. I won’t be long” You smiled, turning in his arms so you were now facing him. Snaking your arms around his neck to pull him down so you could kiss him. Pressing your lips against his as he smiled into the kiss. 

“What do you think about having kids?” Oscar asked as you fixed your jewellery 

“I mean I’ve always wanted kids, but you know that” You frowned, looking at him through the mirror 

“Yeah I know. I just wanted to ask your opinion. I’ve got a contract with Mclaren for at least another two years. We've been married for a little while now. Obviously not very long, but we’ve been friends since kids” He explained 

“You think it’s the perfect time to have a kid don’t you?” You asked, turning to face him. Oscar nodded, looking down at the ground 

“Look if you’re not ready just now or you don’t want to, then that’s okay. I was just thinking. The rumour really made me start thinking” He sighed, and you took a couple of steps to reach him. Taking his hands in your own hands with a smile. 

 “Osc. I think it’s a perfect time. Working nine months from now would be winter break. I think we should” You smiled, and he looked up at you

“Really? Do you want to do it just now?” He asked, and you nodded

“I very much do. I think we should start tonight” You hummed with a smirk as you kissed him 

“Don’t have to tell me twice” He hummed, picking you up as he walked out of the bathroom. Your giggles filled the room as he kissed your neck

An hour later sat around the table with the rest of the grid and their plus ones or more depending if their kids were there in some circumstances. Oscar sat to your right with his hand resting on your thigh as Logan was sat on your left, sitting in a booth meant you were squashed in between them. 

Logan was playing with the fingers on your hand, obviously feeling very awkward with the conversation he was involved in. Looking at Oscar glancing at Logan's hand, Oscar caught on. Reaching behind your back and pressing a hand on to Logan’s shoulder 

Logan turned to you both with a smile before looking down at his hand 

“Oh shoot. Y/N I’m sorry” He dropped your hand, and you smiled softly 

“Logan, it's okay. We just wanted to make sure you’re okay” you whispered, and he nodded

“I’m okay. I guess I just needed my hands to do something” He shrugged, and you nodded, holding your hand out for him again. Oscar smiled, joining in a conversation with Lando and Charles. 

“So how come you didn’t announce the relationship?” Lando asked, and you turned your head to see him 

“Don’t need to announce it. We never hid it” Oscar shrugged 

“We announced it to Zak and Andrea, though. Oh, and had to fill out the HR forms” You shrugged 

“Next thing you’ll be announcing that you’re expecting” Charles joked, and you glanced at Oscar with a small laugh

“Don’t tell me you are!” Lando exclaimed, catching Logan’s attention 

“What? After our conversation this morning?” He asked, and you shook your head 

“Logs. You’d be the first to know if we were expecting after our conversation this morning. Actually, I have a feeling I wouldn’t even need to announce it to you” You joked 

“We’re not pregnant Logan” Oscar chuckled as you rested your head on Logan’s shoulder. Logan went back to his conversation with Lily and Alex while Oscar went back into his conversation with Lando and Charles as you spoke with Alexandra about her studies. 

When the food arrived, the long table settled into quiet conversations normally with the person next to them. However, there were a few conversations going down the table 

“I heard you got a puppy” You smiled, turning to Charles and Alexandra 

“Oh he’s just the cutest” Kika joined in with a smile 

“Yeah he is pretty cute” Charles nodded

“So, Y/N, Oscar, got anything or anyone you need to share with us?” Charles asked, and you shook your head along with Oscar. 

“The rumour of us having a child is very much a rumour kinda” You shrugged as Lando’s head whipped around 

“Kinda?” Lando questioned 

“We’ve got a grid kid” You shrugged 

“Two” Oscar corrected, and now Logan’s head whipped around 

“Two?” He questioned 

“You and Ollie” you shrugged 

“Ollie? Bearman?” Lando quizzed, causing you and Oscar to nod.

When you got back to the hotel that night, everything was a little different. As normal, Logan had joined the two of you now sitting on the hotel room couch as he scrolled on his phone. 

Sat on the edge of the bed between Oscar’s legs, your head resting against his shoulder as you had a silent debate with him. 

“Hey Logs” You looked over at him as Oscar’s arms wrapped around your body. Logan looked over to you both with a smile 

“What’s up?” He asked, putting his phone down 

“So Oscar and I were talking before dinner, and we wanted you to know this beforehand obviously being our son” Oscar and Logan both laughed at the end of it. 

“This isn’t something you typically share with people, but we felt you should probably know” Oscar added, and Logan got up with a frown 

“What?” He questioned, sitting next to you both 

“We’re thinking about having a baby” You explained, and he nodded 

“That’s great. Can I be godfather and uncle?” He asked, and you laughed 

“I’m sure we can make that happen if we end up having a child” You smiled, giving him a hug 

Tag List

@bearryyy

@molten-m122

@thewannabewriter

@lozzamen3

@barcelonaloverf1life

@hiireadstuff

@mxdi0

@f1kenzzz

@evie-119

@ahgase99

@velocesainz

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@yllomhej

@scarletwidow3000

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@callsignwidow

[ln4smiamitrophy]

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐋𝐄𝐅𝐓 𝐀 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐊 ————— part 1

𐙚 summary; the one where lando norris reunites with his childhood love at the Monaco Grand Prix and is convinced he’s over her. after all, it’s been 7 years. he can’t still love her, right?

