#okay. okay. guys i can see it. i can see the light at the end of the long long tunnel

[cutielando]

brazil, my heart | m.v.

synopsis: in which Max finally makes a statement during the Brazilian GP

a/n: based on this request!

my masterlist

Your lip was stuck between your teeth as the whole garage waited anxiously for the start of the race.

The weather had kept everyone on their toes ever since the Sprint race had finished, and it seemed to be set on continuing to do so during the race.

Frankly, it wasn't something that you were very much keen on.

You were very tired, having woken up at 5 am to join Max at the track for the early Qualifying session from 7:30, you didn't want to take a nap after Max was done with Qualifying so you could talk to him, but now you were slowly starting to regret it.

Your nerves were stretched thin as you anxiously watched the 5 lights turn on one by one, your heart jumping in your ribcage once they went out and everyone lunged forward.

"Max up to P11" GP's voice suddenly rang through your headset, making you finally let out a sigh you hadn't realized you had been holding.

Max had long ago come to an agreement with his race engineers to do his best to keep you in the loop with regular updates because he knew you sometimes got too nervous or scared to actually watch the race.

The weather really didn't help your nerves, either.

You were always afraid for Max in dry conditions, but seeing him race in this rain and with the low grip level on the track, let's just say you were gonna have a lot more gray hairs by the time the race is over, which feels like a lifetime away.

Wet racing was often known to be one of Max's best conditions for racing, but it also meant more dangerous conditions.

Seeing the spray that the cars would leave behind, just having to imagine having to drive at such high speeds with water in your face, barely able to see anything, desperately trying to keep the car on track. There was no room for any mistake, no matter how little.

You trusted Max and his abilities, but that didn't mean you weren't still gonna be worried out of your ass for him.

"Red flag. Max is coming into the garage" GP's voice snapped you out of your thoughts, your stance immediately perking up at the sound of the news.

You waited until the cars had come into the pitlane to take off your set of headphones and make your way outside of the garage, anxiously waiting to see your boyfriend emerge from his car.

The moment you had laid eyes on him coming towards you, you hurriedly started walking over to him, not caring about any of the engineers or frankly anyone else from his team.

You only cared about making sure he was okay.

Just to ease your mind and worries.

"Hey babe-" Max barely got a word in before you jumped straight into his embrace, wrapping your arms around his neck tightly.

He grunted, but returned the tight hug, careful not to squash your head with his helmet.

You buried your head into his shoulder as best as you could, your heart racing as you finally felt him under your fingertips, okay and all in one piece.

“I’m never joining you at the track for another wet race ever again. I’ve had 4 panic attacks until now” you said, half joking and half telling the truth.

Max laughed, his arms tightening around your waist.

He knew how much you worried about him every time he would get into the car, and he also knew how much you hated the wet races. And he couldn’t blame you, but he was the best in those conditions, so you had nothing to worry about on his end.

“Is it that bad?” he asked, looking at his engineer over your shoulder who gave him a short and worried nod.

“It’s worse. I don’t know how you guys can see the track in front of your eyes from all that spray” you said, slowly letting go of him and stepping back from his arms.

Max pulled up his visor and smiled at you, the crinkles by his eyes telling you everything you needed to know.

“Hey, I’ve got this. Don’t worry about me, I’m driving the race of my life out there and everything is okay. I love you and I’ll come back to you in one piece” he said, holding our face in his gloved hands.

You bit your lip and studied him for a little while before nodding, giving him one last hug before he was pulled away by his engineers to go over data.

Running a hand through your already disheveled hair, you slowly made your way back into the garage, occupying your seat and putting your headphones back on.

Half more of this torture to go.

♡♡♡♡♡

The tears were falling down your cheeks before you could even think about stopping them, before the race was even close to being over.

Even though you couldn't see him, you could imagine what was going on behind Max's helmet, what feelings were going through his mind as he was leading the race towards victory.

Those last few laps seemed like they were taking forever, but then he finally crossed the finish line and took the checkered flag in first position.

You didn't think it was possible, but a new wave of tears started falling down your eyes, sobs racking through your body.

"P1, He's done it, Y/N" GP's voice rung through your ears, but you didn't care for any of it.

The only thing you cared about was seeing Max.

You got up from your chair and put the headphones on a table in front of you, your legs carrying you fast towards where his car was parked.

"Max!" you yelled just as he took off his helmet, his smile radiating as he started walking towards you.

You didn't waste a second before you flung your arms around his neck and jumped into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist as Max squeezed you close.

"I did it" he whispered into your ear, the smile evident in his voice.

You nodded, burying your face into the crook of his neck as you clung onto his body.

"I'm so proud of you" you murmured, pressing little kisses on his neck and his cheek.

Nothing could ever beat this feeling, being right there in your arms after winning a much-awaited Grand Prix.

Nothing could be better than that for him.

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[alchemistc]

Harry twirls a lock of dark curls between his fingers. Tips his chin against Tommy's head and stares up at the ceiling. He considers not asking, this time.

The sex is good, and Tommy's funny, and if he closes his eyes he could imagine there could be something - Tommy twitches and shifts his hand lower like he might be gearing up for another round, and it breaks the fantasy. That's new.

"Tell me about him," Harry says, and Tommy's eyes tip up to glare at Harry.

"Making an assumption, there," Tommy warns, but Harry just raises an eyebrow. Six years of this and Harry knows better than to expect Tommy would show up at his door for any reason other than to get his mind off of something - someone else.

"So we're both asses," Harry intones. He needs to call the super, see what they'll do about the water stain on his ceiling. "Tell me about him."

Tommy sighs. Twists, drifts away to the second pillow, and Harry's done this enough times not to mourn the loss, exactly. It's not like he's ever told Tommy -

"He's too young. Impulsive. New."

Harry fails to hold in his snort. "Okay."

Tommy at 34 had been a fucking hurricane. Newly out, no holds barred, he'd jumped right into the deep end and let the storm whirl him around. They'd been friends, for the first six months, Harry a watchful presence while Tommy made it his mission to be more than the guy in the dark corner getting a risky blowie fifteen minutes before last call. To be out - not loud, that wasn't Tommy's style - but to at least be himself.

He'd lasted two months in a real, actual relationship before he'd shown up at Harry's door with a six pack and a box of condoms.

"He looks at me and sees this - cool suave guy -" Harry shifts, nearly interrupts because that guy is exactly what Tommy projects, even if he doesn't mean to. Fucking Scorpios. "- and I was falling for him."

Yeah. Harry can extrapolate from that. Tommy fell ass over tea kettle and then got spooked.

"He's just so fucking open with himself. No brainworm goes untouched, and he can't hide his emotions for shit, and he's so goddamn stubborn and so goddamn ready to bulldoze through every hurdle ahead without looking back at the damage, and..." Tommy trails off. One hand shifts down to hitch the duvet up over his hips, and Harry adds the duvet cover to his list of laundry. "I gave him too many chances to slow down on his own."

"What, did the kid ask you to marry him or something?"

"He's the Himbo," Tommy retorts, and it takes Harry a moment to make the connection. He whistles through his teeth just to watch the scowl fall into place on Tommy's face. "And the connection freaked him out so much he asked me to move in. To his bachelor pad loft." Harry waits. "It has two balconies, Harry. Two."

"...he knows you have a mortgage, right?"

Tommy shoves at his shoulder. "It doesn't matter. We're just - the timing wasn't right."

"Did you want it to be?"

That's always the thing he ends up hung up on, in Harry's experience. Tommy's scared out of his mind to be the right person at the wrong time. Always has been. There's probably some mommy or daddy issues hidden in there somewhere he hasn't explored. Tommy's eyes drift up to the water stain. "Don't these apartments all have the same layout?"

This is the shove-off. This is his hint not to push. "Yes, and I really don't want to ask how the upstairs neighbor flooded their bedroom. Back to the guy." He's never been one for acknowledging unspoken cues.

"Buck," Tommy says, and the name sounds harsh in his mouth.

"Buck," Harry repeats, and pictures Tommy's usual type - tall, light-eyed, more smiles than common sense. There was always something distinctive, too - freckles, a scar, weird shaped ears.

"I miss him."

It doesn't hurt the way it had those first few years, when Harry was convinced that eventually Tommy would see him as more than a friend to blow off steam with. Still. There's a twinge there, beneath his rib cage.

"So stop missing him. That's an option, isn't it?"

And Tommy does that thing - that frustrating, enchanting thing, where his whole body seems to hold the emotion flickering across his face. "I walked out on him. I dug the damn knife in just to make sure he wouldn't try to convince me to stay."

"Would you have? Stayed?"

Tommy's quiet. The sweat has cooled on his skin, and the lights coming in through his window dance across the skin of his shoulder, his chest, that stupid thick neck of his.

The phone he left on the bedside table is dark, but that doesn't stop Tommy's gaze flicking to it.

"Cards on the table, Tommy?" Harry sucks in a breath. Blows it out through his nose. "Once upon a time, I convinced myself you were it for me. That I'd be satisfied with what you gave me, and I wouldn't ask for more. I cut you out of my life for eight months when I realized how fucking dumb that was."

Tommy frowns. Harry hadn't really ever expected him to notice.

"I've seen you through shitty relationships, and one sided ones. I've heard all the bullshit you and Greg put each other through. I've been there for every fucking heartache."

And he'd offered up his body like it was absolution for always being fucking thrilled when a relationship ended.

"You called me Evan," Harry murmurs, and Tommy's eyes go wide. That's never fucking happened before. This thing wouldn't have lasted nearly as long if he'd ever heard another man's name in his bed before. "You should shower. Go home. Take a day or two, if you need it. But I know for a fact you wait this shit out, justify coming to me with time and space from whatever guy has you strung out. I know it's been a minute already, and I know you've never sounded so unsure about cutting someone loose."

Tommy's gaze flicks to him.

"Whatever it is that's got you so scared of this guy, figure it the fuck out. Because it sounds to me like you fell fast and hard and hit a fucking wall before you ever thought to tap the brakes. That's not fair to you or him. Call him. Text him. Show up at his door with a bouquet or an industrial size bottle of lube and figure your shit out. Together."

Tommy stares at him for a long, long time in silence.

"Them's the brakes, huh?"

Harry hates that he knows exactly what Tommy means. Still, he clarifies. "This is your forever guy." Six years of watching him flail and learn and grow and hurt and love and fuck. He knows a thing or two about Tommy and his flights of romance. Knows this lonely man has never sounded quite so lonely before. "You don't need me, anymore."

He's quiet as his eyes drift back up to the stain. "I'm not his forever guy." Harry can't actually refute that, considering he's never met the guy. But he knows Tommy. Knows exactly how captivating he can be. Knows Tommy's a sucker for that starry-eyed look that so often has meant not love, as Tommy reads it, but idolization. "What if I'm not his forever guy?"

Harry digs toes into the spot in the duvet where Tommy's knees should be. He shifts Tommy about half a millimeter. "He has a nickname you don't call him except when you're punishing yourself. He dated Abby and that shared history didn't scare him off. You'd never let yourself fall for a guy that wasn't throwing clear signs that it was serious. I'd put my odds on him doing something weird and wholesome every time he thinks about you until his entire two balcony loft is filled with trinkets or treats and he still can't get you off his mind."

Harry's never seen Tommy's face do that before. Not in the throes of a honeymoon phase and not in the worst of a bad breakup. It's some awful mixture between unbridled hope and abject despair.

Harry thinks it's probably fair to hate him a little, for that face. He's earned the right.

"If he kicks you to the curb, I'll take you to one of those expensive wine tastings you pretend to hate, and I'll let you drink all my samples too." It's not an idle promise. Tommy may pretend to hate it but Harry fucking loves wine tastings. "If he doesn't..." Harry shoots him a fond look, "...knowing your type I'm not invited to the wedding anyway, so I guess then I'd been seeing you around."

Something shadows his gaze for a moment, but he's quick to hide it, to smack Harry on the chest like they've just had a good game, to shift out of bed and into his briefs before Harry can blink. He doesn't love Tommy. Not the way he'd have liked to, years and years ago. Still, when Tommy shoots him the dorkiest finger guns known to man and scoops up the rest of his clothes to take to the bathroom with him, Harry still wonders what it's like to have him enough to love him fully.

---

The name catches him off guard every time he hears it. 'Evan' isn't hard to filter - Evan had been a popular enough name to immediately write it off but Buck wasn't white noise of a name

Buck was a character in a movie, an old grizzled war vet, a dog. The name Buck wasn't popular enough not to hear it every time it was so much as whispered in his direction.

The coffee shop isn't crowded, but it's not dead either. When the girl at the counter calls out an order for Buck, sliding three cups down the counter, Harry can't help but look up.

A tall broad shouldered hulk of a man smiles a dimpled smile at the barista, and Harry watches him palm two cups and grab the third one in one practiced move. He's cute, Harry thinks. Maybe his grandpa ordered, Harry thinks, a little harder, and then caves, following his path through the three-tops littering the lobby.

Harry catches sight of him without being noticed. He's grinning, one of those rare earnest ones that make his ears rise and his face crinkle like a Shar Pei, hand spread out over something lying open on the table. The little girl on the seat to his right is a surprise, but Harry hasn't spoken to Tommy in two years. Maybe he's had enough time to get his mind around the idea that he's nothing like his father. The girl responds to something Tommy says by palming at as much of his face as she can reach and turning to the man now approaching their table.

"Uncle Buck!" he catches, another firm tug at the part of his brain that's been stuck on this for too long. The man barely gets all three drinks on the table before the girl is launching herself up into his arms, and it's too late for Harry to turn away without notice. Tommy's gaze shifts across the room and lands right on him.

He looks like he might wave Harry over, and Harry would rather die than know whether Tommy would introduce him as an old friend, or by name like Buck should know it. He tips a smile Tommy's way. Raises a brow at the man - Buck - and gets lips being sucked behind teeth in response, and then a slow, subtle head tilt.

Good. Good for him. Harry's never wanted anything for Tommy but to see him incandescently happy.

Witnessing it from a distance is better.

Buck twirls his - niece? - flops her back down on the bench seat next to Tommy and bends to say something that includes a pinky promise. He's got a wine-dark stain just above his brow, and Harry can't quite hide the tip of his smile.

Harry's name rings in his ears as he picks up his drink, and he's halfway to the door, feeling proud of himself for not turning back, when he hears the chorus of three laughs erupting from the corner where he'd taken his last good look.

He'd seen the ring on insta, a week and a half ago. Just an uncaptioned picture of two bands balanced one over the other on a rock, a killer sunset sky blurry behind them. No tags. 102 likes and counting.

Harry pushes through the doors and only glances through the window to watch Tommy tip his head back in laughter for a second, before he's cleared the coffee shop and rounded the corner back to his office.

[slowcatsisland]

Trafalgar D. Water Law; Ideal Type Deep Dive

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The first thing that comes to my mind is that audio - “ I need to find my darling husband!” “What do you see in that guy?” “He makes me laugh.”

Law absolutely needs to be with someone who can make him laugh.

Throughout the post time skip arcs, it has been shown that Law -

Has a fear surrounding accepting and giving love

Believes that there must be a reason for earning love/giving love to someone

Law’s character had the most development in Dressrosa and Wano that could propel him towards healing with the defeat of Doflamingo, the revenge of Corazon’s death, and the closure statement that Sengoku says to him: “Don’t try to find a reason for someone’s love.”

Law has to heal first, or have a partner that will help him heal. To me, Law wouldn’t even think of committing to a relationship until the end of Dressrosa/Wano.

Law surrounds himself with goofy people, so it makes sense for him to fall for a goofy person.

This person would probably be on his crew as his trust issues wouldn’t allow for him falling for someone that has other loyalties that could easily be prioritized over him and end up betraying him.

Law is strict about subordinate dynamics, which is why you being on his crew may also hinder him from wanting to pursue something with you because he’s supposed to be your boss essentially.

Law would want someone that is smart, textbook smart like he is, but I also see this not being important if he truly runs into the ‘one’ that brings him the most peace.

I mean by that if you can’t hold and add to a conversation about idk the anatomy of the human body and the effects of a certain ailment, you’re not totally disqualified from his radar.

Someone who could hold emotional conversations with him is good. Even if he probably wouldn’t want the conversation. He’s kinda icky with feelings. Someone that could tell him how he feels, how they feel, and how that changes the context of whatever situation they are in. He needs someone like that.

I used to be opposed to the thought, but I believe Law needs someone truly soft. That means you could still fight if needed, but would rather not yk. It’s okay if you’re not out here swinging a machete trying to bloody the streets with your foes. That aspect of humanity that you have is something Law needs more prevalently in his life.

I remember reading an analysis of Law’s type and the creator said something similar to “Law needs someone who wouldn’t pull the trigger, just like Corazon didn’t.” I don’t know how much I agree with it but I think it’s worth mentioning.

Someone patient, but stubborn. Someone who is willing to wait for him to be ready to accept his feelings and won’t leave him when he makes a mistake (trust me he will make many mistakes in a relationship). Someone who also won’t be an idle figure in situations, you have an opinion and will voice it even if it doesn’t agree with Law’s perspective. You think the crew should help him on something rather than wait on the submarine and him go off alone? Tell him and make him listen, even if he shuts you down.

Law needs someone positive that can look at things with a glass half full mindset. Someone who looks at the rain and thinks about how the plants are getting water, someone who watches the snow fall but are commenting about how Penguin and Sachi are making snow angles and Bepo is really comfortable in the temperature. You even out his pessimism and bring light.

You’d have to get along with the other crew mates, especially Bepo too. Bepo is so important to Law, and if Bepo didn’t like you it already taints Law’s image of you.

You were always kind to him. Even before he invited you onto his crew, he identified your nature and could make a note about how you’re different from the majority of people he’s met.

Preferably, you’d be goofy, but not too loud. I feel like Law gets uncomfortable around those that are crazy extroverted- kinda like Luffy. Sometimes it reminds him too much of the Donquixote Pirates with all their flamboyance. That doesn’t mean if you have this quality you’d be off the list, he would just need it in smaller chunks or around the crew to be acclimated to it.

Grr, someone that ends up reminding him of Rosinante. Someone that Law knows is just a good person, regardless of their past.

If he asked you “why do you love me?” And you couldn’t give him an answer, you’re perfect.

He needs someone to be his safe space. Someone that could sit in his office while he works, content in the shared silence. Someone that he could ramble about his coin collection to without the worry of being judged. Someone that he could let touch his chest and have them run their fingers through his hair without worry that he’ll be harmed. Someone that will soothe him after he has a nightmare or read out loud to him until he falls asleep.

Someone that cares for him- this loops back to the stubbornness. Someone that tries to make him go to sleep, to make him eat, to make him take breaks from working. To make him live happily, something that he’s starved himself of truly ever since he was 10. He prolly won’t act like it, but you showing you care for him makes his heart bleed suffocatingly.

Someone that can show him how to love again and what it feels like to love again omg. The destruction of Flevance and the manipulation of the Donquixote Pirates so cruelly changed his perception of love.

Law wouldn’t want you to be a big shot in canon. If your bounty was rather substantial compared to his crew and him, or you had a crazy ability- it would make him worry awfully. He’d probably try to keep you out of harms way even more than he does with the rest of his crew.

Someone he can tell everything to and trust that they’ll keep it a secret.

Someone that likes the cold, likes the ocean. Living on a submarine as a pirate kinda requires this lol.

Omg imagine you’re from the North Blue too. He picks you up around the same time he does Penguin, Sachi, and Bepo. You’re one of the original members. The connection I feel like he would have with you would make him more willing to fall for you…

I feel like Law would like someone with longer hair. If he could watch them brush it, curl it around his finger, watch them create a hairstyle for the day. Small acts of domesticity in life.

Someone with large, doe eyes. He can see so much emotion through them, they hold so much weight. It reminds him of Bepo. (lol)

Someone aware of their own emotions and are in tune with their wants and needs.

I feel like he would fluster really easily if you had a gummy smile. Yk those big, pure smiles where the gums showed. When your eyes crinkly and your teeth are bared so naturally and without malice. It’s so beautiful to see.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

He’s so broken

Mwah 😽

[choclatecoveredlove]

Tunnel of Love ❤︎

Playful Land is one of the coolest theme parks ever! The rides were exhilarating and the attractions were even able to keep finicky Floyd’s attention. However, you noticed something as you were checking out the map once more.

“Hey what’s this thing here?” You asked Fellow as you showed him the map. He stifled a sigh before glancing at the map.

“Oh, that? Why that’s our… ‘Tunnel of Love.’ It’s popular amongst couples, but i’m sure a blossoming young scholar like yourself wouldn’t be interested in something so trivial.”

Fellow clearly didn’t know you very well, because just as he was finishing his sentence you grabbed the hand of the guy you had feelings for and dragged him towards the Tunnel of Love with you!

Ace

you wanna go on WHAT with him?????

acts embarrassed and like he doesn’t want to ride but he does

you just can’t tell deuce that he went on this ride. he’ll never hear the end of it.

“of course you’d pick something lame to ride.” “well you don’t have to go on it with me.” “no we’re gonna ride it now.”

“ugh this ride sucks. it’s so slow and boring.”

he’ll groan while reaching out to grab your hand. yknow just in cause there’s an unexpected drop or something. (there is no drop)

he had fun and will smile about it when it thinks about it later on

does he thinks it’s worth the teasing from trey and cater? “well… maybe.”

Trey

he’s embarrassed, like really embarrassed.

not because he’s embarrassed to be seen with you or afraid he’ll be teased (which is unavoidable) but because he’s not very experienced with this kind of thing

“so..is it alright if i hold your hand?”

he’s glad the lighting is so dim in this tunnel; he would hate for you to see him so red in the face

he’s kind of awkwardly silent the enter time because he has no idea what to do or say

however as the ride goes on you notice him scoot continuously closer and closer to you

he gathers the courage to give you a small kiss on the cheek as you get off the ride

“sorry i was weird. let’s do that again some time. i’ll definitely make a bolder move then.”

Cater

he knew about the tunnel of love from social media posts and was gonna ask you first but you beat him to the punch

he’s gonna take so many pictures (for his own personal collection)

“okay, now let’s make a heart with our hands! cute~! scoot closer to me now. mwah~ got you!”

what a sly guy… and he got it all on camera

he doesn’t spend the whole time taking pictures though. he wants to savor the moment alone with you as well

he is immune to the teasing of the others- they’re probably just jealous he gets to spend 1 on 1 time with you

“am i gonna post the pics on magicam? no way. they’re just for me~!”

Leona

“no.” “pleaseeeee????” “no.”

he says while standing in line and waiting to get on the ride with you.

it’s something to do at least. “beats babysitting the rest of that lot.”

you were gonna try and be flirty and put your head on his shoulder but he beat you to it.

“wake me up when this is over.”

how romantic. leona asleep on you. (っ- ‸ - ς)

for leona though, he actually had a good time. taking a nap on you after a long day of being annoyed by a bunch of herbivores? he enjoys it

he’ll never tell you that though. but you can assume from the faint smile that graces his face as he gets off the ride with you

Jack

ooooo somebody’s tail is wagging

not that he’ll admit that he’s excited or anything. because he’s definitely not.

if you thought trey was awkward get a load of this guy! he’s as stiff as a board and won’t even look at you

“nervous? ‘m not nervous.. there’s not anything to be nervous about.”

sure jack everyone believes you (¬_¬")

if you’re expecting any moves to be made that’s too bad. he won’t even brush against your shoulder.

however, if you make a move he will initially tense up before relaxing somewhat and beginning to enjoy himself

Jade

“how incredibly bold of you.” 

this is all incredibly fascinating to him, human amusement parks, human courting rituals, and of course you’re fascinating as usual.

he’s unsure of what you expect out of this interaction how ever he’ll try his best to live up to your expectations.

he’ll hold your hand, put his arm around your shoulder, allow your head to rest against his shoulder, everything a gentleman would do.

tbh he was a little worried initially when you said you wanted to go on a ride with him but thankfully it wasn’t a thrill ride.

“this is much more fun anyways.”

Floyd

floyd is always up for a new experience: especially with you!

you just pray he doesn’t get bored halfway through and tries to get off

“wowie shrimpy~ you wanna spend time with me alone? can’t promise you’ll come back in one piece.”

he’s joking. (probably) (•᷄- •᷅ ;)

he cannot sit still on the ride

“heyyy why is this thing moving so slow? you said this would be fun. you’re not keeping me entertained at all. you better make it up to me later, kay?”

he’s expecting you to keep him entertained and content so you better not let him down

Kalim

he is beaming from ear to ear

he loves spending time with you!!

and for once jamil isn’t here to tell him ‘leave them alone.’ ‘they have better things to do.’ ‘you can’t take up all their time.’

he so excited he’s physically vibrating while waiting in line

tries to very subtly hold your hand and smiles when you take your hand in his.

he’s very gentlemanly. “it wouldn’t make you uncomfortable if i kissed you, would it?” no matter the answer he’s just happy to be around you

“that was so fun! can we go again? or maybe five more times? please!”

