#second of all. 'so much for second chances' thanks i'm going to eat GLASS

[subsequentibis]

[carly rae jepsen your type playing at max volume]

[adelliet]

Wolverine x f!reader

5 DAYS IN HEAVEN

Summary: Since Wade is going away on a mission, he asks you to take care of his roommate. At first you will refuse, but in the end you will be so freaking grateful.

Warnings: MDNI 18+, age gap, strong language, masturbation, breast play, oral sex (f!receiving), unprotected sex (p i v), little blood, reader is smaller than Logan

A/n: This is so freaking long I'm so terribly sorry I got really into it, so I am sorry if there will be some grammar mistakes or some parts that won't make sense, I'm not a native English speaker, anyways enjoy <3

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"Fuck no Wade!" you shut your eyes as you frustrated shouted. "Please I need this!" he kept trying to convince you, reaching for your hands but you flinched. "I'm not going to make you a fucking housewife, have you lost your mind?" you asked, beginning to doubt about men's IQ at this point. “Not for me but for Logan” he corrected you as if that made a difference. “It's literally the same” you turned your back as you walked into the kitchen, Wade following you like a dog on a leash. "Please, I'll do anything!"

You stopped for a second. You've never heard Wade so desperate and you've known him for five years and as a neighbor, you know his behavior very well, this is not like him at all.

"Why do you care about him so much?" you asked, leaning against the fridge with your hands tied across your chest. "He's my bestfriend! I love him-" "Okay now it's getting weird" you turned around again as you poured some water into a clean glass.

"Please I can't lose him because he starved, I need my fuckbuddy-" you almost choked as you heard Wade's words while drinking. Never drink while Wade is talking, noted. "And why can't you just take him with you?" you turn around and furrow your eyebrows. "It's not that easy pumpkin" you rolled your eyes but didn't give up to find some other way.

"So he would order fast food, what's the matter?" "Do I look like I have enough money to feed a giant who eats like a beast?" you sigh in annoyance as you slowly realize that there probably isn't other way to solve this. "Wade, I can't cook for him-" "Why not? You're the best cook I know! Please, just for five days, no more!"

When you saw his beggar eyes, you had no choice. You sigh loudly and close your eyes as your head drops. "Fine." You growl and immediately regretted your decision as Wade grabbed you and spun you around at breakneck speed. "Jesus alright stop I'm gonna throw up!" Wade placed you back on the floor and you struggled to keep your balance. But when your vision was no longer blurry, Wade’s excited face warmed your heart. "Thank you so much! I owe you I swear!"

He gave you one last kiss on the cheek before he left your apartment. You could hear him excitedly screaming in the hallway, even on his way to his apartment. You chuckle and shake your head, he is really a child stuck in a 30 year old body.

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You don't really know Logan. You know that he moved in with Wade and they started living together, but you never found out why. Besides, you didn't even have much interaction with him, mainly because of his expression.

He still looks angry and sour, whenever you see him in the hall, you try to avoid him, because his stern expression sent you dread and goosebumps all over your body. Unlike Wade, he didn't look like a friendly neighbor who comes to visit you when he needs sugar or flour.

Rather, he looked exactly like the neighbor who just complains about you every chance he gets. You were a little afraid of the deal, going to cook for him and who knows what will happen if he doesn't like it. What if he spits on you? Or do anything worse?

You were only comforted by the thought that you would only go to him a few times a day and then you could lock yourself away and be safe. Your thoughts about Logan and the whole deal were interrupted by an aggressive pounding on your door. You immediately knew who it was.

You sighed when you saw Wade in the doorway, rudely barging into your apartment without asking. But you're used to it.

"So when are you moving in?" your eyes almost fell out of their sockets when Wade threw this question at you without hesitation. "What are you talking about?!" you tried not to think the worst, unfortunately it was the worst. "Well, you'll be living in my apartment during my absence-" you pointed index finger at him and shook him. "No no no, you didn't say that!" Wade stopped. "I thought it was obvious..."

Your heart was beating a hundred and six and your blood was at boiling point. "Wade! I'm not living with that psychopath!" you lost your shit and started screaming at him. Wade was still calm. “He's not that bad” you were shocked at his words and how easily he was letting them out of his mouth.

"Wade! What if he kills me?" Wade rolled his eyes and shook his head. "He won't kill you, don't worry, if something happens stab him...even though it probably wouldn't help" you started being red from how angry you were. "Why can't I stay here?" you finally asked him the main question.

"You know, I'm afraid something will happen to him, I want you to watch over him" you just started to mock Wade’s patheticness. Oh you are so done. "No….no! I am not gonna do it" "Ah come on sweetheart" Wade grabbed your hands so tightly that you couldn't even break free from his grip.

"I swear I'll give you anything for this, I'll be grateful to you for the rest of my life...just 5 days, please" even as you fought with every nerve and muscle in your body to refuse, his convincing eyes got you again and you let out an annoyed breath.

Wade immediately understood that you agreed and pulled you into a tight hug. "Thankyouthankyouthankyou" he kept thanking you and you started seeing stars for a moment from his tight grip. Again and again you regretted your decision and wanted to get a fake passport, change your identity and fly far away. Unfortunately, this option will not work.

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First day

The time had come for you to introduce yourself to Logan and move in. You only had a small bag over your shoulders, where were your clothes, hygiene items and necessary things. Even if you miss something, you can always go to the apartment next door, aka your home.

“Look, I'm just warning you, Logan can be a little…rude sometimes” Wade told you and you nodded. You already deduced that yourself from his face expressions. Even so, you wanted to be nice and make an impression on him, maybe he'll be a little softer if he sees you smiling.

“Alright, here we go” Wade looked even more nervous than you. When he grabbed the doorknob and went inside, Logan was nowhere to be found. You slowly followed Wade, looking for the grumpy big guy. But suddenly the door to the room opened and the famous, rude Logan came out.

He was wearing a brown shirt and jeans with a belt, now that you had a chance to get a good look at him, he didn't look so bad. "Logan!" Wade squealed excitedly while Logan still had a stern look on his face.

When his eyes landed on you, he didn't move a single muscle, unlike you. You were sweating, your smile was twitching but you tried to keep your cool. "Who is that?" he pointed at you and slowly walked closer. "So glad you're asking, Logan, this is your temporary housewife"

You were quiet but still smiling, while holding your hand for a shake. Logan rolled his eyes and moved his head from your sight in annoyance. That's a nice welcoming. "I don't fucking need her" you would be lying if those words didn't touch you a little, but Wade warned you, so you were at least half prepared for it.

You slowly dropped your hand back to your body and looked at Wade in confusion. "Well if he doesn't need me, I can go-" "No! Stay!" he grabbed your shoulder and looked angrily at Logan. "We already talk about this, be nice" he hissed through his clenched teeth and Logan just sighed. He looked back at you, that annoyed look still on his face. He was literally screaming through that face that he wants to kick you out and he really doesn't want you here. Your smile slowly dropped and you started overthinking, how the following 5 days would look like, with this grumpy rude man.

"Good kitty" Wade complimented Logan who growled back at him. "Well, the kitchen is over there, I'll show you your room and then I'll have to go, the mission awaits!" Wade got behind you and pushed you forward past Logan, who was staring at you but still with an annoyed and slightly confused expression.

"Well, put your things here and I have to go. Bye bye and thank you, I owe you” Wade quickly led you into the guest room, patting you on the shoulders before disappearing out of the apartment, leaving you and the curmudgeon alone.

You just let out a tired sigh before putting your bag on the floor and looking around the room. It was small but cozy. Even the view from the window wasn't bad, certainly better than in your own apartment.

“What's your name again?” you suddenly heard a deep growl and you quickly flinched as you quickly turned towards the voice. Logan was leaning against the doorframe, his hands wrapped around his chest, his biceps nearly tearing through the soft fabric he was wearing.You swallowed before looking into his face again and began to speak.

“Y/N…yours is Logan right? you tried to be nice again, thinking that the beginning was just a misunderstanding. God you are so pathetic. “Guess” he replied arrogantly and you pursed your lips into a thin line as embarrassment flooded your entire body.

"'kay...well it's kinda late, I'll go prepare some food" you informed him and Logan just nodded before walking off to who knows where. You were relieved when he left. As if his presence made you nervous, but not because of fear, but rather because of another feeling that you couldn't quite describe.

You came to the kitchen and started to assemble the ingredients on the counter. You decided to make spaghetti since that was the only thing they had all the ingredients for and looking around the fridge made you want to buy more stuff tomorrow. Apart from milk, some old rotting food and beer, they had nothing at all, men.

When you were almost done with the spaghetti, it was as if the smell summoned Logan without you having to say anything. He suddenly appeared in the kitchen watching you put spaghetti on two plates and pour tomato sauce over them. “I hope you like spaghetti” you said looking at Logan who surprisingly wasn't looking at the food like you thought, but at you. That caught you off guard a bit but not for too long.

"Mhm yeah" he said and immediately grabbed the plate when you finally added the basil leaves. Why are you even trying to decorate the food, you are not in a fancy restaurant here, but at Wade’s home. You just rolled your eyes and put noodles on your own plate. Logan's hungry chewing was making your ears pop and you couldn't wait to enjoy your dinner in quiet in your room.

No sooner had you added the spaghetti to your plate and decided to go into your room to eat, than Logan was already done with his food and obediently put the plate in the sink. Your eyes widened, Wade was right, this man eats like a beast.

"Do you want more?" he just shook his head as he wiped his red mouth with his hand and went straight into his own room. "m'kay" you whispered to yourself and since he left the living room, you decided to change your plan and eat while watching some TV.

This isn't so bad. If Logan answers with two words and doesn't have any long conversations with you where he just taunts you, 5 days will go by like nothing.

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Second day

You got up early because of the annoying alarm and went to get ready for work. You changed into comfortable but formal clothes, put on some make-up and took your bag. When you left the room, no one was there. You sighed with a smile and went straight to the front door.

Apparently Logan doesn't go to work, which you were a little envious of. He can sleep as long as he wants, then practically do whatever he wants for days, surely he must be a little bored if he's not saving the world.

"Where you're goin'?" you froze in a place when you heard Logan. You slowly turned around, and your eyes widened even more. He had nothing on than boxers, revealing his muscles, abs, and perfect body, which made your saliva fly from your lips.

You quickly wiped it off and looked back into his face. God he was hot. His hair was messy but fluffy, his face looked relaxed and tired but that stern look wasn't there anymore. "I- I am goin' to work" you answered with a shaky voice, for which you immediately cursed.

"What work?" his voice was also grainy and deep, he was literally hypnotizing you right now. "Why do you care?" you finally gain your confidence back and he rolled his eyes. "Geez just askin'" he went to the bathroom without saying bye or something like that. You didn't mind, the only thing that was bothering your brain was, why was he so interested?

Just yesterday he didn't want you here at all and now he's worried about you, that you'll leave him? You probably just overthinking. You took your keys and left the apartment as fast as you could.

When you arrived at the restaurant, your colleagues greeted you and you put on the fake mask with a smile. You changed into your suit and went to the kitchen to wash the dishes with the others.

"Hey everything okay? You look pretty frustrated" one of your colleagues asked and it took you a while to process his question. "What? Oh no it's nothing don't worry" you added a convincing smile at the end of the sentence and continued washing. Of course you're frustrated when you have nothing but Logan in your head, his body, his speech, his hair... this is going to be a fucking tough day.

When your shift ended, you were surprised you hadn't been fired. You were confused all day, mixing up orders, got in the way of your colleagues and even burned food a few times. Each of your colleagues asked you several times if everything was okay and you always gave the same answer. Yes, it is. You didn't understand it yourself, how could you be so stupid today and burn the food? This hasn't happened to you in at least 5 years...

All this happened because of your constant thoughts about Logan. You don't even know how it's possible. After all, he's Logan, the guy you were afraid of and would do anything to avoid him...but that was before you've seen him shirtless in boxers. God those thighs, just thinking about them makes your core vibrate.

Frustrated, devastated and tired, you arrived at your temporary apartment, threw your bag on the floor and leaned against the door with your eyes closed. "Tough day?" you hear that annoying but really sexy voice again, but this time it wasn't in your head.

You open your eyes and saw Logan, sitting on the couch with a can of beer, at least this time he was fully dressed. You didn't even have the strength to answer him with words, you just nodded your head. After that you crawled into your room where you had to clear your head for a while, you laid in bed and just stared at the ceiling.

After a while you heard footsteps, but luckily they crossed your room. Was it really fortunate, or rather unfortunately? Your head was a total mess. Now you could use a hot bath with rose petals and a candle around. This actually didn't sound bad at all, so you decided to indulge.

You got out of bed and went straight to the bathroom where you filled the bath and let out a tired sigh. You probably won't have rose petals and candles, but the bathtub is more than enough. You closed the door, not even bothering about locking it, and took off your clothes. When the water was almost full, you turned the water off and lay down in it, a pleasant growl left your mouth, when the hot water covers all your body. You feel more relaxed than ever.

You closed your eyes and in the blink of an eye, all of your fails today and thoughts of Logan were gone. You listened to the water and the silence around you which was more pleasant than ever before. You felt like you were going to fall asleep in no time, this was exactly what you needed. Until you heard the door slam open.

You flinched and immediately looked at them in fear. Logan eyes widened a bit, when he saw you in the bathtub, but after that one second look he looked down immediately, embarrassed. "Sorry" he said and left the bathroom before you could react in any way.

You were shocked, did Logan really think you wouldn't notice the quick check out before he looks down? Well, now you will definitely not stop thinking about him and it's all your fault. If you'd just locked the stupid door, this wouldn't have happened.

You came out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel holding your clothes in your hand. You got another jumpscare when Logan was standing by the bathroom, leaning against the wall. How long was he there? Was he waiting for you or was he eavesdropping on you? You had so many questions but so little time.

"Hey um sorry for that" he didn't even look you in the eyes, apparently he's really sorry. "It's fine just, did you see anything?" Logan took a deep breath and looked into your eyes, giving you a clear sign that he saw something. "Oh my god-" you slammed your hand against your forehead and started flushing.

"Not everything! Just um..." "Stop. Just, act like it didn't happen okay?" you were even more frustrated than before and Logan could tell. He just nodded and walked around you to get into the bathroom. You cursed under your breath and walked into your room, where you finally locked the door and fell into bed.

Is it some kind of sign or bad karma that this is happening to you? First you see him almost naked, then he sees you, why do you deserve this? But the question that really played over and over in your head was, did he like what he saw?

He would have covered his eyes or closed the door immediately, but he just stood there watching you for a while longer. Maybe he was in shock, just like you, and you're overthinking again, or maybe not…

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Third day

You got up in the morning like you always did, did your morning routine and left for work, this time no Logan, no comments from him and it made you feel better. You knew that today was going to be a lot better than yesterday.

You didn't even have to put on a fake mask at work, you smiled for real because you had peace of mind from Logan both in your head and in the apartment in the morning. "Hey why so happy?" your colleague asked and you just shook your head. "I just slept well" which was not entirely true.

You couldn't stop thinking about that motherfucker all night. The way he looked when he saw you in that bathtub, how embarrassed he felt but also looked shy, which you would never say to such a tough guy. How he talks to you much more warmly now and how he even washes his dishes without you telling him to do it. You even had a dream about him that wasn't exactly innocent with rainbows and roses, rather the opposite. But that didn't stop you from having a bad day at work. Until you heard the familiar grumpy voice again.

"Is she here?!" "Sir, you can't talk to her right now-" "I just want to know if she works here!" oh no. You heard the angry punch into the table and knew you had to intervene. You stopped working and went from the kitchen to the restaurant behind the cash register, where was none other than the ass Logan. When he saw you, he immediately calmed down and straightened up.

"Hey, what's going on here?" you asked confused, trying to ignore Logan as best you could. "Um this gentleman is asking for you, is he your boyfriend?" "Fuck no!" you shouted, maybe a bit too much then was a necessary and looked at Logan. "The fuck you doin' here?!" this time you keep your voice low but still rough. Logan took a breath to speak but before he could, you grabbed him and went to the corner, so you won't bother the other customers.

"I um" you were surprised that he was out of words. "Goddammit just tell me!" "I was just curious where you workin' okay?! That's all..." although you haven't known Logan very long and well, you could tell he was lying. However, you didn't have time to investigate the truth so you just let out an annoyed breath.

"You can't be that aggressive here! If you don't order anything, get out!" and with those words you left him behind while walking back into the kitchen. Not gonna lie but you felt a little confident when you did this but you also felt a little guilty.

You are not the aggressive bad type like him, you find sympathy in people and you are a peaceful person who tries not to have a conflict with almost anyone. Logan is a really tough piece.

"Everything fine?" you coworker asked while frying some vegetables and you just nodded. How could you be so naive to think you'd slip through today without a single thought about Logan? You really are pathetic.

When you finished your last order, said goodbye to your colleagues and went to change clothes, fatigue hit you again. Today was better than yesterday, you were more focused and you didn't burn anything, but you still weren't yourself. You were still consumed by your thoughts and memories that your brain repeated over and over again, it was driving you crazy.

The only thing you hoped for now was that last night and the incident with Logan wouldn't happen again. You still can't tell if you liked it or not, but what you know for sure is that you can't stop thinking about that.

You left the kitchen ready to go home until you saw Logan sitting in one of the dining booths, alone, half asleep. He scared you again, like always, and you didn't know what to do, how to react, or what to say. When Logan saw you, he immediately stood up and was like a fresh fish.

"You're done?" he asked, like it wasn't weird at all that he is there sitting and waiting for you like your dad. "W-what are you doing here?" "I was waiting..." he didn't finish the sentence but he clearly meant that he was waiting for you. "Why?" you furrow your eyebrows in suspicion.

"It's pretty dark out there, something may happen" why is he so caring suddenly? Was he really waiting for you here all day, just to give you a walk home? Why? "I've been walking in the dark for years Logan and nothing happened to me" you informed him arrogantly and headed for the exit. Logan chased you like an obedient dog. "You never know" he added and quickly held the door for you like a true gentleman. You paused at his act for a moment before walking out and Logan following.