ʚɞ pairing; lando norris x influencer!reader

ᡣ𐭩 fc; jadeybird on ig

⭒ type; irl x smau (there will be more smau in later parts)

⟡ a/n; i’ve come to realise that there aren’t many stories on here where the reader is mid/plus-sized. as a mid/plus-size girl myself, i personally can find it upsetting when there is mainly only representation of the body types that society deems to be conventionally attractive and not a lot of representation of others, they are common body types and they are attractive. i have struggled with body image in the past and i still do on occasion, if anyone who reads this ever needs anyone to talk to about this or literally anything else, feel free to message me and i’ll always get back to you. love you all, you beautiful people xx

comment to be added to my tag list <3

———————————————————————

———————————————————————

Lando Norris loved the Monaco Grand Prix. Who didn’t? The history behind the race, the atmosphere, it was overall an amazing experience every year. And best of all, he was able to stay at home. When travelling so often meant never staying in one place too long, he was grateful for one time a year he could sleep in his own bed the night before a race.

It was race day and, as per, the track was as chaotic as usual. From the mechanics frantically checking to make sure the cars were ready for the race to the fans filling the track to the brim, it was hard to get a moment alone. In fact, Lando had barely had one since he stepped foot on the track. He’d been pulled into meetings and interviews left, right and centre.

Amongst all the chaos he finally has some time to himself as he heads to the track for the national anthem. He’s walking in silence, head down as he makes his way over. He keeps going over the strategy for the race in his head, he’s starting in p4. Overtakes are hard on this circuit, everyone knows that. All Lando wants this race is to preserve his tyres and hold his position.

It’s like the universe made it happen. Just as he lifted his head up, he’s met with someone he never thought he’d see again. Y/n. His first true love. They were together for three years, but when it became abundantly clear that Lando would be joining Mclaren for the 2019 formula one season, they couldn’t deal with the consequences that brought for their relationship, and ultimately it ended.

She doesn’t see him, and he’s almost relieved she didn’t. It’s been seven years since the end of their relationship, and yet upon seeing her he couldn’t help but notice how beautiful she is. She’s changed, naturally, they were just teenagers when they separated. But she’s still as breathtaking as he remembers. He couldn’t be thinking about this. Not now. He pushes these feelings down, repressing them as much as he can as he finds his spot on the carpet and the national anthem begins. He needs to focus on the race.

———————————————————————

78 laps later and he was p4. Lando knew he probably wasn’t going to gain any positions during the race due to the circuit but he still can’t help but feel slightly disappointed in himself. Ever since his first win in Miami, since he was finally able to prove that he can win races, he’s craved it again. That feeling when he passed the checkered flag in first place, he wanted it again. It’s natural in his line of work to want to be the best, he’s surrounded by 19 other drivers who all want to be on that top step every weekend. But his teammate was p2, he was proud of him. Overall a good weekend for the team.

After the race was just as chaotic as the start, between interviews and press conferences and briefings, the only quiet time Lando gets is in between them. So that’s what he’s doing. Walking in silence towards the interview pen as his pr manager talks in his ear. He’s not paying attention to where he goes and so of course he has to walk into someone.

“Sor-“ He says looking up at them, expecting to send a small smile their way before continuing but that’s not what happens. “Y/n..”

“Lando…” Her voice is still as soft as it was all those years ago. He just gazes at her and neither makes a move to look away. That is until she clears her throat, looking down.

“How’ve you been?” Lando asks, a feeble attempt to get her to stay just a little longer. He doesn’t want her to walk away just yet. Just a moment longer.

“I’ve been well,” Glancing back up at him and he can tell she’s hesitant, he doesn’t blame her. Breathing out, she sighs before she speaks once more, “I watched Miami, congratulations on your first win.”

She still watched, she’d watched him win. He doesn’t quite know why he thought she wouldn’t; she’d always had a love for motorsports. It’s one thing they bonded over as teens.

“Thank you,” He can’t help the soft smile that graces his face. Lando mentally curses himself for glancing over her shoulder, being met with the slightly annoyed face of his pr manager. He should be in the pen by now.

He looks back at her, nodding. “I should probably go… it was good to see you.” She just nods at him, smiling softly, watching as he walks away.

Arriving at the pen, Lando takes a deep breath, forcing himself back into the driver headspace.

———————————————————————

Five hours later and he’s stood in a club, music blasting, bodies dancing all around him and he’s stood nursing the same drink for the past 20 minutes, taking with George. Normally Lando loves a party, out of the whole driver grid he’s the one you’re most likely to spot coming in and out of clubs on a Sunday night. But tonight he’s just not in the mood and he just can’t figure out why. Though he has reason to believe it’s got something to do with the girl he can spy dancing over George’s shoulder.

He can’t help but let his eyes dart towards her every couple minutes. He watches as she dances surrounded by people, laughing and smiling without a care in the world: he used to be able to make her do that. The countless nights they’d spend wrapped up in each other, talking about whatever came to mind, the soft giggles she’d let out anytime Lando said something even remotely funny as his hands would occupy themselves in her hair. They all came back to him as he watched her.

Clearing his throat and downing the rest of his drink, he turns to George, dismissing himself before heading to the bar and deciding he was going to drink away the thoughts of the girl that was seemingly occupying his mind like a plague. He certainly does just that and three hours later, Lando is black out drunk basically lying down in the back of a taxi as Carlos sits there with him, making sure he gets home safely.