Vil

you think you can casually ask him to go on a romantic ride with him? you’ve got guts, he’ll give you that much

“well… fine. but no pictures. and no telling anyone else about this either. especially rook.”

he looks so refined sitting next to you and under the dimmer light he looks majestic

“i’m not going to kiss you on this.”

HEARTBROKEN ૮(˶ㅠ︿ㅠ)ა

“i’m sure we can find somewhere much more romantic to do that. rather than this gimmicky ride.”

so he didn’t enjoy it… but he still likes you though ♡⸜(˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)⸝♡

Lilia

how fun!! he’s never experienced like this before and he’s glad he can experience it with you.

he takes a couple a pictures so that he can show malleus, silver, and sebek later “they’re going to be so jealous of us.”

he’s ancient so he’s aware of how to be romantic and to how to be a gentleman (only if he wants to be though)

he’s extremely flirtatious, he’ll lean in close only to whisper “you know, you’ve got something in your teeth.”

then in the next moment he will entangle his hand with yours and help you out of the ride. he’ll skip back with you to the rest of the group grinning slyly

Fellow

he was definitely not expecting that.

he personally doesn’t care for the tunnel of love, in fact he thinks it’s a little gross. the last thing he wants to see is couples making out.

but he has to keep up the act of gracious host, doesn’t he?

fine. he’ll smile and bare it. he just knows gidel will never let him live it down though.

well at least you are kinda cute. maybe he won’t hate it entirely.

“my, my! you’d like to ride it with me? i’m honored to spend one on one time with such a prestigious scholar such as yourself.”

[peppermintquartz]

Captain Buckley-Kinard is too good-looking, Kieren thinks to himself as he changes out of his turnouts, especially when he is smiling like that over family dinner that he himself cooked. It's "Bobby's Chili", though Kieren has yet to figure out who the hell Bobby is.

Kieren is happy to be posted to Station 28, don't get him wrong. It just sucks that he is crushing hard on his captain, knowing he has zero chance.

Because right there, next to his stupidly attractive Captain, is his captain's husband. Thomas ("Call me Tom") Kinard was a legend at the 217, according to some of Kieren's fellow firefighters from the same cohort; apparently, the man was mad enough to fly a chopper right into a hurricane, and on a separate occasion, flew into a raging forest fire in the San Fernando Valley while winds were raging up to 70 mph. On both occasions, scuttlebutt says, Captain Buckley-Kinard was involved too.

Anyway, Cap's husband has since retired. He is a silver fox. Those cheekbones should be illegal, and the deep grooves of his face that appear when he smiles only add to his charm. He's got a nice silvery stubbly beard too, and when he laughs, Cap lights up too. Kieren can see the young men they used to be when they gaze at each other.

It's aggravating.

It would have been easier if Kinard was a standoffish, arrogant jerk. But he's nice. He brings Cap special treats with extra snacks for the whole team; he helps to fix their cars ("keeps me out of trouble"); he's even flown Sandra and her wife in a chopper for a romantic getaway to Napa Valley. If the team works holidays, Tom Kinard will show up with a veritable feast, along with their twins (Joanna and Jacob).

It's really aggravating.

"You look irritated," Lenny says under his breath when Kieren finally joins them. Kieren elbows his partner when Lenny grins at him knowingly and leans over. "You're glaring at the trophy husband. Again."

"Shut up," Kieren manages to say without moving his lips.

"Okay I gotta go or I'll be late," Tom says, standing up. "The kids are having a sleepover at Parker's."

Cap kisses his husband, sweet and fond. "Say hi to Chim and Hen for me."

Tom crinkles a smile. "Will do. Love you. Be safe."

"Be safe."

Cap is watching his husband walk away like he can't get enough. Kieren can't blame him; even in his fifties, Tom Kinard has a very nice ass.

"You're so lucky, Cap," Lenny says, picking a soy sauce wing from the serving plate. "Maybe you oughta share some tips for us poor lonesome guys. How did you find your happily ever after?"

Cap grins, his blue eyes bright and he almost looks like he's blushing. "We had our ups and downs. Broke up once. Argued a lot. But we found our way eventually. And, uh, I'm gonna pass on some advice I was given about happy endings: You don't find it, son, you make it."

Lenny reaches out a fist and Cap bumps it. "Thanks, Cap."

"Anytime." Cap goes off to the oven when it dings.

Kieren is chewing thoughtfully on a morsel when Lenny turns to him. "Hey, I got a couple of free day passes for the aquarium that needs using up by next weekend. You wanna come with me on Thursday?"

Surprised, Kieren swallows and shrugs. "Sure, why not?"

"Great! I'll pick you up at nine, we'll grab breakfast, and then, fishies." Lenny looks like he's going to say something else, but averts his gaze and returns to his food.

Kieren catches Henderson's amused grin and wonders what he has done that's funny. Ah well.

Househusband Buck this, househusband Buck that, what about househusband TOMMY?

Give me Captain Buckley-Kinard and his trophy husband who puts silly little sticky notes in his lunch!! Please!!

[icarusredwings]

Trying something new, be kind.

Baby talk. 1/2

Ft. Wo-wo, mama, and 'essy

A Sfw very little Wade fic

Cws include: Brief mentions of adult fun, truama, brief discussion of death, an unexperienced caregiver, an uncomfortable caregiver, cursing, struggles/ happy ending.

Coming home, Wade was quiet. Too quiet.

"Wade?" He calls.

"Last time I heard him he came to hug me for a bit but he didn't awnser me when I asked what he was doing." Al mutters, half asleep on the couch.

"Oh.. well I got food so don't nod off just yet. I'm gonna make that alfredo stuff you like."

"Mmh.. You're a good kid, Logan."

"Althea, I'm older than you...Remember?" He says, setting down the bag of ingredients in the kitchen.

The old woman waves her hand. "Yeah yeah... just wake me up when you're done."

"Alright. Swear you'll wake up? Don't go dying on our couch." He tells her jokingly.

"Bah! It's my couch, I can die on it if I want too." She smiles, pulling the blanket up a bit.

Sometimes she did this, and it was starting to worry Logan. She was forgetting little things more, taking more naps, not wanting to move a lot either. Something about her back? Either way, Logan was terrified. He's already lost so many to old age, he didn't want to see her go too. And thinking about what it would do to Wade scared him more.

It's not until he checks the bedroom to see Wade W sitting, sucking his thumb, and playing house with his action figures and the doll house that Vanessa bought him a couple of years ago.

"Darlin'?"

From the looks of it, he had Spiderman in the kitchen, an old woman on the couch, a doggy on the couch, two little girls upstairs, a barbie in the tub (that didn't fit at all) and a wolverine action figure in the bed, claws up and out.

It took him a second to process before smiling softly. He hasn't been this small in such a long time. "Did I have a nightmare?" He asks, watching as Wade takes the wolvie out of the bed, reaching up as if showing him.

"Yeah, I see. Mad little guy, isn't he?" Logan crouches, grunting a bit as his knees popped.

"God, how do you get down here? Dosn't that hurt your knees?" Logan asks, only to be given a dead stare. As if not processing what he was saying.

"Oh.. uhm.. these?" He pats his knees. "Ouches. Sometimes.."

His eyes light up, only to frown, looking concerned, his own hands coming to his knees. "...ow?"

"Sometimes... hey so... how big are you right now? Can you tell me?"

But there was that stare again, a small tilt of his head with such wide white eyes. Yeah.. that just about tells him everything he needs to know. Vanessa has told him about when this first started and how truely little he had become, not talking much, simply....staring.

"Well.. Kitty's going to make dinner soon. How about you come out and sit in the living room, okay? So I can see you?"

Another stare, his head tilting to the other side now, like a puppy watching its owner do something it had no concept of.

"Uh-huh.... right. Uhm... nevermind. Just stay in here, okay?" Standing again is when Wade begins to panic, making an urgent whine, putting his arms up. "MmMmh!!"

Blinking, Logan swallows, not exactly comfortable with this age. This was Vanessa's age. Not his. He was used to the 5 year old wanting to play stuffies or the smart alack 8 year old who ranted to him for hours about stars, planets, and dinosaurs.

So this was.. weird. New. Unexplored territory. And Honestly, he was fine with that. Totally fine with not knowing.

"Er...I-i don't.. this isn't-" He starts, having a subconsious guilty feeling in his gut for not wanting to take care of him, but also felt like he shouldn't be interacting with him. I mean- They did big adult things last night. And now he was giving him grabby hands? It felt wrong. And with Wade's truama? He didn't want to make it worse on accident.

"Ups?"

"N-no.. Wade.. I-...Im gonna go call Vanessa. Okay?"

"... 'essy?"

"Y-yeah. 'Essy. Erm.. thats ness right?"

" 'essy?"

Swallowing, he nods, leaving the room with his hairs pricked up on the back of his neck, a knot in his stoamch. Taking a deep breath, he dialed the poor woman twice. The phone range through to voice mail both times. "Shit- okay.. fuck.. uhm.."

So he goes to google, trying his best to look for awnsers only to become more disgusted with himself at what he saw. Why was there so much- He groans, trying to calm himself. He couldn't even ask Althea because she was sleeping, snoring away.

Okay. Come on, Howlett. It can't be this hard.. right? I mean, it's just like a regular ki- Oh come on! He's never had a kid this little before! Especially not alone. What was he supposed to do?

Another deep breath, feeling defeated, and put his face in his hands. A buzz comes from the phone, and just as he looks at it, it was like signing his own death certificate.

'Sorry, I'm working. Whats up?'

"When he was really young what did you do to him?"

'???'

"He's really little right now. What do I do?" He asks, trying to type coherently.

'Oooh okay. So ussually I would give him a cup and put on a movie. He was really cuddly too so sometimes I would just hold him.'

Before Logan could respond again, she sent another message saying she had to get back to work and that it will be fine. 'It's easy, don't worry' She said but Logan had his doubts.

Alright. Movies.. cups.. hugs. Got it. He could do that. He could do hugs and cups. That was normal.

Sighing, he puts the phone away, going to the kitchen as he made him his cup, just putting straight milk into it. He liked milk right?? Did tots like milk? Yeah- obviously. Come on- get it together.

Walking into the livingroom, Logan sets it down, going through movies as he remembered what Vanessa told him before, about singing princess movies. "Ariel it is" he thinks, clicking it on and shifted the coffee table so he would have room to lay or play- what ever it was he did.

Coming back to the room, he gathers up some blankets and his stuffies, taking them from the room only to drop them all infront of the tv.

"Wade!" He calls. "Got a cup for ya! And look its a princess. You like princesses." He says, but he doesn't come.

"Wade? Come on, Bub! I gotta make dinner still." This last part was under his breath, only to grunt, going into the room only to see him sitting in the same spot.

"What are you doing? Come on. Livingroom with mama. Lets go." He shifts, gestruing his arms to the door but Wade didn't move, infact the loud words made him frown more, looking at him with those big wide eyes, a deer in headlights.

Logan took a step forward, watching Wade lower his head, holding his small angry Wolverine near his chest, like he would take it away.

This is what Logan was worried about. Great! Now he was scared of him. How was he supposed to care for someone who was too scared to move?

Think, Logan. This isn't hard. Just carry him.

Grunting, he hesitantly puts his arms out, leaning over. "...come'ere."

Another head tilt, making him groan, slightly annoyed. "Wade. Uppies. Come on, kiddo."

Instantly, he smiles, crawling quickly to his legs and put his hands back up, still keeping mad wolvie in one hand.

Picking him up, a shiver went down his spine, suddenly feeling a sense of severe protection after Wade wrapped his arms around his neck, affectionatly nuzzling into his neck with a big smile.

Unconsciously, he hugged him tightly, holding his bum and rubbing his back. "...Hi honey."

Wait. What was he doing? no. No. No. No. NO.

He couldn't feel that way about him. Absolutely no way. That was wrong. Fucking instincts! Not everthing adorable is your kid damn it!

Shaking his head, he quickly walks to the livingroom, putting him down.

"Now. You stay. Sit and watch princess." He says, pointing at the Tv and shaking his head, watching as Wade whimpered, giving him grabby hands again.

"No, Wade. L-later..." He swallows, wanting to punch himself for feeling that way. He had hugged him the same way Gabby did after a long time of seeing him, and it had activated his instinctual parental habits.

Quickly, he walks away to the kitchen, rubbing his temples. "I can't do this shit.." he grumbles.

[synthshenanigans]

I miiiight color this properly but have a funky soul design i did for fun :}

[close up + a small text about the guy below and then some]

While it is mainly just for fun & not my main design for Soul, i think Soul's form would change throughout Cacophony a fair amount. There's still some things it cant change but depending on its view on himself, Heart & Mind, or Whole would alter how his apperance looks. Not necessarily a bad thing either, just a form on how he feels or views himself. Kinda like when you make a persona i guess? He just swaps a lot between them.

Also smaller thing being that it's "tail" can change as well! More obvious being the relation to the instrumental album cover but also it can changed into other things as well. An Umbrella for Spring and a Storm, a gavel for parts of Mucka Blucka, TSE & The Bidding, or it being one of those bid cards youd hold up to bid your amount [also during The Bidding]. Can also change to the trident during TSE & The Bidding too, the red guitar in Two Wuv as well. Just generally whatever he want/feels like!

[scruncheduppaper]

i love stanford pines can we please get an amen in the chat

[josecariohca]

.

[avallands-basement]

look i love making sae be the one who's so in love and showering hajun with so much love and affection but it's much more fun to think that HE fell harder than her

[eupheme]

— you’ve got me wanting you

[part iii of sugar, sugar] | [part ii] [masterlist]

wolverine/logan howlett x neighbor!f!reader

rated e - 7.4k

tags: jealous/posessive!logan, baker!neighbor!reader, wingman!wade, flirting, feelings, (another short) miscommunication, immature humor, light angst, use of alcohol, threat of violence, use of alcohol and smoking, semi-public sex, bathroom sex, PiV, creampie

As the days pass, you think your time spent with Logan is pretty much perfect. Well... almost.

(Or - a dash of insecurity, some badgood advice from Wade, a near-fight at a bar, and the confession of overdue feelings.)

Those two nights spent with Logan turn into more.

The days are bleeding together, blurring. You fit well with him, you think. Together in Wade's apartment - spanning that space between their chatter and silence. Softening edges, though you think he's softened, too.

A stray cat coming around. 

Bristling, with narrowed, untrusting eyes. Slowly learning that he can lean into your touch. 

Your days since have been spent humming as you work. It had been an anchor once, this routine of yours. Getting up early used to give you something to get up for. Enjoying the whirlwind of prepping, measuring, making, decorating. 

Now - you're grateful for how quickly the day passes because it means you can't overanalyze. Because it means by the time you catch your breath at the end of the day, you're already heading home to him. 

Takeout was brought over to their apartment. A crappy movie with a hand curled around you, sending your heartbeat racing. The night ending at yours, hours between dusk and dawn spent learning every inch of each other. 

You think it's pretty much perfect.

Well... almost.

“Do you think Logan likes me?”

It slips out of you. Something that’s been worrying at you, a splinter trapped just beneath your skin. You regret asking almost immediately - the sun glinting off the silver needle as you push it through the lycra suit. 

“You mean the guy that’s been fucking your brains out for the past couple weeks?”

“Wade.”

“Oh, sorry.” He lines his knife up, poking a hole in the top of his styrofoam container - coaxing the waitress from lunch to give him a ‘take-home-margarita’. A cheerful “baby knife!” as he sheathes it again,” I mean the guy that’s been having totally-chaste-and-appropriate adult sleepovers with you?”

You understand what he’s getting at. Stalling, holding up his suit - another gash sewn shut with black thread, “You sure this is okay?” 

“Mhmm,” He hums, “Gives me that bride-of-frankenstein vibe I’ve always wanted. Besides, anything is better than before.”

“You insisted, you helpless little man-baby.” Al adds, from her lounge seat, “Learn to dodge.”

Wade splutters - your lips twitching, as you work.

“See what I live with?” He gripes, “Maybe the two of you outta trade. It’d be cramped, but I bet the three of us could sardine it.”

“You wouldn’t last a week without Althea,” You snort. A beat, before you gather the courage to circle back to the topic at hand, “And besides, that’s just it. I’m not sure he wants to sleep with me." 

The summer breeze feels better up here, on the roof. The whip of the wind cooling you, as you work your way across the once-again battered suit - propped up against the brick parapet. 

“Okay, time out. Missing link here.” Wade gives you a sideways look, before his head pivots, "You cannot hit me with this fake virginal act when I literally heard you two fuck an hour after you met."

A beat, "And like, pretty much every day since then. I think I even heard a howl last night-"

Your eyes roll, "Wade. He’s not a werewolf, he did not howl-"

"Well, not anymore.” Wade smirks, “And funny that you assume I meant the Moan Wolf, but I could have meant you-"

You groan, head cradled in your hands, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, we'll keep it down. It's just-"

It’s just you’ve been here before - this liminal space between an excellent physical connection, and more. You've done the hookup thing - casual, friends-with-benefits, lonely strangers. Thought you had learned how to keep your emotions in check, especially with those past experiences.

But you’ve never met someone like Logan before. 

He makes you feel bare. Soft-hearted and stripped down - wearing your feelings on your sleeve. Opening yourself up - only for your fingers to brush up against a brick wall, in return. 

Wade must catch your tone because he sets down the styrofoam container - the pink umbrella tucked against his ear. 

"Alright Sugarbuns, tell Papa Bear what's bothering you." 

You grimace at the names, another flicker of regret lingering in the corners of your mind. But you find yourself talking. Letting those worries flow from you in a rush.  

But Wade would know, wouldn't he? It's his friend, after all. 

"He leaves after."

His eyebrows raise, and you continue, "I mean, he'll stay for a bit but he always winds up on the couch by morning.  I’ll wake up in the middle of the night and he’s out there. I mean, I thought he'd want a bed, after where he's been staying, no offense-"

Thought he’d want to stay with you. 

You nudged at it once. Getting nothing more than a grumbled excuse about not sleeping well, something about nightmares. Something you accepted, only to find him tucked in your bed a few days later - curled in your sheets when you had rushed back to the apartment after leaving your phone. 

Hadn’t wanted to push, even if it confused you. Wouldn’t he want comfort, after a bad dream? You always did. 

"Offense taken, Blind Al and I are excellent bedmates," Wade interrupts, "But please, continue."

His joke eases you a little. Risking a sideways glance, finding him already looking at you.

“I like him, Wade. I just really want this to work out.”

He hums, sympathetically. Knowing all too well the complexities of like and love. How you feel deeper than you’re letting on - he always was perceptive, after all. 

A beat, before your head turns. 

"Do you think it's me?" 

He does laugh then, his shoulder leaning to bump yours, "Sugar, you have a two-hundred-year-old boyfriend who's gone through a massive amount of trauma and has an alcohol problem, and you want to know if it's you?"

"Fuck." The heels of your palms press into your eyes, "Okay, okay-"

"I literally traveled through the void with him, Planes, Trains, and Automobiles-style. The John Candy to my Steve Martin, and even after saving the world he still wanted to kill me."

"Wait," Your head lifts, "Why would you be Steve Martin in that scenario?"

“He’s the main character, as am I.” He barrels past your question, "The point is, if he didn't like you, you'd know. You just need to be-"

"Patient." You finish, "Yeah, I know." 

And you do know. Even since that first meeting, you've known that he's been eaten up inside. Cracks of the man beneath leaking through his gruff exterior, as you had sat together on that couch. 

But Wade called him your boyfriend, but he's not. Not really - no conversation to indicate that's how he saw himself. 

It just left you confused. Vulnerable. Enough that you did dumb shit like this - going to Wade for romantic advice. The man who proposed with a ring pop and thought that a prostate orgasm was a sign of being soulmates. 

"Maybe you’re giving him too much. Withhold a little," Al interrupts, making you jump, "That's what landed me my second husband. Begged for it like a dog, and was married the next month. God rest his soul."

Wade mouths an exaggerated “what the FUCK" at you, before shooting a dark look in her direction - only just then seeing her smirk.

"Oh, you’re joking? She came to us for help and you’re joking-” A sniff, as Wade turns back, "So anyways, don’t do that. Do something normal. Like internalize it, until it makes you snap."

His face screws up, as he adds, “Or, maybe try it? That bricked me up a bit-”

"Or,” Al adds, “Maybe you should just talk to him, Sugar."

Althea always knew how to cut to the chase and give the hard advice you needed to hear. You just wish you weren’t afraid of the answer.

‘You’re both right,” Your head dips against Wade's shoulder, “I owe you. Again.”

Silence lingering, though it’s not uncomfortable. Leaving you to think about what he said.

The suit passed over to him, when you tie the final knot, “Done.”

“Thanks,” A beat passes, as he gives you a sideways look, “Any chance you want to cash in on that favor tonight?”

You know better than to agree without more info - an eyebrow raising as you wait.

“Vanessa is coming over tonight.” Wade gives you a meaningful look, “It would be great to have the apartment to ourselves for a bit.”

The serious tone does not last, as he smirks, “I fully intend to break my months of celibacy the second the opportunity arises.”

“Months?” You hadn’t realized it had been that long. Thought he would have moved on, in some ways. 

“Years, actually,” He adds, casually, “Turns out my obvious romantic hangups plus this-”

A gesture at his face,” Are a total boner-killer. As well as having an elderly roommate, apparently. Especially one who won’t leave.”

You shoot him a sharp look at the self-deprecation, Al’s voice cutting through.

“I told you, I’m hitting the casino for singles night.”

“Okay. I can drop Al off and pick her up,” Your mind is already racing ahead, “And Logan and I can go out to dinner or something.”

The prospect is exciting. Despite the time spent together, you haven’t really gone on too many dates yet. After your long hours and his rotating work schedule, your meetings have mostly been late-night. Quick meals whipped up in your kitchen. A rotating pile of delivery menus. 

“That would be great.” He smiles, “Thanks, Sugar.”

“Of course.” You smile, before adding, “What are you going to make?” 

A frown, when he hesitates.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to wing it.”

“I wasn’t winging it,” He protests, “I was going to hit up ol’ reliable.”

“For a second-first date? You can’t do takeout from Buns and Roses.”

A sigh, as you turn to face him, tugging out your phone, “You should make something nice. I have this recipe bookmarked for engagement roast chicken. I’ll help you-”

He tugs your phone out of your hand, scrolling through the eight-paragraph opener before the start of the recipe. 

“Make this for her, show her you’re serious-,” You start.

Wade finishes, with a smile. 

“-and there’ll be a cock ring on it before midnight.”

You keep catching yourself looking at him.

It’s almost embarrassing how bad you have it. Still not used to seeing Logan like this - away from your small apartment. 

Seeing him at work was different - a very cognizant realization that you were on the clock. The counter between you like a barrier, even when you slip a coffee and pastry across it. A lightning-quick kiss pressed into his cheek. The relentless teasing from your coworkers, after. 

But here - crammed in a booth, his hand slipping just under the hem of your dress, a palm curved against your thigh - it’s something else, entirely. Even in this dark corner, you have to resist letting your hands wander. Eyes flicking to the deep cut of his button-down flannel - dark hair peeking out from the curve of his white tank. The blue and grey pattern pretty against his skin. 

A curl of smoke pours from his lips, a cigar fit between two fingers. 

Logan had been curious to find you in the apartment when he got home. The aroma of the roast chicken wafting through the space, as you talked Wade through the last steps. The slow sweep of his eyes over the pretty sundress you wore, tugged from the back of your closet. 

It hadn’t taken much convincing, when you asked him to get dinner out with you. Even with Althea in tow, safely dropped off for her night out. 

“This is nice.” You smile, and his eyebrow lifts.

A glance around the room.

Dinner spent at a local pizza joint - stories shared, wound between updates about his new job at the local lumber company. About Laura, who you met two weeks ago. So much like Logan that it still catches you off-guard. Shared expressions, shared tempers. 

You think that it must have been hard for both of them, this reunion. That comparison between the Logan in this world, those memories that stay with her. She views him the same - even you can see that. He’s told you it came as a shock, but it’s easy to see how he’s warmed, with time. Finding joy, within the shared grief.

The conversations spill over into a bar you know well. Unsure what to do with yourselves with the order of “staying away”, the sun still setting when you had stepped inside.

“Not sure nice is the word I’d use, sweetheart.”

“Anywhere is nice if I’m with you. I am sorry, though. I know it’s not-” Your hand waves, shyness creeping in as you lean into his shoulder, “Wasn’t sure where else to kill some time. Dopinder and Buck run a tight ship, it’s really not so bad.”

“Mm. Guess this is nice, then.” He corrects, a hint of a dimple as he smiles, “But you let me take you somewhere safer next time, yeah?”

“I’m safe with you.” 

You miss the way he looks at you, as you take a sip of your drink. The brush of his fingers against your skin. His voice going low, goosebumps rising as he murmurs in your ear. 

“How much longer do we have to stay out?”

A question that’s been on your mind as well. 

“Well, Al’s thing is over at ten,” Your teeth worry at your lip, “But, I guess we could sneak back early. It’s just, Wade-”

“What about Wade?” 

It’s unfair, how he crowds you in the booth. Torso twisting to face you. The warmth of his hand - how you’re aware of each and every movement he makes. It takes you a moment to answer.