It was an awkward silent walk next to each other where you said so much but nothing at all. The street was quiet, hardly any cars passed by, and the glowing lamps around gave a pleasant atmosphere. You felt good, and maybe Logan's presence added something to that. After all, you were afraid to walk alone in the evening, even though nothing had happened to you yet, but with him you felt different, safe.

"What's for dinner?" Logan finally broke the quiet silence and struck up a conversation. "Oh um I don't know...maybe salad? If you don't mind there won't be any meat in it" Logan chuckled, hearing that laugh make your heart a little warmer. "Salad sound's good" he said as you arrive at the building.

When you got into the apartment you expected Logan to go take a shower or lock himself in his room like he always did, but this time was different. When you took off your coat and hung it on the hanger, Logan was standing in the kitchen waiting for you. You raise an eyebrow and throw a confused look at him. "You're that excited for the food or?" he shook his head and smiled. That's right, he smiled. You had no idea when did his tough-guy personality snap, but he is way nicer to you and you can't say you don't like it.

"Nope, I was thinking that I could help you..." you froze and just stared at him, still with that raised eyebrow. You were shocked, you didn't recognize him anymore. Logan notices your behavior, immediately having regrets. "but only if you want to-" "No! I mean yeah s-sure" you finally woke up and walked around Logan to get things ready. However, you couldn't escape the smirk that formed on your face.

As you pulled out the bowls and cutlery, you felt Logan's presence behind you. He was huge compared to you, covering you completely and you almost held your breath when you felt him almost touching your body. "What should I do?" he asked, his voice grainy, deep and low like a wolf, making you tremble from excitement.

You needed a second to answer him without any mistake or stuttering. “You can take the vegetables out of the fridge” you pointed your head at the fridge next to you and without a word Logan did as you told him. He put everything on the counter next to you and you couldn't help but watch his hands, how big and hairy they were and a lot of scenarios automatically appeared in your head of what you would like him to do to you with them.

"That's all we have" he breathed out and finally stood next to you, so that his dick wasn't touching your ass anymore. "That's fine, we can make something from that" you grabbed the cucumber and started removing the wrapper. Logan was watching you, really carefully and constantly watching your hand, the way you were holding that cucumber, the way you were taking off the wrapper, god he immediately started getting goosebumps and his dick started twitching in his pants.

"Give me a sec" he said quickly and left. You looked at him confused and flinched a bit when you heard the bathroom door slam. You just shrugged and continued to unwrap the cucumber. He probably just went to piss or something.

After you had almost half the vegetables cut to a small squares and thrown in a bowl, Logan finally returned. "Finally, I was thinking you ran away" Logan just chuckled awkwardly but said nothing. He watched you cut the pepper and finally decided to help you.

He took another pepper and a knife and started cutting it on the table. You didn't really care if he destroyed the table or not, it wasn't your kitchen after all. After you finished chopping all the vegetables, tossed the salad with the dressing, and Logan gave it a good toss, you were ready to feast.

You split the salad into two bowls, the same amount for each, and dipped a fork into it. Logan waited until you filled the second bowl as well, which was a little unusual as normally he would have already started eating and not even waiting for you.

Aftwr you take your bowl and Logan take his, you decided to go into the room to eat but Logan stopped you. "Hey I was thinking if you wanna watch a movie together?" again, his random nice behavior caught you by surprise. Where did the grumpy guy who literally didn't even want you in this apartment go? Apparently he's gone forever.

“Oh um…sure why not” you smiled and Logan went to sit on the couch where he was already holding the remote and selecting a movie. You obediently sat next to him, but at a sufficient distance so that you had enough space and it wasn't some kind of awkward, uncomfortable situation.

"Do you have any ideas?" he asked you as he kept switching between films. "Umm I don't know, I don't really care" you said as you finally took a bite of the salad, which was really fucking good. "Okay, you asked for it" he said and selected a horror movie called Evil Dead Rise. "Awh man this looks nasty" you said as you still chew the salad and scrunch your face in disgust. Logan just giggled and took his first bite too.

After a while watching the movie, you remembered that you are fucking scared of horrors. That film was chill at first, but after the first jump scare, you knew you are fucked. You tried to focus on the salad and not being some crybaby, but your fear got the better of you. When another jumpscare appeared, you almost throw you salad on the floor.

Logan, on the other hand, didn't move a single muscle the whole time watching. He was like a rock with a stern expression. The second he noticed your reaction, he had to look and intervene somehow. "Are you okay?" He asked and you just nodded, but your body said the opposite. You were shaking, wrapped in a ball and your eyes were bawling, the exact definition of a person being terrified to death.

Logan wasn't stupid and he knew you'd probably be peeing with fear in no time. That's why, regardless of the awkwardness of the situation, he scooted closer to you at first, seeing how you're gonna react. The closeness didn't bother you at all, so Logan put an arm around you, making you feel even safer.

"Is that 'kay?" he whispered in your ear, looking down at you while your eyes were securely locked with the TV. You nodded slightly and laid your head on his muscular chest, covered by gray shirt. It was comforting to hear his regular heartbeat. You felt amazing.

You don't even remember the last time you cuddle with someone like that. You don't care that it's Logan, all you focused on was the feeling. The way his body warmed yours, the way he made gentle circles with his finger on your shoulder and the way he breathed, these combinations made you forget about your fear.

After a while your eyelids started to feel heavy and you felt tiredness coming over you. But you were so comfortable that you didn't want to leave anywhere and that's why you succumbed to sleep really quickly on Logan's body.

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Fourth day

You grunted as rubbed your eyes. You lay in bed with your eyes closed for a while until you realized you had to go to work. Your eyes popped open and you sat on the bed as fast as you could. You looked around rashly, realizing you were in your room under the covers. But when you quickly checked the alarm clock, it was damn late. "Fuck!" you shouted and jumped from the bed like a lightning bolt.

You quickly started changing and getting ready for work, even though you were already 3 hours late. The whole time you were cursing under your breath and your heart was beating in the fastest way possible. If they don't fire you today, they never will.

After you were all ready you ran for your bag and went to the door. You've never gotten ready so quickly before. Suddenly you heard the door open and immidiately knew it was Logan. However, you didn't have time for his comments.

"Hey, what's going on?" he asked, rubbing his eyes. When you quickly glanced at him, he looked pretty tired, like he woke up just now. In addition, he had only boxers again, messy hair and his voice was so fucking rough. When you looked at him you felt a weird feeling in your stomach. "I'm late" you said as you were putting your shoes on. Logan was processing your answer for a bit before he spoke again.

"Oh, work..." he groaned as he realized what you were late for. You just ignore him and give him a quick goodbye before you closed the door and ran to the elevator.

As soon as you opened the door to the restaurant, you ran to the dressing room to change. You tried to be so fast but you were just clumsy and rash. Your chef's suit was crooked and not even all the buttons were on when you appeared in the kitchen, trying immediately blend in. "Oh there you are! Where have you been?" one of your colleagues asked, cutting vegetables next to you. You just shake your head.

"Long night" you sighed tiredly and cooperated with preparing the food. "You're lucky boss wasn't here, you would be cooked" you look at him as he said that and you both giggled at that stupid joke. "Go fuck yourself" you nudged him with your shoulder and shook your head. But he was right, you have much more luck than sense.

You spent last night in Logan's arms and after you woke up and put yourself back together, you realized that he carried you into your room. It's not his fault you overslept, it's yours.

You shouldn't have fallen asleep, you should have just gotten up, said good night and gone to set that stupid alarm clock. But whenever you remember the feeling of him caressing you, how comforting his chest was as a pillow, how his chest smoothly rose up and down, every time your knees got week and you feel that weird feeling in your stomach. You knew what that feeling was and you hated to admit it, but you catched feelings for Logan.

You can't stop thinking about him ever since the first day, you have unchristian dreams about him and you always catch yourself watching him for too long. You never thought you'd like a bad boy, but here we are.

When you were already cleaning the kitchen and getting ready to leave, you noticed a familiar person sitting in the restaurant as one of the last ones.

Your curiosity got the better of you and you peeked more into the restaurant. Of course that the familiar figure was Logan. Again, he didn't have anything ordered, he just sat quietly and stared into nothing. You couldn't help but smile at him when.

You went to change and said goodbye to the others as you headed for the exit. You pretended not to see Logan and ignored him until he instantly came up to you. "Hey, how was work?" he asked as he gentlemanly opened the door for you and waited. You felt your cheeks heat up and you had to look down.

"It was fine, except for the morning..." you chuckle nervously. "Yeah, were you too late?" he asked as he walked closer to the road making you back up a bit. Another discreet gentlemanly move. "3 hours late..." "Damn" his eyes widened as his mouth surprisingly twitches. "Yeah, but luckily I didn't get fired so" Logan laughed and nodded his head in agreement.

"Anyway, any ideas for dinner tonight?" Logan's efforts to keep the conversation going tickled your heart. "Mhmm honestly I don't know…how about pizza?" you looked up at his face waiting for reaction. "Like homemade pizza?" Logan looked into your eyes and you tried to hold eye contact as long as you could. “Of course duh” Logan smiled at your addition and nodded his head. "Sure why not"

You were slicing salami while Logan poured a ketchup mix over the pizza dough. "What about some music?" he asked, still focusing on the smearing. You stopped cutting and looked at him. "Music?" you asked, giving him a confused look. He nodded, looking at you too and when he saw your expression, he stopped his actions and went somewhere.

You were watching him, as he walked to the radio and pressed something on it until a song started playing. Your smile widened and you started laughing, when you saw Logan dancing. He was moving his hips awkwardly and you can see that he really can't dance. His danced moves could be compared to dad style in the 80s.

You needed to cover your mouth and hold your stomach, because the laughter started to hurt, but you couldn't stop. Logan looked at you and held out his hand in front of him as he approached you. You shook your head and almost collapsed on the ground laughing. "Come on!" he shook his hand, convincing you to join him.

After a lot of refusing and giggling, Logan finally convinced you to dance. When you grabbed his hand, he immediately took advantage of it and pulled you a little closer to his body. You squeal a bit at the sudden move, but you immediately cooperated.

You held each other's hands and did little circles with them as your legs scuttle back and forth. You laughed and squirmed, Logan spun you around from time to time and you enjoyed it as much as you could. This is one of those moments that sticks deep in your head. A memory that will always popped up, whenever you hear Logan.

The music pulsed softly through the air, a fast, intoxicating rhythm that seemed to wrap around you and Logan like a delicate thread, pulling you closer. You couldn’t help but glance up at him, your eyes locking for a heartbeat too long, and the intensity there sent a rush of heat to your cheeks.

You tried to focus on the steps, on the sway of the dance, but something about the way Logan’s body moved with yours was deeply distracting. His scent, clean and warm, enveloped you, making your pulse quicken in ways you couldn’t ignore.

Then, without warning, your leg caught the edge of his, and you stumbled, your balance suddenly thrown off. Logan’s arms shot out, catching you before you could fall, pulling you tightly against him to steady you. For a moment, everything seemed to stop, your breath, the world, even the music seemed to fade into the background as you realized just how close you were.

Your faces were mere inches apart, your lips almost brushing his. You could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, his gaze dropping to your mouth for just a fleeting second before meeting your eyes again. The air between you crackled with tension, your heart pounding wildly in your chest. Everything about this moment screamed for you to close that agonizingly small distance, to let yourself get lost in the magnetic pull between you.

Logan’s grip on you tightened ever so slightly, his chest rising and falling in sync with yours as he fought against the same urge. You could see it in his eyes, the desire, the restraint, the way he was holding himself back even though every inch of him seemed to be aching to close the gap. His gaze flickered down to your lips again, and this time, it lingered longer. You swallowed hard, your lips parting slightly, as if you were subconsciously inviting him to make the move.

For a moment, you both stood at the edge of temptation, teetering on that invisible line. Neither of you spoke, afraid that even a whisper might break the fragile tension and push you over the edge. Your bodies pressed together, heat pooling between you, your breaths shallow and in sync.

But then, something held both of you back. Maybe it was the weight of all that had led to this moment, the fear of crossing a line you couldn’t uncross, or maybe it was the unspoken agreement to savor this tension just a little longer. Neither of you moved, though the pull between you was undeniable. The space between your lips remained tantalizingly close, yet untouched.

“Close call,” he murmured, his voice a mixture of humor and the tension he was trying so hard to rein in.

You smiled, feeling your own pulse slowly return to normal, though the lingering heat of the moment still burned between you. “Too close,” you whispered back, your eyes holding his for a second longer before you reluctantly eased back, just enough to regain some space, some clarity.

“We should finish that” Logan gently let go of you and pointed his head to the half-done pizza in the kitchen. You nodded in agreement, still dazed from the situation that just happened and from the feelings you experienced. You were a little disoriented, just as Logan except, he could hid it better.

After you finished the pizza, the atmosphere wasn't so stiff anymore. Logan was telling funny stories about his past and you just laughed and tried not to get overwhelmed by his gorgeous face. Sometimes when you listened to Logan, the world slowed down and everything was black and white except for him. He shone like the brightest star in the darkness.

After enjoying dinner, cleaning the dishes together and saying good night, you couldn't even fall asleep. You couldn't shake the thought of Logan, that moment when your lips were so dangerously close and even though you didn't have any superpowers, you could feel that he wanted it just as much as you did.

Feeling his beard brushing against your soft skin, feeling his tongue inside your mouth, you could just dream about it. Also, tomorrow is the last day. You don't know if it's good or bad, you don't know if you're happy or just afraid, you don't know anything at all. After all, deep down in your head you had a soft spot and a longing for Logan.

Inwardly, you longed to spend a few more days with him, a few nights alone and see what would happen. This overthinking went too far, you kept your eyes open all night and stared at the ceiling, while outside the birds started whistling and sun rising.

It's here, the last morning in this bed, the last dinner with Logan, the last day.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Fifth day

You stayed up all night, your stomach churning at the thought that today is final day. At the same time, you couldn't get that moment between you and Logan out of your mind, when just a milimeter was missing and your lips would be stuck together. The desire for Logan, the need to always have him with you and not let him go, was growing by every minute. His smell of cigarettes and scotch always tickled your olfactory cells. Every time you felt him, it was like your heart burst with excitement. But now you couldn't smell it, the only thing that tickled your nose was the steam from the food in restaurant.

"Hey, are you okay?" a colleague nudged your shoulder. "Huh? Yeah I am fine, I am fine..." you weren't fine. The thought of packing up your clothes today and moving back to your apartment, alone. That there will be no one here to hug and protect you while watching a horror movie, that no one will help you prepare dinner, these thoughts were pressing all the points to make you cry.

Despite all these emotions, you tried to keep yourself in check and continue working as if nothing happened, as if the world wasn't practically collapsing before your eyes. You tried to think positively and looked forward to Logan waiting for you again in one of the booths and escorting you to the apartment and making dinner together while talking.

When you finally finished your shift and said goodbye to the others, you walked out of the kitchen looking for Logan with hope in your eyes. Unfortunately, you couldn't find him anywhere. There was no one in the restaurant anymore and your positive thinking was gone. You went alone with gloomy face. This is last night and he just ignore you like that?

When you arrived at the apartment, upset, you were a little surprised to see Logan in the kitchen making dinner. He looked behind his shoulder and his corners lifted up a bit when he saw you. "Hey...sorry I didn't pick you up today, I was preparing dinner" he excused himself and your anger towards him was gone immediately.

Your face softened and your heart melted. He's also sad that it's the last night and he wanted to make it up to you somehow. He doesn't even have to say it with words.

"It's f-fine..." you said, still a bit shocked but more flattered. You walked up next to him, curious about what he is preparing. "Spaghetti?" you asked, even though you saw exactly what he was doing.

"Yeah, we had them on a first night, remember?" he looks at you and you chuckle at the memory. "Oh yeah, you were all grumpy and just took it" Logan scoffed and nodded. "Yeah..."

"Well, it'll be done in a bit, so do your stuff and then we'll go eat, hm?" you just nodded excitedly and fought the urge to kiss him on his cheek as a grateful gesture. You literally ran to your room, closed it and wanted to change into some comfortable clothes. The thing was that all your clothes were dirty and even when you tried really hard to find at least a one clean shirt, it was pointless.

You sat on the bed with a sigh and wondered what you were going to do. "Hey um I just go take a quick shower okay?" Logan burst into your room without knocking and you jumped a bit. He was gone before you could even answer him.

"Okay...." you whispered under your breath and immediately got an idea. You sneaked into Logan's room looking for his shirt. After all, he won't notice that you're wearing it, and if he does, you can explain it to him.

You didn't look long and saw a gray shirt thrown on the bed. You shrugged, grabbed it and walked out of his room into yours. You instantly stuck it to your nose and inhaled its scent. Cigarettes and scotch, oh the combination was sending waves of pleasure between your legs and you couldn't take it anymore. You quickly removed all your clothes and put on his shirt. It was huge on you, it touched your knees and you laugh.

You could still feel him as if he was with you, on top of you and that was exactly what you wanted. You laid down on the bed and closed your eyes, your brain immediately cooperating and starting to create million scenarios while you were still smelling him. The vibrating between your legs started being unbearable and you had to stop it somehow.

I slowly moved my hand to the fabric of Logan's shirt. I stopped between my legs and lifted the shirt up, a sigh left your lips as you felt the cold air touching your folds. Your hand moved down, your fingers slightly touching your folds, making gentle friction. Your moves were slow and sweet, just heating up before you started putting more pressure.

Your jaw fall open as you inserted one finger in, twirling inside and stretching your walls. You imagined that it was Logan's finger that worked a miracle, that filled you with emotions and the need to feel something inside you, to feel him inside you. You desperately tried to reach the sponge spot, that whenever you touch your head you go dizzy in a second.

You needed more, that's why you insert another finger inside you, moving in unison with your hips. You tried to catch up with your orgasm with gentle but eager sensations, Logan's images replayed in your head over and over and your sighs got louder and louder.

“Hey have you seen my gray T-shirt anywhere-“ Logan walked in, not bothering to knock. You gasped at the surprise and immediately covered yourself with a blanket. Logan weist was wrapped by a towel, making you even more wet at the sigh.

"Oh shit" he looked away embarrassed, but you were the one who should be. "What the hell is wrong with you? Why didn't you knock?" you asked, trying to wash off the embarrassment and replace it with anger.