———————————————————————

A groan immediately falls from Lando’s mouth as he wakes up with a hangover straight from hell. He buries himself under his duvet until he finally decides he needs something for the pain. Peeling the duvet off of his body, he stands up, jumping slightly at his phone ringing. It’s Carlos.

“Please remind me to never drink again,” Lando states the moment he answers the phone and he’s met with Carlos laughing into his ear.

“It’s that bad?” The spaniard asks and Lando can hear his smirk down the phone. Letting out a grumbled “yes” Lando drags himself into the bathroom where he keeps his painkillers.

“What even happened?” Carlos questions him, “Didn’t you say you weren’t gonna drink much?”

“I don’t know,” Lando sighs, swallowing the painkillers, finishing the glass of water. He’s lying. He knows why but he’s not going to tell Carlos that.

His mind drifts back to the short conversation he had with her the day before. The way she danced in the club. The way she laughed. Her smile. Shaking his head, he pushes it down. He ends the phone call with Carlos, making the excuse he’s going back to bed, hoping to sleep off the hangover.

But he can’t get back to sleep, he’s never been able to fall back asleep after waking up, envying people who find it so easy. After 10 minutes of trying, he finds himself hauling himself into his living room, sprawling out on the sofa and watching whatever Netflix recommends him.

He has no clue what he’s watching but then again, he’s not really paying attention. His mind kept travelling back to her. No matter what he tried. He told himself it was just shock. The shock of seeing her again. And before he knew it, he was opening instagram, typing in her name and clicking her most recent post.

———————————————————————

y/nusername

liked by yourbff, landonorris and others

tagged yourbff, scuderiaferrari

y/nusername monaco, you are so sexy

thank you @scuderiaferrari for the invite <3

comments…

yourbff girls trips with you are the best <3

⤷ y/nusername i love you <3

user1 y/n being an f1 girlie is literally the best thing to ever happen to me

user2 y/n just proving “hot girls love f1” to be true

scuderiaferrari loved having you around

*liked by y/nusername*

⤷ y/nusername loved being around

alexandrasaintmleux loved meeting you, we need to hang out again!!

⤷ y/nusername you’re an angel, we need to!!

user3 i wanna party with y/n so bad

⤷ user4 me too!! she’s deffo the most fun ever

yourfriend1 missing you :/

⤷ y/nusername missing you more honeybun

user5 lando in the likes??

⤷ user6 he’s in the likes but they don’t follow each other

———————————————————————

part 2 soon !!

taglist; @soamericn @urfavwelshie @realcherryjam @danielshoe @coastalrainae

[corroded-hellfire]

AYW request where Reader graduates from college so Ryan, Luke, and Eddie come to her graduation. And then Eddie gives her a little graduation gift of his own...

+ Eddie eating Reader out under her gown right after her graduation ceremony. Like, the moment she walks across the stage, he’s dragging her to the bathroom and diving in.

I am dedicating this to Dr. Bug! I'm so proud of you @munson-blurbs 💚

Warnings: smut, p in v, unprotected (wrap it up), oral f receiving, age gap

Words: 5k

[As You Wish masterlist]

The polyester robe that hangs on your shoulders sways in the breeze as you fetch your cap out of the back seat. The cerulean regalia is a beautiful shade, but it was a pain in the ass to find something to wear beneath it that didn’t clash. The white floral summer dress peeking out now from your unzipped gown was a lucky find that caught your eye while out having lunch with Max one day. 

Cap with a golden tassel securely in your hand, you shut the back door to your sister’s car and walk around the backside to stand next to her. 

“I can’t wait to meet your boyfriend,” your sister teases, as if you’re twelve and not twenty-two. 

You roll your eyes as you lift a hand to shade your face from the blazing sun above. It’s not even officially summer yet but Indiana is coming in hot with those high temperatures this year. 

“Don’t be weird,” you say.

An exaggerated gasp leaves your older sister’s lips, and she presses a hand to her heart, fresh yellow nail polish glinting in the sunlight. 

“Me? I’m never weird.”

“When I was fourteen you told Connor Donald–”

“But you were going to the bathroom!”

“You don’t tell that to a boy when he calls!” Somehow you feel like that teenage girl all over again.

“I just had this feeling about him,” she says with a shrug. Your sister crosses her arms over her chest. “And I was right.”

“Yeah, he was a creep,” you admit. 

The smug smile on her pretty face is annoying enough to have you turning away from her. At the other end of the parking lot, you see a familiar group of men headed your way, and the littlest one breaks away from the herd and races your way, yelling your name. As he gets closer, you spy the hat perched atop his chocolate curls and the cuteness devastates you.

With a gleeful chuckle, you catch Luke as he flings himself into your arms. Using the momentum, you swoop the almost-seven-year-old up and hold him against your hip. Your back and arm muscles protest the effort, but you do your best to ignore them. Truthfully, Luke’s getting heavier and too big for this now, but you can’t bear to stop picking him up—he’s still that baby boy to you. 

“Hey, you,” you greet him.

“You look so pretty!” he tells you as you begrudgingly set him down.  

“Thank you!” you say. “You look pretty handsome yourself in that snazzy fedora.”