“Wade is… Wade,” You manage, “But he doesn’t really ask for much. I owe him, you know?”

“You owe him?” He chuckles, “He’s lucky you stuck around after he tried to give you cocaine-”

“Hey,” You smile, “That was Al.”

That had been your second run-in with your neighbors. Only desperation had sent you over to the apartment, needing a cup of powdered sugar for a personal favor. Under-estimating how much you needed, in your rush to finish some cookies for a friend’s baby shower. 

Meeting Al instead. The powdered substance swapped when her roommate had rearranged the apartment as a prank. Only Wade bursting from the bathroom, a towel slung low from his hips, had saved you from disaster. The nickname had formed when you hadn’t written them both off. 

“And besides, Wade was the one who introduced me to you.”

Logan’s expression softens, “That is something, isn’t it?”

He holds your gaze for a long moment. Eyes drifting lazily down to your lips, with a low hum, then further. It sends a heat blooming in your cheeks, an unconscious press of your thighs together.

“I’m, um, gonna let Dopinder know we’re heading out.” You breathe, “He’ll worry if we irish goodbye.”

“You sure?” He husks, with another exhale of smoke - and you can feel the heat rising from your cheeks to your ears. 

“Yes,” It comes out breathy.

“Um, yeah. You finish that, and I’ll be right back.”

Your elbows pressing into the sticky bartop as you wait - watching Dopinder work his way through pouring pints of beer for a crowd of bikers, all in dark leather.

A glance over your shoulder, finding the booth tucked in the corner. The dark head of hair, the expanse of his shoulders - a thick arm slung across the back - as Logan waits for you. 

It makes you smile, and you almost miss the bump of a shoulder against yours.

“Oh!” You squeak, shifting to the side to make room, “I’m so sorry, I-”

The apology dies on your tongue, as you glance up at the man leaning against the wooden post at the end of the bar. Eyes drifting over the black field jacket, up to dark eyes. 

“Been a while, darlin’.” 

You inhale a breath, in surprise. Close to two years ago, if you remember right. Numerous meetings spread out over months, before he slipped out of your fire escape and into the early morning.

No note, no text. Walking out just as suddenly as he had appeared.

It had never been anything serious - he had made that clear - but you can’t pretend that it hadn’t hurt. 

“It has,” You agree, a low twist in your belly, “How have you been? Didn’t think I’d see you outside Hell’s Kitchen.”

Unable to help that flicker of worry, even after everything. It’s always been ingrained in you - thinking of others more than yourself. 

“Should ask you the same,” His eyebrow arches, “This isn’t your kind of place. Taking up mercenary work, beautiful?”

“I’m here with someone.” It comes out clipped, a glance over your shoulder - the nerves eased when you spot his form.   

“Mountain man?” 

A scoff - lip curling over sharp teeth, “Taking you to a place like this… You can do better than that. You can do-”

“You?” It’s your turn for your brow to raise, “We both know how that goes, Frankie. This-”

A pointed finger, gesturing around the room, “Was my idea. Things are different. I’m different.”

There’s the hint of a smirk - dark eyes that drag slowly down. Flicking back up to yours, as his voice pitches low, “I’m sure some things are the same.”

Your head shakes, “Not like that.”

There are lingering shades of purple that fade to yellow across his cheekbone. Never was good with this. All that time spent glancing out your window, waiting for him to show up, battered and bloody like he used to. All he did was keep you out, keep you at arm’s length.

Maybe that’s why you’re afraid of it happening again. A little shake of your head - a reminder that you need to be patient like Wade said. Logan isn’t him.

“I know what I want, and it’s-” The words die, as you look for him, again. Finding only an empty booth - your stomach tying up into knots. 

A palm touches at your hip, a chest pressing snugly against your back. Startling you, as you breathe, “Logan.”

“This asshole bothering you, sweetheart?” It’s growled out, Logan’s eyes fixed on the other man. 

“Nice guard dog.” There’s an amused appraisal - narrowed eyes, tongue trapped against teeth. “He do tricks as well?

The fingers at your hip curl, the smallest tug backward to bring you closer. The words ground out between bared teeth.

“You watch it.”

Christ. This was bad, you need to find your tongue - and quickly. 

You twist, a hand resting on his chest. Only now does Logan’s eyes drop to yours, the tight pull to his features only just ebbing.

“This is Logan,” You smile, your palm pressing over his heart, “He’s, uh, my-”

And for a brief second, your words fail you. The tension is thick enough to cut, acrid in the air. Would labeling this right now send him running? 

The man cuts through before you can finish.

“Frank Castle.” His eyes flick back to yours, as he adds, “Sure you can guess how we know each other.”

The muscles beneath your palm twitch. A light pressure against your hip, urging you away from the bar - the words low in your ear, “Alright. Let’s go.”

A nod, and you’re giving Frank a tight smile - letting Logan guide you towards the back. No more than a step taken before his voice cuts through.

“You still got my number?”

You shoot him an exasperated look, “Frank-”

“Gonna be back in town for a while, baby girl.” His arms cross, as he leans, “Call me when things don’t work out.”

The words are barely out of his mouth before a fist closes around the collar of his jacket. Logan stepping into his space, a forearm shoving Frank hard as he pins him against the post.

“I’ve had enough of your bullshit, bub.”

Fights are common in Sister Margaret's School for Wayward Children, but you can’t say you’ve ever experienced one. Fear licks inside you, meeting Dopinder’s equally worried gaze as he starts to rush over.

Frank’s smile is dark, “You don’t want to start this.”

It’s met with a growl. Silver points peeking between the dips of Logan’s knuckles, the fabric straining in his tight grip.

“Fucking try me, you piece of shit.”

There’s a metallic click - the press of something cold against Logan’s groin. 

“Should shoot your dick off for that.” 

“Okay!” You shove between them, then. A hand on Logan’s arm, tugging - the other at his neck, trying to guide him back to you. 

“Hey. It’s okay,” It’s softer now, soothing, “Baby, let’s go.”

His hazel eyes are wild when they find yours. Face twisted in a snarl, deepened with the shadows cast in the dim room. Blinking, as he comes back to himself. A dark look as his arm eases - stepping away.

This time, it’s you that leads him towards the back exit. Something gritted out as you leave that you miss, but sends Logan bristling. An apologetic look thrown at Dopinder, before you’re stepping together through the swinging door, into the wood-paneled hallway. 

Ducking down one of the hallways, next to matching doors leading to bathrooms, and a storage closet. An exit sign, gleaming red at the end. 

The music and voices are muffled. His face silhouetted in the light of a vintage beer sign, his features outlined in gold as his back presses against the wall. A gritted, inhaled breath.

You haven’t seen him like this before. Seen him mad several times. Grouchy and annoyed with Wade. The sharp temper that hid his hurt when he thought you didn’t want him.

None of those moments match him now. You’re not sure what to make of it - the way your skin prickles. Something in your belly flutters, a warmth that drips from behind your ribs, settling low. You never wanted anyone to get hurt. But that look in his eyes, how quick we was to find you - it makes you inhale a breath.

“We-,” You start - your fingers still curled around his bicep, “We should talk about this. You okay, Logan?”

His eyes flick to yours, jaw working. The fury has bled from them, the sharp etches in his face easing, even as his expression stays guarded. 

“Yeah. ‘m fine.” Logan rasps, “Didn’t like the way he was looking at you.”

A beat, before it slips from him, “Was he one of the ones Wade scared away?”

“What?” It takes you a long moment to remember. Your brow pinching, as you shake your head,” Frank? No. It was-”

The pull of his brow is back, his frown deepening with your explanation. 

“It was just casual.” You finish, lamely, “It wasn’t anything. Never was.”

“Didn’t sound that way.” It’s gritted out. 

His head turns, eye contact dropping. A hand, raking through his hair - pushing the dark strands back, “Listen. If you want to go with him, it’s fine.”

You’re left stunned for a moment. His jaw working, hands jamming into his pockets. It’s defensive - it’s familiar. 

“I don’t want to go with him-” You start, but it only makes him sigh. 

“Then what were you gonna say, Sugar?” The look he finally gives you is searching, “I’m your, what-, your neighbor?”

“No!” You cry, “I was going to say you’re my boyfriend, but you’ve never-”

Logan’s pitches low, “I’ve never what?”

Your shoulders droop. Curling around yourself, as you lean into the wall next to him. He leans, matching your height - trying to catch your eyes. 

“I don’t know, Logan.” It’s almost too quiet to hear. He might have, if he had been anyone else. “I told you I liked you the day after meeting you. But you…”

A little shake of your head, “You keep everything so close to your chest. You leave in the night. It’s okay, I just… sometimes I don’t know what to think.”

When his arms cross this time, there’s something in his eyes. A dark glimmer, the tug of his lips.

“You think that I don’t like you, sweetheart?”

A tilt of his head, a sharp edge slipping into his tone, “You think I wasn’t ready to tear that asshole limb from limb for talking to my girl that way?”

Something low in your belly twists, desire thrumming in an echo that radiates through you. A sharp inhale of breath at his words.

“I didn’t know you felt that way.” You manage, transfixed.

It’s easier, this time, for him to step into you. Hands ghosting along your neck. Tipping your face to his, so you can’t look away. Can’t miss what he tells you.

“If-, if I open up.” It comes out hushed, his words soft and low, “You won’t like what you see, Sugar.” 

You reach for him - fingers curling around his wrists, “I like what I see just fine.”

He huffs. The barest hint of a smile, before his expression goes solemn. 

“This,” The word is punctuated by the way his thumb sweeps against your cheek, “Never goes well for me. Sleeping on the couch puts me between you and anything coming through that door.”

Your pulse races with the remorse in his words. He’s touched on the barest of details of his past. Those small moments shared in the night you met, riddled confessions in the late nights that have followed. 

“And the things I dream about-,” His eyes go hazy - lost in a memory, “They pull me back. I don’t want to hurt you because I can’t tell them from reality.”

The words slip from you automatically, without thought. Guilt floods through you, an ache from wondering - doubting. 

“You won’t hurt me.” 

“I will.” He breathes, “Sweetheart, I will. It’s not an if, it’s a when.”

Your head shakes - a stubborn set of your jaw, “You won’t. Please don’t shut me out, Logan. Please try…”

He huffs - eyes dropping to your mouth, as he leans. Hands slipping to cup your head, angle you to meet the press of his lips. A soft sigh that you swallow, something tender in the way he draws you to him. A hand curling around your back, splaying between your shoulder blades.

“Give me some time, okay?” Logan murmurs, when the kiss breaks, “Let me draw out the first good thing I’ve had in a long time. Just for a little longer.”

“Don’t have to draw it out.” Your body still curves to his, anchoring yourself to him. A hand touching his jaw so this time, his eyes have to stay on you.

“You deserve good things, Logan.” Your mouth brushes his, “Let me give them to you.”

The sound he makes is almost wounded, as if he wants to protest. 

As if he wants to believe you.

Breath ragged, as his hands trace down to grip at your hips. Leaning into you, your touch. What you offer him. A thigh fitting between yours, nudging against your core - and you think surely he must see how your eyes darken.

The rapid flutter of your heart, how it races for him and only him.

“Yeah?” He husks, as if reading your mind, “You ready to get out of here, Sugar?”

“Bathroom.” You breathe.

“Can’t wait that long.”

He’s on you the second the door swings shut. Fingers twisting at the lock, as his head dips - mouth finding yours again.

There’s a desperation to his kiss this time. One that you match with the way your palms trace up his chest. Fingertips at his neck, tugging him to meet you.

A thrill shoots up your spine. You’ve never done anything quite like this before. The space behind your ribs is soft and tender from his confession - already breathless before he deepens the kiss.

Backing you up against the old, chipped vanity that lines the wall. The stalls hanging open - empty as his hands trail down your spine. Fitting beneath the curve of your ass, tugging you up to fit on the counter. 

Finding your jaw again - guiding your lips to his, meeting the sweep of your tongue as he fits between your thighs. 

“Been wanting to get my hands on you all night.” He breathes, against your lips, “So fucking pretty, you know that?”

It sends a pulse through you, down to where you’re already responding to his touch. Your knees close around his hips, urging him closer. 

“Logan, please,” You hum, fingers tugging at his belt buckle. A palm pressing against the front of his jeans, where his cock strains against the denim. 

His moan is ragged, bucking into your touch. Fingers tracing up your waist. Letting your tits fill his palm, as you work him free.

“This okay?” Logan rasps, eyes half-lidded, “Pretty fuckin’ filthy, sweetheart.”

It’s hard to hold back a moan of assent, when his lips presses against your neck. Open-mouthed kisses up the column of your throat, the scrape of teeth pressing into your jugular.

“Good,” He growls against your skin, “Would’ve bent you over that fucking bar if you’d let me.”

It’s possessive. It makes you shiver - a sweep of his tongue, the suck of lips as he marks you. The sharp sting of his bite fading into sweet bliss. 

“Need you.” Your fingers wrap around his cock, stroking. The lightest of tugs to bring him closer, your thighs inching further apart.

He groans, “You have me.”

The pretty dress you wear is pushed up to your waist. His palm cupping you, feeling your warmth before he’s tugging the fabric of your panties to the side. 

Need rushes through you. A heave of your chest against his as your mouth meets his, greedy. A tilt of your hips, a leg lifting to hitch around his waist. Your hand curling around the edge of the counter, the other guiding the tip of his cock against your slick folds.

“Hold on, honey.” Logan’s fingers slip against your pussy, nudging inside, “Gonna be sore.”

“I can take it,” You insist, pleading, “I can take you, wanna feel it.”

His eyes darken. A little inhale of breath, watching as your lips part as two fingers press deep. Your teeth already sink into your bottom lip, muffling a whine.

Slipping them free, after crooking inside you. Wrapping his hand around his cock, a rough stroke to smear your slick around him. Lining the tip up with your opening, as his hands fit against your waist. His hips pressed snugly against the chipped counter, as he begins to tug you to meet him. 

You can feel every inch, as he moves you. He splits you open, your shoulders arching against the dirty mirror as your nails bite into the laminate. A hand pressed against his chest, as you urge him to go slow. 

A held breath coming in a rush, as he slips deeper inside you with a grunt. Filling that ache you’ve been carrying - your eyes dropping down to watch the slick shine of his cock. Sinking into you with the slow saw of his hips, a clink of his belt with movement. 

“Just for me, yeah?” He rasps, a hand drifting down. Fingers splitting where he fills you, drawing slick tips up to circle your clit.

“Just you.” You nod, breathless. Rocking into his touch, taking more as you adjust to the weight of him inside you. 

His teeth flash white, in the dim room.

“That’s my girl.”

The moan you’ve been holding back slips from you, as you clench down hard around him.

He hums, “You like that?”

“Yes.” You whine. Reaching for him, as he tugs you closer. The slow plunge of his hips turning into a shallow grind.

Fingers circling and pressing, in rhythm with the heady drag of his cock against your walls. Your fingers grasping onto his arms, his shoulders - the kiss is messy when he meets the tilt of your head. 

Leaning into you as his tongue licks into the cup of your mouth, your tits pressed up against his chest. A broad hand slipping from your waist, curving against the swell of your ass and squeezing.

“That’s it,” He rumbles against your mouth - eyes half-lidded. A groan when you nip his lower lip - grinning at the way you gasp, when his hips surge forward, “Atta girl, taking me so well.”

Each swipe against your clit feels like a countdown - hips angling until he finds that spot inside you that makes your teeth click together. That slickens him up even further, until he’s pounding into your wet, tight heat. 

Your fingers pinch down. Breath going short, until you’re panting. Unable to do more than buck into his touch, as the pleasure threatens to overwhelm you.

“Couldn’t even wait to get home,” Logan growls, “Needed this cock so badly, didn’t you?”

“Needed you,” You whine, hips rocking to meet his. Eyes fluttering shut, as the winding pressure builds, “Fuck, needed you. Gonna make me-”

The words break on a bitten-back whimper. Your muscles go stiff, bracing yourself in his arms. 

“Want you to look at me, sweetheart.” He coos, with that steady roll of his hips. Nudging deep inside you each time, as his fingers circle against your clit, “Eyes on me when you come, alright?”

Your answer is a breathless nod, as you listen. 

You don’t think you could look away if you tried. Not with him right in front of you. So close you can see the pull of his brow in concentration, the pretty shade of his eyes. 

Fixed on you, as his lips part. The soft pant and grunt as desire throbs in your veins, your fingers curling into a fist in his flannel.

“Come for me, baby.” He urges, “Wanna feel you, let me fucking feel you come.”

It’s there, swirling inside you. Liquid heat between your thighs, yanking you to an invisible edge. Leaving you to dangle, breath held -

“Oh my god, Logan-“

You’re falling - clenching down hard around him. His name is a chanted prayer as he fucks you through it - a ragged, pleased sound rumbling in this throat as you pulse around his cock. The slap of his hips growing louder, more wet as your release coats his cock. His base and balls sticky, when they press flush to your cunt.

“That’s it,” He growls. Fingers leaving your clit, so he can grip your waist. Drive into you harder, chasing his own impending release.

“Come on, that’s my girl.”

It’s pulled from you, sweet and smooth.

“Yours.”

Logan’s moan is ragged, coming from low in his chest. His pace stutters - the steady thrust turning sloppy. A messy rut of his hips, grinding himself as deep as he can before he finds himself again. 

You forget the dingy bar. The flickering overhead lights. Filth and phone numbers scrawled on the walls. Everything narrows down to him.

How he holds you. Looks at you -  so much said in the way they soften. You don’t know how you ever could have doubted. 

Blinded with uncertainty. Fears from before, that will no longer have a hold on you. 

“Logan,” You sigh, your heel digging into the curve of his ass. Eyes still on his, as your plea slips from you, “Fuck. Don’t pull out.”

You want to feel him. The throb of his cock when he comes deep inside you. How he lingers, slick and dripping from you - now, and later, and tomorrow. 

A gritted-out groan, as the sharp tempo increases. Fingers pinching hard enough to bruise, and you’ll wear him there, too - fading marks against your hips. 

“Yeah?” Logan husks - that look back in his eyes. Pupils blown wide, as his lips part with a groan, “Gonna be my good girl, gonna fucking take it?”

“Mhm,” It pitches high, as you nod. 

“Fuck.”

It comes out choked, as he loses himself in you. One, two, three thrusts, and Logan is growling - hands slipping down to tug you flush against him, as he spills inside you with a muffled shout. 

Hips grinding himself deep into you, his words a rough rasp in your ear, “Take it. Just like that.”

He pulses inside you, filling you with each twitch of his cock. Marking you fully, as he tests his teeth against your shoulder. A moan, as your thighs hitch around his hips - nudging him deep, where you’re wet and warm and wrapped around him.

Leaving him to grind every last drop into you, slumping back when his grip finally loosens. Your limbs feel like liquid lead, head tipped back against the glass. A groan muffled against your neck, as your fingers slip beneath the tugged-open flannel.

Nails scratching along his back, the tight muscles beneath easing.

“Boyfriend, huh?” Logan hums when he finally leans back - and you already miss his hands on you, as they shift to brace against the counter.

It feels cruel that he teases you like this. When you swear you can still feel the throb of his cock inside you. When he’s still sheathed to the hilt.

You groan, “Don’t make fun of me, Logan.”

“‘m not sweetheart,” He huffs, eyes going soft.

“I’ll be anything you want me to be.”

There’s something off about your apartment - he can sense it the moment they make it to the landing. 

This is exactly what he had been trying to tell you. The when, not if, something will go wrong. His senses flickering into overdrive, nostrils flaring. 

Catching the light that creeps from under the door, when he knows you clicked it off. His hand automatically leaves yours, reaching out to tuck you safely behind him.

“Logan?” There’s confusion in your voice, a hand at his shoulder.

He shushes you, his words a low growl.

“Someone’s in your apartment. Stay here, sweetheart.”

There’s the soft snick of his claws, your fingers untwisting from his shirt. A breath, and then his hand is closing around the knob - a sharp jerk of his fist as his shoulder slams into the wood.

Teeth bared, as he bursts into your apartment with a snarl. 

All that fury bleeds to relief, and then disappointment.

“How’d you get in here?” Logan grits, his claws sheathing. 

Your voice joins his, from where you had peeked around the doorframe, “You okay, Wade?”

Hazy, morose eyes peer back at him - a hand lifting to wiggle “baby knife” at him. A newly-opened bottle of your cooking sherry in the other - a plate balanced on his chest, filled with a half-eaten chicken breast and vegetables. Legs stretched out on your sofa, Dogpool curled between his ankles. 

“She didn’t show,” Wade mutters, with a miserable smile, “Didn’t want to be alone.”

Logan can’t help the soft flicker in his chest when you go to him. Sinking to your knees by the couch - moving the plate to the coffee table, lifting Dogpool into your arms. She licks your chin as Wade lets loose a long, drawn-out sigh - flipping to face the back of the couch. 

"What was the point of the first two movies?" The words are muffled into the fabric, "Why would Disney do something like this? We were picking out baby names for fuck’s sake-"

“I’m so sorry,” You soothe - a hand on his back, “What can I do to help? Can I get you anything?”

Wade’s head turns to the side, with a long sigh.

“Thor’s phone number.”

“How about I take this,” You tug at the bottle, until it loosens, “And I text Peter? We can have a movie night, okay?”

He turns further, until he’s facing you again, “Even that one you hate?”

"Don’t hate it." You sigh, “It’s just so sad. I don’t know why it’s your favorite.”

“It’s not my fault they made that tree star look so goddamn delicious.”

You’re beckoning Logan over, a gesture to take his place. You hand on his arm, beseeching - but you don’t have to beg this time. The snarling dog inside him calmed - the fury from the bar and from the hallway ebbing at your touch. He can still feel your lips against his, when his eyes close.

The uncomfortable itch of opening up oneself still lingers, but it’s soothed by the way you smile at him in thanks. By the words that he still clings to.  

Logan has to fold himself into the space, knees folding. Mary Puppins tucked in the crook of his elbow - his other hand patting against a curved-in shoulder. 

Sincerity, as he offers, "Tough luck, bub.”

“It’s her loss.” You call, thumbs tapping away a message. 

“Her loss.” Logan echos, “You’re… you’re a good man, Wade. It’ll work out.”

It comes out clumsy. It always does - he never had a silver tongue like the Professor did. His edges as sharp as his claws, never one to waste words if his fist could do the job. 

Wade flips back over. The hint of a smile, “That’s the second nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Before his eyes are flicking over to where you pace, voice lowering.

“And I gotta ask, did you maul Sugar? What is with that mark on her neck?”

Logan huffs, lips twitching.  

“We’re all set,” You smile, “Your Emotional Support Peter is on his way. He’s bringing Al and some ice cream.”

A glance his way, the question written so plainly in your eyes - the lift of your brow. “That okay?”

It’s not the way he imagined this night going.

Had thought he’d take you to bed when he got back. Take things slower, this time.

Using his touch and the greedy press of his mouth to make sure you understand that he heard every word you told him. That he meant each one he said back - make sure you never made the mistake of thinking he didn’t care for you again.

But when he looks at you - how you’re ready to sweep into the kitchen to make some popcorn, he thinks-

That he might just prefer this. Even as messy as it is. 

He smiles back. 

The couch is crammed with far too many people. Five squeezing into a space meant for three at best. You’ve been half perched on his lap all night, his arm slung over your shoulder - tempted to pull you the rest of the way.

A couple months ago, his skin would have crawled to be this close to others. Would have peeled himself away with a scathing word and a sharper bite.  

But something softened him, during his time in this world. Days, to weeks, to months. 

Couldn’t go back, he knows that now. All the wishing and TVA TemPads couldn’t undo what was done - he’s known that for a while. It would take a long time, but he could try to come to terms with what happened. Try to do better, moving forward.

Starting with himself. A scrap of paper - snatched from a bottom of a flier with a brightly-printed 12-step program, shoved deep into his leather jacket pocket. Relearning how to be patient with others, and even more so with himself. Trying to listen what you and Wade told him.

He’s done walking away from things. You make him believe that whenever, if ever, he manages to open that tightly-sealed lid… you’ll stay.

The thought is one that he'll cling to.

“Alright. Enough bullshit.”  

It’s announced, as the credits roll - breaking him out of his thoughts. A creak of the couch as Wade shifts - crammed between you and Al, his head twisting on her shoulder to peer over his way. 

“‘m being serious now.” He insists, though the words slur together - the bottle stolen back during the movie and drained, “I’m so happy my two besties are falling in love, even if I am a jealous little bitch.”

A gasp, as he remembers - a reaching over to pat Peter’s shoulder, “Not that I’m forgetting about you, sugar bear. You too, Blind Al. I’d be just as happy if you two were dating. It'd be like a less fucked-up Harold and Maude."

A derisive snort from Al. 

Peter smiles, “Just happy to be here, pal.”

“Anyways, life sucks balls. Big, fat, sloppy, wet, balls, but goddamn if seeing you two happy doesn’t fill me with hope.”

Logan can hear the hitch in your breath. The pressure of your fingers, entwined with his. Embarrassment flickering across your face, when you are unable to help glancing his way. 