Logan shook his head, still looking away from you. "Look I'm so sorry I was just looking for my T-shirt" "Well I don't have it so go check somewhere else" you said, your voice calm but your heart beat fast. Logan finally gains the confidence to look back at you, furrowing his eyebrows. "Wait, is that my T-shirt you're wearing?"

You tried to be as calm as possible. “What? No, why would I be wearing your shirt?” All your muscles were tense and you prayed that Logan wouldn't notice. “No that's definitely my shirt” he look at the piece that protruded from the blanket as his corner of his mouth lifted up a bit.

You quickly tried to hide more even tho you knew you were fucked. "No...it's not" Logan came closer to you. "Hey, stop tryna hide under the covers..." he grabbed the blanket and tried to pull it off of you, but as hard as you could try, he was much stronger than you.

"Let me just see it" after an unfair fight, Logan won and tore the blanket off you, revealing his shirt on your body. A devilish smile appeared on his face as he saw you. “So you are wearing my shirt” he narrowed his eyes and you started to panic.

“Yeah and what about it? It's the only clean thing I could find and it's comfortable” although you were telling the truth, it wasn't completely true, because deep down you know very well why you took his shirt. Logan chuckled at your answer and came even closer to you, standing right above you.

"So you're telling me it's just a coincidence that your hands are between your thighs wearing the same T-shirt I was just wearing?" oh you were so cooked. "It's not even like that..." you still tried to save it, but it was already too late. Logan giggled again, grabbing your chin, making you look up at him. "I'm not dumb, I know what you're doing"

Oh he was so freaking hot right now, and he knew it. "You're so fucking desperate" now there was nothing and no one to stop Logan in his way. He completely ripped the blanket off of you and got on the bed above you. In this moment you realize, all your desires are finally coming true.

He didn't hesitate for a second before pressing his lips to yours, aggressively and roughly. You immediately cooperated, your arms wrapping around his neck and your legs unintentionally removing Logan's towel as you wrapped your legs around his weist. You could immediately feel his length, making you whine a bit in the kisses.

Logan's hands were not docile and explored your body. He started from your thighs, continued under your t-shirt to your stomach and finally ended on your breasts, which he squeezed and massaged. You pulled out of the kiss, your eyes shut tightly as you sighed his name. Oh he loved the view he had right now. But he still needed more.

He attacked your neck with aggressive bites, leaving marks that will heal for a long time. "~Logan~" you moaned his name as you grabbed his fluffy hair and tugged them whenever he found that sensitive spot. You could feel his smile forming on his face, while sucking and licking your, now red neck.

Logan felt your wetness, your arousal. How he was grateful for those urgent instincts right now. He finally removed his teeth from your neck, but he definitely wasn't done with you. You opened your eyes as you watched him creeping down. His devilish smile not leaving his face for a second. The image of Logan's face between your legs drives you crazy and you couldn't wait to finally feel him. "You smell so fucking good kitty" he said before his lips leaned against your folds.

His hot breath on your bare core was sending shivers down your spine and you fight against every nerve in your body not to burst your hips into his face. He notices your desperate face and your shaking body, so he decides not to torture you anymore. He licked your fold, incredibly slowly but intensively, that you had to arch your back.

He repeated this move a few times, sucking all the wetness you could give him from the outside, before he burst his tongue inside you without any warning. You scream his name and pull his hair as his sudden move catches you off guard, making him chuckle.

His tongue was swirling inside you licking up all your juice, you were delicious. His nose was poking your sensitive clitoris, sending you even faster to your edge. Your hips were moving along his tongue, desperate for more friction and tried to reach your orgasm.

Logan stretched your walls even more, eating you like you were the best meat he had in years, his speed was unbelievable and the pleasure in you indescribable. You feel the tightening sensation in your lower abdomen and you knew you couldn't hold it in for long. You clenched around Logan's tongue, making it harder for him to continue, but he didn't stop. You tightly shut your eyes and throw your head back, as you almost pulled out some of Logan's hair.

He holds you firmly by your thighs, as your hips lose control and after few more twirl moves of his tongue inside you, the feeling of relief wash over your whole body, goosebombs appeared on your skin and your chest was rapidly rising and falling.

You smile, trying to catch your breath but your eyes were still shut. Logan climbed higher, he was now face to face. You felt his heavy breath against your cold nose, so you opened your eyes and smiled even more. Your juice glistened on Logan's beard and his hair messy, proof of your work.

He giggled as he saw your cheeks all red, your forehead sweaty and your hair destroyed, he loved what he was doing to you. "You're fucking beautiful princess" he said before he kissed you, giving you a taste of yourself. You loved the way he kissed. Hungry and furious kisses, but also sweet and gentle and si was his touch.

He explored you with his massive hands, his fingerprints all over your body. You looked really small in his hands, the sigh makes him even harder.

He couldn't get enough of you, he longed to hear you scream his name.

He quickly adjusted his hips and checked down, before he rammed into you, without any warning. Your eyes widened and your jaw dropped, as you felt his massive length inside you. The joke was, he wasn't even fully in yet.

You bite your lips, trying to be as quiet as you could but Logan didn't make it easier for you. He was inserting himself deeper, stretching your walls as far as they could go and he finally let out a big sigh, when he was balls deep in.

You felt so full, that every place inside you was now completely filled and there wasn't even room for air. You hold tightly Logan's neck and started making a blood mess on your lips as you dug into them with your teeth.

He chuckled and gave you a few hungry kisses, before backing up to get a good look at you. "Don't hold it in princess, let me hear you" his grainy voice tickles your eardrums and right before he finished this sentence, he started moving his hips. Just small smooth movements at first, he barely got out of you. Even though they were peaceful movements, it sent you sky high.

Your lips parted as you started leaving a quiet whispers and whimpers, barely heard but Logan heard them very well. Those pretty sounds of yours makes his mind go wild and he started gaining speed and strength in his hips.

Those smooth sweet movements? All gone in a second. They were fading into lustful, rough and uncontrollable thrusting, that makes those regular clapping sounds.

You rolled your eyes as he was hitting just the sponge wet spot inside you, you tried to desperately reach yourself before. "Hey, look at me" Logan growled through clenched teeth, and you with a bit of struggle manage to look at his focused face.

His hands find their way to your hips, keeping you in a place while he was pushing into you, desperately trying to catch up with his orgasm. He sat on his knees, looking at you from above, clearly showing who is dominant here.

You just seductively let him do anything with you he just wanted. You loved it, the feeling, the situation, the atmosphere, Logan. Everything together was sending you closer and closer to your edge. Sice you lost your hold spot when Logan sat down, your hands found the sheet around you and held them tight.

The wet sound started to permeate the whole room, after a while even the entire apartment. Your brain stopped controlling your body, which is why you started letting out loud moans and whimpers of Logan's name. It was pleassure to his ears.

He stopped counting how many times he imagined you like this, beneath him, fucking your soul out of you. How tears stream down your face and you beg for more as you scream his name. These thoughts and these dreams kept him awake and he himself is surprised that it took him so long to do this, to fuck you properly.

He feels that he is close and so were you. Another orgasm of the day was approaching very quickly, making your legs started vibrating. Logan growled, sigh softly, keeping his eyes on your face the entire time. Well, not the entire time, just a few times he checkedthe part where you were connected.

You started feeling that familiar urge to pee, while Logan's dick was twitching inside you, but not stopping hitting that juicy spot. You were over the edge now. You tried your best not to close your eyes and not release already, even though you knew it would come in any second. Logan also fought all the demons so he wouldn't cum into you and empty his balls, but he wouldn't last long either.

“Fuck” he huffed, dropping his head down while his hips lost control. His movements defied all laws of physics, the entire bed creaked with you and your entire body tensed.

"Logan I-" you couldn't even finish your though before you tightened around Logan, arch your back and close your eyes, finally letting the climax get you. Logan didn't stop, he couldn't, when he was so close to his orgasm too, his precum already mixing with your juice.

Logan felt it, he quickly leaned forward so his stomach was touching yours and he pressed his face into the pillow right next to your head as he thrust into you one last time with the most force. You moaned by his hit, still feeling dizzy from the recent orgasm. He growls like a wild animal as he cums into you, his fingers digging into your skin, definitely leaving bruises there.

You both breathe heavily, staying in this position for a bit. Your bodies were hot with sweat as you still processed the moment.

When your breathing finally calmed, Logan unhooked his face from the pillow and looked at you with a smile. "Don't look at me like that I look like a total mess..." you chuckle from embarrassment and close your eyes. "Said something bad about yourself again and you won't be able to walk for a month" your breath got caught up in your throat as you heard those words. He said that so casually.

"You're gorgeous" he added at the end and kissed you softly, calming your pulse and heartbeat down. After that he slowly pulled out of you, both groaning from the friction again and Logan collapsed next to you. You didn't wait and scooched yourself on Logans body, your leg laying on his while your head listening to those cute regular beats of his heart.

Logan immediately pulled you closer to his body and caressed your shoulder, making gentle circles on it. Your eyes were closed, trying to rest while being still full of the hormone of happiness. Your smile couldn't leave your face and neither could Logan's.

"What about the spaghetti?" you whisper softly, making Logan giggle. "They're probably cold now" he sigh, keep caressing your shoulder. You just grunted, too tired to answer that or even think of an answer. "Are you hungry?" Logan asked immediately with concern and you shook your head with a bit of burden. He relaxed after that and closed his eyes too. Both of you were tired and too lazy to get dressed.

"Would you look at that!" Suddenly you heard another male voice, this one was annoying and quite provocative. You both knew who it was right away. You quickly jerked away from each other when you looked at the door. Wade was leaning against the doorframe, his hands crossed on his chest and his smile was so fucking annoying.

You and Logan were frozen in shock, not knowing what to say or how to even react. "You take the 'take care of him' a bit seriously, don't you think?" you tried to defend yourself, explain it somehow, but you can't get out of this situation.

"Get out" Logan growled sternly but it didn't scare Wade at all. "Wow I mean damn I...I don't really know what to say-" "GET THE FUCK OUT!" Logan screamed this time, even you got goosebumps when you heard him. That already took its toll on Wade. "Okay okay chill...I'm just happy for you guys" he slowly closed the door but right before the end, he quickly opened them again.

"How many rounds did you have?" "GET OUT!" you both scream in union and Wade finally closes the door fully, leaving you two in a very uncomfortable situation.

You slowly looked at Logan and he did the same, but your staring contest broke as you both burst out laughing. You didn't know if it was the adrenaline you still had in your blood, or just a copy mechanism when something really embarrassing happened, either that you were crying from laughing, still laying next to each other, still naked and still in love with each other.

No one warned you that these five days would be the best of your life.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

[cyripticchronicler]

Hiii I have a request for Matt Murdock I was thinking him with an reader who’s job has gotten more stressful and it starts to get to them they get dizzy and lightheaded but brush it off until it happens around Matt and he can sense that it happened and he gets all protective and caring

Preferably fem reader but gn is also totally fine so everyone can enjoy it !

If this isn’t your cup of tea I totally get that !

In His Arms

Thank you for requesting, sweetie. I kind of went off track a little and I'm sorry :( (If you want me to rewrite it I happily will!) But either way, I hope you enjoy it!

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Summary: Overwhelmed by your growing workload and the pressure to prove yourself, you keep your struggles hidden—even from Matt. When the stress leads to a breakdown, he pulls you back, reminding you that love means sharing the load.

TW: Panic attack, mentions of anxiety, pet names (I can't help it), swearing

Masterlist

Stress was a familiar feeling to you. Its sharp claws seemed always to be gripping onto you tightly. You’ve learnt how to manage the lack of air in your lungs and the painful squeezing of your heart whenever you go through a rough patch. 

That’s why the feeling of anxiety creeping up your spine was carelessly ignored. You regret that you shrugged the feeling away, too focused on your work. It’s much easier to calm your bones' nervous trembles before it worsens. 

But now it’s too late. 

You’ve been so distracted by your work. Your colleague had just gone on maternity leave after giving birth to twins. You weren’t sure what would happen to her workload, but you certainly didn’t think it would all be passed down to you. 

Now all your brain can seem to focus on is the deadlines coming closer by the minute. They flash in your mind each time you consider taking a break. You never take a break - this is your one chance to prove to your boss that you’re ready to take on more responsibility. The rumours floating around the office of potential promotions, motivating your hard work ethic. 

You’ve always been a hard worker; had always been distracted by what you consider important rather than what was essential- like eating, or sleeping. Each time you got away with it. You didn’t have anyone to look after you. 

Until Matt came along. 

He’s such an attentive man and would be even without his heightened senses. You knew he’d be worried about your desperation to complete your work, completely gone to the rest of the world as your stomach grumbled louder and your under eyes got darker. 

He’s a natural worrier. That’s what compelled you to keep your stress a secret. It’s hard lying to a human lie detector,  so you’ve taken to avoiding instead. It’s easy to avoid him when you’re so busy, anyway. A couple of messages per day seems to keep him subdued for now and you’re glad; it’s all the attention you could offer.

Your lip is pulled between your teeth, chewing hard enough to draw the taste of metallic blood. None of the words before you make sense through your blurry eyesight. As you attempt to read the same sentence for the third time, you angrily rip off your glasses and groan. 

Black spots take over your vision as you rub at your eyes aggressively, hoping the sickeningly dizzy feeling that’s making your throat feel tight will go away. It’s useless, yet you only allow yourself a second break before gulping down some water and returning to work. 

Your phone rings as soon as your fingertips touch the keys of your laptop and a curse slips out of your mouth before you can stop it. You hate yourself for the spark of annoyance that has your blood boiling when you read Matt’s name on your phone. 

He��d already left three messages from before. As well as a voice message that you hadn’t yet listened to; you were practically forced to answer the phone so as not to draw concern. You’re determined not to burden him with your issues - he’s a vigilante for God’s sake, he doesn’t need your petty problems on top of his own. 

“Hey, Sweetheart.” His deep voice crackles through your phone speaker. Instantly, your shoulders relax and your eyes flutter shut. He’s the bright sun during cold days, the flowers during winter; beautiful and everything you long to see.

“Hey, Matt.” You respond lazily, mustering up enough energy to open your eyes and read the words on your laptop screen. You use one hand to type while the other holds your phone to your ear. You can hear his smile in his voice. “I’ve barely talked to you all day. I thought you were coming to mine for dinner. Did you get my voicemail?”

Guilt nags at your stomach. “I’m so sorry, Matt,” the little sigh you can hear through the other line has your heart splintering, “I’ve just been so busy with staying on top of my work as well as Mara’s-”

“It’s okay. I know how busy you’ve been. I could come by with dinner. I can do some work while you do yours.” You hate to diminish the hope in his voice, but you know he'd be worried about your obvious stress as it shines through in your old clothing and unbrushed hair (not that he’d be able to see but feel). 

“Can we do a raincheck?” You whisper, guilt nagging at your stomach. His voice is so sweet. So understanding. It makes you want to cry. “Of course, baby. Try to eat, please. And take breaks. I’ll call you tomorrow; maybe we can go out for lunch.”

“Maybe,” If I’ve got enough work done, “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

You drop your phone on your lap as soon as the call ends. For once, you’re thankful for the large amounts of work, as it distracts you from the guilt that claws and tugs at your skin. 

⚝⚝⚝

The second time Matt calls, you’re nose-deep in paperwork that was slammed down on your desk. ‘More of Mara’s work,’ your boss said before leaving you with the rasing anxiety in your chest. Thoughts of taking your lunch break didn’t even assimilate in the blurry haze of your mind. 

Only the shrill ring of your phone brought you out of your bubble of work. Sighing, you don’t bother to check the name before picking it up, as you already know who it is. “Hey, Matt.” Your hand still scribbles words on the paper, phone pressed awkwardly against your ear by your shoulder.

“Hey. I called to see if you wanted lunch, but you sound busy.” Unlike last time, his voice doesn’t soothe your racing heart. If anything he makes it worse. “I’m so sorry,” you hope he can hear the sincerity in your voice, “I miss you. As soon as the crazy amount of work has subsided, I’ll call you.”

“Is there any way I can help?” You can’t help but smile at his caring nature, wanting nothing more than to be with him. But you know if you went to lunch you’d be too focused on work to be good company. “Remember that I love you?”

His laugh makes your heart melt, anxiety melting away with it. “Of course. As long as you remember that I love you. I won’t call so I don’t distract you from your work, but please take care of yourself. I love you so much, honey.”

“I love you too.” You hang up the phone and instead of returning to work immediately, you just sit there in silence, staring at the piles of paperwork in front of you. The sting of unshed tears joined by a nervous feeling in your stomach is enough to make you want to throw up. You’re so tired. 

You should have listened to your body. You should have gone out for lunch and taken a break. But instead, you got back to work, ignoring the bright red signs of a panic attack on the rise. 

⚝⚝⚝

Having been diagnosed with anxiety when you were younger, you’ve learned to identify signs of an upcoming panic attack. First, you begin to feel dizzy, then a little lightheaded. Your heart begins to hurt, and your stomach starts to turn. Then you can’t breathe, and you’re scratching at your skin to give your lungs more space to breathe. 

Now, as you stand in your kitchen, staring at the piles of paperwork that cover the dining room table, it’s hard to ignore how your body reacts to the sight of the never-ending workload; the feelings you so carelessly ignored before forced to be brought to attention. 

Your eyesight is unfocused, and you are unable to concentrate on the hand you’re using to prepare a small dinner. Your hands violently shake by your side and feel incredibly weak. But that isn’t what worries you; it’s the lack of air entering your lungs that has your eyes squeezed shut. 

Feelings of worthlessness travel up your throat and block your airways. You’re having a panic attack. The realization has you sliding down the fridge and to the floor, tears running freely down your flushed cheeks. You bring your knees to your chest, hands scratching at your throat as if it would allow air into your beaten lungs. 

Your body feels so weak, you’re sure you wouldn’t be able to stand up if you tried. You’re lost to the darkness and anguish the past weeks have wrought upon you; lost to the cruel insecurities your mind created to fool you into this vicious despair. 

No matter how hard you cry, how hard you claw and scrape at your skin, you still can’t breathe. Hopelessness washes over your chilled skin, pulling you into its shadows. You can do nothing but let it take you as its own, the fight for air warring off as you succumb to the darkness that spots your eyes. 