Luke giggles and adjusts the brim of the hat so he can see you better. 

By now, the rest of the gang has made their way to you and Ryan is the next one to launch himself towards you for a hug. Wayne goes next and you can tell your boyfriend is purposefully waiting to be the last one. Indeed he was as he brings you into his arms and presses a soft, sweet kiss to your lips. His hands slip below the graduation robe and rest on the soft cotton of the dress that hugs your lower back. 

“Hi,” he whispers against your lips.

“Hi,” you reply just as softly. 

If it weren’t for your sister clearing her throat, you very well might have forgotten that you were at your graduation, let alone there were other people standing around you right now. Such is the power of Eddie and his touch.

“Oh,” you say, face heating up as you take a step back from your boyfriend. “Right. Um, everyone, this is my big sister, Gin. Gin, this is Eddie, Wayne, and the little monsters Luke and Ryan.”

Both boys make silly faces at you in retaliation for their introduction, which you have no problem doing right back to them. 

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” Eddie says, extending his hand.

“Likewise,” Gin replies as she shakes it. 

“Nice to meet you, sweetheart,” Wayne greets your sister. They shake hands as Eddie comes closer to you again, standing behind you and resting his hands on your hips.

“Heard that if it weren’t for you, these two wouldn’t even know each other,” Wayne says, nodding to you and Eddie. 

Ryan’s nose scrunches up in confusion. “Huh?”

“It’s true,” Gin tells the boy with a smile. “My old roommate is friends with your mom. One day I overheard something about someone needing a babysitter and I knew my little sister was available.”

Luke walks over and wraps his arms around your sister’s hips, giving her a big squeeze.

“Thank you for hearing that!”

The adults chuckle and you lean back into Eddie as he rests his chin on your shoulder.

“I don’t wanna go in,” you say with a sigh.

“Where are you going?” Ryan asks.

“I have to go inside with everyone else who’s graduating,” you explain as Eddie’s arms wind their way around your waist. He isn’t making this any easier. “That way you guys get to watch me when I walk across the stage.”

“Ed, would you let the poor girl go?” Wayne says with a sigh, making Gin let out a tittering laugh.

“Don’t wanna,” he says like a petulant child. He presses a kiss to your shoulder before whispering in your ear. “I like your dress.”

“Thank you,” you hum softly.

Silently, Eddie presses his body flush up against yours and you feel his half-hard cock pressing up against the top of your ass. A strangled gasp leaves your lips and Eddie has to bury his face in your neck to hide his smirk.

“I really like it,” he mumbles against your skin.

Sitting in the small arena, in dark green retractable seats that are usually reserved for someone watching a school basketball or hockey game, Ryan and Luke start to grow restless as they wait for the graduation ceremony to begin. Eddie knows they won’t exactly be captivated once it starts either, but he’ll cross that bridge when he comes to it. 

“Luke, can you please sit down? I don’t want to ask you again.”

“When is she coming out?” Luke asks, craning his neck to look around at the stage as he does as his father asked.

“When everybody else does,” Ryan says, also bored, but annoyed by his little brother as well.

“But when’s that?” the six-year-old whines.

“You know,” Gin says with a smile that looks suspiciously like one of Luke’s or Ryan’s when they’re up to something, “I have some pretty funny stories I could tell you about her.”

Eddie is also clearly intrigued by this, a spark of mischief gleaming in his own eyes. 

“Ooh, like what?” Luke asks, already engrossed even though your sister hasn’t begun yet.

“Well, one time,” Gin starts, “she thought she could be like Mary Poppins and fly. She grabbed an umbrella and wanted to climb up to the roof. Our dad followed her into the garage and asked what she was looking for. When she said a ladder so she could go up to the roof, he put an end to her plan. She cried the whole day because she wasn’t allowed to try and fly like Mary Poppins could.”

Luke laughs, tilting sideways until he’s leaning against his big brother. Ryan’s chuckling as well, picturing you being mad because you can’t fly. 

“Are you the big sister?” Ryan asks.

“I am,” Gin says.

“How many years?” Luke asks. “Ryan’s two years older than me. I’m the baby.”

“I’m six years older than her.”

“I’m six years old!” Luke shares excitedly.

“Do you have any more stories?” Ryan asks. 

Eddie and Wayne share a smile between the two of them. Ryan is usually never so open with people he’s just met—he’s always been the shyest in the family. But there’s something about Gin being your sister that has Ryan feeling comfortable enough to be himself. The two of you aren’t identical, though it’s easy to tell that you are sisters. Gin is slightly shorter, and her face holds more roundness than yours does, but there’s a clear resemblance. Especially around the eyes, Eddie notices. They aren’t the exact same shade, but the shape of your eyes and arch of your eyebrows are very much alike. 

“Hmm,” Gin hums as she thinks of another story to entertain the boys with. Eddie can’t help but notice she purses her lips when she’s thinking the same way that you do as well. 

“Oh, okay. She used to make us watch her sing and dance all the time! Especially to New Kids on the Block.”

“Who?” Ryan asks.

Before the stab of feeling old has time to sink in for Eddie, Gin, or Wayne, the lights dim and a blanket of quiet falls over the crowd.

The faculty takes their places on stage and Pomp and Circumstance begins to play over the loudspeaker. Soon, a rolling wave enters the floor of the arena as all graduates file in towards the rows of chairs laid out for them.