Exasperation and something else mixing in when you meet his gaze. Something soft and tender and directed so solely at him, that for a moment - he forgets to breathe.

Falling in love, huh?

Yeah. He might just be. 

a/n: i adore frank castle, haha. i thought he would be a fun person to pull in for a jealous!logan scenario - and thank so from the bottom of my heart for all the love on sugar, sugar - I honestly had no idea so many of you would like it, and I can’t tell you how much it means to read your sweet asks and comments 💖 this is all I have planned for them right now, thank you for letting me share this series with you!!! (though I am definitely not done writing for logan!)

[joonberriess]

e s p r e s s o

⋆ TAGS — boxer!jk, he’s a fanboy, pouty jkkkkkk, oc’s a idol, sugar daddy elements, fluffy, rom-com vibess, jk’s secretly a little sub who loves praise, praise kinks, making love, jealous!jk, possessive!jk, rough sex, pussy-eating, unprotected sex, creampies, very light dirty talk, oc’s a tease, jk just loves oc, some violence (nothing serious jk punches a guy), oc’s a pillow princess, mainly dom!jk, subby!oc who is a menace, jk is super protective and a good bf, he beats someone up for you, tit play

⋆ WORD COUNT — 14.6 k

Jeon Jungkook was many things—charismatic, “lover boy”, charming—but the biggest one of all: a pain in the ass (for Yoongi). Jungkook was the type of guy to do whatever he wanted WHEN he wanted.

The kid had a strong backbone, Yoongi will give him that but it was an absolute nightmare dealing with the press for someone like Jungkook. Yoongi can count on his fingers how many times Jungkook’s gotten into heat for his loud ass mouth. Sometimes not all publicity was necessary whether it was good or bad in Yoongi’s opinion (not that anyone’s ever asked).

“Where is he? That little shit–” Yoongi growls behind gritted teeth as he storms through the gym towards the private training room Jungkook usually practiced in.

He slams the door open and locks eyes with his target, “There you are–!”

Jungkook stops in his tracks and turns around in surprise, “Hyung?” He’s confused as fuck because he’s been behaving himself lately, sooo what did he do now? “Yoongi hyung—ow! What the hell was that for?”

“How many times did I tell your ass to keep your little flings under the radar? I told you: if you’re gonna be fooling around with people do it on the down low but no, you just gotta fucking let the world know huh?” Yoongi seethes, literally trembling with rage from where Jungkook stands.

Jungkook makes a confused noise, “But I didn’t–”

“Then, what. The. Fuck. Is this?” Yoongi slaps his phone in Jungkook’s face, on it there’s some tweet with an article linked to it.

Jungkook squints his eyes mumbling under his breath as he reads the tweet out loud, “..Idol l/n y/n caught in a dating scandal with infamous boxer Jeon Jungkook–what’s the big deal though, everyone usually ignores these types of things.”

Yoongi looks like he wants to scream, “Kid you realize you’re a celebrity right?” Nod. “Okay, and she’s a celebrity too right?” Nod. “So why in the FUCK wouldn’t this be a big deal? I mean, it’s not like we’re not talking about the nation’s ‘sweetheart’ here, the country’s fucking pride and joy.” He really needs a fucking smoke right now.

“Hyung it’s just a fucking rumor she probably doesn’t even care or know about it, I don’t see why you’re stressing out. Not like I know her either,” Jungkook carelessly says as he throws a few punches at the bag, “you’re gonna end up bald with how you’re stressing right now.”

Yoongi takes a deep breath, in, out, in, out. “Because, idiot,” emphasis on the idiot, “this shit is getting out of control, you have any idea how many fucking news outlets are talking about this? For fucks sake the entire country is in shambles cause their ‘precious’ y/n is supposedly dating some lowlife boxer, no biggie really it’s not like I haven’t been getting threats either over this little stunt of yours.” He glares.

Jungkook lets out an exasperated sigh as he stops in his tracks, “Hyung I didn’t do anything, so fucking what if I posted a pic with my photocard, it’s MY photocard! Don’t her fans do that shit too, so why is it a problem that I do it too?”

“Because people think you’re dating now! They think you’re soft launching her or something!” Yoongi tugs at his hair, “You realize if people find out you fucked with her just to get in her bed they’re gonna lose it and not just on her but you mainly. You want a fucking witch hunt out for you? Because you know damn well they love her more than you.”

“Ouch.” Jungkook grumbles petulantly.

“No, ouch, use your fucking brain think about the damage you’ll take all because you wanted to fuck their little princess.” Yoongi glares.

Jungkook’s almost offended that Yoongi would think of him like that. Sure he had his fair share of groupies and models but Jungkook wasn’t a complete asshole about it! He had feelings too, he’s not sorry that he was fucking casually like any other normal person who was looking to unwind. It also isn’t his fault that they labeled him a playboy.

In the eyes of the public Jungkook was a menace as there were rumors of him knocking models up and cheating on the girls he’s ever gotten spotted with. Everyday he woke up and there was something new that came out whether it was him “dating” or his flings coming out to talk about their one night stands.

Needless to say he didn’t have the best public image.

“Okay let me stop you there, I’m not after her for sex or anything. If you really want to know, I'm actually interested in her. I wanna get to know her some more and take things further y’know?” He huffs and wipes the sweat off his brow with his shirt.

Yoongi scoffs, “Yeah right, I’ll believe it when I see it.” As he finishes his sentence the door opens and Namjoon pops in with Seokjin, the two team members hauling in some duffle bags in tow.

“What’s going on? The hell Yoongi look so red for?” Namjoon huffs as he drops the bag gracelessly, “Jungkook what did you do now?” He clicks his tongue in disappointment, tutting him like a misbehaved child.

Jungkook’s mouth drops open, this traitor! He’s supposed to be on his side, not Yoongi’s. Seokjin interrupts with a loud cackle, “What didn’t he do?” Another traitor! Jungkook can’t believe this, his own hyungs against him.

“Long story short Romeo over here is in a dating scandal—not with just anybody though, fucking l/n y/n. Y’know, the poster child.” Yoongi spits harshly, shooting Jungkook another pissy look while he’s at it.

Namjoon’s mouth drops open in shock, Seokjin actually looks pretty terrified too which is funny because if only he could see the face he’s making right now.

“No way you’re insane for that, shit good luck with the press because they don’t play about their little popstar.” Namjoon manages to utter once the shock passes.

Jungkook glares, “I didn’t do anything! They’re mad I’m showing off my photocard, I bet you that they’re jealous because they don’t have this one.” He huffs and thrusts his phone out to show them his phone case.

“What exactly did you do?” Seokjin laughs.

“Nothing! I posted a mirror pic and I didn’t expect a bunch of crazies to over analyze shit and spot the photocard. Not like it’s MY fault people make up narratives and shit.” Jungkook rolls his eyes and tucks his phone away safely in his pocket, “But you know what, just wait and see.”

“Wait and see what?” Namjoon snorts in amusement.

“Hyung doesn’t believe me but I’m serious about her, I’m gonna ask her out and from there maybe talk and get to know each other. One thing for sure she’s gonna be my girl unless she slaps me in the face and tells me to leave her alone or somethin,” Jungkook grins as he elbows his still pissed off manager.

Seokjin looks at him with a shit-eating grin, “Sure let me know how that ends up going for you.”

Jungkook purses his lips, “You’ll see..”

𓂃 ﾟ｡ ⋆ ⟡

They end up in Miami for a boxing match Jungkook has pending but his opponent ended up coming down with something so it got canceled. Now Jungkook has no clue what to do for an entire week and it doesn’t help that he’s jet lagged, hungry, and tired. Not a good combination.

“Did they say when the match will be back on?” Jungkook mumbles boredly from his spot on the lounge chair in his hotel. He’s slumped over scrolling down his phone looking at random shit on his feed.

“Hard to tell Kook, apparently the guy’s really sick and can barely get outta bed or somethin’. They said it was better to wait it out for a week and see what happens with him.” Yoongi sighs deeply, “Fuck, just our luck too.”

Jungkook nods in agreement, “What do we do now hyung? Do we go back or..?”

Yoongi takes a seat on the opposite side of him with a shrug, “Dunno, do whatever you want since the match is canceled. Me and Joon gotta stay back to talk with the event organizers and shit.”

He goes quiet for a few moments before sitting up, “Oh wait there’s an award show going on right now, they sent me an invite for you but I don’t know if you wanna go or not.”

“Award show?” Jungkook makes a face but what other shit does he have to do? It’s not like he’s got a match anymore anyways, maybe the after party will be cool or something. “I guess, why do they want me there?”

“Appearances for the press—you know, the usual.” Yoongi hums.

Jungkook’s lips are pursed as he looks around deep in thought. DOES he wanna go? It’s not like this would be the first time they’ve asked him to make an appearance but Jungkook doesn’t really like these types of things. Red carpets and interviews are so tedious and time consuming.

Wait—

“Hyung!” He suddenly gasps, “Holy shit—pass me my suit.” He says as he bolts away into the bathroom.

Yoongi looks at him in confusion, “What..kid what the hell are you on?” He snorts, “Don’t tell me you’re excited to go to this thing.” Nonetheless he still takes out Jungkook’s suit for him and lays it on the bed.

“No you don’t understand,” Jungkook cuts off as he splashes his face with water, “y/n is probably gonna be there!”

“y/n—Jungkook really?” Yoongi groans, “I thought you were playing around last time, I didn’t think you were actually serious about it.”

Jungkook holds back his whine, “Hyung you always think I’m playing around, why isn’t anyone taking me seriously about her! I swear I have good intentions.”

“I dunno, maybe cause you have a habit of sleeping with anything that walks and looks pretty to you. Or maybe the fact that you’ve done this before. Should I remind you of that one model from Cancun?” Jungkook pouts, “Or the bartender chick from LA?” His pout deepens, “Or the girl from Paris?”

“Okay I get it!” Jungkook grumbles, “But this time I’m serious hyung, more than I ever been about someone—especially her.” He says with a sigh while changing out of his clothes and into the suit Yoongi laid out for him.

Yoongi sighs deeply, “Look all I’m saying is to be careful how you go about this, it’s a lot at stake right now not just because of you being involved with her but the fact that the public has their opinions about you already as it is.”

Jungkook appreciates the sentiment but he doesn’t need anyone to approve or disagree about his feelings. The public didn’t deserve any explanations over what Jungkook chooses to do with his life, he’s here to fight and that’s it. Not to be anyone’s marionette or dress-up doll.

“I know hyung, thanks.” He smiles back and slips his blazer on, “I’ll text you later on and tell you what happens.” Yoongi doesn’t reply verbally rather with a low grunt, “See ya.” Jungkook says with a final grin and heads out of the room down to the main lobby and into a car Yoongi had waiting for him.

On the way to the venue he checks out the award show on Instagram, he sees a lot of people he recognizes and a few new faces. His eyes scan over the page eagerly in hopes of seeing you on there. Are you performing tonight? Were you already there on the red carpet? Oh he bets you look absolutely divine tonight (you always do).

“Yes!” He says a bit too loudly startling his driver in the process as he sheepishly apologizes.

Jungnkook finally comes across a post about you and he reads over the caption with an excited hum, biting his lip when he sees that you are performing after all. He’s getting a mean adrenaline rush right now like the ones he usually gets before his matches. Just thinking about how he’s gonna get to meet you tonight is getting him all worked up. He wonders if you’ll even give him the time of day.

Only one way to find out.

.

“Jeon over here!”

“Jeon, look here!”

“Jeon, is it true you and y/n are dating?” Jungkook makes a point to ignore this and act like he didn’t hear it even though he’s screaming on the inside.

The red carpet’s full of singers and models, the fans are screaming and reporters keep getting in his damn way as he tries to make his way through the crowd. Of course he stops for a picture or two with a fan, poses for the paparazzi too but he’s not concerned with them right now. He knows he must look a little lost with the way he keeps looking around like he’s trying to find something (yeah, you).

Jungkook almost frowns like a child who didn’t get their way once he sees you’re not anywhere in sight. You probably already headed inside which sucks cause he really wanted to see you beforehand since it was probably arranged seating in there. At this rate he won’t be able to even say hi–

“Oh shit, my bad.” Jungkook says when he bumps into someone behind him. He turns around to apologize properly when his heart fucking stops. Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod—it’s you.

You look up at him with those dreamy eyes of yours, face scrunched up cutely (your lips pouty) in confusion as you tilt your head up (UP!) to look at him, “Um, you’re stepping on my dress.” Even your voice is so prettyyy.

“Sorry my fault,” Jungkook steps back and kneels down to fix the rumpled state he left it in, vaguely aware of the fast flashing (the paparazzi must be eating this up), “lemme make it up to you though.” He says once he comes back up.

You tilt your head, “And how would you do that?”

“I’ll buy you a new dress.” Jungkook’s dead serious too, if you asked him to buy you a whole house he’d do it in a heartbeat. Take everything at this point—have it.

“And who said I want you to buy me things?” You muse softly.

Jungkook chuckles softly and leans down to talk in your ear because the crowd’s getting louder and it’s hard to talk to you, “Don’t be like that, if you let me take you out I’ll show you all the things I can buy you.” He murmurs low, voice husky.

You tilt your head to look at him, eyes dropping down to his lips and then back up as a coy smile plays at your soft lips, “You’re funny.” You pat his cheek with a soft manicured hand and walk away.

His heart nearly skips a damn beat when you do that. Oh he swears he can still feel your soft hand sliding over his cheek when you walked away from him like the little tease you were. He doesn’t know how long he stands there until he gets moving, a stupid grin on his face the entire time as he replays the moment over and over again in his head.

Jungkook’s not gonna lie, this little cat and mouse game that just started has him eager for more. He’s so getting your number by the end of the night, call him delusional but he swears you’re digging him too with the way you checked him out just now.

He spends the entire night throwing a few sneaky glances your way, hell when you got on stage to perform he nearly folded then and there. Everything about it—sultry gaze, soft husky voice, and sensual body rolls—was perfect. Jungkook don’t even care that people are watching him ogle you in 4K, he doesn't bother to hide the fact that he likes what he’s seeing right now.

To make things worse you pass by his seat and shoot him a dazzling little smile, waving your fingers coyly at him which makes the people go wild. Oh he’s in love. Jungkook makes a point in looking for you afterwards at the afterparty. You’re changed out of your outfit from earlier, now in a pretty babydoll and your little Prada loafers.

When he makes eye contact you shoot him a smile, “Thought I’d wear something you can’t step on again.”

Jungkook snorted softly, “I already told you, I dunno why you’re being stubborn, quit playing and let me take you out already.” He says smoothly and wraps his arm around your waist, surprised that you don’t push him off or anything.

You look him up and down with a soft hum, “Mmmm I’m kinda in the mood for some paella.”

“Then let’s go.” Jungkook’s ready, he will literally drop everything to get you some paella.

“Not from here though, I hear it’s way better in Spain.” You wrap your arms around his neck, tugging him down so he’s eye level with you, “So unless you’re willing to take me to Spain, I’m not going anywhere.”

Jungkook licks his lips, “Fuck it, let’s go.” He starts leading you away, peeping the way you look surprised, “What?” He laughs.

“You’re serious, right now?” Once you recover from the initial shock you smile at him with a quiet giggle, “You’re crazy.”

Oh he just adores that cute eye-smile of yours, “Let’s get you some paella yeah?”

It’s a nine hour flight you both impulsively leave on with no bags, didn’t even tell your managers, and only your phones and wallets. No one questions when Jeon Jungkook walks through first class hand in hand with you trailing close by, you’re even wearing his blazer over your shoulders because you complained about how chilly it was.

Jungkook’s smiling like an idiot the entire time he’s sitting with you in the first class cabin. You don’t seem to mind how touchy he is so he keeps an arm over your shoulder so you’re pressed close to his side. He nearly screams when you lay your head on his shoulder and doze off into a peaceful slumber.

You left Miami around one in the morning and got to Madrid at nine with Jungkook booking you two a room at the infamous Four Seasons hotel. You knock out with him for a few more hours until you’re complaining about your paella.

“Hurry up, I'm starving and you promised me my paella.” You grumble and poke at his face.

“Yeah, yeah I’m awake.” Jungkook murmurs calmly as he rolls out of the bed to make himself presentable.

Jungkook feels like he’s in a dream right now, god this better not be because the sight of you looking so happy in front of him while eating your beloved paella is one for the books. Your little brunch date turns into a shopping date because you complain you don’t wanna be wearing clothes from yesterday since the two of you decided to stay in Spain for the weekend.

He has a goofy smile on his face as he swipes, taps, and inserts his black card at different stores you drag him to. He lets you spend his money how you want to, relishing in the way the BVLGARI store worker’s eyes nearly bulge out of their head when Jungkook pays for a forty-eight thousand wrist watch, all for you.

“Doesn’t it look pretty?” You grin softly while holding your wrist out to him.

Jungkook gently takes your hand in his and admires the watch, “Perfect, really suits you.” He grins softly as he thanks the employees and heads out with you to another store to see what you find.

By the time Sunday comes Jungkook’s spent well over one-hundred grand on you but does he care? No, not really because he did say he’d show you all the things he’d buy you. Jungkook doesn’t wanna go back to Miami but Yoongi’s bitching at him to go back because apparently his opponent got better and the match was back on and set for Tuesday the earliest.

“Let me make you mine already.” He finds himself mumbling low in your ear as he tugs you into a loose hug, not caring that you two were standing in the middle of the airport about to board different flights back (of course he pays for your first class ticket home).

You look up at him with coy eyes and a soft little smile on your glossy lips, god he just wants to kiss the fuck out of you but he doesn’t because you haven’t give him the okay for anything past non-sexual intimacy which he’s fine with because he does wanna take time to get to know you.

His breath hitches when your finger comes up to trace over his lips gently, “Cute.” You don’t say anything else and walk away after the intercom announces your flight. You leave him standing there in the middle of the airport, dreamier than ever but sadly it’s cut short by his phone ringing.

“Where the hell are you?” Yoongi growls.

“Calm down hyung, I’m boarding in a few minutes.” Jungkook sighs as he rolls his eyes, “I got so much shit to tell you.” He smirks to himself and begins walking.

𓂃 ﾟ｡ ⋆ ⟡

Sometime into the next week when Jungkook lands back in Korea he asks for your number through Instagram. He’s kinda surprised you gave it to him instead of dodging him like before, nonetheless he’s happy and giddy about it. He quite literally looks like a schoolgirl kicking her feet in bed texting her crush, that’s how he feels like right now.

You’re a quick texter which he likes and you don’t seem to mind him spamming so that’s even better. Jungkook spends his week giggling over dumb shit (it’s not) you say which has Seokjin making fun of him for it, which speaking of them they still couldn’t believe Jungkook pulled you.

“No way let me see.” Seokjin had demanded, “You’re lying, she would never, she looks like she has standards.” Jungkook can’t tell if he’s jealous or something, maybe he’s a secret stan too who knows.

Jungkook long established he was down bad for you ages ago but this just took the cake, a whole new level of simping. It starts when Jungkook decides to post a training video of him boxing/training, he goes viral and trends for a week because in the background he’s playing one of your songs. He’s got a shit ton of people calling him a “girly pop” or “cunty boxer” but most tell him he knows what’s up.

He doesn’t know but by him doing that it opens a new door to your developing relationship because you start asking him to do things for you. It starts with you telling him to change his profile picture with a pic from your latest comeback (he gets made fun of by your fans but he doesn’t care).

Then you make him tweet: “stream y/n for clear skin” while promoting your music video through him (again he’s a laughing stock). The nail in the coffin is when you prettily request him to wear a shirt from your merch collection after one of his boxing matches.

“Oh my god.” Yoongi says with his mouth dropped open in shock as Jungkook steps out of the backroom wearing a baby pink t-shirt with your face all over it, the cameras flash like crazy and reporters yell out a slew of different questions.

Jungkook runs around carefree in his little pink shirt posing for the cameras and grinning like an idiot because he knows you’re probably at home watching this. Yoongi asks him why he does these things and Jungkook just shrugs, he likes the praise you give him for doing everything you ask him to. He knows it’s light-hearted fun and you’d never do anything to humiliate him intentionally, if you’re happy then that’s all that matters.

jk: did u see me tonight?

y/n <3: yess lol can’t believe you actually did itttt

you looked super cute too, you should wear more shirts with my face on them.

jk: mayyybeeee you can come to one of my matches? don’t u think i earned it?

y/n <3: when is it?

Jungkook damn nearly yells out in excitement, he’s literally shaking as he types out a fast response like you’re about to change your mind or something. He sends you the time and day for it, promising front row seats so you’ll have a good view as he kicks this guy’s ass. You have him cheesing when you say this is going to be your first boxing match too, he’s so excited now.

“Calm down kid you’re gonna give me a headache with all that tapping.” Yoongi grunts as he slaps his hand against Jungkook’s knee, “I don’t know why you’re nervous, she already told you she’s here.”

“Because hyung! This is a big deal to me, she’s here at one of my matches and she’s gonna get a front row view of the fight. Now I have to win this, I have to make it worth her time.” Jungkook grumbles with a pout.

Somewhere off to the side he hears Namjoon snort at him, “She’s really got you wrapped around her finger don’t she?” He says while hauling in a cooler with water bottles.

Jungkook doesn’t even refute that statement, he barely bothers to acknowledge him because he’s reading over the texts you’re sending him. “Hyung she said yes to coming to the after party!” He grins cheerfully.

“Good now get your head out of your ass and focus on what I’m about to say. You have less than five minutes before you’re up in that ring and I need your head in the game.” Yoongi says sternly as he plucks Jungkook’s phone out of his hand, “You remember what I said about pacing yourself?”

Jungkook sits there listening as Yoongi goes into trainer mode, he knows his hyung means no harm and just wants him to win this so Jungkook can’t really be mad at him. He must have zoned out because Yoongi brings him back with a sharp smack to his arm, “Are you listening to me?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook smiles as he stands up, “let’s do this.”

“Get out there and make me proud.”

The entire atmosphere outside has Jungkook’s adrenaline kicking in already. He hears the crowd chanting his name, the loud booming music, and the chatter from the on-goers. He mentally psyches himself, lightly bouncing on his feet as he closes his eyes and mumbles a small prayer. Once he hears his name echo loudly and the screams he steps out with his gloves in the air.

This is what he lives for—the crowds, the music, and the atmosphere. He looks around the arena with a grin as they chant his name over and over again, stopping here and there to pose with fans. Jungkook’s not entirely focused on them though, his eyes wander through the front row looking for you and when his gaze finally lands on you he can’t help the big smile he sports.

You look so pretty with your MIUMIU glasses over your head. You’ve got on a plain baby white tee under your black leather jacket, some low rise jeans and your loafers. Right now you’re the center of attention in your section with people taking pics of you from every direction and some asking for an autograph. You even brought your little friend (Jeon Soyeon?) along.

As he passes by Jungkook shoots you a wink to which you wave back with a flirty little smile. He doesn’t miss the way your eyes skim over his bare chest and the desire begins fueling him with more determination to win. Sure he likes winning because who doesn’t? But now he has more reason to win, he has to impress his future girl.

Jungkook gets pulled up on stage with his heart drumming against his ribcage, he’s so ready for this. The ref calls out both of them and soon enough after slipping his mouth guard and gloves on he rises to his feet and stalks forward slowly with a glint in his eye.

“I want a clean fight okay,” the ref says to both as Jungkook nods, “alright, to your corners.” He sends them both away, the announcer saying some shit Jungkook doesn’t really concern himself with.

Jungkook makes eye contact with you one last time, the two of you mutually nodding before the sound of a bell has Jungkook immediately shifting his focus. He’s light on his feet and takes his time watching with diligent eyes as his opponent circles around him, waiting to get the hit on him but Jungkook’s faster.

The guy swings but Jungkook easily dodges, another swing and Jungkook manages to catch him off guard with a sucker punch to the jaw sending the guy reeling backwards. Jungkook feels like he had enough time to warm-up, he doesn’t play around anymore and launches himself towards his opponent with determination.

Punch after punch and round after round ends with Jungkook delivering one final blow, easily sealing this poor guy’s fate as the guy just lets go and falls to the ground. The referee jumps in, counting down from ten as Jungkook watches with anticipation and adrenaline, ready to go again if this guy gets up. He sees Yoongi sitting with clenched fists and a hopeful look in his eye, and then he sees you.

You’re looking at Jungkook with worry, eyebrows furrowed and doe eyes filled with concern. He manages a bloody smile despite the fucking world of pain he’s in right now (he’s not looking forward to the ice bath after this). He swears the world around him blurs until he finally hears the bell and the announcer’s voice echoing through the arena.

“Knockout!”

Jungkook sags in relief as he hears cheers and yells all around. The paparazzi flash him with their cameras as the crowd loses it, Jungkook turns in time to see Yoongi crawling into the ring and bringing him in for a tight hug, “You fuckin’ did it kid,” he laughs in disbelief as he has Jungkook spit his bloody mouthguard out.

“Fuck hyung, water.” Jungkook rasps out as Yoongi yells for Namjoon to come over.