And as your eyes flutter shut, you fail to notice the opening of the window in the living room. You fail to notice the hurried steps and the gloved hands that hold your face gently. Or the man’s desperate calls of your name. 

⚝⚝⚝

The first thing you notice when you regain consciousness is the exhaustion that wracks through your frail body. The second thing is the man who lays next to you on your bed. 

Matt. 

He’s sleeping peacefully, chest moving up and down in slow breaths. You frown, unsure of why he’s here. The last thing you remember was you freaking out about the workload and having a panic attack. You must have fainted from the lack of air, you consider then immediately cringe. How embarrassing. 

“What are you thinking about?” You jump at the sound of Matt’s deep voice, eyes shooting up to watch a small smile grace his face at your reaction. “Why are you here?” The question comes out ruder than you intended, but Matt’s smile doesn't waver. 

“I was on patrol,” he begins, pulling you into his warm embrace, “and figured I’d stop by to check on you. I wasn’t going to come in, just listen-”

“-that’s not creepy at all-”

“-then I heard you panicking. Your heart was beating really fast and you were breathing really heavily. You were already passed out from lack of air by the time I was inside.” He pulls you in tighter like the moment still haunts him. You trace your fingertips gently down his bare arm, ear against his chest as you listen to his heartbeat. 

“What happened, sweetheart?” He asks when it became clear you weren’t going to speak. You sigh. “I’ve been a little stressed lately. And I should’ve listened to my body but I didn’t. There’s just so much work and such little time. I can’t handle all of this workload.” The familiar bite of tears has you shoving your head in Matt’s neck, letting him hold you tightly and reassure you that everything will be okay. 

“Why didn’t you tell me? We could have worked through your stress together,” He questions quietly and you shake your head in response. “You take the burden of everyone else’s problems, and still go out every night to face all the bad guys- I just didn’t want to burden you with my problems on top of all the rest.”

He pulls away and you try not to frown at the lack of contact. Slowly, his fingers move under your chin and compel you to look into his beautiful, unfocused eyes that sparkle in the city lights shining through your windows. “You are not a burden. Your problems are not a burden. I want to be here for you. I want you to tell me what’s going on in that smart little head of yours-” He flicks your forehead playfully before giving it a small kiss “-And I want you to know you can talk to me.”

You nod your head slowly, feeling like a child that’s just been scolded. “Okay.” He lays there in silence for a moment, seemingly contemplating his words before he speaks, “I think you need to talk to your boss,” you open your mouth to protest but he cuts you off with a gentle squeeze, “This amount of work isn’t healthy. I mean, why hasn’t the workload been separated and passed around to all of your co-workers? It’s fucking stupid if you ask me. She’s obviously taking advantage of your brilliance-”

“-Matt,” You cut him off with an amused smile. His eyes glint at the sound of your giggles as if that was his mission all along and he won first place. 

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.” 

“Don’t thank me. If anything I’m being selfish.” He grins cheekily, kissing your palm as it raises to cup his cheek. “And why, pray tell, are you being selfish?” Your smile is sly and knowing. 

“Because I’m doing this to get my beautiful girl back and into my arms. Foggy isn’t as good company as you, y’know.” You giggle, holding him tightly as your mind settles on a decision. “I’ve missed you too.”

Tomorrow you’ll call your boss and ask for a lessened workload. But for now, you’re just going to lay in bed with the man you love dearly and let him hold you tightly. 

[thebearer]

could you do a subtle (maybe teering on mid/heavy) dominance with carm and they’re getting ready for bed ? ( you don’t have to do getting ready for bed it just the first thing that came to mind) anyways thanks in advance !!



You walked through the door, shedding your clothes with each step. "I can not fucking wait to get in this bed, and I swear to God I'm not leaving it all day tomorrow." You huffed, flinging a shoe then the other towards the closet door.

Carmen snorted lightly, setting down his phone to look at you. "Yeah? Sounds good t'me, baby. You know I won't stop you." He grinned, lazy and sweet, your chest feeling with warmth.

You rolled your eyes lightly, bending over to shimmy out of your jeans. Carmen's eyes were trained on you, tongue running over his bottom lip. "Was the dinner that bad?" He asked. He got his answer with how hard you flung the jeans towards the hamper.

"The worst, Carm." You huffed, falling dramatically on the bed beside him. "I don't understand what the purpose of a work dinner even is. We didn't even fucking work, and the food was so disgusting, I couldn't even eat it-"

"-Hold on." Carmen held up his hand, eyes cutting to you. "You didn't eat? You didn't eat at all?"

You huffed, an eye roll of a sigh that had Carmen's brow raising at you. "No, Carmy, I didn't eat. It was disgusting. I couldn't even fake it. Plus, with how much Tonya was talking, I didn't really get a chance."

"Baby, that's not..." Carmen was already rolling out of bed.

"Carmen." You groaned, rolling over to the other side of the bed. "I'm fine. I'll be alright."

"You're hungry." Carmen insisted, one look at you and he could see the way you paused, just a passing second, but it was enough for him to know he was right. "What do you want to eat, huh? I've got a left over sandwich in the fridge or-or I can make you somethin'."

"I'll be fine, Carmy, please." You whined, pushing up on your arms to watch him pad down the hall. "Come back to bed. I just wanna sleep."

"I'm not letting you go to bed on an empty stomach. I know you haven't eaten shit since this morning," True. "And I know you didn't drink any water today, and you'll wake up all sad and sick tomorrow and be in a terrible fuckin' mood." Also true. Carmen knew it, the finality of his voice told you that.

"I will not." You pouted, crossing your arms over your bare chest.

"I'm not arguin' with you about this." Carmen's tone was firm- final. It sent chills down your spine, thighs pressing together. "So what did Tonya talk about?"

"Her kids. One wants to be a chef and she was asking me pointers, like I would know." You rolled your eyes, shimmying your body half off the bed to grab one of Carmen's shirts- your favorite one to sleep in, slipping it over your body.

"Tell her to tell them to not fuckin' do it, that's my advice." Carmen muttered, a plate clattering on the counter.

You could feel the guilt settling in your tummy, in a deep pit that had you fidgeting. The guilt of Carmen taking care of you, when you'd been to careless to do it yourself. You knew he didn't mind but it still made you feel a little uneasy, even when he brought the sandwich in, glass of water in his free hand.

"You really didn't have to do that, Carmy. I was fine." You muttered, looking at the plate in front of you.

"Stop." Carmen shook his head at you. "Eat, alright? Don't need to be goin' all day without eatin'. You know that."

"I could afford to miss a meal, I promise. I'd be alright." Though your tone was teasing, playing on the edge of a joke, Carmen found it anything but funny.

"What did you just say?" Carmen's eyes were hard, cutting like his tone. You paused, looking at him carefully. It was a tone he rarely used, saved it for the kitchen. Only bringing it out on times when he was really upset.

"I was just-"

"Don't you ever let me hear you say some shit like that again, you hear me?" Carmen's jaw flexed, shaking his head at you. You could feel the warmth spreading from your cheeks to your chest. Embarrassment? Maybe at being chastised like that. But judging by the dull ache between your legs, you knew it was probably something else.

"Eat your food." Carmen nodded, still firm but with a softer edge this time.

You didn't argue, his tone was final, you were hungry, and, fuck, was that sandwich good. A classic Italian sub with a positively Carmy twist on it. Carmen waited until you finished your water- after having to remind you to finish it with so much as a sigh and a "there's that much left, just drink it f'me please?"- pulling you under the covers with him to listen to the rest of your dinner.

You felt better. Soured attitude dissipated and the dull headache forming behind your eyes was gone, no longer thudding with every beat of your heart.

[bluejutdae]

NeedyNerd!Seungmin (part 2) | Seungmin x you

Part 2 of THIS but can be read as a stand alone.

Notes: I'm back with NeedyNerd!Seungmin because him and Biker!Changbin have taken residence in my brain and heart. Enjoy!!

Warnings: 18+, nsfw.

Needynerd!Seungmin lets himself be dragged by you to a party some older student is throwing. He rolls his eyes behind his shiny glasses after having watched you search in his wardrobe for something that isn’t khakis and sad plain shirts.

Needynerd!Seungmin who whines and complains so much you have to basically dress him up, button up his shirt and fasten his belt. It’s all a scene and it’d be clear if only you stopped fussing for a second and looked at the smile on his lips. Your boyfriend is completely capable of acting like a baby just to be pampered a little. And let’s be honest, just to have your hands on him.

Needynerd!Seungmin who looks down on every screaming person the moment he enters the stuffy and crowded house. There’s people everywhere, couples making out on every corner and half naked guys playing dumb games. His ears already ache due to the loud music. What pisses him off the most, though, it’s the number of men coming up to you to say hi, I’m happy you could make it. 

Needynerd!Seungmin who answers with a grunt every time someone asks you who he is. After the fifth person he simply circles your waist with his arms and doesn’t let you go. The problem presents itself when you insist on dancing. Is he going to leave you alone in the lion pit or is he going to come with you and make himself ridiculous? He’s not a dancer, and he’s stiff as a board. 

Needynerd!Seungmin making a decision the moment he realizes you dancing means he could just stand there and have you grind against his body. He loves seeing you dance, and the chance to keep his hands on your hips it’s enough to convince him. Not before he grabs a bottle of clean liquor and a plastic cup, pours himself a generous amount and downs it immediately.

Needynerd!Seungmin lasts 5 minutes, then he just pushes your back against his chest and starts to let his hands roam over your body. One on your hip and belly, the other slowly inching toward your chest. His voice is sultry when he asks “is this what you want from me?” and his half hard cock presses along the cleft of your ass, skirt bunching up an inch thanks to his movements. Part of you does want this, having him so horny for you, he can’t help but grind against your ass, breathing deep on your neck.

Needynerd!Seungmin trying to hide his smirk when you grab his hands and guide him upstairs, hoping to find an empty room, a bathroom, a closet, anything. Because while it’s completely true that your boyfriend is a needy nerd, it's just as much true that you’re desperate for his touch, and seeing him wanting you is the biggest turn on. You’re lucky enough to find an empty broom closet and it’s not even a second after that Seungmin is pushing you inside and pressing your back against the door, effectively closing it and hiding you both from prying eyes. He can do nothing for the cry you make when he kneels in front of you and presses his face against your clothed cunt.

Needynerd!Seungmin teases you for just a few seconds, but he doesn’t have the patience for it and doesn’t waste time to take your underwear off and eat you out messily, skirt covering his head. One hand grabs your leg and moves it so it’s over his shoulder and it gives him easier access; the other hand is grabbing anything that it finds in its aimless wandering. Since that first time, Seungmin has mastered the art of eating you out, he studied it like he would a book for an exam. He spent hours with his face between your legs, asking pointed questions and practicing for hours. 

Needynerd!Seungmin who seems to come up for air just to kiss you, chin wet and messy hair, and it’s one of the hottest things ever. He kisses you, fondling with his belt, but he’s too horny to focus on two things. The belt has, temporarily, the priority. He’s quick to take his cock out and gives it just a couple of strokes, too dry and too fast. You love him like that: messy, desperate, horny and a bit tipsy.

Needynerd!Seungmin doesn’t talk in moments like this one, too focused on kissing and trying not to be too loud. His hold is tight on his cock, a tell tale sign that he’s closer than he lets on. You’re so wet, and he takes advantage of that, dragging the tip of his cock through your folds to prepare himself and then he’s inside you, the stretch a perfect sensation. You’re both too close, toeing the fine line that will push you both over the edge. 

Needynerd!Seungmin who’s needy, yes, and a nerd, too. But he’s also your loving boyfriend, always making you’re you’re safe and happy and sated before he’s too far gone to take care of you. His fingers don’t seem to respond to his commands perfectly, but it’s good enough to have you clenching down on him and moaning so loud anyone could hear, saved maybe just by the loud music downstairs. He’s right behind you in his pleasure, fucking you as deep as he can so he can come inside you, knowing you’ll berate him for it but loving how you shiver from pleasure anytime he does it. 

Needynerd!Seungmin fixes your hair, kisses you sweetly and picks up your underwear from where he left it but, instead of offering it to you or helping you wear it, he puts it in his pocket with a smirk. “A little souvenir for when I’m alone?”

[captainsophiestark]

Vigilante Book Club Part 2

Jason Todd x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist! - Part 1 Part 3

Written for my personal fic writing challenge for 2024, Sophie's Year of Fic! Featuring a new fic being posted every Friday, all year long :)

Fandom: DC

Summary: After having an all-around terrible day, the only person who might be able to make it better is a certain book-loving vigilante.

Word Count: 1,562

Category: Fluff

A/N: This is the closest I've come all year to missing a Friday lol, but we got it done! Woohoo!

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

****************

I hummed to myself as I moved around the kitchen, dancing to the music I had on in the background while making sure everything cooked just right. I had a reputation to fix, after all, and I was determined to get it right.

After the Red Hood had broken into my apartment to return my favorite book last week, I'd convinced him to come back for a thank-you dinner and to talk about the book, which he'd been planning to read in the meantime. He'd also vaguely insulted my cooking, although I'd mostly forgiven him for that in light of him returning my book.

Tonight was the date we'd set for dinner and book-talk, and I'd spent the week preparing the perfect recipe. Even better, the kitchen currently smelled amazing, which had to be a good sign of success.

Right on cue, about the same time he'd shown up last week, I heard a knock on my door. I smiled, trying to ignore the way my heart sped up a little as I quickly wiped my hands on the kitchen towel and headed for the door.

I paused just long enough to look through the peep hole and, as expected, the Red Hood stood towering in my doorway. This time, instead of the whole-head helmet, he only had a red domino mask on. Thank goodness, since the dinner part of this whole evening would be ruined if he couldn't actually eat without revealing his secret identity. I swung open the door with a grin.

"Hi! I'm glad you came! Honestly, I was half expecting you to be at the window again."

He just grunted and shrugged.

"I wasn't sure you'd actually be home, or still up for this. Figured I'd come to the door and give you a chance to pretend not to be home."

"Don't be ridiculous," I said, waving off his concerns as I opened the door wide. "I've been looking forward to this all week. Unless, of course, you're here to hate on my favorite book. If that's the case, I think I'm going to have to throw you out."

He laughed. "Don't worry, I'd never do that. I know what a true favorite book means to a reader."

I gave him a little smile and a nod as I closed the front door, then headed past him into the kitchen. I gestured to the bar stools at my counter as I checked that everything still looked good.

"Have a seat. Can I get you anything to drink?"

"A water would be great."

"Sure thing! Coming right up." I filled up a glass for Red Hood and myself, then fixed him with a smile as I set his glass down in front of him. "So... notice anything different from the last time you were here? Anything in the kitchen, maybe?"

He hummed, pausing and pretending to think. I put my hands on my hips and raised an eyebrow, and after a moment, he broke and grinned.

"I'll admit, the kitchen's looking much more promising than the last time you said you were making dinner in here."

"Thank you," I said, smiling as I turned around to start plating everything. "I told you, last time you were here was just a record-breaking bad day. A cooking fluke."

I could hear him hum behind me, at least pretending not to sound totally convinced.

"Next time, I'll make something. Everything you've got going right now looks amazing, but I'm a pretty good cook myself. I wouldn't want you thinking I'm acting like a critic out of nowhere."

I hesitated a second before turning around, trying to get my ridiculous smile and racing heart under control. I technically didn't know him very well yet, but so far, I'd started to really like Red Hood. I loved the idea of making this a regular thing, and I loved even more that he'd suggested it. I took a deep breath, then finally turned around, my smile still massive but at least a little more reasonable.

"Deal. Next time, you cook."

****************

I laughed, closing my book and shaking my head as I looked up at Hoodie. He looked back over the top of his own book, one eyebrow raised.

"What?" he asked, leaning slightly towards me. I shook my head, smiling all the same.

"Nothing. I just know why you wanted me to read this book so badly now."

"Oh yeah? And why's that?"

I cleared my throat dramatically and lifted Hoodie's copy of Northanger Abbey, which he'd temporarily loaned me, before starting to read:

"The person, be it gentleman or lady, who has not pleasure in a good novel, must be intolerably stupid."

Hoodie grinned. "I'll admit, I may have levelled that quote at a family member or two. Although, I might widen the original to include stories in general."

I snorted. "And if one of those family members said they loved podcasts or movies or something, but not books?"

"No, they're the exception. They're idiots whether or not they enjoy a good story."

I laughed, and after a moment, Hoodie joined me. Since that first reading date, we'd made our unofficial vigilante book club into a weekly occurance. He always came over to my place, and we spent the evening talking about books, or reading together and then talking about books. We alternated who cooked, and this time, it was his responsibility. He had food cooking in the crock-pot, and the delicious smells had been temping me for the better part of the past few hours.

"So I take it you're enjoying the book?" he asked, laying his down in his lap. I nodded, mirroring his gesture and sitting up a little straighter.

"I am. I can't believe it took me so long to get around to reading it! I've loved all the other Austen I've read."

"Which is why we get along," he said with a grin. I nodded.

"I could never spend time like this with a man who didn't at least appreciate Pride and Prejudice."

"Of course not."

"But what about you? Are you liking your book of the week?"

He nodded, scooting a little closer to me on the couch.

"I've said it before and I'll say it again, you have good taste in books. I don't think you've picked one yet that I haven't liked."

"...Now I sort of want to take that as a challenge."

Hoodie just rolled his eyes.

"Be careful. I've read some shit I wouldn't wish on anyone, but I can and will use it as payback if I have to."

I laughed. "I don't know, I've read some pretty unbeatably bad ones..."

"Oh yeah? Well how about-"

He stopped short at the sound of a ringtone. I raised an eyebrow as he grimaced. Not once, in all the weeks we'd been doing this, had either of us let a phone interrupt the night.

"Sorry. Vigilante phone," he grunted. "Just a second."

I waved him off to let him know it was no problem, and he shot me a quick smile before answering. To my surprise, he held it out in front of him and put it on speaker.

"What do you want?" he barked without a hello. "I'm busy."

"Yeah, so busy that nobody's been able to get a hold of you all night!" came an exasperated voice that sounded much too young for that level of exhaustion. "We started prepping for Alfred's birthday-"

BOOM! A loud noise that sounded too close to an explosion for comfort cut off the rest of the sentence. My jaw dropped open at the same time that the kid on the other end of the phone shouted out at the top of his lungs.