Both Ryan and Luke stand, the younger Munson on his tippy toes as he tries to look as far and wide as he can to spot you in the crowd. 

“Where is she?” Luke groans. “Everyone is so blue!”

“Ugh! I can’t find her!” Ryan follows up. 

It takes Eddie a few moments to find you as well. Everyone is matching so he can’t go by what you’re wearing beneath your gown, and it’s even hard to see your beautiful hair with the cap restricting his view. But it doesn’t take your boyfriend very long to spot you, as he’d be able to find you anywhere—even if he was blindfolded. 

“Look, look,” Eddie says, gesturing for his sons to step closer to him. “She’s right there. Next to Aunt Jess.”

Ryan and Luke do their best to follow the direction that their father is pointing in, but it’s hard–even when the graduates all stop walking once they reach their seats. But as Ryan wrinkles up his brow and really tries to examine his dad’s line of vision, his eyes catch on you.

“I see her!” A grin lights up Ryan’s face and it fills Eddie with a warmth that the outside sun could never hope to aspire to. 

After a few more minutes, and once the speeches begin, Luke spies you as well and becomes just as excited as his big brother. Their joy quickly wears off as speaker after speaker comes up to the podium to give some of the most boring speeches Eddie has ever heard in his entire life. He can’t blame his boys for practically falling asleep slumped against one another. 

Finally, the names of the graduates begin to get called and the boys muster up their energy reserves to wait for you. There’s a good chunk of graduates who have their moment before a name is called that the boys recognize.

“Jess Arnold.”

The boys excitedly cheer but become even giddier when they see you’re next up. 

Nothing could have prepared you for the emotion of walking across the stage to receive your diploma. Hearing your name called over the loudspeaker was cool, being up on the jumbo screen for a moment was pretty surreal, but the sounds coming from one particular section of the audience have you choking up as you accept the rolled up piece of parchment from the Dean.

The claps of two small pairs of hands and cheers from those same boys send goosebumps shooting up and down your arms. Luke hadn’t even shouted that loud in excitement when he saw the real-life Hot Wheels cars. Wayne’s whistle joins the noise, that piercing sound making you chuckle as you try to swallow your emotions. Gin’s voice is unmistakable in her cheering—you heard that yelling every day growing up, you’d know it anywhere. But the sound in the cacophony that makes a few tears spill over your lash line is Eddie’s proud and happy “Woo!” that he repeats as you make your way across the platform. You just wish he was waiting for you as soon as you stepped off the stage so you could run into his arms. But as you step down and are about to head back to your seat, you look up and see where your family is up in the stands.

When they realize you’re looking at them, the boys wave excitedly, both hands flapping over their heads. Wayne and Gin both give you waves as well. Your eyes are glued to Eddie though, as he presses his hand to his mouth and then extends it towards you, blowing a kiss your way. A girlish giggle bubbles out of you at the gesture and you blow one right back to him. 

It feels like ants scurrying out of an ant hill as you exit the arena and try to find familiar faces amongst the thousands of family members and friends who are here to support their loved ones today. 

Jess comes up beside you and loops her arm through yours. You flash her a quick smile and the two of you fight your way through the crowd, searching for your people. 

Your name catches your attention and your head whips to the left to see Luke’s small hands cupped around his mouth. It’s a swim upstream as you tug Jess in that direction, but you finally make it to find Eddie waiting with a bouquet of carnations in his hand. 

More tears threaten to spill over as he hands them to you with a smile so full of admiration and pride on his face.

“Congratulations, sweetheart.”

The wrapper around the flowers crinkles in your hand and you make sure it’s held tight in your fist as you throw your arms around your boyfriend’s neck and hug him as close as you can manage. Eddie doesn’t hesitate for a moment, his arms encircling your waist and holding your body up against his.

“Thank you,” you say loud enough for him to hear over the crowd. “I love you so much.”

“They’re from us, too!” you hear Luke say.

With a soft chuckle, you pull away from Eddie who is raising an eyebrow at his boys.

“Are they, now? I must’ve missed the part where you chipped in,” he says.

“You must’ve,” Luke agrees with a shrug.

You laugh and hand the flowers to Eddie so you can pull both boys in for a big hug. Each of them gets squeezed in an arm but they cling to you just as tightly. 

“You were on stage!” Ryan says when you let go.

“And I heard you cheering for me!” you tell him. 

“Can I wear your hat?” Luke asks.

“Oh, I need a picture of that,” you say while nodding your head. 

That leads to dozens of pictures being taken. You with everyone at once, you with everyone individually, you and Jess goofing off before she went off to find her family. Luke takes a handful while wearing your cap but Eddie plops it back on your head so he can take a few more with you. 

Both boys make gagging noises as Gin snaps a picture of Eddie giving you a kiss. Their groans only grow as you wrap your arms around Eddie’s neck and sink further into the kiss, another snapshot being taken.

“Please tell me that one isn’t going to get hung up anywhere,” Luke gripes. 

For the next picture, Eddie wraps his arm tightly around your waist and dips you, causing you to let out a mixture of a squeal and laughter as your hands cling to him for stability. You’re aware of the flash of the camera going off but it’s nothing compared to the brightness of Eddie’s grin as he looks down at you. It makes your heart pound faster than the adrenaline from the feeling of almost falling could ever do.