“You good?” Yoongi asks, “Look at me kid, you okay?” He pats his cheek as Jungkook nods tiredly given that the adrenaline rush was now gone, leaving him bruised and exhausted.

Namjoon comes over with water as Jungkook takes sips, spitting it out into a bucket Yoongi holds out for him to rinse his mouth out. The referee comes over to announce Jungkook as the winner as he stands there barely holding on from pain. He makes eye contact with you again, smiling through the exhaustion despite feeling pretty shitty right now. He slowly makes his way over as you simultaneously rise from your chair to meet him halfway.

“So, what do you think?” Jungkook smirks as he crouches down and hops out of the ring.

You pout cutely with a frown, “You’re hurt.” You softly murmur as your delicate hand comes up to cup his face, “I’m happy for you though, you did really amazing.” You smile.

Jungkook feels his heart swell with happiness hearing that, he goes to wrap his arm around your shoulder but stops in pain. He forgot about this part as a low groan slips from his lips, “Shit he got me pretty good.”

“Don’t overexert yourself,” you help him wrap an arm around you, “gotta be careful, you took some pretty hard hits in there.”

Jungkook laughs tiredly as he lays his head on top of yours while you walk together to the back, “Shoulda seen the other guy.” He says low, ignoring the pointed glare you shoot at him, “Yeah, yeah, I’m just messing with you.”

You grumble something under your breath but he doesn’t catch it, he’s riding off on the high from winning and being so close to you. He likes this and wouldn’t mind having you in his life more after this as he’s long made peace with the idea of you being in his future. All he can think about at this moment is you, you, you.

.

“Say you can't sleep, baby, I know that's that me, espresso,”

Jungkook’s laughing and talking with his friends, he’s got you wrapped up in his arms pressed against his chest as he nurses a whiskey in his other hand. You play with one of his necklaces and tune out his conversation which he doesn’t notice until he turns to you and sees how sad you look, “What’s wrong?”

You look up at him and shake your head, “Just thinking.”

“About?” He gently prods, shifting his entire attention to you.

“You didn’t look so good earlier..how do you do it? I mean, I get you trained for this but I dunno, kinda scared me seeing you all beat up.” You softly murmur, “It’s just a thought of mine, I don’t mean to offend you or anything.”

Jungkook softens at that, he thinks it’s adorable you’re worrying about him like that. Almost feels like.. “Let’s dance?” He asks when a favorite song of his comes on, “C’mon, it’ll take your mind off things.” He grins.

You smile at him softly and follow him to the dancefloor, wrapping your arms around his neck as he holds you by the hips with gentle hands. He hums along to the song playing in the background with his dark eyes trained on yours. You look so beautiful under the dark lights and he can’t help but lean in.

“You’re super pretty y’know that?” Jungkook softly hums as he presses his forehead against yours.

You softly laugh, “Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Mmm did I mention I really like your lips?” His lip curls in a smirk, “Love how soft and plump they look, ‘specially when you wear lip gloss..” He slowly trails off as his lips hover over your own, “Can I kiss you?”

The way your eyes light up, crinkling with joy as you eagerly nod. Jungkook presses his lips to yours in a gentle manner, it’s sweet and slow, just like how he likes it. Your arms tighten around his neck and you tug him further down until he's towering over your figure, blocking you from everyone’s view.

Feels like everything’s complete now and Jungkook’s never felt happier than ever.

He slowly pulls off from the kiss as he stares down at you suddenly feeling shy, “Can I, um, maybe drive you home? Just to make sure you get home safe ‘n stuff. You don’t have to if you don’t want to, just thought I’d ask.”

“Yeah, I’d like that.” You gently reply.

A slow smile spreads over his lips and he nods, “Let’s go then.” He guides you out of the party and into his sleek black car that’s parked out in the front.

The car ride’s quiet and peaceful, he has the windows rolled down as the fresh breeze brushes over the two of you. Jungkook wishes the car ride lasted a little longer but it’s late (two in the morning actually) and he knows you’re tired. He makes a mental note to take you out on a drive next time you guys meet up.

“We’re here baby.” He murmurs softly, gently waking you from your sleep.

“Hm?” You sleepily blink and look around, “Damn, I’m more tired than I thought.” You smile tiredly while stretching your arms out.

Jungkook chuckles, “Don’t worry I got you.” He steps out and rounds the car, opening your door for you and helping you out, “Want me to carry you?” He teases.

You shoot him a sleepy pout and shake your head, “I’m good, maybe next time though.” You breathily chuckle.

“There’s a next time?” He teases.

You toss him a knowing look, stopping in front of the building door, “Good night, or morning I dunno I’m tired.” You spin around and lean over to smooch his cheek gently, “I’ll see you tomorrow.” You softly murmur.

Jungkook’s completely entranced by you as he nods slowly, “Night.”

“Morning.” You teasingly correct him as you make your way inside.

Jungkook doesn’t leave until he sees you hop into the elevator, and even then you still wave at him before disappearing inside. Once you’re gone Jungkook lets out a deep sigh as he leans back on his car, what a night.

𓂃 ﾟ｡ ⋆

A few weeks pass and it’s nothing but bliss for Jungkook. Seeing that he has no matches lined up or anything he decides to hang out with you nearly everyday whether it be you and him going out for ice cream dates or Jungkook just taking you out for evening drives out of the city.

He’s on cloud nine right now—he’s got the girl of his dreams, his payout from the last match was pretty big, and everything’s going right for him. Sure you haven’t sat down to actually clarify what you two are but Jungkook knows you feel the same way about him. Maybe it isn’t such a bad thing with the way things are right now, the you’re mine and I’m yours is left unsaid but it’s there.

You’ve both been hard launching each other on your socials for the past few weeks anyways. By now people knew there was something up with you and him, given that Jungkook wasn’t exactly discreet when he posted on his stories with you in them. Jungkook knows you’ve been doing the same thing too so by now the media kinda labeled the relationship.

Will he say anything? Probably not. Does he care? Nope. He didn’t owe anyone an explanation, he just wanted to be able to date you in peace.

Sometime in the week though you send him a message asking him if he wants to come with you as your plus one to some award show taking place in Hong Kong. He says yes of course duh, why the hell would he say otherwise?

He posts a pic with you in the private plane before calling it quits and ignoring his mentions/comments for the rest of the day. Today’s your big day and while you’re not performing he wants to put his entire focus into being there for you.

“How do I look?” He hears you say as he’s getting ready.

You’re dressed to the nines styled in vintage Chanel and Jungkook had a suit tailored to match your aesthetic for the evening. He knows you both are gonna look so good tonight, no doubt you’ll blow anyone away with your unwavering beauty too. “You look amazing.” He says as he stands behind you.

Your eyes flick up in amusement, “That’s all?”

Jungkook lays his chin over your shoulder and grins softly, “Breathtaking, beautiful, ethereal, stunning—” You cut him off with an embarrassed laugh as you swat at his hands.

“Okay, okay, I get it.” You turn around and play with the buttons to his shirt, “You look really good too.”

“That’s all?” He grins back.

“Don’t push it, you make the compliments here.” You smirk and lay a sweet kiss over his lips, to which he happily and eagerly reciprocates.

He might have gotten a little carried away with it because he’s pushing you against the sink counter and kissing you stupid like he’s been doing these days. A soft muffled groan leaves him as he circles his hands over your hips and uses his grip to pull you into him until your lower pelvis is pressing against his own, dangerously close to his friend down there.

“Jungkook–” You sigh, “We’re gonna be late.” You say in-between his eager kisses.

“Don’t care, let me kiss you stupid.” Jungkook replies as he closes the distance between you two again, moving his lips passionately against yours.

You let out a sweet little moan as your fingers card through his hair, he doesn’t even care if you mess it up either. Looks are superficial and at the end of the day regardless of how people see him they’ll never know him or you and Jungkook’s okay with that.

Suddenly the sound of a knock interrupts the two of you and you pull away with a breathless sigh, “Yeah?” You call out.

“The car’s here and traffic’s looking pretty bad so it might be good if we leave right now. We got thirty minutes to get there since the red carpet’s already started.” Your manager says through the door.

You look at Jungkook with a soft smile as you lean up to smooch his lips, “We’ll meet you down there.”

No one expects you to come out hand in hand with Jungkook and he relishes in their shocked faces/reactions. He likes the thrill and can’t help but pull you closer by the waist with his arm tucked tightly around you. They yell and beg for pictures as you walk on by with him, ignoring their weird comments or stupid questions with no meaning.

“You wanna head inside baby?” He leans down to whisper in your ear after a few rounds of interviews and photos with the paps.

“Yeah I’m getting bored.” You hide your shoulder in his shoulder and follow as he guides you towards the venue with a hand splayed protectively over the small of your back.

He can tell you’re nervous about tonight with the way you sit with your hand tightly wrapped in his. You’re currently nominated for two major categories with one of them being album of the year. He’d be shitting himself too if he was going up against other talented singers. You’re gonna win though, you have to and if you don’t he’ll fight them to recount the votes.

“Easy baby,” he whispers low, “you got this okay?”

“I know but what if I lose?” You purse your lips, “I did really well this year so I’m hoping maybe that I do win.” Jungkook doesn’t like how sad and worried you look right now.

“If you don’t win I’ll buy the fucking thing.” Jungkook snorts, “No one had the highest record sales and streams like you did baby, you basically have this in the bag and everyone knows it.”

You huff out a laugh and look at him in disbelief, “Jungkook you can buy me all the things you want but you’re not buying me an award. Don’t be ludicrous.”

He shrugs carelessly, “I won’t if they just give it to you.” He says seriously as he leans over to kiss your cheek, “I believe in you no matter what.” You look at him with a precious smile and turn your attention back to the show.

Performance after performance passes until soon they’re announcing the winner for album of the year. You didn’t win the other category but Jungkook knows for sure you’ll win the next one. He can feel you nervously bouncing your knee and gripping his hand extra tight while the presenter takes their sweet time opening the envelope.

“And the award goes to,” pause, “y/n!” The crowd erupts into loud screams and cheers, hell Jungkook yells out as he looks at you with glee and helps you stand up.

“You won baby!” Jungkook hugs you tightly as he sways side to side, “So fuckin’ proud of you.”

You happily laugh and bury your face in his neck, “I was so scared, oh my god.” You accept his hand as he helps you step up on stage so you could get your award. He stands back filled with pride as he watches you stride with confidence towards the main stage, walking past all these other people he could care less about.

After the show Jungkook’s surprised you choose to go back to the hotel instead of the afterparty some other singer invites you guys to. He doesn’t protest because he’s been dying to get away from all these people all night (you reprimanded him for suggesting that you guys leave right after you get your win). He walks hand in hand with you, smug as fuck because his girl bagged album of the year, just like he knew you would.

“Smile,” Jungkook holds his phone up, the flash going off as he hears you complain about not being ready, “you look fine, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He snorts and shows you the picture he took.

You shoot him a pouty frown and take his phone, “Delete it I look bad,” you huff, “you better take a better one.”

“Whatever you say princess.” Jungkook takes a series of photos for your Instagram and his, you look so pretty in each one he takes, it’s disgusting how much he’s obsessing over them, “Damn you look sexy.”

“I always do, thank you very much.” You huff and sit back in your seat, enjoying the rest of the ride back.

Jungkook’s immediately on you when the two of you get to the hotel. He’s been wanting to pick up where you two left off earlier before your manager interrupted. If it was up to him you two wouldn’t have even gone to the damn show, he’s been dying to get you out of the dress the minute he saw you in it.

“Jungkook wait–mmph,” you’re cut off as he slips his lips over yours, his hands coming up to cup your face as he swallows your lips in a passionate-hungry kiss.

“Can’t,” Jungkook whispers, “been waiting all night baby.” He reaches behind you to push the door open, kicking it open all the way as he tugs you close and walks you backwards into the room.

“Moment I laid eyes on you I was gone, knew I had to have you.” Jungkook whispers as he leans down to bury his face in your shoulder and neck leaving a flurry of hot kisses all over, “Wanted to rip this shit off you.” He growls softly.

You whined in protest, body falling backwards when the back of your knees hit the lush bed, “Not my dress–”

“I’ll buy another—hundreds baby, don’t you know who your man is?” Jungkook smirks as he climbs over you, “Can I take it off you baby?” He knows he’s being a bit too eager right now, so naturally he wants to make sure you’re both on the same page.

“Yeah.” You softly breathe out, “I want you to take it off,” you trail off looking at him with those siren eyes, “make me yours.” You say as you let the strap of the dress slip off your shoulder invitingly.

Jungkook swallows hard, hands itching and trembling with excitement as he reaches up to pull the other strap, “You already are.” He muses.

“All the way,” you intertwine your hand with his with a precious little smile on your face, “want everyone to know who my man is.”

Fuck. Jungkook bites down on his lip and nods, “You want them to see my marks, want everyone to know who’s fucking you good?” He purrs and leans down to hover over you, lips against lips.

You nod with a cute ‘mmhm’, “I want it all, you promised you’d give it to me.” You softly pout, “Or was that a lie?”

“Fuck no, take it baby, ‘s all yours.” Jungkook hurriedly unbuttons his dress shirt, hastily throwing his belt off and peeling his slacks off, “Gonna give you exactly what you need till you can’t take it.” He says as he reaches for the zipper to the dress.

He all but rips the thing off of you and tosses it to the corner of the room (mind you it’s worth over twenty thousand). It’s the first time seeing you like this under him and he wants to make it special for you, a night you’ll never forget.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful baby.” He comments as he leans down to leave a trail of kisses along your chest and tummy,slowly slipping down the bed as he inches towards your panty covered pussy.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been dreaming of this, been thinking about all the ways I could have you,” he whispers and lays a kiss over your damp folds, “I didn’t know if I wanted to lay you on my bed or bend you over the car—you make it so hard to control myself, you have no idea.”

He sees the little tremor that passes over you when he says this. Your eyes are filled with want and need but like the stubborn little thing you are, you don’t say anything. Jungkook can’t have that either, he wants—no needs—to hear your sweet little voice beg for him.

“What’s the matter baby? You need something?” Jungkook softly croons as he peppers soft kisses against your inner thighs.

You bite on your lip and nod, “Need you.”

“But you already have me?” He grins, he can see the frustration bubbling up on your face.

“Here,” you softly breathe and reach down to tug your panties upwards, the material digs into your cunt giving him a perfect outline of it, “won’t you give it to me?” Your voice pulls him in like a siren singing to a sailor, he’s so entranced by it he almost feels like he’s gonna drool right now.

Jungkook wastes no time in yanking the damp materials down your thighs, not bothering to slide them completely off as he lifts your legs up. They’re pressed together with your soft pussy lips pressed together for him, tempting him with a glob of shiny slick running down your soft asscheeks.

“Fuck,” Jungkook growls as he leans in to smother his face with your cunt, tongue slipping through your drenched dewy folds to lap up the globs of slick.

You kick your feet in the air with a tiny whine, hips wiggling in an attempt to get him on your clit. He laps at you messily, circling the tip of his tongue over your throbbing bud that’s squished between your folds. The moan you let out sends shivers down his spine and he’s eager to hear more.

“So fucking good,” he pants, “jus’ like I imagined pretty baby.” He slurs out, pussy drunk already.

He can feel you reaching down to tug your panties all the way off but he can’t be bothered with stopping, not when your cunt’s gushing for him. Jungkook licks with vigor, swiping over and over against your tender clit. Your cunt opens up beautifully with a low squelch and your thighs begin trembling under his strong hold.

It gets harder with each passing second to contain himself, his cock feels like it’s literally about to burst. He pulls away from you and lets your shaky legs fall back as he tears your panties off completely.

“Gonna fuck you so good baby,” he climbs over you and reaches down to pull his heavy cock out, “can’t wait anymore.”

Your legs easily fall apart for him and make room as he shuffles closer between them. Jungkook sees the way your eyes go dark when they land below between his legs where his cock hangs heavy, swollen at the tip with beady trails of precum oozing from the head. You lick your lips and reach down to grip him in your soft hand, tentatively squeezing and stroking as if you were feeling him up.

“Like it baby? Gonna have my fat cock fill this little pussy up?” Jungkook has a sleazy grin splayed over his lips as he watches you, “Hm?”

“Yeah, ‘m not gonna let you cum anywhere but inside,” you deviously smile back like the nasty little minx you are, “till it’s dripping.”

He groans at the thought of that and kicks his hips forward, “Lemme in baby,” he slurs out, “slip it right in for me, there you go.” He purrs when he feels the head slide over your messy pussy, smearing your slick and his precum all over your cunt before you’re guiding him towards your winking sopping hole.

You bite down on your lip when the tip catches against your rim, it pops inside feeling you inch for inch slowly—cockhead spreading you open until he’s fully seated in your tight cunt. He can’t help but bite his lip with the way you’re squeezing him so tight—so snug and warm.

“So nice ‘n warm for me,” he hoarsely says as he rubs his hands along your sides, gently squeezing at your hips as he pulls you closer until your pelvis is smacked tight against his own.

You let out the most sinful fucking moan ever when his cock slides deeper. Back arching and toes curling—he just loves how beautiful you look spread out under him with your pretty pussy snug against his cock. You release a stuttered moan as you reach for his hands and squeeze tightly.

“Hurts a little,” you say through gritted teeth, “why the fuck are you so fucking big?”

Jungkook nearly laughs at that because he doesn’t think he’s ever heard that many curse words leave your mouth before. “You want me to pull out?”

“No don’t you dare,” you glare, “took me a minute to get this thing in and you want me to do it all over again?”

Jungkook looks back down with a low whistle, “Little pussy looks like it’s struggling to keep me all in baby, you sure you can handle it?” He teases as he reaches down to flick his thumb over your swollen clit.

Your hips jump and you whine out for him, “Stop playing around Jungkook,” you turn to hide your face in the soft sheets, “you know I can.” You mumble softly, eyes half-lidded with pleasure.

Jungkook bites down on his lip and rolls his hips slowly, “I know, you were made for this dick.” He smirks and lazily flicks his thumb pairing it with his slow but deep thrusts.

Your moans come out soft and breathy, everytime he backstrokes there’s a light sheen of slick covering his cock from the base near his pelvis. Your cunt makes these adorable little squelching noises as he pushes back in, balls lightly pressing against your taint when he buries himself back in. Occasionally he stops for a few seconds before he resumes his lazy pace.

He never imagined it’d feel this good with you, something about the way your little pussy refuses to let go for even a moment—squeezing him so tight it’s almost impossible to move. His own noises come out soft and husky, he can’t help the moans and soft sighs he lets out from the hot pleasure coiling in his stomach.

“Baby,” he gasps as he leans forward to hover over you with hands on either side of you, “this good?” He asks as he steadily increases the pace in his thrusts, hips smacking wetly against your ass and balls swinging now.

You nod eagerly, “More than good—mm, jus’ like that,” you sound blissed out, gaze half-lidded and dreamy as you stare up at him with those pretty eyes of yours.

“Like that?” He groans, “Or like this?” Suddenly Jungkook snaps his hips up, a loud smack filling the room alongside a warbled cry of his name, “Oh you like that, don’t you? Baby likes it rough?” He purrs.

The slide’s fucking nasty with a mix of precum and your slick, he feels it slide down your taint where his balls slap repeatedly. The noise is filthy and sends pleasant tremors down his spine, “Oh, fuck,” he groans softly, “doing so good for me.”

Jungkook begins moving earnestly now, slamming his cock in and out of your bruised and battered cunt. Slick spills everywhere—the sheets, your inner thighs, his pelvis—it’s like music to his fucking ears right now. He can’t resist and leans down to smother your lips with his, swallowing every little cry and moan you let out.

Your arms come up to wrap around his neck as you hold on tightly, he reaches down to wrap a leg around his waist as he manages to slide in deeper with the tip brushing over your g-spot. You let out a loud cry into his mouth and bury your fingers in his hair, your thigh starts trembling again only this time more intense than before.

“You gonna cum for me baby?” He pulls away with a moan, “C’mon, be a good girl and make it messy.” He purrs against your lips while watching your expressions closely.

You stare into his eyes with unshed tears as more whimpers and whines escape, “So close,” you manage to wrap another shaky leg around him, “please, please, ‘m so close.” You whine out as your legs cross behind him on his back.

Jungkook doesn’t wanna disappoint or hold out any longer as he manages to stick a hand down between you to roll your clit between his fingers, “Cum for me, give it to me baby.” He growls softly as he plows into your tender and sore cunt.

The squelching gets louder and your moans turn into weak whimpers as you lie there and take it. His cock stirs at the sight of you nearing your end, he decides to give you a little extra push as he meanly pinches your clit. This causes you to cry out and go stiff under him, body shaking like a leaf as you gush around his cock.

“Jungkook,” you gasp repeatedly as your eyes flutter shut, face pinched in pleasure and overstimulation, “so good.” You slur out.

Jungkook lets your tender clit go and focuses on his own pleasure now that he’s got your orgasm out of the way. He grunts quietly and buries his face against your soft tits, mouthing at your sore stiff nipples. You squeeze around him tighter and tighter until the coil in his stomach snaps and he lets out a long moan of your name.

“Fuck..” Jungkook whispers breathlessly as he presses your pelvises close together, burying his cock balls deep till every last drop’s inside your battered pussy.

You moan quietly and let your legs fall from his hips, limbs feeling like jelly as you lay there panting softly. Jungkook rests his forehead against your tit and sighs deeply, “Are you okay love?” He asks softly.

“Yeah, jus’ really tired.” You whisper hoarsely and close your eyes, “Fuck, no offense but I feel really gross right now. Start a bath for me, pretty please?” You softly ask with a lip jutted out in a pout.

Jungkook of course can’t say no, “Course,” he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead and lifts himself off of you, “I’ll be back.”

𓂃 ﾟ｡ ⋆

Your company’s the first to make a statement confirming what everybody already knew, and then Yoongi followed shortly after. If Jungkook had thought it was bad before, people went ape shit now that it’s been officially confirmed by you two.

Before, they put all the heat on Jungkook because it was easier to blame him for it given the public’s opinion about him. It was easier to blame him because why not? He was some low-life boxer in their eyes. But then the attention shifted and people started targeting their hate towards you which pissed Jungkook off to no end.

Why the fuck was everyone so invested in what you did and didn’t do? Why was it that they felt entitled to dictate who you date and don’t date? Jungkook really needed these people to get jobs or mind their business because clearly they had no life outside of hating on a stranger for finding their own happiness.

He saw those vicious comments people left all over your posts and he fucking hated that he couldn’t do shit to stop them from coming back, pissed him off even more because his girlfriend didn’t deserve this. You deserved the world and more, not this shit.

So, Jungkook did the next best thing he could think of. He started taking names and screenshotting profiles before turning them over to a attorney he hired, if he couldn’t beat these stupid fuckers himself he’d let them have it with his private team. He made headlines after people started noticing that he was suing the people opening their big ass mouths.

“Baby, it’s okay really.” You softly complain, “You don’t have to waste your time with these weird people, I’m sure they’ll get over themselves if we ignore them.”

Jungkook shakes his head, “No, I’m sorry baby but I can’t sit there and watch these fuckers call you degrading names and demand shit like they know you—seriously who the fuck do these people think they are?” He growls under his breath as he paces back and forth, “And that’s not even the gist of it, these idiots are lucky I don’t catch them out in public because I’ll beat the fuck out of them.”

Out of the corner of his eye he sees you curl up on the sofa with a sad smile, “I know, but you can’t go around beating up millions of people for leaving a hate comment. It’s normal, this happens all the time I learned to live with it.” You’re trying to sound sure of yourself but he doesn’t buy it.

“Baby look at me.” He comes over and kneels down in front of you, “This shit is not normal nor is it ever okay, fuck them for making you feel like this. I hate seeing you look so dejected reading all those hateful comments,” he takes your hands in his and kisses them, “just lemme take care of it. Please?”

You look conflicted like you’re not sure if you should say yes but with a little more coaxing you finally sigh, “Fineee, just don’t do anything crazy. I don’t need my boyfriend in jail, thank you very much.”

Jungkook cracks a smile and buries his face in your lap with a happy sigh, “I promise baby, if I go to jail, who else is gonna cook you fried rice at three in the morning? Who else is gonna give you their black card?” He teases.

“Yeah, yeah now come here.” You open your arms for him, “You know I only need you and that’s all.”

Jungkook kisses that soft pout off your face as he nods, “I know you do baby, didn’t think otherwise.” He grins and lays his head on your chest with closed eyes.

The two of you sit there in silence together with the TV playing low in the background. Jungkook for the most part behaves himself despite being so close to your soft tits that are poorly hidden under your camisole. He can literally dip his head in there and get a sneak peek, maybe even a mouthful of titties—

“Jungkook, really?” You sigh, “You’re such a pervert.”

“You like it,” Jungkook winks as he mouths at your tit through your little camisole, “can I?” He knows you can’t resist and judging by the way your thighs press together, “Pretty pleaseee baby?” He gives you the best puppy eyes he can muster, all a man wants is some titty loving, that’s all.