"JASON! What happened? Are you- oh shit, I think that was on my end." A brief pause, some scuffling, and the sound of an alarm in the background as Hoodie—as Jason—and I sat frozen in place on the couch. "Just get back here as soon as you can to help!"

The kid on the other end hung up, leaving Jason and I in the ringing silence of my apartment. After a moment, the man on the couch next to me sighed heavily, and I decided to beat him to the punch on further breaking the silence.

"I am... so sorry," I said. "I know you probably didn't want that, like, getting out, and-"

"Stop," he said gently, reaching out to take my hands in his. I did, opting instead to chew on the inside of my lip as I looked at him with wide eyes. "Look, it's not exactly how I wanted this to go, and I wasn't expecting Timbo to use the vigilante phone to say my civilian name, but... I've been thinking about telling you for a while. I'm not upset that you know, and I've know you long enough now that I trust you to keep my secret."

My mouth dropped open a little as a thousand butterflies exploded in my chest. This was a major leap of faith and trust in the relationship we'd been building in our little book club. I squeezed Jason's hands, smiling as I leaned into him a little. He grinned back at me, then sighed.

"Now, if you hated Austen, maybe I'd have to be a little more worried about all this..."

I gasped. "I could never."

"Exactly. You're not somebody I'm worried about here."

We shared another, softer smile, and then I reluctantly dropped Jason's hands.

"Speaking of people you should be worried about... whoever made that call sounded like they could use your help."

Jason's eyes rolled back so far I couldn't see the pupils anymore.

"They're idiots who should never be allowed anywhere near a kitchen, but they'll survive without me for a little longer. At least long enough to do this."

For a split second, I expected him to lean in for a kiss, and my heart did a backflip in my chest. Instead, he reached up for the domino mask still sitting comfortably on his face, which somehow seemed more intimate.

Slowly, he pulled away the fabric, revealing the bright blue eyes it had been hiding. When he smiled, this time I could see the corners of his eyes turning up along with his mouth, and even from a few feet away I could see his gorgeous eyelashes. It took some actual effort not to swoon, even though his face didn't change significantly from when he'd been wearing the mask.

"Like what you see?" he asked, tone soft but joking. I huffed a laugh and let a smile make its way back onto my face.

"Yeah. I do."

"Good. Then... what do you think about going out? On a real date, with me, not Red Hood? No pressure if you're not interested, but-"

"I would love that," I said, my smile morphing to take up my entire face. "Jason."

He beamed back at me the second his name left my lips, the two of us gravitating towards each other until his vigilante phone started blaring again and Jason rolled his eyes.

"I better go. But I'll see you... this Friday? Pick you up at six?"

I nodded. "It's a date."

Jason grinned, his eyes darting back to me every few seconds as he collected his things. We agreed to just keep each other's books until Friday since we wouldn't get to finish reading them together tonight, making Jason the first person I'd ever trusted with my only copy of a book. Our goodbye took longer than it should've since he had explosions to deal with and we were seeing each other again in a few days, but neither of us could bear to part any faster. And when the front door finally shut, it was hours before I actually wiped the smile off my face.

Who could've guessed something positive would come out of one of my most obnoxious bad days to date, let alone someone as wonderful as Jason?

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989 @space-helen

DC Taglist: @gaychaosgremlin @v1ckycheesue

[uyuartik]

bad idea, right? (obi wan kenobi x f!reader) part iii

tags: angst, fluff, arguments, period typical misogyny (of course not from obi wan), just overall wealthy pricks being little shits, the trope of THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED, but not really, do you believe in second chances (i don't) (💀), little smut compared to the rest because originally there was no smut in this (but i HAD TO use that idea), REPOST because i fucked up in the first place

a/n: welcome back for the finale!

well, i can't think of anything to say except this has been a blast for me, and i'm so happy that there are those who enjoys this madness as much as i do. hope you like the ending too. thank you all!

likes and reblogs are very much appreciated, and i can’t wait to hear your opinions! i am also crossposting on ao3, feel free to interact there as well.

part one | part two | part three | ao3

enjoy!!!

word count: 8.3K

chapter three: fuck it it's fine!

You don’t board that ship. A slight sickness you excuse, then spend your days sulking at home, still covered by the expanse of your lies. It is not totally untrue, though. You did really wake up with a swollen throat, and that put the integrity of your health during the journey at risk, thus with great grief, canceled the plans. Nobody knew that you’d not even mention the symptom on any other day, just requesting some honey tea and hardly noticing it disappear in the morrow. And it exactly worked out as predicted, more so, without leaving its discomfort for remorse. But after that, the hours stretched out each day, like you were living in a different plane where you were not welcomed. Perhaps you actually weren’t, for if you followed your fate, you’d be eating different foods, and walking foreign corridors. In an attempt to run away from that feeling, you try to socialize just a little, attending even the most dull tea parties. Also, your preference of company has to be specialized now, and that proves difficult sometimes.

So, that’s exactly why you indeed sulk at home, even though all your efforts.

But not tonight. 

Then again, perhaps you should've.

His presence has nothing to do with it, to be perfectly clear. On the contrary, he makes it a little endurable. The forced small talk and empty eyes you once feared dearly are not the case, even after your last encounter. Of course, there's a little awkwardness, an uncertainty about where the line of intimacy now stands, shadows of anger and disappointment still darkening the atmosphere, but the overall sensation comes down to longing. You both lost a great friendship, cast it aside in a blink, but your souls don't accept this new arrangement that quickly, trying to fall into the familiar rhythm once more each time you feel your walls break. You don't allow it, neither does he. Yet, it is about the only thing that turns this night into a not complete waste of time. Even a pleasant one, you'd dare say. 

If it weren't for literally everything else except this.

The hushed little uninformed jokes start during the dinner. It is the lord of the house that says them, to his close circle, barely hanging onto etiquette he had glimpses of. As minutes tick and glasses of wine roll, that glimpse is gone, and even in your seat at the end of the table, you hear him clearly. The pressed lips and masked mimics pretending not to be aware of it soon become apparent on every face, excluding you and Lord Kenobi. You glower the first time another of the guests feels confident enough to make his dirty contribution to the subject. Typical, you try to stay calm, tapping your fingers on the table. The world is filled with the likes of him, and the last thing they deserve is your attention. The reflex doesn’t go unnoticed by him, and he sends a sympathetic smile, showing that you’re not alone and accepting this invitation was a most regretful choice. He uses a few retorts to close the deal, let the dinner continue in different matters- or in silence, that would be fantastic indeed, but his smart wit and slight intimidation work only for a couple of minutes. Now it’s your turn to reflect that sad smile, and you do.

The sadness doesn’t come from the circumstances around you all, though. Your heart feels heavy, for not trying better ways to handle that morning. That guilt will haunt you, drag you into the gloomy pit you’ve been in, and maybe, you should stay there for some time, a penance for your mistakes.  

After dinner, when the ladies and gentlemen huddle around different interests, you get a chance to cool off. The soft peals of laughter and giggles fill the room, a much more pleasant sound than the roar of men. You get to entertain others with your stories of other cities you’ve been to, and they tell their interesting incidents, and make fun of their husbands, people who deserve, as their commotion spills out of the walls. The topic of their conversation, marriage, diffuses out into your circle in such a way, that once again, you’re restraining yourself, trying to listen to the problems one of the ladies is complaining of, and not to hear the crude comments going on on the other side. You’re stopped from rushing out of your armchair simply out of respect you have for the woman speaking when you pick up your name passing in their remarks. Plus, Kenobi’s words, you don’t flatter me by offending the lady, reach every ear in the room, sharper than a knife. Your cheeks burn with anger, then with gratitude, and at last, out of embarrassment, because how are you going to explain he’s just doing an honorable thing, that it’s his character to defy ill minds when he sees one, and this has little to do with his “pursuit” of you? Your breaths are shallow and quick as you focus on the discourse, and dodge every attempt to pull the subject towards your relations.

Though, the snake doesn’t give up on eating, even his own tail, it seems.

In less than half an hour, a joke about abduction is whispered, and you surge from your armchair, the screeching sound echoing. You murmur what resembles to be an excuse (you’re still deciding whether they are worthy of one), and send one glaring gaze at the group, enough to make one flinch, and walk out.

Out of the entire house.

Lucky for you, this is a night in which you carpooled with another guest, meaning you only have your own feet to carry you away in this pouring rain.

But of course, that’s not enough to deter you.

You take big steps, enforced by your fury. Thus, the house leaves your sight in no time, but not their audacity, still ringing in your ears. Implications about your freedom. Complaints of wive-hood. Humor about how perfectly reasonable is to get rich, by kidnapping a young woman… (Honestly, after all that, you don’t have mercy for them of the panic they might experience when they realize their guest is not refreshing in another room, and have left the estate altogether. Alas, that guest is you.) You string curses at them, the only form of thinking you have in regard, and feel the bulk of emotions resonate with every stomp, even spilling out of your tear ducts. Your dampening body, and the length of the road don’t make it any easier, feeding your frustration. Your only anchor is your self worth, the reason you began this path in the first place, and you desperately hope it will turn the tide in a while.

Though now, the picture you paint with those foul words and wet clothes isn’t exactly the brightest.

It is still among these moods, that Obi Wan catches up to you. You’re not exactly surprised to see him, his carriage closing the twenty minute distance you put between yourself and that damned house with a speed that you think can’t be that good for the horses in the long run. They stop abruptly at your side, and you have all those insults readied if it turns out to be that fucked up man or polite declines if it is indeed Obi Wan. 

But, you can’t speak them. The world feels like it freezes, the raindrops slowing down, and carrying away your burdens as they fall to the soil. The small door opens, and Obi Wan rushes out of it, with an expression that is so honest and raw. His fright vanishes at the sight of you, that scared gaze dissolving, eyebrows relaxing… You can actually see his lips move, Thank God. He is totally undisturbed by the downpour, already making his strands stick to his forehead. His hands find yours, and pull you close, almost like an embrace. You look into his eyes, how focused they are on you, as if they could burn you from the inside with their intensity. You have an undeniable urge to kiss him right now, and that has nothing to do with lust, but your wish to undo the last couple of weeks, uphold that strong connection once the two you had. Of course, you don’t, you can’t, thus, you let him lead you inside, and continue towards whatever destination.

Funny, how you feel much calmer doing the thing you thought you wouldn’t. Moreso, you have no woes about it either.

The silence is deafening, but nobody dares to open their mouth, the greatness of the storm of emotions you both are having too heavy on your tongues. He puts his less soggy jacket around your shoulders, you welcome it with a nod. That’s the moment you realize the redness on his knuckles. It’s not hard to guess the scene, and that has your head turned to the floor, processing the entire night. It is also at this moment that you become aware of your fresh tears, still sliding over your cheeks. Even if he notices them, he doesn’t do a thing about it, an indifference you’re grateful for. He just looks out of the window, and contemplates, same as you.

===

The tub filled with hot water doesn’t make you any wetter, but it helps with the temperature. You’re sorry that you exhausted the owners of the inn you had to stay in, (for it was getting impossible to travel in that rain) with this request, but a voice tells you that Obi Wan wouldn’t have it any other way. You’re unbelievably silent as he sorts it all out, staying in your bubble, unintentionally playing the part of the damsel in distress. You listen to his list of requests, for the horses, for three rooms (the best reserved for the lady, he insists), a tub to be prepared for you, and some tea-

“No need.” Your voice is weak, but it is clear. He would’ve protested this answer, but it is the first time you’ve talked after leaving the house, how ironic, and the realization sets deep in both of you. After that, you feel the words pile up on your tongue, but in a blink, you find yourself in a room. Alone.

“So sorry, I thought they gave me this room.” He stands at the door, holding it half open, face turned in the opposite direction.

“Obi Wan.” His gaze hesitantly finds your way again. God, he’s about to kill you with that blues… “Can we talk for a second?”

You name yourself a hypocrite for asking that, in this state, but you can’t breathe with all that untold things if you spend another second without explaining yourself to him, and apologize for all the trouble you’ve caused. And, isn’t this already proof of the trust you have for him, how vulnerable you can be in his presence?

And, there’s nothing he’s not seen before, after all.

He gingerly closes the door, locking it in a swift motion, and makes his way to you. You pull yourself together, and reach for his hand for him to help you out.

“No, stay. Your fingers are still cold.”

You can’t hide the small smile forming on your face as you settle back, careful to keep most of your body underwater. He, ever noble, keeps his eyes straight on your face, which somehow doesn’t help. There’s something about his rolled-up sleeves, the matching three-piece suit down to two for the damp jacket sits behind the chair in your back against the fireplace. His hair is drying up in all defiant shapes, and you have to stop imagining that morning he woke up next to you.

“I just wanted to say thank you. For everything. I- I never intended to cause this big of a mess, and make someone clean up after me. Certainly, not you, of all people. You shouldn’t have tired yourself this much, and I’m sorry for it.”

“You can’t expect me to do nothing.” The sentence begs for a dear to be added in the end, and he has to fight his throat to silence himself. Instead, there’s a kind tug at the corners of his lips.

“You’re right.” You nod. “But the truth is, I wasn’t thinking clearly. I needed to get out, I just couldn’t sit there pretend I didn’t hear all those nasty comments.”

His fist clenches at the reminder, and you once again spot the bruises settling in on his knuckles, filling with the desire to mention them, but you inevitably decide not to. “That asshole-“

”He was obnoxious since the first hour, and loud, but that doesn't scare me, for thus he has proven himself to be just a foul mouthed man. But, that title started not to cover the extent of it- it was too much and I couldn’t take it anymore. You may say it was obvious from the start, but I tried my best to not evolve this into a thing I would regret afterward. And I succeeded.”

“So you don't even regret ever setting foot in that house?”

A tinge of disgust seizes your face, but only for a moment. Even with all those words echoing in your ear, you don't have hatred in your heart, or any remorse. You're not so quite sure about its reason, nor do you wish to be, avoiding all analysis. Like you don't know the basics already. But the sudden change in your expression tells everything. “I don’t think I can ever regret it. At least, not in its entirety.” You say, hugging your knees and lowering your head. Hot steam no longer hits your skin, you realize in your attempts of distraction.

There's a second of silence in the room, despite the thunderstorm raging outside. You are as cold as in the beginning because of it, and you almost contemplate how good of an idea this conversation was, especially under these circumstances.

“I’d say the same.” Obi Wan speaks, and that's when goosebumps rise on your skin. Your eyes meet his, then flutter away quickly, overwhelmed. Does he mean-

Why is him meaning that any different than yours, huh? Why is it any worse when he says it?

“You should get out of there.” He reaches for a towel, and you shyly stand up, turning your back and pressing your arms around yourself. Nothing he hasn't seen before, right? As the coarse fabric is draped around your shoulders, you can’t help but feel afire, the imprint of his hand around your shoulders for a second lingering way more than it should, creating a tingling sensation.

“Thank you.”

“Well, I must return to my room now.” He folds his hands together, like trying to preserve where they’ve touched, and his eyes still stay respectfully up, causing your heart to lose its rhythm. There has never been a scenario that involved nakedness without… sexual intentions, and clearly, it’s not even crossing your minds right now. Your awareness of it takes up all the space in your mind, tosses every other idea out, and leaves you at the mercy of your soul.

“Obi Wan.” Fuck, the way you call his name, it is bound to weaken him every time. “Can you-” Oh, haven't you demanded enough from him? “I- I would like it if you stayed.”

His mouth hangs open for a second, with a subtle sharp inhale. His fingers tighten around each other, then relax all together, hanging free by his side. “Of course.” For all the words that come to his lips, it’s a most simple answer.

Not that you have any complaints.

You’re filled with another kind of thrill, being this open with your wishes, but having no clue whether they’ll take the night, having no clue where you want the night to go, or how to act in this very moment, half covered.  You just know that you prefer him, being in the same chamber as you. You’d prefer to listen to his idle talk or slow breaths, than the silence of the room. You’d prefer him to snore in your bed than to picture him in his own, lying awake. (Because let’s face it, it’d take a while for him to surrender to sleep, if left to his own devices.)

He takes a step towards the armchair, unbuttoning his vest and you come back to your senses, stepping out of the tub in the opposite direction, towards the nightgown the innkeeper gracefully lent to you. It’s slightly large for your body, definitely not tailored for someone close to your size, but if Obi Wan ever heard you commenting on the fact, he’d wholeheartedly claim you still looked like an angel. Since you don’t, he doesn’t too, but it’s obvious in the way he takes in your form, a battle of excess fabric against your movements. He has to bury a groan when your sleeve falls down your shoulder, a simple accident. He knows that shouldn’t have been seen by him, or you didn’t do it on purpose, that tonight is not meant for those activities, and it shouldn’t get him so bothered up, but it fucking does. Does it also make him want to slap himself? Yes.

Walking near the fireplace, you wring the excess water from your hair and run your fingers through the strands before rubbing that towel aggressively, for the fact that it is already soggy enough, and is not gonna do much. You despise sleeping with wet hair, it is an invitation for you to get sick, not to mention that you’ll be sharing the bed, leaving frustrating streaks of wetness on the sheets for them.

“Hey, hey, let me help you.” Is he a little bit scared? The answer is another yes. But he’s not gonna stand there and watch you fight with your hair. He takes the fabric, locating the most usable spots, and slowly massages your strands with them. Objectively, it’s not a lot different in terms of overall results, but it does more than that anyway. Despite the forbidden intimacy, despite the question of “How is he so good at it?”, you’re lulled by the constant movements, the tension in your muscles easing off. He keeps you by the fire longer than you would’ve stayed, and that achievement belongs solely to him. Frankly, he too is not sure how long the two of you could stand like that, or put an end to it. All that matters is that your hair is pleasantly damp, less bothersome, and he did that.

To be honest, with each minute he is in your presence; the task of holding onto his manners, respecting his broken heart, and following your lead is getting harder to manage.

“Thank you.” You murmur, eyelids barely held open, and he feels like a juggler, suddenly losing his sense of balance, and dropping one of his props.

“You’re welcome.” Perhaps he was the one to thank, for the pleasure. That’s the second prop, falling down.