Once multiple roles of film have been used, the camera gets tucked away and it’s time to get going. Eddie offers to drive you back, just the two of you, since Gin drove you here and she’s headed straight back home. Wayne can take the boys back to give you and Eddie some time alone.

“Thank you for coming,” you say to your sister as you pull her in for a hug.

“I wouldn’t miss it,” she tells you. “I’m so proud of you.” “Thank you.”

It makes you smile to see how the Munsons all hug her goodbye as well–even shy little Ryan. With one last wave, your sister heads towards the parking lot and Wayne ruffles the hair of the two boys.

“Ready, knuckleheads?” he asks.

“Can I wear your cap home?” Luke asks.

“Sure.” You hand the blue piece of regalia to him and instead of switching it out with his fedora like he did for the pictures, he just stacks it on top of his own hat.

“That’s a great look,” Eddie tells him, to which Luke winks in response. 

“Will you take these for me, Ry?” you ask, offering the eight-year-old your bouquet of pastel-colored flowers.

“Of course!” The wrapper crinkles as the boy situates the long stems against his shorter frame.

You press a kiss to both boys’ cheeks before they head towards the parking lot with Wayne. Eddie laces his fingers with yours and you go to follow in the same direction the others just went, when Eddie tugs you back and smacks a kiss to the back of your hand.

“How about a little campus tour before we go?” he asks.

“Oh?” you ask, raising your eyebrows. “Anywhere in particular you want to see?”

Eddie shrugs. “Your favorite spots. Somewhere there’s no one else, maybe.”

“Right,” you say, a smirk tugging the corners of your lips. “Let’s see what we come across.”

Hand in hand, the two of you take a leisurely stroll through the quad of campus. Where there are usually people studying or picnicking during the semester, now there are graduates and families taking pictures and celebrating. The warm day outside leads you to the cool shelter of the student center at the far end of the yard, where you spent a lot of your college days having lunch. It’s mostly empty now, no one having any real need to be in here other than to escape the brutal sun. 

An empty hallway catches Eddie’s eye, and he leads you by the hand to follow him in that direction. His boots squeak against the white linoleum tiles and your heels clack as you step behind in his wake. There isn’t much down this way except for a few offices that are now empty, a room full of vending machines, and some bathrooms. 

Your boyfriend takes advantage of the latter, the empty hallway leading him to believe there will be no one in the men’s room. His gamble is correct as he pulls you in behind him. He moves quick as lightning to turn the lock on the bathroom door, assuring that no one will interrupt the two of you. 

Eddie’s lips are on yours a heartbeat later, both his and your hands going to the zipper of your graduation gown. Neither of you can get it down blindly, but Eddie’s too impatient to make another go at it. Instead, he grips your hips and helps you sit on the peach granite counter behind you. The gown gets rucked up your body, the dress he’s so fond of joining it until they’re both up around your waist.

“Eddie,” you whimper.

“Shhh, shhh, baby,” Eddie croons as he sinks down to his knees. Soft, plush lips trail hot kisses from the inside of your left knee all the way up to the apex of your thighs. Large, strong hands massage up and down your legs as his lips never leave your skin, touching and teasing everywhere except where you need him the most. 

Eddie lets his eyes slip closed not only to let himself enjoy the feeling of having his hands and lips worship your soft skin, but also because if he gets one more look at the wet patch on your purple lace panties, he’s going to rip them off of you and the fun will end far too soon. 

“Eddie, please,” you beg.

“I’ve got you, princess,” he says softly. 

Torturously slow, Eddie’s mouth comes closer to your center, the heat of his breath making you curl your toes before he even comes in contact with you. Brown doe eyes open to look at you, darkened by lust as he finally presses his mouth against your core, kissing against the wet patch of your panties that’s driving him so wild. Pleasure flutters in your pussy, your hole clenching around nothing as Eddie opens his mouth and grips the material of your panties with his teeth. As quick as he grabbed them, he lets them go, letting the wet lace smack back against your clit. 

“God, I need you,” Eddie growls. 

Calloused fingers work themselves up the outside of your thighs and grip the purple material at your hips. You arch your back, head resting against the bathroom mirror, to assist your boyfriend in ridding you of your underwear, which he shoves into the back pocket of his pants. 

Now with nothing between him and your soaked pussy, Eddie eyes it greedily and the way he stares at your bare sex turns you on even more. You choke on a breath as he dives in, tongue instantly running from your hole up to your clit. He decides to keep his attention there, flicking the sensitive nub with his tongue before sucking it into his mouth. 

“Fuck,” you moan. Eddie’s responding moan reverberates up your core, adding another layer of pleasure to his mouth on you. 

He hitches your left leg over his shoulder to open you up even more for him, going in to devour you like his life depends on it. His hot, long tongue glides through your folds as he licks at you, not stopping even for a moment to catch his breath–not giving you a moment of reprieve as his mouth works against your pussy like it was made for this.  

You never want this–him–to stop but Eddie’s too God damn good with his mouth for you to last long. 

“E-Eddie, please.” You’re not sure what you’re pleading for as you reach down and grip the curls on the top of the older man’s head in your hand. It takes all of your control not to rut your hips against his sinful mouth. 