You don’t even finish saying yes before he’s diving in and tugging your camisole down so that your tits spill out and into his face. His eyes light up and he immediately wraps his lips around a nipple, suckling gently as he laves his tongue over the stiff bud in his mouth. You quietly sigh and sink into the sofa with him following as he rolls his tongue over your nipple and flicks it repeatedly.

“You’re such a baby you know that?” You murmur, “But you’re my handsome bun,” the nickname has him perking up, “my strong, big, handsome bun.” You coo softly while stroking his hair slowly.

Jungkook’s eyes flutter shut as he sinks into the warm feeling, his sucking slows down until he’s barely moving his tongue anymore and simply suckling on your teat. “You like hearing how strong you are don’t you baby—love knowing you can easily beat someone’s ass for me?”

He nods pathetically with a low groan, “Of course you do,” you softly coo, “it’s why I picked you, knew you’d be able to take care of me the way I deserve.” You scratch his scalp lightly, moaning softly when he makes another noise, “Treat me so good like the princess I am.”

That he does. Jungkook is in heaven right now, he feels like he can just pass out right here and now with a titty in his mouth. He can’t help but shudder as he slips into a dream-like state, “Go ahead baby, just rest yeah? I got you.” You softly say while cradling his head and going lax under him, “Take what you need.”

And he does. He ends up falling asleep, one of the best fucking naps ever with your tit still in his mouth even when he wakes up. He so needs to do this another time, shit’s relaxing and a good stress reliever. Jungkook doesn’t think you’ll have any complaints either.

.

It’s a busy week for Jungkook because he has a match coming up in a few weeks and Yoongi has him completely locking in at the gym for training. You don’t mind it and being the best girlfriend you are you come as support during his sessions. You also confirmed his suspicions that Seokjin was a secret stan because his hyung fanboys out when he meets you.

“Hyung stop it.” Jungkook glares, “Leave her alone before I punch you.”

Seokjin scoffs, “No way, I get to meet my idol and you wanna ruin it for me? Where’s my respect, you brat.” This guy—needless to say Jungkook’s shooting daggers at his hyung the entire time he’s there.

The real challenge comes during the press conference/weigh-in Jungkook goes to like he always does. It starts off normal, the guy doesn’t trash talk and Jungkook’s not one for it either unless the fighter’s cocky then yeah he’ll put them in their place but this guy’s alright which he appreciates. It’s the fucking reporters that get Jungkook heated sometimes.

“Jeon, how do you feel about this upcoming match? Any thoughts on your opponent?” One asks with his recorder held out.

“I’m excited like always, I know potential when I see it so I’m hoping to have a great match with my opponent. He looks like he can give me a run for my money.” He laughs softly into the mic.

Another reporter asks something but it’s directed at his opponent so Jungkook just nods off listening to the two. Out of the corner of his eye he sees someone laughing when he looks at him, and at first he doesn’t pay attention and just keeps his focus on the reporters. But then this guy comes to the front and Jungkook just knows he’s about to hear the stupidest shit in his life.

“Jeon, so how are you and your girl doing? Heard the news and wanted to congratulate you.” He says with this sleazy grin.

It rubs him the wrong way but Jungkook keeps his temper in check as he forces himself to politely answer, “Good, thank you.” He curtly replies.

He hears Yoongi clear his throat next to him with a fierce glare, “Let’s try and keep this about the match, he's not here to answer questions about his life, this isn’t a personal interview.”

You’d think that after being called out like that he’d stop there and move on but no, this guy’s a piece of work. “I mean I was just askin’ cause I was kinda surprised with the news since you know, she been ran through by the entire industry.” This gets Jungkook to react as he pushes his chair back, causing it to fly backwards as he slowly stalks forward.

“New guy every month—say, you the new boy of the month Jeon?” He smirks.

Jungkook doesn’t even think before he lunges at him, he hears Yoongi call his name as Namjoon springs into action to get Jungkook back but it’s too late.

Jungkook’s fist connects with the side of this man’s jaw and sends him flying to the ground as Jungkook lifts his (now) bloody fist up to strike him again with a sick sound. He’s so far gone right now he doesn’t even feel when Namjoon yanks him off the guy.

“Jungkook! Calm the fuck down and get off him!” Namjoon yells through the chaos as reporters scramble to get shots and videos of this.

“No, get off me hyung! Let me fuckin’ go where is this little shit? If you’re such a fuckin’ man come say it to my face one more fucking time, I dare you! Say it!” He yells as he struggles against Namjoon’s strong hold.

It takes three guys to get Jungkook away from the reporter, Yoongi deals with the rest but Jungkook’s so fucking mad he can’t even sit right now. He’s pacing back and forth in the little backroom they got him in as Namjoon watches with concern in his eyes. He hasn’t tried to calm him down because even he knows the danger of trying to talk to him while he’s this mad.

The door slams open and Yoongi steps in, “Jungkook what the fuck was that?! That guy went to the hospital, do you even realize the mess you caused? He’s gonna press charges–”

“I don’t give a fuck!” Jungkook interrupts, stunning Yoongi into silence, “He fucking disrespected my girlfriend thinking that shit was funny. I could really give two fucks if he wants to press charges or not!” Namjoon watches the two in silence, but he’s ready to jump in if Jungkook turns on Yoongi or something.

Yoongi, who usually has something smart to say for everything, for once doesn’t have shit to say. He just stands there watching Jungkook kick the chair over and pace around the room furiously. “Kid, look, I get you. I would do the same too if I was in your place but this shit isn’t worth it. You can’t be letting them get to you like this, that’s what they want.”

“Well he fucking got what he wanted.” Jungkook scoffs with a humorless laugh.

“Just go home, I’ll deal with the press.” Yoongi sighs as he rubs his temples, “Please, for once just do what I say.”

The news is bad, there’s a shit ton of articles coming out within the next hour about how Jungkook attacked the reporter and left him a bloody puddle on the ground. It’s all over the place and there’s a shit ton of people commenting about it on online forums and comment sections. One side praises him for defending you, and then the other criticizes his inability to keep himself under control but Jungkook doesn’t care.

The REAL cherry on top is when you post your response to the news—you use that video of Latto saying “thank you to my man” along with a cute selfie of you cuddled up in bed with Jungkook. Even you made it clear as day you didn’t give a fuck about that guy either.

Your fans who had previously had negative reactions to your dating news were coming around too in favor of Jungkook. They said shit like “free JK he did nothing wrong” and voiced their support for him. Some were even harassing the reporter who had dared to say those things about you, demanding that he lose credibility as a reporter amongst other things.

Jungkook thinks it’s going to be okay because that guy totally fucking deserved it (and more).

.

The weeks fly by and the day of his big match comes—the biggest one yet because bets are high and on top of that Jungkook has a winning streak to keep up if he wants them to give him the title of “undefeated”. Following the conference nothing really happened, the guy turned out to have some shady shit on him so he decided not to press any charges in the end. God bless Yoongi for digging shit up.

With that being dealt with Jungkook could finally put his entire focus on the match. He had heard the entire arena sold out and some of the richest people on earth were attending. This was a huge deal and he had everything to lose. Jungkook was confident in his win but this guy was also the deal too, which only means Jungkook has to keep his guard up.

“You ready kid? This is about to be the biggest fight of your career.” Yoongi says as he comes to sit in front of Jungkook, “You’re gonna have to kick it up a notch this match, the guy’s good but he isn’t better than you.”

He nods at that because Jungkook’s confident in his fighting abilities, “I know hyung, I have a really good feeling about tonight.” He smiles, “Don’t worry about it, I got this under control.”

“Good, that’s what I like to hear from you.” Yoongi grins back as he pats his back, “Now get out there and make me proud.”

The arena buzzes with life when Jungkook enters the room, he’s hit with flashing lights in every direction as people scream and chant his name. He’s getting worked up again as the adrenaline slowly kicks in. Jungkook makes his way up to the ring, passing over your section where you’re sitting with Namjoon and Seokjin.

He closes his eyes for a brief moment, blocking out the crowd and music as he tries to focus. He can do this, he can do this. He will win, for you.

The guy packs a good punch and each round gets progressively harder and harder to fight him off. During one of the breaks in-between the rounds, he slumps into his corner as Yoongi immediately springs over to help him with his mouth guard.

“He’s tiring you out Kook, he’s gonna wait until you’re low on energy to give it his all.” Yoongi warns, “You need to match his pace instead of wasting your energy so early.”

Jungkook pants tiredly as he shakes his head, “Hyung he’s gonna knock me out.” He says deliriously, filled with pain and adrenaline.

“No he isn’t, because you’re not going to let him, you hear me? You’re going to get back out there and show that punk what you’re made of.” Yoongi sternly replies, “Do it for the pretty girl waiting for your win.”

Jungkook’s eyes snap over to where you sit, you look really scared and on top of that worried. He sees the way your knee bounces and how you pick at your fingernails. This isn’t what he wants to see.. This isn’t what he wants at all.

“Okay.” Jungkook grunts with renewed energy, “Fuck, okay.”

Yoongi pats his back gently and steps away from the ring, “Remember: match his pace.”

Jungkook rises to his feet and gets ready for the next round. He only has a few more before a winner has to be announced or the match is tied. Only one of them will walk out a champion, and it’s going to be him.

He takes Yoongi’s advice and matches this guy’s pace, he observes his every move and studies the combos he throws out. The guy’s a corner tech type so Jungkook avoids the edges and keeps him in the middle. He also notices that he goes for uppercuts and rear hooks.

As Jungkook prepares to strike he loses his footing and the guy takes the chance to hook him across the face. It sends Jungkook to the ground as he falls with a groan of pain. “Fuck.” He whispers.

He’s not sure how much longer he can keep up, can he even get up? His vision is beginning to blur a little and his hearing’s a little hazy too. He barely even makes out the referee counting down to a knockout.

Through the blurriness he sees Yoongi run over to the side of the net, “Get up, kid! Fuck, c’mon Jungkook get up!” He desperately says.

Jungkook wants to, but everything hurts so much and he’s so tired right now. He weakly tries to get up, barely managing to hold up on all fours as he pants heavily with blood dripping down onto the mat below. He lifts his head up slowly and suddenly the world stops.

You’re standing there with tears in your eyes, your mouth’s moving rapidly (most likely pleading with him to get up). Jungkook doesn’t like that, he swore he’d never let you feel that way again after you attended his first match and saw how bad it was. Fuck.

“Four…three..”

Get up. Get up. Get up. Get up.

Jungkook grits his teeth and stumbles forward, barely managing to catch himself on the nets as he looks back at his opponent with renewed strength. The countdown stops and the match continues, he is going to win this if that’s the last thing he does.

He lunges forward and the guy doesn’t expect it coming as Jungkook manages to get him cornered before he lets loose. He rains a slew of punches, too fast for the guy to keep up who doesn’t expect him to suddenly be this fast.

Jungkook feels like he blacks out during all this, landing hit after hit until he’s finished with one last uppercut and then everything stops. He feels a pair of hands pull him back as the referee begins the countdown. Jungkook stands there heaving as he watches tiredly.

“..Two..one..” The bell suddenly rings and the crowd cheers.

He did it. Holy shit, he did it!

Both Yoongi and Namjoon rush into the ring together, bringing him into their arms as they jump with joy. “You fucking did it!” Namjoon smiles happily.

“Where’s…where’s y/n?” Jungkook blearily asks as he looks around.

“She’s right there,” Yoongi points out, “she’s still here Kook.”

He pulls away from the hug and trudges over to the net, holding it up and holding his arm out for you, “C’mere baby.” He calls out.

You immediately stumble over and climb into the ring with him, sinking right into his arms when he tugs you close. “I’m here,” he whispers, “I’m here.”

“Don’t ever scare me like that again! You hear me? I don’t ever wanna see you like that.” You whimper and cup his face, “Oh Jungkook..”

He smiles softly and leans down to kiss you passionately in front of everyone. You easily melt into the kiss and wrap your arms around his neck. When he pulls back he looks around with a stupid grin on his face, “Fucking won but everything hurts.”

You frown cutely and ignore the reporters that begin to swarm the two of you. Jungkook keeps you tucked into his side as he answers their questions, “Feels really good I can’t lie, even if I feel like shit right now though. But I’m just glad I won, I've been wanting to dedicate this win to my beautiful girl.” He smiles down at you and kisses the top of your head.

They start throwing more questions at him after that. They’re all kind of the same regarding their relationship because they’re just dying to know all about his relationship to you. They even try to ask you some questions but luckily Yoongi intervenes when it begins to get out of control.

“Alright back up, give Jungkook some space.” Yoongi says as he pushes some reporters away, “You ready to go Kook?”

“Yeah, get me the fuck outta here.” Jungkook groans as he follows after his hyungs with you close by.

Yoongi and the others help Jungkook get into an ice bath as soon as they get into the back room. You work on cleaning the blood off his face and icing his wounds, “Does it hurt? Well, more than usual?” You softly ask.

“No babe I’m fine.” Jungkook replied calmly as he closed his eyes, “The ice feels really good, I’m sore all over.”

You hum, “Let me know if I’m hurting you.”

“I will.” He hums back and sinks into the ice with a relaxed sigh.

The cold sensation on his body is working wonders on his sore muscles. It feels like he’s living the dream right now. He doesn’t think he wants to even party after this, sure a big win calls for a celebratory dinner or something but right now cuddling and going to sleep sounds way better.

Yeah, way better.

.

“I thought you were too sore to do anything, what happened to that?” You laugh softly while looking down at him.

Jungkook’s pout deepens, “I can still move my hips, see?” He says and demonstrates with a little thrust up, “Pleaseeee! For me baby? I promise I’ll tell you if it hurts or something.”

You look at him in disbelief, “You literally just got beat up what do you mean please? Look at you! Why the heck is sex even on your mind right now?”

“Because, you looked so sexy on that billboard on our way back here.” He huffs casually leaving out the part where he raged because everyone can see you and no doubt millions have.

Not that he’s petty but he’s petty, he wanted to tear that shit down and keep it for himself. “That’s not the point,” he groans and tosses his head back on the pillow, “I can still move and it’s not like my cock got beat up too.”

“You are so nasty.” You laugh softly and sit back on his lap, “If I ride you will that make you happy, hm?”

It’s comical the way his hair bounces when he nods vigorously, “Yes.” He says without hesitation, “It’s like a reward.” He grins toothily.

You roll your eyes at him with a sigh, “You’re so spoiled,” you mumble while reaching down to help him pull his boxers down.

“Wait!” Jungkook looks up at you with pouty eyes, “Can you..?” He tugs at the loose shirt you’re wearing.

Immediately you know what he wants and you nod, “My baby deserves it doesn’t he?” You softly say while tossing the garment somewhere else, “Did so good out there,” you purr and lean over him.

His eyes sparkle as he nods, “I did,” he whispers and licks his lips, “means I get a reward right?”

“Yes you do.” You gently coax him closer as you lean down to press your soft tit to his lips, “Take it, ‘s all yours.” He latches on without wasting another second.

Your lips part as a soft breathy moan escapes, your soft hand reaches down to fish his hard cock out of his boxers. He shudders when you start stroking him, it’s slow and sensual as you gather bits of precum with your thumb and slowly work your way down around the shaft.

His balls sit heavy and they ache with need to empty themselves in you. Jungkook has to fight the urge to buck his hips as he accidentally grazes his teeth against your bud.

You yelp softly and he pulls away apologetically, “Easy, not so hard.” You softly chastise.

“Sorry.” Jungkook murmurs and presses a kiss on your tit before moving to the opposite one.

“Just sit back and relax baby,” you murmur, “I got you.”

You position the head at your weeping pussy, slapping it repeatedly in small taps until the tip catches on your hole. Jungkook holds his breath as you begin to slide down on his sensitive cock until you're bottoming out with your ass meeting his thighs.

“Good?” You softly whisper.

Jungkook nods and goes back to suckling on your nipple in peace. You rock yourself in his lap steadily like you’re scared you’re gonna hurt him but Jungkook encourages you with a little buck. This makes you sink down in his lap with a lewd moan, his cock shifting deeper inside.

“Use me,” Jungkook quietly pipes up, “I can take it.” His breath hot and heavy over your pebbled nipple.

“You sure? What if I hurt you?” You murmur.

“I’ll be fine baby, I’ll let you know if something hurts. Please?” He opens his mouth to take your nipple back in.

You shiver and bite your lip still a bit worried but you end up giving in. You slowly pick up the pace, switching from grinding to bouncing. There’s a low smack here and there but it’s nothing too crazy because you’re going as gentle as you can.

Jungkook’s lips tighten around your nipple with every grind and bounce. Your pussy tugs at his cock with the right amount of pressure sending shivers down his spine. He moans softly and moves one hand up to grip your bouncing tit.

“Fuck you look good like this,” he breathes out in pleasure.

You groan softly as he squeezes your tit in his strong hand, massaging the soft mound of flesh afterwards. He pulls away to push both tits together and buries his face between them with a happy sigh, “Never wanna leave, I could die a happy man like this sweetheart.”

“You’re just a perv.” You chuckle with a moan.

“For you.” Jungkook grins and then lays back, “Don’t tell me you’re getting tired already.” He notices that your bouncing has slowed down.

You glare cutely at him and sit up, “I don’t like doing the work in case you haven’t noticed.” You mumble while grinding back and forth over his cock, “You’re lucky I love you enough to do this.”

His eyes widen when he hears the words “love” and “you” in one sentence. It makes his sappy little heart beat with joy and pride hearing those words leave your lips, he can’t help but buck his hips upward eagerly.

“Jungkook..!” You gasp throwing your head back.

“Say it again baby,” he huffs as he uses his strong grip to haul you up and plop you back down on his lap, “I wanna hear it–” He cuts off with a breathy moan.

“I love you.” The words make him groan louder as he slaps his hips upward.

“Fuck I love you too,” he moans, “so, so fuckin’ much, you have no idea.” He whispers and looks up at you through hooded eyes.

You bite your lip hard and throw your head back with a whine, “ ‘m coming.” You whimper.

“Oh you like hearing that don’t you, knowing damn well that you got me wrapped around your fingers.” Jungkook huffs with exertion as he fucks into you harder.

“Y-Yes, love it so much knowing you’re mine,” you mewl softly and grind on him, “fuck, fuck..!” Your pussy clamps down and suddenly you’re coming all over him in slow waves of harsh pleasure.

Jungkook pulls you down for a passionate kiss as he holds you down against his pelvis. A few more rolls has him coming too, cock throbbing and twitching. He lays there panting heavily with hazy eyes while you whine about him being careful.

“Don’t put pressure on your side,” you grumble, “I told you we shouldn’t have fooled around.”

“I’m fine, see? Nothing’s wrong.” Jungkook laughs and delivers a sharp smack to your ass, “Now tell me you love me again. Wanna hear it from your pretty lips.” He mumbles and traces over your bottom lip.

“I love you.” You fondly sigh.

“Again.”

“I love you.”

“Again.”

“You’re so annoying! I’m going to shower.” You huff and stomp off with cum leaking down your inner thighs.

Jungkook lays there with a soft grin as he watches you go, “Yeah, yeah, I love you too though.” Forever.

And ever.

TAGLIST: @fragmentof-indifference @jungkooksseuphoria @kooliv @angelarin @jjeonjjk7 @lilliankoo @pb-n-juju @ellesalazar @saweetspoiled @laylasbunbunny @prettyprincejk @cherrysainttt @hyunjinswifeee @joongraduatewithonor @hellbornsworld @leire-mia @m1sss1mp @lissful @winkii @lifeless-firefly @exactlygreatcoffee @taestoess @ayalies @floweryjeons @softtcurse @lilspinachwrld @tearyjjeon @littleobsessedkitty @lovelovelovebts @angeljmnie @rerefundslocals @bangtans-mama @thvhoe @maddkitt @tvse @ohjeon @teteswtnr @jkslovey12 @kelsyx33 @milfpo1ice @sluttydidi @ztyur @beomgyuult @shescharlie @sweet-sourhotcoco @lalita-7 @hazzzelsdimension @p34rluv @kook-net @bonita0-0 @vmapy @dahliadaenerys @frieschan @lilyflowerguk @sayokodiary @babycandy111 @looneybleus @ash07128 @gyukookswhore @rrosiitas

[savanir]

The What Corps?

“we have you now spook! there is nowhere you can run and hide with our new spectral tethers active!”

Danny winces at the small metal clips that have hooked themselves in his leg, some new GIW tech that is messing with his powers.

“oh yeah? I was just dying for you guys to give me a challenge” plan. plan. He's gotta think of a plan to get out of here and fast. He takes a steadying breath and starts to look for anything that can help him.

he can’t get caught here. He just can't. He simply won’t allow himself.

suddenly the two GIW goons in front of him click their earpieces to clearly listen to what someone else is telling them, Danny is very glad for his own enhanced senses.

“Operatives K and O, be advised, there have been sightings of a new ectoplasmic entity near your location. Other operatives report that it’s incredibly small and moves fast. watch your backs, this may be an ambush”

small and fast? it better not be some poor little blob ghost, Danny sort of hopes it’s some manner of ectowasp, at least that could be entertaining to see.

“you better not be hoping for back up, ecto scum”

“I have no idea what you are talking about”

It's then that a small bright green light zips on scene and weaves through crowds in the distance with ease and then speeds up towards the two operatives who do not hesitate to shoot, missing completely like the storm troopers they are.

Whatever it is, it is indeed going very fast but Danny manages to figure out what it looks like and it appears to be a… ring?

“hold it you tiny accessory shaped ecto fiend!”

The ring does a speedy circle around Operative O while K is lining up a shot and ends up blasting the poor guy point blank in his face, “O!”

Danny takes a step forward with an arm outstretched and a “oh damn! Are you alright?” on his lips when the ring takes the chance to slip on his finger. “Daniel Fenton of Earth”

Danny already had a freakout about a ghost jewelry getting on him, his experiences with those so far have been incredibly bad after all, what with the rings and crowns and pendants… now this damn thing is just straight up outing him! 

Thank the ancients the two GIW stooges are too busy with each other right now to pay close attention to what this weird ring is saying.

“You have the ability to overcome great fear” ah so this is related to him steeling himself just now? Maybe? or something??

You have been chosen” never good, we are back to freaking out again.

“Welcome to the green lantern corps” 

… the what?

Danny notices that his usual outfit suddenly has more green going on, and his DP symbol has some sort of… he guess it’s supposed to be a lantern, maybe? shape around it.

He’s somehow even more glowy now, and there is something on his face. Feeling its shape makes him think it’s some sort of mask.

The metal clip things are no longer attached to his legs though so that’s great!

“You’re not getting away so easily ecto scum! sentient ghost paraphernalia coming to your rescue or no!” They both aim their weapons to take a shot.

Danny figures he can now easily hold them back with his usual shields,“you guys realize you just called this weird ring sentient and thereby negate the whole nonsentie-ack!”

“Attacking a corps lantern is punishable offense as of the instatement of the galactic diplomatic immunity as declared by the-” Okay so now Danny is just raising his eyebrow at this weird as fuck ring. Just what is it going on about?

“notifying nearby lanterns and requesting assistance with apprehension of hostiles”

what?

“getting your friends to help you out vile spook? such a thing is useless with the Blackout still very much in place”

Well… the two streaks of green light in the distance is making Danny doubt that statement.

Maybe there is more to this Lantern corps thing than he thought… And something tells him his life is about to get even more complicated than it already is.

[lymtw]

The frustration that Satoru feels when he completely stops seeing you as just one of his best friends.

You’re so pretty, modeling the dress you’ll be wearing on your date with some guy who probably dims in comparison to you. Suguru says you should try the outfit without the cardigan, so you take it off for a second and do a little 360 for the trio. Shoko gasps when she sees the lacy details that were hidden by the coat and Suguru claps in validation. “You’re so gonna get some.”

Satoru just watches, cheek resting in his fist as he half listens to the little debate between Shoko and Suguru. It’s all a blur as he focuses on the one glowing in front of him.

“Satoru?” You wave your hand in front of him.

“Hm?” He blinks up at you, acting like he wasn't zoned out while staring.

“Tie-breaker. Coat or no coat?”

He had heard what Suguru said when you took the cardigan off. 'You’re so gonna get some.'

He doesn’t want that.

“You should stay layered. You might get cold later.”

Suguru groans in disapproval, falling back into the couch cushion, while Shoko grins, smugly, at her small victory.

“Coat it is.” You smile, running back to the bathroom to finish getting ready.

“You like her, huh?” Suguru asks as soon as you’re out of sight, a squint of betrayal in his eyes.

“Pfft, nah. What makes you think that?” Satoru defends.

“She asked for our opinion on the dress and you went silent," Shoko says, throwing a knowing smirk at Satoru.

“You don’t want her to get laid or something? Why’d you vote for the granny cardigan?” Suguru adds, arms crossed over his chest.

“I want to see you take care of her when she’s sick. I did it last time, and she was unbearable. Also,” he turns to answer Shoko’s remark, “what can I say? I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

“A lot of her on your mind.” Suguru nods over at you.

Satoru turns, a lucent gleam in his eyes when he sees you.

“Alright, guys. I’ll be back before-“

“Don’t rush!” Shoko says, giggling at the dopey look on Satoru’s face.