Still, it’s obvious how that sentence misses a darling thrown out after it.

You climb the bed, and he follows suit. You both favor the edges of the mattress, and there’s a ridiculous distance between both of your bodies, but you’re both too timid to use it, even at the risk of tumbling down.

Only after the urge to find a better position kicks in that you move, and end up just a little closer, face turned to his side.

He’s already turned to you, eyes closed but definitely not trying to sleep, or relax if nothing. He opens them of course, after you rustled the sheets that hard.

“What if I get sick tomorrow?” Admittedly, that’s a silly question, but the scenario occupies your mind. All the elemental factors are present, and you only have a formal dress on your back. Also, the fact that it would be all your fault, yet you are the one to complain? You hate yourself for saying it out loud.

“Then we would stay ‘til you got better.” His point-of-fact words, softened with his bedtime voice, must be annoying. Must be. It is not. It is the raw truth, straight from his core. You won’t disrespect it, (again). “I would take care of you.”

(Doesn’t he, always?)

 A shiver runs down your spine.

(He’d name this place heaven, if it allowed you two to stay together a little longer.)

“Obi Wan.” Whispering, trying your best to break that ugly silence, not to crush under the weight of his words, but more importantly to let him know your truths, the alignment of your soul. “I- I never told you how much I appreciated you. Now just today, but especially today.”

He’s trying so hard not to sound rude, or leave you unanswered, but none of them are good enough. Thankfully, you are not expecting one. Your fingers ghost over his knuckles, afraid to hurt him. he’s not even sure you’re doing that, ‘til you hunch over, and press a small kiss over them.

That’s all the acknowledgment he needs, ever. It wasn’t becoming of a gentleman, obviously, but the situation didn’t require gentleman-cy, too. He has no recollection of how his fist ended up in that man’s eye, except for the exact second it happened, feeling his shirt slide from his other hand as the impact sizzled through his bones, and sent the man to the floor. He found himself in the middle of saying God knows what- he still doesn’t have a single clue, and thinks about the possibility of how they’ll resonate, ‘til it reaches his ears once again.

Though, he has no fear regarding that, or the altercation before it. Nor regret.

“I am honored that our names are spoken together, a testament of our likeness.”

The third prop.

It falls, most obviously, but he doesn’t show it. Not under these circumstances. No matter how you try to avoid the subject of love, or a future, he’s burning for it, burning for you. In that moment, it is settled that it’ll always be that way, forever. You’re absolutely crushing his heart, and maybe even crush yours in the process (for which reasons, he’s never sure), regardless of your intentions pointing otherwise, because he knows you’re pushing through your struggles to speak up, select the appropriate expressions, to honor your past. He’s touched by your effort, as well as your words, oh, your words… This is the only compliment he’ll ever accept, and it’s not even meant to be a compliment. Your voice is already etched into his brain, and there will not go a single day he’s not reminiscing about it.

Thus, with such strong emotions, his every muscle twitched with the desire to pull you closer, wrap his arm around your waist, card his fingers through your cool hair as your lips meet. He wants to kiss you slowly, savor your taste and caress your tongue with his, for the sole purpose of being close to you. You, throwing one leg over him… You, falling asleep in his arms as he gets to bathe in your enchanting scent… The feeling of your warm breath against his neck as you take refuge in there… He’s surprised he doesn’t have to chain himself not to act on any of these images.

(Oh, it very much feels like he has done that anyway)

Yet, it is probably the worst night to do so. It has all been too much, and all this on top of that is a recipe for disaster. A disaster he’s been struck with nonetheless, though, perhaps he can spare you from.

When it comes to you, he has always put his heart before his mind, (but never disregarding the latter part. It is the essential element to keep both of you safe, to never compromise your social statuses, to create the optimum atmosphere for your relationship to flourish (by your own unusual standards)). For the first time, he’s not following that code. Even he can’t imagine the consequences if he doesn’t.

You’re glad that nothing has changed. No response from him, no action. His relaxed expression tells you enough; the calmness of his eyes, his slow breaths and the slight curve of his lips… To be honest, you’re relieved to see your words reach their destination but also set with the urge to prove them. To press down your mouth on his, from which you hope for an answer; to hold his hand without causing any discomfort, or simply hug him for a second, eliminating all space between your bodies like your souls.

Alas, the role of the hypocrite is a part you no longer wish to play, and you’re perfectly willing to hurt yourself by not succumbing to your wishes, and refrain him from further confusion.

“Good night, Obi Wan.” You say, fingers grazing over his for the last time, and curl yourself into a ball.

“Good night, my dearest.”

 ===

The morning is unlike the previous example.

You wake up to him getting up, so there’s no way for you to know if your bodies drifted closer during the night, but considering the position of your arm, extended way beyond the middle, it is quite possible to assume some physical contact was present.

Considering you two are not facing each other, thus acknowledgment of the situation is not a matter, your embarrassment is half of what it should be.

Though, your cheeks burn brighter each second you can’t peel your eyes off of him, filling up the rest of that cup. Watching him walk around, the movement of each chiseled muscle on his back as he puts his shirt and trousers on quickly highlights another impropriety. He is perfection, even in that drowsy state of the human condition, there’s harmony to his every motion, the slow steps he takes, the way the fabric glides against his skin, the subtle fine arrangements of his fingers to make sure it looks decent, even how he breathes causes him to blend into the room, but also bedazzle it in his grace, make him stand out like a crown jewel, a masterpiece of arts that name the place.

You can only stop your ogling once he leans in and stirs the flames, which were already going strong since they were last fed before you went to sleep- wait, that doesn’t seem possible, did he actually sever his sleep to tend to it?

Is there any other explanation you need?

Your heart may flutter out of your chest after this realization, so you skirt out of the blankets. Of course, the sound draws his attention, and you’re caught, forced to react.

Yet, the unstoppable smile forming on his lips inspires a similar response on yours so easily, so naturally that you don’t feel obligated at all. On the quite contrary, that simple mimic banishes any pretense, showering you with reassurance and bravery, the motivation to act on your own true terms, not society’s or the ones you pressured onto yourself.

“Good morning.” The simultaneous greeting pulls a giggle from both of you, and it is all so small, yet so much. You sway away from his direction, casually reaching for your clothes, hoping he doesn’t notice the tremor of your legs when you shed the nightwear and put the chemise on. Because you know, he’s watching you. Divine justice, perhaps.

“Be careful, Obi Wan, I might start to think you enjoy watching me get dressed too much.” The snarky comment, fighting its way out of your mouth further softens the atmosphere, and it is like the first days of spring after a harsh winter, soothing your souls with relief.

“Guilty as charged.”

You shake your head, consumed by his usual forward banter. A scene taken straight out of your past. You shimmy into your dress instead of coming up with a cleverer response.

“You don’t sound sick.” He says, indicating that he’s been paying attention. 

Biting your lip, you turn away. “Actually…”

“Is there something wrong?” He ends up right beside you in a blink, as if the world changed by your unfinished sentence. 

Your heart picks up a different rhythm, hands raised in position to tie your ribbon but frozen. “It’s nothing, my throat just feels-”

“Do you want me to call a doctor?”

That was the exact reason why you started with it’s nothing. Alas… “No, it’s probably just my overthinking and coming up with strange sensations.” And if not, it depends on how well you spend tonight, so there’s not much room for intervention. Definitely not in medical terms.

“Pity.” His comment makes you scoff. After that, you can’t reward him with your concerns, can you? It is funny, ugh.

“Let me help.” 

Your heart can’t get any rest as the tension simply changes garbs, his fingers trailing over yours and leading a 180° turn, leaving a blazing line along your skin, to tie the ends of your ribbon together. Your arms tentatively fall to your sides, not sure what to do with their freedom. His breaths lick your neck while he attentively, slowly smooths his creation, and you’d probably freak out if you weren’t so focused on the sheer range of his skills.

(Also the mystery of how he comes to acquire it, but it’s only the deep, dark parts of your mind speaking. Moreover, you do not pride yourself in a position to be jealous. You absolutely are, on that tiny level, and no, you’ll never admit it.)

Though, you’re not gonna comment on that, not when your heart threatens to fly out of its cage. The sacredness of the action brings back the echoes of your concerns, not a single one strong enough to overtake you, but the cacophony of them loud enough to occupy the entirety of your capacity.

All that talk of past times… Coupled with a little hesitancy, and how the tables turn…

“T- thank you.”

“My pleasure.” Like he just didn’t flip the dynamic, he carries on with his outfit, tying his cravat. His beautiful hands work expertly, effortlessly, and the result is perfect, even without a mirror, eyes on you the entire time.

“Is it looking fine?”

“Yes.” You meekly answer. It is decent, like he always is. Somehow witnessing that feels as sensual as the previous scene, pulling you further down the whirlpool.

Embarrassed enough already, you busy yourself with your hair, accepting the mess that it is, and decide on a simple bun, as much as possible. The practiced moves bring you some sense of calmness and control, even if the result isn’t perfect. The silence helps too, along with his occupancy of tidying up the room.

“Do you want to have some breakfast?” He asks. God, how does he still sound that cheery?

“No, thank you.” You don’t want to keep your father worrying any longer, and it’s not like you’re going to faint. The memory of your last food in the most unpleasant company is still strong enough to expel any thought of hunger.

That answer may be the clearest thought you’ve ever had this morning, yet it is the one that whispers doubt into his heart. You are silent, turned away from him, and far too engrossed in whatever unnecessary thing you’re doing. Because now, he fears that if the two of you leave this room, this building, all your lives in it will be a part of the history, never to be repeated or worse, mentioned again, lost in the torn pages. The joke about residing here for however long- seems awfully bitter, perfectly demonstrating he’d rather hold on to the possibility than put an end to this.

How could that be love?

Perhaps you were right, accusing him of madness.

That’s the only reason he walks out of the room to prepare the carriages, instead of cocooning the both of you in.

===

“Father!” You wrap your arms around him, who’s standing by the main entrance to your estate, waiting anxiously. He does the same, unaffected by the eyes that watch, the staff, and a mere acquaintance, Lord Kenobi.

Now Obi Wan knows who you got your bravery from.

He stands quietly, hands folded in front of him, not sure what to do but damn sure not to leave. He had plenty of time to think about his madness on the road, and decided it was not anything pathological- it was pure love and desperation for you. Isn’t that the nature of most of your meet-ups? Consoling each other in the positively dreadful situations, and utilizing everything to spend a second more together?

He hears you reassuring him of your well-being, and summarize the thing in pretty understated phrases. Even that makes him stutter over his words in a fit of rage. Obi Wan agrees. You distract him by speaking of the help you’ve gotten from a valiant friend, and that’s how he enters the conversation.

“Good morning, Sir.”

How he keeps it all cool, sharing and shaping his anger, silencing any doubt that may arise in him is a surprise, though he’s called a great negotiator for a reason, right? His work in various cases in court has earned him the title. He’s not overtly a fan of flaunting it. Though, it helps him a great deal in this instance.

At least, enough to have a pleasant exchange in these unpleasant circumstances, and secure permission to talk to you again.

Alone.

It is weird enough as it is already, you and him spending the night at some inn, him casually chatting with your father like his clothes haven’t benefitted from the merits of ironing, not to mention his hair being on the wild side after a slight treatment of rain, and now he is requesting your attention? Not only yours, but your father’s too in extent?

His plans have never been so crystal clear.

“No.” You declare your objection so clearly, in one word as the door closes behind him, giving you the privacy of the room. “No, no, no, no.”

“I haven’t even opened my mouth!” He objects, though it is more of a principal thing, than an actual defense. He knows you’ve worked it all out already. God, could he expect anything less from you? Your watery eyes and trembling hands break his heart into a million pieces, reactions so strong even before he has a chance to utter their cause. He caresses his beard, reevaluating if he should continue-

He can’t live with the consequences if he dares not. He can’t live with what-ifs, or not knowing the reason why you are so repulsed by the idea or would you still feel the same, if he told you about his love for you. Of course, that would require some magic, considering the magnitude and intricacy of it. How is he supposed to put the purest feelings he’s ever had to mere words, the origin of the butterflies caged up in his chest, the wires of his brain getting tangled up whenever you’re not around, and the constant intoxication from the strongest liquor he’s ever consumed? He’d rather die than sober up, and a part of him already recognizes that it’s not a possibility. It is his poison and antidote. There’s not a moment that passes without either of them.

And surely, he has no complaints about it. Never will. It is a brave choice, but what’s braver is this moment.

“No.” You repeat, hands clasped together to stop them from shaking. Your voice is low albeit steady, as much as it can be.

Because you do not lift your eyes to meet him. “You can’t propose to me, because I can’t refuse it. But I will. Then the whole country will wonder what is so wrong with you, and me, and they will talk about it all the time, for years to come. The whispers will be the first thing that you hear in every room you enter, and you’ll see the mischievous glint in the eyes of every person you meet, them scrutinizing whether those rumors are true. Our reputations will be tarnished forever, and we will hate each other for it.” And you can’t stand that.

You don’t sound like this is the first time you’re putting these words together. In all your distressed state, you sound awfully logical in your own way, so focused on one improbable, insane possibility (damn those reputations, he can never hate you), but devising every little detail.

“Why?” He basically hollers, running a hand through his hair. Why does that potential is the one you envision? “Why can’t you marry me?”

One can only dream that someone outside isn’t listening.

“Because- I don’t know!” You take a desperate step closer, showing him your honesty. You truly can’t quite name your aversions, and isn’t that already enough of a reason to stay away, spare the person you’re facing?  “I don’t know how to be a wife! And I am scared. All my life I alienated myself from the idea of a marriage, I methodically dismissed every chance claiming it wasn’t the time, all the way ‘til I would say it was too late. I was content with that idea. Because I love- loved my life the way it is; I get more than I need from my father, and that is to remain unchanged when my brother takes over, and I am free as a bird, unbound by society’s expectations, traveling wherever, wherever and trying new things. I was, I am so happy about it that anything that may alter it I shun from immediately. And now I find myself in a place I never imagined, and I am scared. I don’t know what happens now. I don’t know what to expect. I don’t know what that future looks like for us.”

He moves towards you, his head tilted sideways in understanding, arms reaching for yours. Finally, finally hearing your justifications, the basis of your attitude, fills him with pride and compassion, and most importantly, gives him an opportunity to help you solve those problems, together. But, you hush him, squeezing his wrists in gentle guidance, with tears streaking across your cheeks. “I just know that I love you. I love you so much that my heart will always feel like a weight in my chest when I’m not with you, like a ship sinking, but never reaching the bottom. And I will continue to love you even if you stop loving me back, but I would rather lose you on my terms than by the burdens a marriage brings.”  

“Why do you so believe that a mere contract would change my feelings? Do you think my affections for you are that fragile?”

You frantically shake your head, causing the drops to fall faster. “No, I’m not saying that-“

“Then what?” He snaps, though not because he’s angry. He wants to learn every single reason that’s keeping you away.

“You don’t know what that will do to us.”

“No, I don’t! And I don’t care! It will never change my feelings.” This, he can shout freely. This is the simplest truth for all his remaining days on this earth.

You don’t know that, you want to object. “Obi Wan…” Is the response that comes out of your mouth. “I am not a good bride.”

“No.”There’s acceptance in his tone, a punch to your guts. “You’re the love of life, my companion, my everything.” When he pulls you even closer, and cups your cheeks, you let him. “Haven’t we been through all the struggles a couple could share already? Haven’t I seen all of you, and let you see all of me? Haven’t you claimed my entire soul, and occupied my every single thought? You made me break my rules, and painted a picture I never thought was suited for me- and I came to like that picture very much. In fact, it’s all I ever want my future to look like, with you in it. You, exactly in the way you already are, with all your unsusceptibility to the norms and striking habits. I know that can be scary. I am afraid too. But, anything worth doing starts like this, I know it. And we’ll be the biggest idiots in the world if we let our fear rule us.”

You can’t help but laugh a little, the joyful sound making his breath hitch. It is reflected on his face too, and it is something you’ll hold on to, alongside the tears that begin to form on his eyes. Fortunately, they sit there, despite him kneeling in front of you, his fingers never leaving the bend of your arm, only to follow the route they create, and hold onto both of your hands. “Please, marry me.”

You’re convinced, but your tongue is still tied, so you nod. Your entire upper body shakes with the gesture in seconds, making you look like an overexcited child, on the verge of losing their balance with the restlessness of their legs. You barely feel him kissing your knuckles before he stands up and embraces you, stabilizing both of you in both physical and emotional terms. Let’s be real, if he kissed you instead as he desperately wished to, you’d fall on the floor (and continue there- ‘til somebody discovered the two of you in very indecent terms). His chuckles quickly become your favorite song, you feel blessed as they delight your ears, and make your chest vibrate like his. He revels in the newfound proximity, despite the fact that you’ve been much, much closer in the past. This is new. This is raw love, uncombined with other emotions, strengthened by the absolute truth that you two are meant for each other, and with the promise of you’ll do something about it. He holds you ‘til your sense of balance is restored, for he now has urgent matters he has to attend to. He’ll get to hold you forever soon, and that revelation doesn’t change the herculean feat of letting you go now. He can’t help but wipe the streaks of wetness on your face, though it forms again. He solely doesn’t repeat himself because of the widest grin on your lips. You press yourself to his palm, eyelids closing for a moment, then place a small peck on it.

 “I- I’m now gonna go and talk to your father, get the papers right- and find a-” oh, that’s not “a”, he is going to require many others even if he keeps everything minimal, “I’ll be back in three, fuck, four hours, okay?”

“What? No!” You exclaim, almost giving him a heart attack.

“What’s wrong?” His fingers tighten, a slight tremble taking over them. You have to smile to get him to relax once again, and raise your eyebrows wittily, as if he is a fool for not imagining it already, reminding him of your nature.

“I’m only doing this once. I want everything to be right.”

He squints his eyes, grasping your chin. There’s a few seconds of silence, the time it takes for his nerves to settle. When it does, you’re struck by the intensity of his blue irises, the condensed calm before the storm. “So you want to stay as my fiance ‘til the next season starts, in eight months, succumbing to waiting as we get no freedom to ourselves, always in the center stage, enjoying the last of our bachelor states, the lonely nights and beds bigger than you can ever occupy.”