Even though you’re not sure what you’re asking for, Eddie somehow knows what you need—he always does. He slips a finger inside of you, quickly followed by a second, as he keeps his mouth working on your clit. His eyes are trained on yours, not breaking contact for a second as his tongue laps at your clit and his fingers pump in and out of your greedy pussy.

If the feeling alone wasn’t about to bring you over the edge, the sight before you was.

“Oh, I’m gonna, I-I’m gonna–”

You don’t have time to finish your thought as your orgasm rushes over you, pleasure sparking throughout your body and leaving a tingle in your veins that only Eddie can give you. Thick fingers continue to work you through it, his tongue not giving up its assault on your clit until he’s wrung every ounce of ecstasy he can from you.

Once your muscles relax and you’re panting above him, Eddie slips his fingers from inside of you and stands up. He wastes no time slipping them into his mouth, moaning as he savors the taste of you. You’d come again just from that if you had the energy. 

“Eddie,” you whisper between labored breaths.

“I love how much you say my name,” your boyfriend says as he leans over your body and presses his lips against yours. 

The sound of Eddie’s zipper being pulled down shoots a thrill of excitement through you as the two of you exchange easy, lazy kisses. His hard cock nudging at your hole has you breaking your mouth away from his, a whimper tumbling from your lips. 

“Yes,” you whine, the only word in your otherwise blank mind.

His initial push into you has you gripping at his shoulders, throwing your head back, which Eddie takes full advantage of and attaches his lips to your throat. The deeper he sinks into you, the harder your nails dig into the back of the button up shirt Eddie wore just for the occasion today. 

“Shit,” Eddie huffs with a small laugh. “I’m not gonna last long, baby. Fuck, been hard since I saw you this afternoon. Couldn’t stop thinking about how bad I wanna fuck you since then. How bad I needed to taste you. Feel that tight, perfect pussy of yours squeezing me so fuckin’ good.”

You lift your head up to look at him through heavy-lidded eyes. 

“Even though m’not your college girl anymore?” you ask through your shallow breathing.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Eddie growls, gripping your hips tighter and adjusting the angle that he pushes into you. “You’re my college graduate. My smart girl. My smart girl who gets so dumb on my cock, doesn’t she?”

“Uh huh.” You nod, your head heavy as the familiar pressure builds up in your lower tummy.

“That’s my girl.”

“So close,” you whine.

“Me too, baby. Come on. Be my good girl and come with me.”

One of Eddie’s hands leaves your hips and his thumb presses against your clit, making tight circles just the way he knows drives you crazy. 

“Fuck,” you groan.

“Let go, princess.”

“Shit, I-I’m coming!”

Eddie spilling into you, coating your walls with his warm seed elevates this orgasm as you hold onto your boyfriend for dear life. Lightning sparks everywhere his body touches yours and pure bliss washes over you like a wave on the surf. 

It takes a few minutes for the two of you to catch your breath. Eddie’s body hovers over yours and, if you’re honest, you’d be fine if he never moved. Eventually, he has to though, which also means pulling out of you. Though you whine at the loss, Eddie is right there to help clean you up and press sweet kisses to your mouth.

“I love you,” he whispers against your lips.

“Mmm, I would hope so,” you tease, throwing your arms around his neck.

Eddie has one arm draped around your shoulders as you walk down the hallway to his apartment door. He keeps pressing kisses to your temple and running the material of your graduation gown between his fingers. 

“What’re the odds the boys will be asleep?” Eddie asks when you’re one door away.

“Slim to none,” you answer with a bark of laughter. “It’s still light out.”

“Details, details.” Eddie grabs the doorknob and tosses the front door open, allowing you to step inside first.

But you don’t even get one foot over the threshold before your eyes take in the sight before you. A large banner reading “Congratulations!” hangs in the archway that leads to the bedrooms and the apartment is crowded with people. Your jaw drops and it takes your brain a few moments to recalibrate. Once it does, you spin around to face Eddie and swat at his arm.

“I told you I didn’t want a party!”

Eddie shakes his head, a shit-eating grin on his face, as he leads you into the apartment and closes the door behind him. All six Harringtons are here, Max, Lucas, and their daughter Tiffany, and Wayne with both boys, who look more mischievous than ever.

“Oh no, this isn’t a graduation party,” Eddie says. 

Nancy steps forward, a sly smile on her face, when you narrow your eyes at Eddie.

“Nope,” she echoes. “It’s an employee performance review.”

You stare at her for a moment, not comprehending her words.

“What?”

She can’t help but let out a small chuckle so Steve steps up to her side to help her out.

“You’re our employee, right? Watch the kids? So, we reviewed your performance and determined it was excellent.”

“Which of course calls for a party,” Nancy explains, gesturing to the living room full of people around her.

“And the fact that it happens to be on the day I graduated college?” you ask, tilting your head to look at Eddie.

“Complete coincidence,” he says with an innocent shrug. 

“Look, look, look!” Luke bounds over and grabs your hand, leading you over to the counter that separates the kitchen and the living room. 

A large sheet cake with vanilla icing and blue piping rests there, bearing the words “Congrats Grad!” in gold lettering.

It brings a smile to your face, but you smile even wider as you look down at Luke and then over at Ryan.

“Did you two know about this?” you ask.

“Maaaaybe,” Ryan drawls.

“I can’t believe you kept a secret from me!”