There’s a smirk tugging on Suguru’s lips. “Have fun.”

“Call if you need me to pick you up," Satoru blurts, sitting up straight on the lounge chair he was seated in.

Shoko gasps and Suguru’s eyes go wide for a second.

“Uh... sure. Will do. Love you guys, bye!” You walk past your friends, opening the front door and shutting it behind you.

Your perfume had some effect on Satoru because for some reason his heart was racing and he was unable to calm it down.

“What?” Satoru asks when he notices the way his friends look at him. “I’m the only one with a car here.”

“Uh-huh, let’s put it that way," Shoko says, sharing a menacing look with Suguru.

—

You did end up having to call Satoru. Your date was the most annoying, insufferable person you had ever met and you weren't going to pretend like you were enjoying your time with him for the rest of the night. How can someone be so different the moment you’re alone together? You couldn’t stand him, so you excused yourself from the table and went to the restroom halfway through your meal.

You called Satoru, hoping he wasn't kidding about calling him if you needed a ride home.

“Hey, uh, I know this is really inconsiderate of me, but can you come pick me up from the restaurant? If you can’t it’s totally fine. I’ll stay.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I'm fine. It turns out I can’t stand this guy.” You chuckle, your hand reaching for the sensor beneath the water faucet, the cool water running through your fingers. "He's gross and just... I don't know."

“Did he do anything to you? Are you okay? ‘Cause, you know, I can kick his ass.”

“You already asked me that, 'toru. I’m okay. He’s just…” you pause, a sigh filling in the silence, “...different from what I remember. I don’t know this guy.”

Satoru is already sitting in his car. The moment you asked him to pick you up, he grabbed his keys and headed for the car.

“Give me ten minutes.”

“It takes twenty to get here.”

“Too bad. I’m running a few red lights. Sit tight.”

“Sa-”

The call ends and you’re left staring at the contact photo you have for him. You turn your screen off and stare into the mirror. You don’t know if you should stay in the bathroom until Satoru gets there or if you should go back out to the man waiting for you.

—

“So, Satoru likes her, huh?” Shoko says, leaning back in the lounge chair Satoru sat in before.

“Who would have guessed? We’ve all been friends for years and he’s never looked at her like that.”

“We should invest in some noise cancelling headphones. Who knows what could happen after tonight?”

Suguru furrows his eyebrows in confusion, so Shoko grins and demonstrates. She rocks back and forth in the old lounge chair, the chair creaking and squealing.

“Oh.” Suguru’s face further scrunches. He didn't need the image of his friends doing that together, in his mind.

—

Your phone vibrates on the sink, and Satoru’s name appears on the screen when you flip it. You quickly answer the call.

“Hey, i’m outside.”

“How do I walk out of here without seeming like a bitch? I didn’t think this through.”

“First, walk out the restaurant doors. Then, get in my car. It’s pretty simple, honestly.”

“We haven’t paid the bill.”

“Fuck it. Let him pay.”

“That’s just wrong. Alright, i’ll be out in a bit. Bye.”

“Bye.”

You sum up all the courage you have and walk out of the bathroom. Once you reach the table, you pull out some cash you have just laying around in your purse, like forty-something bucks, and set it down in the middle of the table.

“Hopefully that’s enough to cover half of it.”

“Where are you going?” Your date asks.

“To keep it polite, I have to go. Have a good rest of your night.”

You walked out of the restaurant, immediately spotting Satoru’s blue Camaro.

The second you get in, you make yourself comfortable, removing your heels and taking down your hair from its updo.

“What’s wrong?” Satoru asks, when you don’t say anything.

“It’s fine. This guy just wasn’t the one.”

Satoru’s chest feels tight now that you’re in the car. The smell of your perfume has returned and you’re glowing in the moonlight. It makes him think of the effort you put into looking the way you do, and how you ended up having to hide in the bathroom.

“Do you wanna go home?”

You’re looking in the sun visor mirror, bobby pins in your mouth as you fix your hair so that it’s not in your face once Satoru starts driving.

“Mm… whatever you want to do,” you say, muffled by the pieces of metal pressing into your lips.

It wouldn’t be whatever he wants to do, though. All he wants to do is kiss you, right now. Do something to soothe the ache you must be feeling.

“Why are you acting like this?” He asks, watching you as you place another pin in your hair.

You laugh through your nose, a bobby pin still between your lips. You put it in your hair before answering.

“Like what?” You look at him while you put your seatbelt on.

“Like this doesn't bother you. You don't have to put up a front, you know? I'm not gonna laugh at you."

The metal clicks, and you fold the sun visor back up. “Because it didn’t bother me. I’m not gonna settle for someone I hate being around."

Part of Satoru wanted this to go well for you. He wanted to see a brilliant smile on your face when you got home. So, the fact that it didn’t end up that way strangely caused some heartache for him.

“Don’t look so down.” You give him a kind smile and pinch his cheek. “I’m okay. Really.”

He tries to distract himself from the warmth that seeps into his cheeks from your quick gesture. “Well, I don’t want to go home. Is that okay, with you?”

“What’s up with you?” You ask, bringing one of your legs up and folding it comfortably on the seat.

“Nothing.”

You stare at him until he breaks out his contagious smile and laugh.

“Really, nothing. I just want to spend some time out tonight. Shoko and Suguru want to stay home and be couch potatoes."

You see your date walking out of the restaurant, phone against his ear. He doesn’t look too defeated, but you don’t want him to see you with Satoru and make any bold assumptions.

“Okay, that’s totally fine, but can we go?” Your leg goes back down, meeting the floor mat and you turn to face the window.

Satoru analyzes your behavior and your expression. Your arms are crossed, you refuse to look in his direction again. It’s weird compared to how you were acting two seconds ago.

“What?” Satoru turns to look at whatever made you shrink, and as soon as he sees him he rolls his window up. “Really?” His eyes are lidded in disappointment. It’s not in you as a person, but in your lack of respect for yourself, choosing someone so far below your league.

“He was nice when I first met him.”

Satoru puts the gear in reverse, backing out of the parking spot. “He looks stupid and on top of that he acts like it, too? God.”

“I know, I know.” You lean against the car door and stare out the window.

“What made you think you deserved him? Honestly, I can’t wrap my head around how low this is for someone like you.”

“I don’t know.”

Your responses to Satoru's interrogation kept getting shorter and shorter and he realized he was beating a horse that was already down.

“You know I care," he mumbles, breaking the heavy silence. “I don’t mean to tell you who to date and who you should be with.”

“I hate this conversation. You’re not my dad, Satoru. It’s fine.” You sit up, back against the seat and face forward. “Where are we, anyway?”

“I just followed a random road to see where it would lead. I don’t wanna go home, but I also don’t want to know where I am.”

“So, we’re lost.” You laugh.

“Hey, as long as we have phones with enough battery, we’re not really lost.”

“Right.” You grin, continuing to watch the road. You look over the steering wheel to see how much gas the car has. It’s two marks below the bold F.

“Can you tell me something?”

You turn to Satoru, giving him your full attention. He’s been more serious than you know him to be since you left the house.

“What’s up?”

“I’m not trying to rehash this father-like conversation, but as one of your best friends… what were you thinking when you accepted a date with this guy?” He glances over at you for a second. “What went through your mind when you said 'yes' to a date with him?”

“Potential love, dates, butterflies. All the stuff that goes into getting to know someone as more than an acquaintance or friend.” You fidget with the extra hair tie on your wrist.

“You want all of that?” He asks, glimpsing at you again.

You nod, silently.

“You’re pretty enough to fuck around with whoever you want, you know? I know some people who wanna do some pretty... vulgar things with you."

Your eyes go wide at how far south the conversation went. You cracked the second you looked at Satoru though. He looked somewhat proud to be friends with someone who could get some anytime.

“That’s… good to know, I guess.” Your mind stumbles over the part where he called you pretty enough.

“You’re not interested in that, though, are you?”

You wince, jokingly. “It’s just not my cup of tea. I want something more long-term.”

Satoru grins, almost like he wants to talk about himself.

“That’s not your cup of tea, is it?” You reciprocate the grin.

“No, no. Believe it or not, the last relationship I was in lasted a whole two months.”

You slapped the car door dramatically. “A whole two months?!”

“Stop it. It’s nothing, really," Satoru jokes, grinning with faux pride.

“Hey, i’m not shaming you. You’re not down with commitment and that’s fine. We're young. There's no need to rush."

“I haven’t found someone I really want to commit to. I'm not stupid enough to ignore the fact that people are really only attracted to my body. They can't stand when I open my mouth, so I figured it’s better to fuck around than to put my heart into something that won’t last without sex.”

Satoru's personality was for people with acquired taste. On the other hand, Satoru's physical appearance was for anyone and everyone. The people who could appreciate all of him would be in for the most amazing ride, because even as his friend, you could confidently say that there is no one like him anywhere in the world. You can only hum in acknowledgement of how romantically lonely he must feel.

“What?” You ask when the car stops. Satoru puts the car in park before turning it off. “We’re not out of gas, so what’s the problem?”

He unbuckles his seatbelt and turns to face you, one leg bent on the seat. He’s met with a breathtaking sight. You look stunning in that navy blue dress, and that shade smeared over your lips was calling his name. He can see part of your thigh from where your dress rides up.

“Can I talk to you about something?” The tension behind the question was enough to make your ears go red.

“Of course you can. You’re scaring me, but go on.”

He smiles, trying to lighten up the mood. He knows better than to just dump information like this on you so heavily, but he can't go home tonight without telling you how he feels. He already doesn’t expect much to come of telling you this, but it's been eating him alive and he can't keep it in anymore.

“You've been on my mind a lot, lately." He sees your slightly furrowed eyebrows. They match the unintentional pout on your lips. You’re confused and for some reason you feel nervous, like your heart might escape your ribcage.

“What does that mean?” You ask, wanting a clearer understanding. He could be worried about you in a totally platonic way. He could be wondering about what you've been up to lately. You're having trouble assuming there's romantic notes to his statement after the brief discussion you just had.

“It's exactly as it sounds. I've been thinking about you." He's not smiling, he's not laughing yet this still sounds like a joke that he’s running to mess with you.

“You done with your jokes? We could both be home right about now," you say, not intending for your words to come out as sharp as they did. His hand is suddenly cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing away a speck of glitter from it.

“You say goodnight to me in the sweetest way—like you won't see me in the morning. And the soft smile you give me before you shut the door... it lingers in my mind. I dream of it from time to time."

You're trying so hard not to lean into his touch and nuzzle your cheek into his palm, but you make no effort to push his hand away. “What are you talking about, Satoru? Don't you think you're reading into it a little too much? I do that for all three of you. Ask Shoko and Suguru.”

His hand has been on your cheek for a while now, and he’s still looking at you like he has things to get off his chest. “I know you don't say it the same way to them as you do to me." He stops, a little sigh leaving him. He’s probably making you dizzy with all of this news, based on the look on your face. He retracts his hand and rests it on his thigh. You look stunned, so he cuts to the chase. “To be even more clear, I don’t see you as a friend. It doesn’t seem right to see you that way when I can picture us doing more. Being more."

“Doing more?” You repeat, cheeks growing warm.

“Holding hands, kissing, being alone together—more.”

The heavy silence returns, both of you nervously avoiding eye contact.

“I..." you huff. "I need some air.” You unbuckle yourself before exiting the car. Your scent remains in the car even after the door shuts behind you, leaving Satoru to wonder if things are screwed with you.

Your back is against the door, your hands interlocked in front of your eyes, shielding you from the gentle moonlight. You groan, irritated by the conflicted thoughts that came with Satoru's revelation.

It’s not long before Satoru comes out and joins you, leaning on the side of his car. It's cold and he doesn't want you to get sick again. His heart could barely handle your involuntarily weak display the first time.

“I didn’t stress you out, did I?” He asks, turning his head to look at you. You shake your head, your hands still covering your eyes. “There’s really no part of you that can envision an us between me and you?”

You chuckle, a sound that makes his heart pang. “It’s funny... you know, a long time ago it was all I dreamed about.”

Now this was baffling news to Satoru. How long ago was a long time ago? A couple months ago? Last year? Three years ago? And why didn’t you say anything?

“I considered you a pursuit that was out of reach. You had—have— all these girls just throwing themselves at you, and I couldn’t be one of them, so I befriended you instead.”

“How long ago was a long time ago?” He asks, nervous to hear the answer.

“Like last year in March. It was during your phase where you would never come home.”

He feels like an asshole. Especially since not too much later, he developed similar feelings for you that he endlessly denied.

“You liked the me you never got to see?”

You both chuckled at the rhyme of his words, your broken senses of humor adding some lightheartedness to the conversation.

“I guess you not coming home was more calming because I didn't have to be nervous to see you.”

You crossed your arms. The cardigan protected you, but not enough. The cold wind was starting to nip at your cheeks. Satoru notices and moves closer to you.

“Let’s go back inside, yeah?”

You didn’t want to. You were nervous being “stranded” with Satoru already, but minimizing the space between you was even more nerve-wracking. He was your greatest temptation before, and you could easily create those labyrinths that guide him into your mind again if you got close enough.

“I’ll be fine," you say, looking straight ahead at the field of weeds in front of you.

“You’re gonna catch a cold. Get in the car," Satoru prompts. He thought back to the tired look on your face as you laid in bed sick, waiting for him to bring you warm soup.

“No," you insisted, turning away from him.

He inched closer, not wanting to look at your back. “Please, get in the car." He thought of the gracious look on your sick face when he brought you another blanket to keep you warm.

“I said no, Satoru. I don't want to get in the car with you."

You were being stubborn as hell, and something about it made Satoru’s blood boil to the point where he did whatever his mind told him to do. You were suddenly pinned to the car, your hands on Satoru’s chest to keep some distance. He blocked every gust of wind that threatened to bite at your skin, and enveloped you in his warmth. You don’t know how, but in this freezing temperature, Satoru’s hands felt like sunlight on your cheeks. His face was centimeters away from yours, his bright eyes searching for a loophole in your feelings for him. Your eyes spoke with an infinite amount of possibility, and some of it didn't make sense, so he kissed you in hopes of translating what you were trying to say.

You didn’t have any fight left in you. Not when you felt so secure in this close proximity. Now, all you wanted was to be in the car with him, alone.

The kiss was released with light breaths from both of you, a look of feeling complete on Satoru’s face. “Will you get in the damn car,” he whispers, his arms caging you against the car.

“Say please," you say in the same intimate volume as him.

“Please," he complies, allowing his eyes to flit between your eyes and your lips.

“Pretty please?" you push.

“Pretty please," he says, the corners of his lips twitching.

“How about pretty please with a cherry on top?”

“Get in the car," he says through a laugh.

You chuckle, shoving him lightly before opening the door and entering the car. Satoru gets in the drivers seat and suddenly it all feels strange. Strange, but in the best way.

The tension from before returns. There's no wind blowing to fill in the silence when you both stop talking.

“Do you ever think of me when you're alone?” It was a weird question to be asked by him, especially since you had already told him that your feelings for him were left behind.

“Never," you reply, a softness in your tone that held memories of when all you thought about was Satoru.

He's somewhat disappointed, seeing as though there's a chance he might be too late.

“Do you think that will change after tonight?” He seems to be getting closer, or at least his hands are. Your skin is irresistible and he wants to feel how soft you are. He's been craving you for so long, and you're right there.

“There’s no way to tell.” You can see how slowly his hand is traveling. A minute ago it was on his lap, now it’s on the armrest between your seats. You can’t wait any longer. The suspense might make you jump out of the car again, so you grab his hand and put it on your thigh, where your dress rides up.

“I’ll throw the question back to you. Do you think of me when you're alone?” You ask him now because he won’t give you some bullshit response at a time like this, when he’s getting everything he’s wanted for who knows how long.

“All the time,” he responds so quickly. “When I wake up, before I go to sleep, in the shower, while I brush my teeth.” There’s this foolish look on his face, like he would give anything to never lose the ability to have you on his mind all the time. "You're in there, organizing the shrine I made for you," he admits, with a grin. His thumb presses into your thigh, massaging the plush skin. It makes you nervous as hell, but you like it.

“Have you told Suguru and Shoko?”

He chuckles, remembering the conversation he had with them after you left. “I’m positive they know."

Once again, you're left staring at each other in silence, drowning in the tension you’ve created within yourselves. Satoru has yet to move his hand away from your thigh, not letting up even when he feels goosebumps spread on your skin. He tests the boundaries you have set up, finding no resistance from you when his hand reaches further up your dress.

“You’re not gonna tell me to stop?” He asks as his fingers are met with lace, a texture that makes his heart thud rapidly in his chest.

You shake your head, leaning back in the seat. His fingers ghost over the front of your panties, finding a satin bow just below the elastic band.

“Were you going to let that guy touch you? Is that why you wore these?” He hasn’t even seen them, and yet he can tell they’re the cutest thing ever.

“Maybe," you mumble, looking away in slight embarrassment.

“Can I see them?” He asks.

You nod, allowing him to slowly pull up your dress. Your heart drops when you hear him gasp.

“God, no way," he says, sounding defeated. His ears slowly turn a bright shade of red as he observes the material covering your intimate area.

“Stop,” you whine, feeling flustered by his reaction and the way he stares.

His hand returns to its previous spot, continuing to play with the part of the elastic that sticks to your hip.

“You wear these types of panties on every date you go on?”

You nod, biting your lip as his fingers move just to feel the fabric. His touch is still ghost-like—light, barely there, but it’s working you up anyway. There’s barely enough friction, yet you can feel your wetness begin to ruin the garment.

He sighs. “You know, no one deserves you.” His tone is smooth and he smiles at you, an angel taking control of his features. “Not even me, but I can make up for the one who missed you tonight.”

He spares his attention to the spot in the middle of your panties, only smiling when a breathy moan involuntarily leaves you.

“God..." you groan in embarrassment, covering your face with your hands. "I can’t with myself."

His thumb rubs up and down your clothed slit, applying pressure when he reaches your clit.

“Don’t be shy. Make as much noise as you want,” he says, luring a gasp from you.

You look away again, red-faced, feeling embarrassed beyond belief.

“What?” A low chuckle follows. His hands settle on your thighs as he leans in and tries to look at your flustered face.

“This is weird.” You look out the window, too nervous to look at Satoru.

“How come?”

You giggle. “I can’t stop seeing you as one of my friends. It’s strange to experience something like this with you.”

“I would hope Suguru and Shoko aren’t touching you like this.” His hand splays on your thigh, kneading softly. “Are they?” He asks, after a pause.

“Of course not.”

He seems satisfied with that response because he’s trying to hold back a smile, but the corners of his lips are twitching. His fingers snap the elastic band of your panties against your skin a couple more times.

“Is it too weird to go on?” He asks.

You consider the facts. He already touched you, he confessed his feelings for you before he touched you so you know he wasn't lying about his feelings for you and he doesn’t just want sex. You had those feelings for him before, but claimed to have lost them with time.

Your overwhelming thoughts are enough to put an end to what was going on. You pull down your dress, hiding the evidence of his touch, and sit up straight in the seat. “Maybe we should head home before we do something we might regret later.”

He hums and smiles, not an ounce of disappointment in his features. “No argument from me."

Satoru put his seatbelt on and watched as you did the same before starting the car. There was no need for him to set up the GPS because all he did was drive straight, so all he had to do was drive back the other way.

You didn’t expect the car ride to be so quiet. Maybe he did want things to go further. You couldn’t bear to look back at Satoru, even though you could feel him side eyeing you as he drove. There were a couple times where he turned his head to look at you when you stopped at red lights, but you knew you couldn’t look back until you had something to say. You were overthinking everything that happened until that point. What can you say when you just went through an entire roller coaster of emotions with someone you call a best friend? Someone who has now seen you in a vulnerable position.

“Did you at least eat?” Satoru asks, finally breaking the heavy silence that engulfed the car.

“Uh, yeah. I was able to get through my meal," you respond, glancing at him quickly before turning back to face the window.

He nods in acknowledgement. You see the stop sign at the end of your street, signaling the closeness of home.

Satoru parks the car in the driveway, and you finish removing your shoes. You enter the house, expecting to see Suguru and Shoko up waiting for you guys, but to your surprise, the doors to their bedrooms are shut.

“Goodnight, Satoru," you say. “Thanks again, for picking me up.”

“Yeah, no worries,” he responds. “Goodnight.”

You can’t shake the void left in your gut after your time with Satoru. You sit on your bed for a moment thinking of the intimacy that occurred between you and him. The gentleness of his touch, the lack of judgement from him when you basically told him that you dress your best even for scumbags. Something inside you was begging you to tell him how much you wanted him to sleep in your room—in your bed. And that’s exactly what you aimed for with this rush of adrenaline that surged through you. You rose off the bed quickly, and made haste to reach his bedroom.

You knocked, calling his name once. Once was all it took for him to leap to open the door.

“Can you help me with something?” You asked, hoping he held no ill will towards you and that he wouldn’t deny you.

“Sure. With what?”

You motion for him to follow you to your room, and he does with no further questions, following your bare feet as you lead him to your room.

“I tied the knot for my dress a little too tightly." You let out a quiet chuckle, your nervousness imbued into it.

“Oh, I see," he says, stifling a grin. "Turn around.” His finger circles in the air.

You turn your back to him, facing the mirror on your vanity. You can feel his knuckles grazing your lower back as he takes the time to slowly loosen the knot, the straps that once sat wrapped around your waist dropping loosely.

“There,” he murmurs, still standing behind you, looking at you through the mirror.

“Thank you,” you say so quietly that it’s almost a whisper.

Normally, that is the cue for someone to leave, but there was this branch of electricity connecting him to you. He couldn’t find a reason to step away from you, so instead he stepped closer. His arms encircled your waist, his hands interlocking above your lower abdomen. Your stomach swarmed with butterflies—blood thirsty ones that knew all too well that they wouldn't be leaving anytime soon, so long as Satoru was in your room.

He leaned in to kiss your shoulder, an act that brought goosebumps to your skin. "You look really pretty." You give in to the feeling, tilting your head to give him the entire canvas of that side of your neck. He wondered if you would be upset if you saw his kisses on your neck in the morning.

He stops and looks for your approval first because he has arrived centimeters behind the line between friends who are really comfortable with each other and something deeper. You have to let him know that it’s okay to cross this line.

“It’s okay,” you say, squeezing the hands that rest on your lower abdomen. “Don't stop."

That’s the green light he needed in order to move on. He did not hesitate at all in pulling back his arms and undoing the knot that held your dress up. He watched as the smooth velvet cascaded down your body, pooling at your feet, leaving you in nothing but those precious lace panties. You felt vulnerable with your bare chest out, but made no attempt to hide yourself.

He was frozen for a second or two, speechless at the sight before him.

“No one deserves you,” he finally says, his arms snaking around your torso. His lips start leaving behind their marks on the other side of your neck. He drags his kisses down your shoulder, biting once, then twice, resulting in a couple giggles from you.

“Close the door, please,” you say, realizing Shoko and Suguru would see what was happening if they opened their doors.

Satoru releases you only to close the door, locking it for safe measures. As soon as he’s back, he’s wrapping his arms around you before pushing both of you towards your bed. He starts stripping his clothes off, until he's left in just his boxers. His eyes never leave yours, a lovestruck smile on his face.

“You will never know how many times I’ve dreamt of this scenario."

“Stop.” You giggle, withstanding the sting of his lips on more than you neck. It’s heat on your chest and on your stomach now, his hands holding your waist so gently. You’ll look like some abstract piece of art by morning with the endless waves of kisses that Satoru gives you. He wants you so badly. Devastatingly so. He wants to prove that he is the closest to deserving you by the end of the night.

Your heartbeat is inconsolable in your ribcage. The eye contact brought some reality to the situation. He chuckles at the doe-eyed look on your face before refocusing on his task. He's nearing the elastic band of your underwear, those cute lacy ones he got to touch in the car. His touch is already affecting you, the evidence being a wet spot reemerging in the middle of your underwear.

"You're so warm and soft, and..." he sighs, your body making his mind cloud. He couldn't have ever accurately imagined how stunning you would be with just the golden street lamp's light shining through your window. "...you smell really fucking good." His hands go beneath the elastic band of your underwear, dragging his dainty fingers through your slit enough times to earn a small gasp from you, before pulling his hand out. "Bet you taste amazing, too," he says, wrapping his lips around his glossy digits. "Mhm..." he practically moans when your taste coats his tastebuds. "Sweeter than I could have ever imagined."

You don't think you'll get over Satoru saying these explicit things to you.

"More. Fuck, I need more." There's so much he wants to do to you, so little time in the night despite it only being 11:30. "God, you're so..." he cuts himself off and kisses down your stomach, impatiently—desperately. "...so pretty. So—fuck— so pretty. Gonna make you feel so good."

"Okay, 'toru, make sure to breathe," you tease, running your fingers through his soft locks as he nears your throbbing core.

He drags his nose up and down the wet patch of your panties, audibly inhaling your scent and exhaling through shuddered breaths. He sounds feral, his aching cock creating its own pool of arousal in his boxers. The tip of his nose was covered in your slick, the remnants of you on his skin driving him absolutely crazy. Once he absolutely couldn't take it anymore, he yanked your underwear down, almost tearing the pretty fabric and tossed it onto the floor. You were soaked at the sight of his pure lust towards you. Those eyes were darker than you've ever seen them before.