His other hand, wandering across your waist tells you exactly what he implies. While you actually weren’t planning on such a thing, it causes a surge of rush to overtake you, burning you from the inside. Pursing your lips as you free your face from his grip, with a contradicting shaky breath, you say. “I was always fond of winter weddings…”

To this, he laughs, echoing in the room, and you join him.

One can only hope whoever outside listens to this too, this moment of pure joy preserved in one more mind.

 === 

 “I couldn’t be happier to be married to you.” Obi Wan whispers, but the sentence is loud and clear to you, etched into where he takes nest in the crook of your neck, hot breaths burning your skin.

“We’re still not- ngh“ Yes, this is supposed to be the rehearsal, the night before the main event. You two should be at the reception downstairs, among your many relatives and friends and other members of the society, all gathered for tomorrow morning, when these words of yours will be invalid.

Of course, you are further making a hypocrite of yourself by the way you hold onto him, legs wrapped around his waist, arms locked around his shoulders as he burrows his cock into you. It was impossible to wait any further, as you were separated by the whole ordeal of preparations and the watchful eyes. The moment you found a clearing, you two slipped away, cue to now, where your back on the wall as he supports you against it. You didn’t even get one meter away from the door, you could basically reach the knob with a simple extension of your elbow, but in the end, who cares? Who cares when he fills you so deliciously, scratching the itch that has been building for some time, peppering you with all the love in his heart?

Still, your sentence is cut abruptly as he drives his hips faster, rougher- very much an act of pedantry, advising not to get lost in the details. It works, the correction dies on your tongue, though a quite loud moan takes its place. His hand flies to cover your mouth, and your eyes pop open, meeting his. The pressure of his palm against your face almost forces another sound out of you. Fuck, you adore those blue storms, even when they are focused elsewhere, turned to the door as if it can see past behind it, scanning for intruders. You do actually whimper when the danger dissolves, the vibrations running among his bones, and he keeps up his pace, hitting that sweet spot over and over again.

However, it is getting harder in terms of balance as he now has one hand to stabilize you, and despite your best efforts, it is quite hard not to slide off of the smooth fabric of his clothes. Remorsefully, you push on his shoulders, and he understands, pulling his cock out of you and burying his mouth on your skin. He stifles a sob in there, the frustration getting the best of him.

“Oh, you definitely had too much wine.” Look at who’s talking, you with those wobbly legs and bitten lips…

“No, I just had too little of you.”

Your heart flaps its wings out of your chest, as it does after his every cheesy compliment. You still cannot figure out how he makes you blush harder with those words, even as he ravages you in the meantime.

You reach for a kiss, it is always a good idea. He hums contently at the touch, grateful at the most basic form of contact. Obi Wan rocks against you unintentionally, and that’s how the unsatiated desire wages war, with desperate groans and roaming hands.

Then, his fingers tighten around your waist, and you find yourself supported against the vanity with your open palms, depositing most of your weight there (thank God, because you couldn’t trust your feet much longer). He pulls your hips back to his. Your back arches in a way that is most complementary to his chest, and fuck, it is a vision.

It literally is.

Fluttering your eyes open for only a second (that was your intention at least), you’re struck down with the image of the two of you in the mirror, faces contorted in the prettiest way that is possible in this dirty position, heavy lids and open mouths, fingertips whitened by the strong grasp you have on each other, the matching colors of your outfits…

Yes, even with that detail, you’re still on his side, agreeing you’d be idiots if you weren’t doing this.

Deciding to take the sight from its direct source, you turn your head to the side a little, looking at the adonis of a man you’ll soon call your husband, with his neatly trimmed beard and prominent cheekbones and long eyelashes you are slightly jealous of and so much more…

He meets your gaze, breathless with similar thoughts, that little tug on the corner of his mouth telling you all you need to know, but then he nudges your face to its previous state by a small clasp of your chin, and you’re watching him through the reflection, leaning forward when he starts to fumble with your skirt once again.

The moan that leaves you is totally incapable of being unobscured as he enters you anew. The change in the angle along with the visual stimulation has you teetering on the edge quite easily, like him, but he denies it, maintaining slow movements and choking out any noise that dares to leave him.

Of course, all is impeded when the door is knocked-

“Occupied!”

“Occupied!”

Your voices are synchronized, high and tight. The clock stops for a moment for your bodies, as if the stationary status makes it any less scandalous, and both of you fixated on the doorknob.

It never turns. Never.

Still, the dilated pupils remain a little longer, joined over the mirror, with big puffs of breath and shaking hands.

“Do you think they-“ There’s not an exact word that you can find to explain what has just occurred, but the sentiment is clear.

“Probably.” And the answer too is just as clear.

Well, the only thing lost is the trivial achievement of never being discovered before the wedding.

A wedding which is hours away.

So, you push back, wiggling your hips. His unrestricted sound is all you need to regain your spirits back, and you do it once more. Just like that, the wheels are turning. 

“You realize there’s a bed behind us, right?” He asks as he slowly thrusts into you.

“Yes, but I like the view better here.” 

[ell0ra-br3kk3r-writes]

The Phoenix and the Crow

part forty

pairing: kaz brekker x fem!reader

genre: neutral/fluff

el's thoughts: it's been sooooo long since i've written and i'm afraid that i'm a little rusty haha, but here you go!!

masterlist

As the schooner sped south, it was as if the whole crew was sitting vigil. Everyone spoke in hushed tones, treading quietly over the decks, hyper-aware of Y/N lying in bed in Kaz’s room.

The Ferolind felt like a ghost ship. Kaz was sequestered with Y/N, and he’d asked for Wylan’s help caring for her. Even if Wylan didn’t love chemistry, he knew more about tinctures and compounds than anyone. So the chemist and Nina spent every waking minute trying to nurse their resident Inferni back to health.

Anyone who entered the room Y/N was staying in could instantly feel how stressed Kaz was. They would have to be blind not to have noticed the toll her illness took on him. The deep dark circles that rested under his eyes seemed worse than they’d ever been before. His sleeping habits were nonexistent before, yet he never let it show. But now he looked weak. Physically ill. Within the few days he’s been waiting for Y/N to wake up he appeared to have aged a few years. It was nothing a proper night’s sleep, shower, and meal couldn’t fix, but it disturbed the other Crows to see him in such a state.

Nina and Inej finally got him to bathe himself, the Heartrender claiming that Y/N would never wake up if he stayed by her side smelling like a Barrel rat. So when Kaz stepped out of the pathetic excuse for a washroom, he nearly collapsed to his knees at the sight of Y/N sitting up in bed.

He was frozen in shock, he was barely able to choke out a few words. “You’re awake.”

Y/N jumped slightly and groaned at the jolt it gave her body.

“Sorry,” Kaz walked to her bedside while rubbing the thin fraying towel in his hand through his hair.

“It’s fine,” she coughed in reply. Her hand blindly feeling for a cup on the table next to her. Kaz reached for the pitcher and poured the cold water into the glass before handing it to her. Y/N smiled at him gratefully and chugged the water down before placing the cup back. “Thank you.”

“How…” Kaz cleared his throat before murmuring quickly. “How’re you feeling?”

Y/N pushed herself higher up on her pillows, “More alive than I could’ve claimed earlier.”

She’s alive.

That’s all that mattered to Kaz in that very moment. The reward that waited for him completely left his mind for just a spilt second as he mentally relaxed over the comforting fact that she was still with him.

She’s alive.

~

Y/N had always known there was a good chance they wouldn’t make this journey home at all, that they’d end up in cells in the Ice Court or skewered on pikes. But she’d figured that if they managed the impossible task of rescuing Yul-Bayur and getting back to the Ferolind, the trip back to Ketterdam would be a party. They’d drink whatever Spect might have squirreled away on the ship, eat the last of Nina’s toffees, recount their close calls and every small victory. But she never could have foreseen the way they’d been cornered in the harbor, and she certainly couldn’t have imagined the type of sacrifice she’d made in order to get them out of it. But as she looked around the deck she knew that she would do it all over again in a heartbeat.

These people had grown to be her family much against her will. If some heaven-sent Saint came to her only two years ago and told her that she would become the closest friends with a convict, a sharpshooter, a runaway, a spy, one of her ex-soldiers, and a thief… She would have laughed in their face. But here she sat, wrapped in a warm blanket brought to her by the Suli spy, drinking a cup of tea made by the runway mercher’s kid. Her skin had grown pale and carried a constant cold sweat despite the cool ocean breeze flowing through her hair and over her skin. But she was well enough to finally leave the room and walk about the main deck for a short while.

When Kerch finally appeared on the horizon, Y/N felt a strange mixture of relief and trepidation. She knew that their lives were about to change, and she could only hope for the better while she prayed to any Saint above that Nikolai received her letter in time.

They dropped anchor, and when nightfall came, Jesper had asked Kaz if he could join him and Rotty in the longboat they were rowing to Fifth Harbor. Y/N knew they didn’t need him, but she could tell he was desperate for a distraction.

A few hours later she could see them down a canal, making their way back to the ship.

“Look at that,” Kaz said, holding the paper out for Y/N to read. Congratulations. Your country thanks you.

The words left a funny feeling to settle in her stomach as Jesper laughed. “As long as my country pays cash. Does the council know the scientist is dead?”

“I put it all in my note to Van Eck,” Kaz said. “I told him that Bol Yul-Bayur was dead but that his son is alive and was working on jurda parem for the Ferjdans.”

“Did he haggle?”

“Not in the note. He expressed his ‘deep concern,’ but didn’t mention anything about price. We did our job. We’ll see if he tries to bargain us down when we get to Vellgeluk.”

Jesper glanced at the Inferni quickly before turning his attention back to Kaz. “Will Wylan come with us to meet with Van Eck?”

“No,” Kaz said, fingers drumming on the crow’s head of his cane. “Matthias will be with us, and someone needs to stay behind with Y/N. Besides if we need to use Wylan to twist his father’s arm, it’s better that we don’t show our hand too early.”

Y/N glared at Kaz’s profile as he spoke. Jesper looked between the two and quickly made a lame excuse to leave.

“What do you mean I stay behind?”

“You’re in no condition to come with us, you’re still weak.”

Y/N scoffed but a coughing fit instantly followed. “I’m not weak, besides you’ll need the Ravkan representative present during the trade.”

Kaz stared at her for a moment, flicker of emotion flared behind his eyes before he turned away. Y/N reached her index finger to lock it with his.

“I know your concern, but my presence is needed and you can’t deny that. I promise I’ll be careful.”

“You can’t make promises you can’t keep,” Kaz said and looked back at her. “Since when are you known to be careful?”

The inferni chuckled and leaned closer to his side, barely leaning her head against his shoulder. “Thank you for trusting me.”

Kaz gave no reply as he stood stiffly beside her with no intention of leaving.

~*~

@katherinereid @littlecat21 @jahayla-parker @maliciousbrekker @brekkershadowsinger @brekkers-desigirl @clunaes @wonderland2425 @bookloverfilmoholic @karensirkobabes @bookworm-center @el-de-phi @so-get-this-sammy @crispy-croke @cometsghost @auttumnsayshi

[melodygatesauthor]

Jonathan Levy - Random Horny Thot #1 - The Girl in the Front Row

NSFW

He'd spent night after night jerking off to your videos online. He watched you, pretty legs spread wide with a vibrator plunged deep in your wet little pussy. He'd fantasized about feeling your walls contracting around his girth, squeezing his cock while you cum over and over again. He knew he could do better than that silly piece of plastic, he knew he could do better for you.

When the new semester starts, and he looks up to see his new class, he nearly drops the coffee mug in his hand. There you are, sitting with your eyes down staring at your notebook and writing your notes. Jonathan gulps, mouth slack open and breathing heavily. Is he having an asthma attack? No...no he's okay...

Professor Levy knows he has to have you, and when all the other students leave, he tells you to stay behind. When you look at him with those big, curious eyes he feels his arousal building instantly. You're so pretty, and his cock aches with a need to be buried deep inside of you. He takes off his glasses and puts them on his desk.

He says your stage name, the one only fans of your work would know about, and then watches the panic wash over your face. You start stammering, unable to get out a coherent thought, and he can see it in your expression so he stands, putting a caring hand on your shoulder.

"Hey, you don't have to worry honey, I'm not going to tell anyone," he trails his hand up the side of your neck and he brushes his thumb against your cheek.

"Professor I-"

"Sh," he puts a finger on your lips, "you've given me so much, let me return the favor hm?"

Within seconds he's got you bent over his desk, door locked, cock buried to the hilt in your warm little cunt. He shudders feeling it grabbing onto him like it doesn't want to let go. He rubs the globes of your ass with both hands, grabbing them and spreading your cheeks so he can watch.

"Oh god, look at you. Thought about this a lot but-oh-fuck-never thought I'd actually feel you sweetheart. So tight..."

You're like putty in his hands, whining and moaning over the desk, holding on so hard your knuckles ache. He grabs your waist, gripping roughly, leaving divots in your skin.

His slow rolling motions get more uneven as he gets closer to losing himself. It's wrong, fucking a student, especially one two decades younger than he is, but he can't help himself, and you feel so fucking good.

In fact, you feel so good that he's embarrassed at how quickly he's spilling his hot seed inside of you, filling you so full you're making a mess of his classroom floor. He's not going to let you go unsatisfied though, not a fucking chance.

He doesn't even care that he's going to have to wash his own cum out of his beard before his next lecture, he's on his knees behind you, lapping at your hungry clit with fervor. You're gasping, breathing heavily while he slurps and eats everything out of you.

He makes good on his promise, giving you one of the same mind-numbing orgasms that you'd given him time and time again with your films in the privacy of his home office. You were such a mess when he was finished that your makeup was running down your face and your stockings were ruined.

"Keep this up honey," he leans in, beard brushing against your ear, "and I'm sure you'll do just fine in my class."

Any of my blurbs can be used as inspo for a fic. Please tag me for credit. Thank you!

Random Blurbs Masterlist

[candyheartedchy]

Just a little snippet from my CoralBob wip fic because it’s cute and I wanted to share something from it so far.

Sitting side by side, a little yellow sponge and purple sea monster were on their third bowl of triple goober berry sunrises. Their laughter filled the air as the bartender kept glancing over in dread while cleaning a glass.

"Okay, ready?"

"Ready."

Sticking out his tongue a bit, SpongeBob tired to balance a cherry upon his nose as Coraline did the same on her snout. This was quickly followed up by an angry shout of defeat by the sea monster as a cherry fell onto the floor.

"I guess I won." SpongeBob said.

"I bet you can't do it with a spoon."

Turning around smugly, the sponge smiled over with his spoon now balancing straight up on his nose.

"Amazing."

SpongeBob laughs.

Digging into their ice creams, the pair had soon found themselves becoming quiet.

"SpongeBob?"

Taking in a spoonful, the sponge turned, "Hm?"

"Do you think it’s safe to go behind our bosses backs?”

“Why not?”

“Aren’t you worried about getting fired?”

SpongeBob swallows before putting his spoon down, “Well, maybe a little… but what about you? Aren’t you worried about getting fired?”

“Yeah, but I can always find a new job… somewhere… You love your job though, and how much it means to you. I just worried this will all blow up in our faces.”

SpongeBob brows narrowed a little, “So, do you not want to hang out anymore or-"

“NO! I DO!” Coraline shouted before pulling back, embarrassed by her sudden outburst, “I just… I don’t want to be the reason you lose your job.”

“It’ll be fine, Coraline.” he smiled.

“I hope so.” she signs, “I already feel like I’m gonna mess this up.”

SpongeBob grew quiet, looking away with a troubled expression. The two didn't speak for a few seconds until the sponge finally did.

"Well," he paused, tapping his fingers along the table as he sat there, "They say sponges are great for cleaning up messes." SpongeBob smiled sheepishly over, causing Coraline to laugh softly at this.

"I do want to thank you though."

"For what?"

"For always being kind to me. Even through I’m a monster.”

"Are we speaking literally or figuratively?"

"Both?" Coraline sighs, running her fingers through her short hair, "I mean, I know I'm a monster. It's who I am. I just... don't want to be treated like one, you know?”

“Or like how everyone treats me like a kid…” SpongeBob breathed.

Coralline frowned, “How come you let people walk all over you all the time?"

“People don’t walk all over me?”

“SpongeBob, I literally saw Mr. Krabs use you as a ramp the other day.”

“The floorboards were broken.” SpongeBob stated before Coraline grabbed his shoulders.

“SpongeBob, please, I’m being serious… You need to stand up for yourself more.”

“I do stand up for myself.”

“But you always brush it off!” Coraline then glance away, shy now, “I hate seeing you treated like your dumb. Like sure you’re more…” she paused, “whimsical than others your age, but that’s your charm.”

“Charm?”

“Yeah.” Coraline then blushed, “It’s cute.”

SpongeBob pointed his spoon at the sea monster, "If you think flattery will help your chances at getting the secret formula from me, think again.“ he teased before Coraline started to panic.

“What? No! I’m not trying to get to formula-” she explained before feeling a soft hand rest on her’s.

“Coraline, I was joking.”

“Oh.”

“You worry too much.”

“Sorry.”

SpongeBob couldn’t help but stare at the sea monster, smitten as he watched her turn a deep shade of purple in her cheeks, making her more shy before catching himself.

“We better get going before it’s gets too late. Those patties aren’t gonna flip themselves tomorrow.” the sponge laughs awkwardly.

Watching him, Coraline soon followed after before noticing the sponge wobbling a bit before she rushed over to catch him from bumping into a chair.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, this always happens when I eat a few triple goober berry sunrises.” the sponge smiled up, drunk before placing an hand on the sea monster’s cheek, patting it, “It’s fine.”

Blushing from the touch, Coraline laughs lightly before tucking the sponge under her arm, heading out the door, “C’mon, let’s get you home.

The bartender watching the pair leave as he exhaled, wiping his brow.

[nerdthatsiriuslylovesteaxx]

Time for Helpless part 11 peeps

"You feeling okay?"

"I'm fine." Nico responded more trying to convince himself over Will, he just hoped that Will would leave quickly. He managed to eat half a sandwich but he knew that it would only be minutes before he couldn't control it anymore and would throw up.

"Shit sorry Nico, Kayla wanted to talk to me, I'll be back after lunch. Something about scheduling I don't even know at this point."