You pull Luke in against your chest and start to tickle his sides. He squirms, trying to get away from you as he howls in laughter. 

“Ahh! Ryan! Help me!”

Ryan rushes over and tries to tug his little brother out of your grasp, but you’re quicker. You pull the older Munson brother into your clutches as well and he becomes another victim of your tickling. They both shriek and try to run, but you cease your tickling to wrap your arm around each boy and press a kiss to the top of their heads. 

“You little sneaks,” you say.

“Can we have cake now?” is Luke’s only reply. He doesn’t wait for a response before posing another question. “Do you make a wish on graduation cakes?”

“What would you wish for, babe?” Eddie says as he walks over to you. He looks like he’s trying not to laugh, and you furrow your brow. “Would it be to fly like Mary Poppins?”

Your eyes widen as all the heat in your body rushes to your face.

“I’m going to kill my sister.”

[pomefioredove]

Could you write a continuation of 'A Private Meeting" where it's revealed Rook was messing with them in some shape or form?

I've been thinking about this prompt and this is my ideal outcome. double post for today!!

part one

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ a private meeting (rook ending)

summary: yuu makes a list of the top five cutest third years. the following-following conversation type of post: short fic characters: technically rook, vil is there, so is epel additional info: romantic I think, idk, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu

"Well, that was a complete waste of an evening,"

Vil takes long, graceful strides into the dark Pomefiore lounge. It's already past ten, and most of the dorm is asleep.

Not him, though.

An inexplicable sense of disappointment is heavy on his perfectly postured shoulders tonight. He would never admit it aloud, perhaps not even to himself, but he was greatly looking forward to unfurling that piece of paper and reading his name.

He stops.

"I don't know why I even bother," he mutters to himself, just loud enough for his vice housewarden to hear.

"Ah, do not be so forlorn, my Roi du Poison! You already know the prefect holds you dear. There is not a doubt in my mind that your beautiful name was the first on that list!"

"...And frowning like that will give you wrinkles."

Vil turns over his shoulder to glare at Rook.

"Not that. This,"

There are a pair of muddy boot prints sprawling all across the pristine lounge, already dry and caked over the perfect carpet.

Vil doesn't need to be a hunter like Rook to know what creature they came from.

"Epel,"

Rook peers over the housewarden's shoulder, and tsks. "Shall I have a word with him? He's likely still awake,"

"No, no. You've done enough tonight," Vil says. "I'll handle this."

He leaves the lounge, and his vice housewarden, behind. This evening had already been more than frustrating, and he was not going to spiral over a little mud.

"Felmier," he opens the door without knocking. "Here. Now."

Even if he were not intimately familiar with the room and bed assignments for each dorm, he would know which blanketed lump was Epel.

Only one of them jumped, anyway.

Epel peers out from under his covers like a small child.

"...Now?"

"Do not make me repeat myself,"

He hesitates, and slowly slips out of bed, and comes to the door. Vil pulls him into the hallway as to not disturb the well-behaved students.

"I have already had an impossibly tedious day, and what do I come back to find? You, all over the carpet in the lounge. How many times do I have to tell you to wipe your feet before coming inside? Are you a toddler?"

Epel winces. "...Slipped my mind,"

"Of course. Of course," he mutters. "You will be responsible for your mess. Dawn. I want all of it gone before breakfast."

Vil was expecting him to argue, or, Sevens forbid, negotiate, but Epel says nothing.

And then: "Where were you, anyway?"

His eyes narrow. "I don't see how that's any of your concern,"

"Meeting?"

"Do not change the subject,"

"...Cause I saw Ortho about two hours ago, and he said-"

Vil takes a deep, calming breath. Now is not the time to spiral. He needs sleep. He needs quiet.

Epel blinks. "...I'm not trying to antagonize you or nothing. I just thought you should know,"

He pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

"Know what, Epel?"

"...That I have the list,"

Pause.

Vil looks down at the boy. Had he heard that right? No, he couldn't possibly-

"The prefect let me keep it after the party. I thought it was funny, so..." Epel looks away, almost sheepishly. "I have it in my desk right now."

Many, many new possibilities come from this. Epel is lying. He's distracting him. There's no way...

Vil is quiet. He should scold Epel for fibbing, but the slight possibility that he's telling the truth...

...that the real list is in that room, right now, with Vil's name on it...

"Show me,"

Epel disappears into the quiet room, and comes back with a folded piece of lined paper, almost exactly identical to the one Grim had eaten.

On the back is a game of hangman, and, unmistakably, the prefect's handwriting.

"I don't understand," Vil murmurs. "If this is it, what did we have?"

Epel shrugs. "Mix up?"

"No," he says, turning over the paper in his hands. "Rook would have checked. Thoroughly. He would have known..."

He stops. The thought hits him before he can even finish his sentence.

"...Unless..."

Vil's perfectly manicured fingers slide under the fold of the paper and open it.

There, in the prefect's familiar handwriting, is a list.

At number one: Rook Hunt.

Not a doubt in his mind, huh?

Vil re-folds the paper, confiscates it in his pocket, and looks down at Epel.

"Go to bed. You'll start looking undead if you keep staying up this late,"

"But-"

"No buts," he says firmly, turning to walk back in the direction he'd come from. "And... You may sleep in. Forget about cleaning the lounge tomorrow."

"-I have someone else who needs to be reminded of his place."