He tries to be slow and gentle for you. You're the one thing he's wanted for the longest time and now he has you. You're not guaranteed to be his forever, after this, but at least the night is secured and he has this one chance to prove that he would do it right with you. That he could handle your body with a tenderness and loving that would make you weep. Everything you want in a lover will be given to you in one act of demonstrating how undeniably in love with you he is.

His attempt at slow sensuality never reaches you. His arms are hooked tightly around your thighs to prevent you from squirming away from his greedy mouth. He wants everything you give him to never end. The melodic sound of you moaning his name, the sweet nectar that just keeps drooling out of your cunt, the sting on his scalp from the firm hold you have on his hair and the tugging. He's in heaven. If the possibility of this reoccurring is nonexistent, he wants this moment to loop. For there to be a glitch in real life that allows him to replay this scenario as many times as he likes, like a story with multiple endings.

"You taste so good. So fucking good, princess. Wanna give you a taste," he rambles. He unwraps his right arm from your thigh and uses his forearm to pin it down so that he can use his fingers on you. He bends all his fingers down except for his index and middle fingers. Your slick is already streaming out of you, ready to be collected, but he can't resist the urge to dip his fingertips into your pulsing hole. "Oh fuck, you're so wet," he utters in awe, quickly tossing the idea of just his fingertips going in when his long, lithe fingers sink into you with ease.

"Satoru," you choke out, a sharp gasp following. The pads of his fingers brush against that spot within you that forces you to bite your lip. Your heart is racing. What if you get caught? How would you explain what's going on to your friends and would the dynamic of your living situation change because of it? You care, but clearly not enough to second guess this moment again, like you did in the car.

"Mmm..." he moans against your clit, his lips smacking after releasing the now throbbing bundle. "So sweet." He pulls his fingers out of you and admires the glaze that drips down to his knuckles. He wants to be selfish and put them in his mouth, but his need for you to know how good you are to his tastebuds overpowers those thoughts. "Open, pretty," he says, tapping his wet fingers against your lips. He watches with parted lips as you take his slick coated digits into your mouth, shutting your lips around them to completely suck off your essence. "Good, huh?" A pleased grin appears when you nod. "Yeah... I want it back." He pulls his fingers out of your mouth and puts them on your right breast, smearing your saliva all over your nipple until it pebbles.

All you can do is say "huh?" before your lips are enveloped by his. The kiss starts out slow— he's taking a moment to appreciate how perfect your lips feel against his. For a minute you can feel the way he innocently wants you. You have butterflies in your stomach all over again.

His hunger for you grows with every sharp breath you release and the squirming beneath his unrelenting hands on your chest. Your heart has been pounding in your ears since he slipped his tongue into your mouth and you have goosebumps from all the rubbing, brushing, and tweaking he offers your nipples, the throbbing in your cunt only intensifying as you withstand it. He thinks the whimpers that seep into your kisses are the cutest sounds ever and he doesn't want them to stop, so he glides a hand down your abdomen and gives you the touch you're missing.

You break the kiss, throwing your head back into the pillow at the feeling of Satoru rubbing your clit. He watches through gleaming eyes the way your jaw hangs and allows the sweetest moans to spill from your kissed up lips.

"Feeling good?" He asks, grinning when you respond with a moan that makes you clasp a hand over your mouth. "Yeah? That's an answer, too." He chuckles, watching intently as you crumble beneath his touch, not some zero's who made a fool out of himself.

You uncover your mouth, your sounds amplifying and flowing freely. "Satoru," you gasp. "Oh, fuck– S-Satoru!" The last words you manage to cry out before you cum without a warning.

You look way too pretty arching your back off the bed and chasing friction from his hand. Your neck looks palpable like that, exposed for him like you want him to mark it up and take a few bites.

"Let me make you feel good, pretty girl," he coos, drunk off the cute sounds of the heaves and sobs that wrack through your chest, your little whines shining through them. Lustful, lidded eyes watch as you try to wriggle away from his touch.

"P-Please," you huff out, your trembling thighs working to shut around his hand. It's too much, your peak has passed and now you're left to bear the overwhelming feeling of his unstopping fingers.

"I know, I know. It's terrible..." he murmurs. His tip is leaking so much at the sight of your body jerking and your eyes welling with tears. He really loves the way you've surrendered yourself to him. "You're so pretty." He sighs, dreamily. He stops and wiggles his hand out of the tight embrace of your thighs. You take a deep breath and blink away tears, focusing on the comforting movement of his hands caressing your thighs. He can see the way you look at his body. His chest, the sculpted muscles of his abdomen, the pale happy trail that leads to a part of him that you are unfamiliar with.

He crawls over you, his lower body wedged between your legs. "Don't be scared to touch," he says, his tone sultry. He grabs ahold of your hand and places it on his chest, initiating the contact for you. You take control and allow your hands to roam his body. Like you're in a room full of random unpressed buttons, you explore the different reactions you get from touching different parts of him. You discovered that his nipples are sensitive. He groaned into your neck when you palmed at his pecs and borderline whimpered when you focused your touch on his peaks. He shuddered when you traced along his ribs, but once you neared his stomach and waist, things got hot for you all over again. Your heart raced as he breathed into your neck due to the feeling of your nails gently scratching along his abs. He was rutting his clothed bulge against your cunt, desperate, low moans leaving him with every graze of your nails along his waist.

"F-Fuck, I can't wait anymore. Please, let me in." He whips out the cutest puppy eyes you've ever seen, and though they're unnecessary, you're not opposed to him having to resort to those means.

"Y-Yeah, okay," you breathe, feeling the throbbing in your cunt intensify when he stopped rolling his hips against you.

He's rushing, his movement stuttered and his hands shaking with desperation as he works his boxers off. He's impressed with the amount of precum that went into them, but he doesn't waste time admiring the mess any longer once he frees his achingly hard, drooling cock. It's sensitive to the touch. He'll cum if he doesn't play his cards right while lathering his length with the essence that beads at his tip. With that taken care of, he comes close to you again.

"This is gonna be the slowest start ever," he says under his breath, eyeing that sweet little smile on your face, like you understand the turmoil he's going through with just trying to get inside you. His tip nudges your clit, spreading some of his precum onto the nub as he guides it up and down your slit a couple times. He's working himself up to sinking in because he knows how wet you are. After a few more strokes, he presses just the tip in, nestling it into your warmth with a groan. You gasp as he slowly drives himself into you, the stretch his girth induces proving to be immense. He tries to steady his stuttering hips as he pushes more of his length in.

"Little more, just a liiittle more," he says through soft breaths, more to himself than you. Once he glides the rest of his length in, he feels like he's going to explode. He's throbbing so hard and you're not helping at all with the brief, inconsistent spasming of your walls. "Oh fuck... shit," he whimpers, thrusting only halfway into you. "Sorry—fuck—s-sorry... I can't-" He gasps when he thrusts the rest of the way in, spewing his load as he just grinds against you.

Your eyes widen as you watch him, his eyes shut tightly, his jaw hanging ajar to release shaky breaths. His cheeks, neck and chest are blazed, bright color smothered over his pale skin.

"Shit..." he rasps, still taking deep breaths.

You can't even ridicule him for this when he looks so fine. The laugh he let out was enough to make your thighs twitch.

"It's alright, Satoru. It's getting pretty late, anyway."

"No-the-fuck it's not," he says, looking down at you with the smallest crease between his brows. He's wanted this—wanted you—for way too long and he can't leave your room without showing you just how badly he desires you. It's a need, at this point.

A chill runs down your spine and your heart drops at his response.

"I mean, i'm not tired. Are you?" He asks, softening a little after coming in so hot with his last response.

You're not and even if you were, it's those eyes... They compel you to want to do things for his sake. They're so soft and you feel wanted beneath their force. You feel everything he said to you in the car when you peer into his eyes.

"No. I'm not tired either," you respond, which instantly puts a smile on his face.

"Good. Let me try again."

Neither of you mentioned any of what happened within that quick span of time. No mentions of him spilling the second he got inside you or you trying to end the night to save him the embarrassment, and it turned out for the better. No awkwardness once he recovered and went back to proving his love for you. He went straight into it, thrusting at a slow pace to start you off. He held onto your hips as he leaned in and kissed all over your chest, sucking your delicate skin to leave little reminders of him for you to see in the morning.

He groans, muffled by your warm skin, when you scratch the back of his head, guiding your nails through the short hairs of his undercut and down the nape of his neck. He's purring like a satisfied cat, the soft breaths he lets out through his nose grazing your neck.

With all these good feelings comes Satoru picking up the pace. His hips meet yours a little more quickly and suddenly both of you get a little more courage to make more sound.

"Fuck," you whimper. "Satoru... S-Satoru..."

"I know..." he grunts. "I know, baby. I feel really good, too."

You just look so damn pretty, with your starry eyes and your messy hair, and the way you keep moaning his name. He has to kiss you again. Each time he kissed you before was accompanied by fireworks. This time... who knows? He certainly won't unless he gains the courage to do it once more.

He leans forward and stares deep into your eyes. The level of intimacy has doubled down and you feel like your heart is trying even harder to lurch out of your chest. He's not stopping, you can feel his breath on your lips as he pants through the exertion of his hips. Then, once again, with a whimper as he closes the distance between your mouths, he kisses you. It's not fireworks this time, it's an entire fire and you kissing him back like you need him just as much is fanning the wild flames.

"Love... you," he disperses the words through his kisses. He doesn't only say it once. He says it multiple times as your lips are moving, making those pauses purposeful. "Fuck– I love you," he repeats, breaking the kiss when you don't say anything. "Come on," he chuckles. "Say it back."

"Satoru..." you say, softly.

"You say it all the time to us. What's another time?"

You bite back a laugh when you see those brilliant eyes again. He knows the effect they have on people and uses them to his advantage.

"It doesn't..." he groans, cursing under his breath when you suddenly clench around him. "...have to mean anything more than it usually does."

You're hesitant, but figure that as long as he doesn't take it as more than what he's used to—at least until things are talked through—there can't be any harm in saying what he wants to hear.

"Love you, 'toru."

The words are way too sweet, too gentle on his ears. The smile you offered as you delivered those words was devastatingly beautiful. You've said this a million times, each time so friendly, so lovingly, the meaning never feigned or faded with its repetition, but in that moment, he felt the words more than he ever did before. Your plush thighs are pressed against his hips, your hands are on his chest, and he can still smell that perfume you spritzed on your skin before you left. He's never heard you like this before, so sultry that it almost seems like an invasion of privacy.

"Again... say it again, p-please." With the scene that is playing out before his very eyes, he wants to imagine you meaning it as a term for lovers.

"I-I..." you let out a sharp gasp, your words cut off by the feeling of his cock brushing against that weak spot within you. "I love y-you, Satoru."

You're saying it to him only, right now. It's not 'I love you guys', it's 'I love you, Satoru', and he's drowning in it all. Your voice, the words, the blissed out look on your face. He's weak.

"Yeah?" He laughs, sounding almost delirious from how good he feels and how he's trying so hard not to cum.

"Mhm," you respond.

"T-That's good to know," he says, breathily. He's picking up the pace again, almost knocking the wind out of you with that first thrust in the change of pace. You're scratching up his back, wrapping your legs around his waist while he moans into the crook of your neck.

"G-Gonna cum, gonna fucking cum, again."

"Please... cum inside," you babble, nonsensically.

"Yeah? You want it inside again?" He asks, grinning when you hum and nod in confirmation. Who is he to deny you of such a simple want?

With a few more harder thrusts, he's filling you to the brim again with his warm cum. He's breathing heavily into your neck, mouthing at your skin sloppily as your cunt flutters around him. He's babbling on and on asking you if you came and if you feel good, while you're trying not to cry out too loudly from how hard you did. It's only until he unsticks himself from your tacky skin that he sees the aftermath of your orgasm. Your lidded eyes, the rapid rise and fall of your chest, the sound of your shuddered breaths brushing past your lips. He's thinking about it again. No one deserves you, but clearly, he was the closest.

He tosses himself beside you once you both come down. Your blanket is shared between the two of you, it reaches just above your chest and above Satoru's hips.

He sighs as he turns over to face you as you stare up at the ceiling. "You think they heard us?" He asks, voice low and intimate, yet a mischievous smirk that tells you he wouldn't care if they did, plays on his lips.

"Not sure. I guess we'll find out tomorrow." Now it's your turn to sigh. You don't even want to think about how weird breakfast might be in the morning.

"Hey," he calls for your attention. You turn onto your side to face him, keeping the blanket close to your body. "It's gonna be fine. What's the worst that could happen? They tease us or call us dumb?" You give him a soft smile. Normally, you're the one calling him dumb while the others agree. "Don't know about you, but I don't mind. They don't know the story, anyway. Right?"

"Right."

Time slowed down in that moment. You both just stared at each other in silence, thinking about what just happened. You were comfortable together, lying there, satisfied with your decisions. He pulled you closer by your blanket covered waist and pressed kisses into your cheek, enough to make you giggle until you started returning the kisses. To anybody, this would be considered a sight of two lovers taking care of each other after a night of intimacy. The whispered words, the quiet laughter between kisses, the gentle drags of fingers on harsh marks—it all points to love. You think things might be okay, after all.

It took a while for you and Satoru to untangle yourselves from each other. Eventually, he got up and dressed into everything but his messy boxers. You weren't going to get back into your dress so you laid back for a while and watched as he collected himself.

"Well... I'll see you in the morning." His hand is on the doorknob and he's looking at you, shamelessly raking his eyes over your body as if he's trying to memorize you all over again within the short span of his goodnight to you.

"Mhm. Goodnight."

He pulls the door open, still not detaching his gaze from you. "Goodnight," he says, his voice low, yet warm and brimming with love. He spares one more soft smile for you, before walking out and clicking the door shut behind him.

You think you finally understand why he's so hung up on the way you say goodnight.

[noisilyscreechingsong]

Seeing ghosts in Gotham

He’s walking alone. Despite how dark it is, he’s not particularly nervous, not like the couple of people hovering in an alley.

His shift at Batburger went a little long, not that he’s complaining, he needed the money.

Everything is fine. Splendid. Fantastic. A little quiet, enough to pretend it’s a nice stroll home like it was back in Amity. Of course that all kind of goes up in flames when a dark figure drops into a crouch right in front of him. About two arm lengths away is a guy who straightens to a little taller than Danny himself. From the flickering street light across the street he can spot red, crisscross yellow, and a dark cape.

Red Robin.

Danny shakes his head and turns around.

“Nope.”

A smaller body is already standing behind him, blocking his path. The little guy with a serious face folds his arms across his chest as if challenging Danny to try to get by him.

He’s had enough tussles with Danielle to know better than to test the kid.

Danny rubs at his eyes with a hand, purposefully keeping the other limp at his side. He turns back around.

“Okay. Fine. What? What do you want?”

“You sent in a folder of information to solve the Boothe case,” Red Robin states confidently like there wasn’t any doubt it was Danny who sent it in.

He frowns. It was sent in anonymously. As in they shouldn’t be able to know it was him. Then again they are detectives in their own right even if they dress weird.

“See? This is why no one helps out the police if they’re gonna get grilled for it later on,” he complains sourly.

“That case is connected to another string of crimes we’ve been investigating. I need to know where you got your information.”

Danny glares at him for a second, actually thinking about telling him, then he remembers how quickly these guys throw people into Arkham.

“Do you not get what anonymous means?”

“What is your source?” He asks, completely ignoring Danny’s concerns.

“What are gonna do? Dangle me over the side of a building to get me to talk like you do with the criminals you guys pick up? Go ahead. See where that gets you,” he shrugs indifferently.

“You’re a runaway.”

Danny’s eyes widen in surprise before narrowing into a warning as he turns to look at the pipsqueak that spoke.

“From your poorly made fake ID and the fact you don’t look close to eighteen, you must be a runaway minor. We could bring you in to the proper authorities if you prove to be… uncooperative.”

Danny sneers in annoyance.

“Seriously?” He turns back to Red Robin. Clearly the older of the two and the one leading this investigation. “This is what I get for trying to help? Blackmail?”

“Robin can be a bit… abrasive. I, on the other hand, can appreciate a different approach.”

Suddenly there’s a couple pieces of paper money in between his fingers. Danny couldn’t see how much it was from this far away, but it didn’t really change how he felt about the whole situation.

“Now bribery? Wow, you guys really got the whole good cop, bad cop thing down, don’t cha?”

“Then what do you want?”

“For you to stop wasting your time,” Danny answers with a snap.

Red Robin pauses.

“Our time,” he repeats calmly.

“Yea. Your time. This is a dead end and you should move on.”

“And why are you a dead end?” Presses Robin.

“Because,” Danny emphasizes with a look over his shoulder, “the guy you’re really looking for, my source as you put it, is dead, okay? So you can’t go ask him questions. I sent in everything that was relevant. Find another lead.”

Red Robin’s expression remains blank as he mentally calculates his next move. Danny hopes he takes his advice and let him go home.

“His name?”

Danny folds his arms over his chest, a pathetic attempt to protect himself. He chews on his lip a minute. To tell him or not to tell him. It’s not really ratting the guy out since he’s, you know, dead. Although there is a large chance Danny’s missing something and it’s all going to lead back to him somehow.

“I didn’t kill him.”

“I never said you did,” the vigilante replies calmly, almost nonchalant.

Danny shifts his weight with nerves. He really wasn’t getting out of this without giving them something, huh?

“Greg,” he grinds out like it’s painful.

Silence for a few moments, then-

“As in Gregory Boothe?”

The victim of this whole conversation? Yes.

Danny’s silence is answer enough and the diverted gaze just solidified their suspicions.

“Gregory Boothe’s body turned up a month ago. Presumably he’d been dead for several weeks before that.”

Red lets that damning information hang in the air like Danny didn’t already know.

“So when did he talk to you? Last week?”

Danny jerks at the off handed joke, actually taking a step back and hitching his shoulders up to his ears. He grimaces at his knee jerk response, but can’t take it back. A glance toward the vigilante shows a calculating stunned expression from what he can see ignoring the mask. He looks away again finding a discarded soda can very interesting.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Demands Robin behind him.

Danny tried to resist the urge to curl even more into himself, but knows he failed without even having to look.

“You’re a medium,” Red Robin states. It’s not even a question.

Danny flinches and shoots the guy a scared glare.

“I am not one of those scam artists,” he hisses firmly.

“No,” Red agrees, “you’re not. You didn’t ask for money or attention.”

Danny stares like it’s his first time seeing him. The lack of aggression or accusations was new and a little disarming. He was genuinely confused as to why the guy wasn’t immediately going to denial or throwing him in Arkham.

“Hell of a city to hide in when you can see ghosts,” Red Robin says in a light tone like he was teasing him. The small tug to his lips just proves it.

Danny’s shoulders practically sag at the playful demeanor. A hand reaches up to rub the back of his neck self-consciously.

“Yea, well… no one was gonna look for me here.”

Which was only half the reason he chose Gotham, but it was still truthful.

“So… Greg?”

“Isn’t here right now.” Danny pauses and snorts at himself. “Please leave a message.”

The vigilante does have a sense of humor because he smirks in response to the joke.

“Is there another way to… make contact? Summoning maybe?”

Danny raises an eyebrow incredulously.

“Summoning is rude,” he says like it’s common sense.

Instead he turns to the nearest reliable ghost in the vicinity.

“Hey, Susan, can you go-“

The vigilantes can’t hear how she interrupts him because she was standing there the whole time and knows exactly what he was going to ask.

“Okay, thanks. Meet at mine.”

The ghost woman nods and flies off to go hunt down dear old Greg and Danny turns to Red Robin. He makes a casual move with his head to say ‘follow me’ and continues walking down the sidewalk past the guy and further into the old, decrepit buildings he’s been squatting in.

They already know he’s a runaway, being homeless shouldn’t come as a shock to them. Even with his two jobs, he can’t afford to rent an apartment. No wonder so many people are in poverty or in the slums.

He ducks into his rundown building, ignoring the rats scurrying away, and hops up the rickety stairs, avoiding the ones that were unstable. It was a nightmare figuring out which steps were faulty. Lots of injuries.

At the top he turns to see Red easily copying his movements up the stairs while Robin balances along the railing like a tight rope. When they reach the top at the same time Danny just stares at them for a moment before shaking his head in exasperation. Darn vigilantes. Why did Danny have to get caught up in this mess?

He turns, walking along the floor closest to the wall before getting to what he’s deemed his room.

It used to be an office from what he can tell. A desk pushed against the far wall and a ripped sofa he’s been using as a bed on the other wall. The floors were the most stable in this room which really won out.

Danny goes to the desk where all his papers are scattered over the surface. An organizational pattern only he understands as he shuffles through the pile he pulls from the cubby above the desk. It holds all the same information he sent into the police, just in its raw form with about twice the amount of useless information. Along with it is a few other ‘cases’ that sounds familiar that he just threw together into a pile. Maybe the genius detectives could decipher what he couldn’t.

“Here,” he says, holding out the stack. Red Robin doesn’t hesitate to take it off his hands.

There’s no chair for the desk anymore so he slides some papers out of the way to hop onto the desk to wait.

“No.”

The vigilantes look at him and he shakes his head and looks over to the side.

“No, Abby. I’m not wasting their time.”

Red Robin goes back to flipping through papers. Most of them were old business papers he had found in the office and just written on the back. Some were receipts or pamphlets or some other random scrap of paper he could get his hands on.

“Because yours was an accident. There’s nothing for them to solve.”

Robin watched him cautiously as if waiting for Danny to snap or suddenly turn violent. Instead he leans back on his hands in a vulnerable position which screamed ‘I don’t want to hurt anyone’.

“There is a lot more information here than what was submitted to the police,” Red Robin comments neutrally, purposefully ignoring Danny’s exasperated sigh and one-sided conversation.

Danny shrugs in defense, “Didn’t think all of it was relevant.”

The vigilante doesn’t respond.

Robin drifts closer as Danny gives a withering glare to the corner. He examines the mess of papers surrounding the teen in the low lighting.

“Are these all files of victims?”

Danny glances over them with a knowledgeable eye.

“Most.” He twists to point at the top left corner of the cubbies. “Those are accidents though… well, what sounds like accidents.”

“There should be more.”

Danny looks at the boy with a tilted head and raises brow.

“Not everyone sticks around,” he explains simply.

Then something draws his attention away across the room. Surprisingly his eyes don’t glaze over like someone with mental illness, instead they sharpen to see something they can’t. It resembled Constantine or Thomas.

“Greg, these guys wanna talk to you.”

What proceeds is a very awkward interaction with Danny as a middle man between victim and vigilante. Despite the need for a translator, Red Robin does in fact get a lead from the conversation.

“Thank you for your cooperation.”

Danny nods. “Sure, no problem. Just don’t rat me out to the police and I can help with any other case that pops up with a ghost attached.”

“You know we can help with your living situation,” Red Robin offers with a glance around the room.

“What, and put me in foster care? No thanks, I’ll pass.”

“There are other options,” Robin chimes in with nonchalance that implies he doesn’t actually care.

“You don’t pass for eighteen, but if you let me make you a new ID we could say you’re emancipated.”

Danny frowns.

“I’d have to be sixteen to be eligible for emancipation.”

“You could be sixteen.”

No, he really couldn’t. Maybe if you squint your eyes and tilt your head, but Danny is fourteen with all the baby fat and innocent face that comes with it. His license now is a clear fake to anyone who sees it, but in this city no one’s gonna question it to his face. They just raise a brow, look at him, then shrug it off and roll with the lie.

“What do you want?” He demands. All this good will and wanting to help him can’t be free.

“We want to help,” Red says too easily.

Danny stares for a second, eyes narrowed as he tries to block out the multiple voices around him.

Insurance. He wants Danny to owe him so he can keep coming back for more information.

“I just told you I would help. Why are you still trying to get leverage?” He demands with irritation.

“We want to help-“

“You want me in your back pocket.”

Red Robin doesn’t give that a response, his lips pressing together to make a hard line.

Instead of pushing, he surprisingly takes a step back and heads towards the door, papers still in hand. Danny doesn’t argue.

Robin ducks out first, blending into the shadows without even a glance over his shoulder. Red Robin pauses in the doorway.

“Don’t try to skip town,” he states like an order. Like if Danny did in fact try, he would be found and brought back.

It didn’t even cross Danny’s mind.

“Wasn’t planning on it,” he says tiredly, too fed up with the day to defend himself.

Red Robin watches him for a moment before nodding and disappearing out the room.

Danny slumps with a groan, finally sliding off the desk to shuffle to the couch, body flopping face first into the worn cushions.

It’s silent to everyone else but Danny.

“I know.”

…

“I know, Jack, but I don’t trust them. Even if he is your son.”

Danny never noticed the bug planted by Robin on the underside of the desk.

[synthshenanigans]

something something the window in light & night is a mirror and its all just been Whole looking in a mirror thinking about himself/his brain