"Okay." Will walked out of the infirmary and Nico silently thanked the Gods before running into the bathroom and throwing up, he washed the bitter taste out of his mouth before quickly cleaning up, it would be fine, Solace didn't need to know. Nico wandered around the room spotting a stack of blank paper, he took a sheet and started to draw with a ballpoint pen. He drew Will, with his so bright it's almost glowing hair, deep eyes that glittered with a kind of brightness only possible for a child of Apollo. The smile he always had, even when the world seemed to be at it's worst, the freckles that covered his face after spending so much time in the sun. Nico knew there was a very high chance Will would walk in soon and see the drawing, he folded it up and placed it in his pocket only a minute before Will walked back in.

***

"Hey Neeks."

"Do you not have anyone else to annoy?"

"No actually, Kayla and Austin are taking everyone else."

"Great."

"You're stuck with me, probably forever since we have a new system now. Unless it's an emergency everyone takes the same cabins, you can't escape me di Angelo."

"Please kill me now."

"My job is to prevent that."

"Dio mi salvi."

"I do actually need to check some things, can you take off your shirt?"

"No, why!?" Nico blushed,

"I need to check on the stitches."

"Oh, right. Fine." The Apollo boy traced along the cuts with his fingers, checking it hadn't gotten infected and none of the stitches had come out.

"Nico, are you okay? You're ice cold."

"Huh, what? Yeah I'm always cold, not everyone's a heater Sunshine."

"No, like you're colder than normal. You've never been this cold, are you sure you feel fine?"

"Yeah I'm fi-" Nico passes out, Will tries to sing the hymn but it wouldn't work. Of all times for it to not work this might be one of the most inconvenient. He checks the small boys heart rate, it was faster than normal. After about thirty seconds, Nico woke up.

"Don't try to get up quickly; Gods Nico you scared me." Will grabbed a glass of water and a square of ambrosia, handing them both to Nico, except they went right through his right hand. Will was shocked but he tried to keep calm, "Open your mouth." Nico obliged and Will placed the square of ambrosia on his tongue, as he chewed his hand began to turn solid. "Has this ever happened before? Being cold then passing out?" Nico shook his head,

"I didn't feel cold, I just felt normal then yeah."

"How do you feel now?"

"Fine, I just have a headache."

"Drink the water, it'll help." Will sat down next to him, placing a hand over his. "Okay, you're warmer now. Just tell me if you feel sick in any way, alright?" Nico nodded in response,"By the way, we have Jason and Reyna down as your legal guardians, were-"

"Wait what? How and why would Grace and Reyna be my legal guardians exactly?"

"Well we don't count godly parents since they're always hard to contact and they may or may not have threatened me into putting them down as yours."

"And you agreed because?"

"Jason threatened to electrocute me then get Percy to drown me, that didn't sound like much fun. I was going to ask were you aware of that but from that response I'm guessing no?"

"No shit, so what you have to tell them when shit happens to me?"

"Well I need to tell at least one of them and they need to approve on certain things." Nico scowled,

"It's not like they're actually my legal guardians Solace."

"Neeks at this point they are, Jason is probably planning to legally adopt you on his eighteenth birthday."

"Please kill me."

"No can do Death boy."

"What is with you and your obsession with nicknames?"

"You know you love the nicknames, Neeks."

"Perché questo." Nico muttered, Will glanced at the clipboard he was holding.

"Okay so there's so things I need to fill in, I probably should have done that earlier. Anything you've been diagnosed with that I'm not aware of?"

"Don't think so, dyslexia, ADHD, depression, anxiety and PTSD."

"Who do you want as your emergency contacts? Jason and Reyna are already on there."

"Hazel I guess."

"Okay great Hazel and Percy."

"What?"

"Take a guess."

"Oh my Gods they either think I'm their child or hate me, can someone please be fucking normal?" Will smiled and and patted Nico on the head receiving dagger eyes,

"Nope di Angelo. Okay height and weight, take off your shoes." Will was nervous for the results, looking at Nico now he could see all of his rib. "Neeks you're tiny; stand up straight. 5'6" Will patted him on the head.

"Oh shut up Solace, you're a giraffe."

"No, you're just really short."

"Oh fuck you." Nico said stepping on the scale, it read 84 pounds.

"Nico, that's dangerously underweight. Three full meals a day, no exceptions."

"Solace I'm fine, I've survived four and a half years barely eating, I don't need to start now."

"Nico di Angelo, it's an actual miracle you've survived this long. You need to eat, you're alive but just barely. Please...don't die on me, I just want you to be healthy." Will pulled him into a hug, but Nico pushed him away.

"Leave me alone, I've been just fine living like this. If I die so what? No one would care anyways."

"I would care, Reyna would care, Jas-"

"No he wouldn't, I heard him talking about me with Leo and Piper on the Argo II. He voted to leave me to die in that jar. As for you, you barely know me. You'll care for a day and then forget I existed, just leave me alone."

"Nico..." Will went to place his hand on his shoulder but he grabbed it and pushed it away.

"Leave. Me. Alone." Nico with tears in his eyes, "I don't care about any protocol either leave or let me leave."

"Okay Nico." Will said before walking out of the infirmary. Nico fell on the bed, slipped on his T-shirt and cried into his pillow. He wanted to cut, or drink, or smoke but he knew he couldn't do anything stuck in the infirmary. He wanted to shadow travel out but it was the middle of the day, someone would see him. He didn't want to be in the infirmary any longer than he had to, he wanted to get as far away as he could from Will Solace. Him and his blonde hair and blue eyes, that bright smile. Well, I'm doing a good job on pushing him away. Nico thought to himself, the sound of his crying being muffled by the pillow.

***

[thesexydancingcrepe]

What are the personalities for your ITTW fan kids just curious

Thank you for showing an interest, I'm happy to answer 😊✨️

The Sun family Children 💕

💙 Houzi, the oldest

He looks exactly like Sun Wukong but has social anxiety that causes him to panic, as in go all demon face screaming to try chasing whatever is freaking him out until one of his family members calms him. He pretty mild mattered, but if he's out in public too long, he gets pretty scary. It's because of this flip that people misunderstand that he is as chaotic as Wukong. He's a good older brother as he tries to keep his siblings safe as they play. He's easy to annoy and easy to calm.

🩷 Mimi, the oldest sister

Absolutely loves attention and praise. She loves dressing like a princess whenever she has she has the chance. Encourages all of her siblings' schemes and mischief but prefers to remain on the sidelines or plays as the distraction (to keep tidy). Disturbingly great liar and actress, a skill that comes in handy when things get too real. Is an absolute daddy's girl and loves to play with her dad.

🖤 Tianyu, Willow's older twin

A chaotic ball of energy. He has no real rhyme or reason for the things he does. His brain goes "OH LOOK AT THAT! NO THAT! LET'S EAT AN APPLE! NOW, LET'S PAINT A FENCE! NO WAIT, LET'S PAINT THE HOUSE!!!!" The answer he gave his mom was that it's sounded like fun at the time 😆. He doesn't mean any real harm he just wants something fun to entertain him. Even when he's asleep, he wags his tail or runs in place.

🩶 Willow, Tianyu's younger twin

VERY calm and peaceful. Likes painting, playing soft music, and humming. She is very goofy like her brother but has so much more restraint and patience for things. She plays all the time with her brother but at her own pace. Is very smart and usually the one the make all their schemes work. Prefers wearing loose and comfort clothing for easy movements and really likes bodies of water, especially waterfalls.

��� Jango, the third son

A very quiet, stoic and well-behaved child. Spends most of his time quietly reading books until his mom gets back and then BOOM! He has the biggest smile and immediately goes running to her. He loves his Mama more than anything! Cooking with mom, reading with mom, laundry with mom, and even sleeping with mom are like a holiday to him! He gets very mad and jealous when his dad gets HIS Mama all to himself for "special private hugging time." When she leaves again, he goes back to being calm and stoic, but at least he has his lovely siblings to help him pass the time until she gets back. He is the biggest Mama's boy ever and is truly respectful of women as a whole.

"Mama is a woman and she can do Anything! So all women can too right!" 😃✨️

🧡 Bao, the oldest triplet

Bao LOVES stealing shiny things ✨️ 😍. Gold, jewelry, marbles or glass beads, this one will do whatever to get their mitts on them. Bao keeps all the shinys in a discreet location along with all the other things the other two stole. Has the best memory in the family perfect for casing joints. Became obsessed with shinys when one day they saw the light refract against their mother's glass bead earrings and thought it was the prettiest thing ever. Only close family members get picks from the triplet's treasure pile. All else beware of your belongings. The most excitable one in the group and the most impulsive, always quick to tease and gloat to their victims. Really like their older brother Tianyu and sister Mimi since they always come off as super self-assured and confident.

🩵 Kai, the second triplet

Kai ADORES soft things. Baby blankets, plush toys, fur rugs and coats Kai wants them all. They prefer hugs from fluffy haired, soft curvy Mama rather than muscle hard dad (dad's fur is pretty soft though). Has the softest touch you will ever know, so a rather talented pick pocket and robber. Really likes the beach near their mountain home (the sand is like powder). The soft and gentle one in the group even laughs softly, which contrasts their perma-grin. Always checks in on siblings emotionally. Enjoys spending time with Houzi and admires him deeply.

💚 Longwei, the third triplet

Longwei is OBSESSED with all things art and pretty. Will not hesitate to steal your paintings, tapestries, sculptures, or any fancy looking books. They appear to be the most laidback in the group but are actually the most cunning. They always have an exit strategy and are always looking for the angle with other people. Surprisingly superstitious always keeping a jade clover his mom gave him in his pocket for luck. They are a major smooth talker and love to scam people for giggles. Enjoys Willow's and Jango's company the most. Love having alone time in the forest, surrounded by the natural beauty and sounds of Mother Nature.

[saltsicklover]

Part Twelve

It's not a long chapter, but it's definitely something! Thank you all for voting on my last poll!

Title: Once an Asshole, Always an Asshole

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2000+

Rating: R

Warnings: Tobacco, Swearing, sexual themes implied

Second Chance Romance!

Disclaimer: I do not own Bob Floyd, or anything related to Top Gun Maverick within this piece. Not Proof Read or BETA'd. All mistakes are my own.

I do not consent for my work to be edited, reposted, or translated.

You are responsible for your own media consumption. This is a work of fiction that may contain mature themes. If you are sensitive to those subjects, please do not read.

---

"Hey, Sunny, can I ask you something I'm probably not supposed to ask?" 

The question came from Natasha as the pair sit on the back patio of the house, sipping on mimosas while they wait for Hangman to return Natasha's phone call about Sunny's duffle bag. The sun is high in the sky now, beating down on their legs, their upper bodies shaded with a large umbrella. Sunny ripples a bit at Natasha's question, knowing a line is going to be crossed. That fact doesn't bother Sunny all that much, rather it's the fact that she just knows it's going to be about Bob. Since Sunny unknowingly waltzed back into his life, his world, everything has been about him. Suddenly she misses the smell of tobacco. 

"Just ask me, Nash," The words come with a sigh. 

"It might be more than one question," Her answer comes after a beat of silence. One that was filled with a palpable, but not uncomfortable feeling. Natasha knows both Bob and Sunny are dying to talk about everything, to talk to each other, but neither is going to make that step any time soon. Sunny goes home in two weeks,  and Natasha fears that if they don't sort things out now, they never will. So if she has to pry, goddamn-it she is going to pry. 

Sunny doesn't respond, instead she just waves her hand like a white flag, conceding to Natasha's desire to talk about it.

There is a question that has been eating at Natasha since she found out that Sunny's Bobby and her Bob are the same person. The desire has all but grown since she saw Bob this morning, clad in jeans and that damn cowboy hat. 

"Why Bob?" The question comes out too broad and almost wrong, and Natasha is adding on more words before Sunny can even open her mouth, "I don't mean why in his personality, I know Bob and I trust that man with my life, I mean, I want the down and dirty details. Is it the cowboy hat? It is, isn't is?" 

The comment has Sunny laughing now, and she can feel the tension in her shoulders easing just a little. She lets her mind wander back to earlier that morning, to Bob, standing there like a stranger in his own kitchen. But, God, he looked just like home to her. She doesn't let her mind wander back further, knowing that if she does, she won't be able to stop thinking about Bob. From the way he smokes those stupid cigarillos and the crooked little smile of his. Hell, even his new birth control glasses make him look good. 

Natasha watches quietly, a mug held tight between her hands, as a smile slowly grows over Sunny's face. She swears she can see her best friend's face literally brighten as she thinks, no doubt in Nat's mind that Sunny's mind is full of nothing but Bobby. 

"You want the down and dirty? Are you sure? You do have to face him every day at work, at home, out with your friends," The words don't sway Natasha in the slightest. She knows that no matter what Sunny has to say about however hot she finds Bob, it's nothing compared to what she has heard from the rest of the squad. Natasha can describe women she has never met in painstaking detail because Rooster and Hangman like to talk over beers and pool at the Hard Deck. 

"I want to know everything," Phoenix assures, a sly smirk peaking out over the coffee cup she has raised to her lips. 

"Okay," There's an air of excitement to Sunny's voice and it makes Natasha buzz with excitement too. "Did I ever tell you about my prom?" 

Sunny watches the blood drain from Natasha's face, an almost guilty look taking over her features. Natasha pulls her lip between her teeth, letting it go, only to suck it back in again. It's almost as if she is trying to decide what to say, but Sunny sees right through her hesitation, her biding time.

"Bobby did, didn't he?"

Natasha nods, her face falling along with her gaze. There is a bit of anxiety itching under Sunny's skin. She rubs over her exposed arms, the heat conducted from her palms doing nothing to calm the buzz in her bloodstream. 

"Well, I am going to tell you the dirty stuff, okay? By the look on your face, it looks like you heard about the fight that got us here in the first place," 

"Yeah, I heard about the fight," There is guilt in her admission, even though she has nothing to be guilty about. It's not her drama, and it's nothing concerning her. 

Sunny flips herself around in her chair, laying her upper body right in the direct rays of the sun. She pulls an arm behind her head, only to be poked in the arm by something hidden under the cushion. Sunny thrusts a hand under the cushion, retrieving a small box. 

A fucking box of cigarillos. 

And she laughs and laughs and laughs. Her head thrown back, eyes scrunched up tight. Her mouth is open wide and the loud laughter pours from her unapologetically. Natasha looks at her like she is crazy, until Sunny holds up the small box, the plastic wrap reflecting the sunlight. Natasha laughs too, but her giggles are more reserved, that is until she sees Sunny wiping tears from her eyes. 

"What, is Bobby a fucking squirl now? Hiding his stash to come back to later? Keeping things safe for the cold harsh California winters?" Sunny gets the words out between gasps for air and the laughs flowing out of her lips. Natasha laughs harder now too, the women unable to look at each other as they calm down. When Sunny accidentally makes eye contact with Natasha for a brief second, it takes them another five minutes to calm down again. 

"God, I miss his dumbass, I swear," There is a sadness in Sunny's tone, masked by light giggles. Carefully, Sunny peels back the cellophane wrapper on the carton of cigarillos, peeling it open like she is opening a century old book. The plastic crinkles and crunches in her hand as she balls it into her palm. She sticks the balled up cellophane under her thigh and it pokes into her soft skin. Sunny doesn't care, though, more focused on bringing the carton up to her nose to inhale the sweet, spicy scent of the tobacco. 

The way Sunny relaxes at the smell is visible that Nat almost chuckles at her friend, but she doesn't. It's still too early to joke about it. 

"I used to call Bob this awful nickname," Sunny watches Natasha's eyes widen over the carton of cigarillos she still has held up to her nose. "To be fair, he started calling me something awful first,"

"What did he call you?" 

"He called me Douche," Nat's eyes get impossibly wider, "I went by Duchenne all of my life until I graduated high school. I get how Douche is an easy jab, I do, but my heart hurt a little every time he said it," 

"Please tell me you called him something better," There is so much anticipation in Natasha's voice that she is almost shaking. The smile that spreads over Sunny's face is almost diabolical, and Natasha can't help but love the sight. 

"I called him Bertie," And that sends the pair into another laughter spiral. 

"I am calling him that from this moment forward, just for hurting you! Bertie can fucking deal with it!" Conviction drips from her tone. 

"No, Nash, don't call him that," Sunny shakes her head, her loose hair fluttering around as she does, "He doesn't deserve the torment," 

Natasha wants to fight Sunny on that thought. If there is anything Bob deserves after treating Sunny the way he did, ragging on her for years, throwing away their friendship only to make out with her and then fucking crush her right before graduation, it's a little torment. Natasha almost want's to beg her friend to reconsider, to let her rag on Bob a least a little bit, to give him a taste of his own medicine. But, Natasha can see the sadness in her eyes as she gently waves the carton of cigarillos under her nose. 

"Give me those," Natasha makes a grabby gesture, leaning out further into the sunshine to snatch the carton from Sunny. She brings the carton up to her nose, taking in the scent. It causes her to wrinkle her nose, her features morphing into a look of disgust. She hands them back to Sunny, placing them in the woman's awaiting, outstretched hand.  "Yeah, I don't get it," 

"If you were in love with him, you would," Sunny mumbles unintentionally, her focus on the swaying of the palm trees and the sun on her face. She doesn't notice the way her best friend's whole demeanor changes, the way she sits up a little bit straighter. 

"I practically jumped him on Prom. I was drunk and god, he looked so good in his suit. It was black, it had these itty bitty little pin stripes that matched the gray of his dress shirt. Truthfully I don't now how I lasted so long without kissing him that night," Her words come out a little breathy as she reminisces. 

"When I kissed him, I swear that was the start and the end of me. I know that's the sappy shit they say in books, but I knew right then, even through the drunken haze, that Bobby was gonna be it for me. I was absolutely fucked when I realized it too. The kisses were messy and I swear I could feel him everywhere, like he was some sort of electricity running through me, Nash,"

"He was laying on top of me, pinning my body down with the weight of his own. His hand cradled by face and I could feel the calloses of his hands scraping against my skin. He was so, so warm on top of me. And don't even get me started on how good it felt to have his tongue down my throat, because no man will ever kiss as good as Robert Floyd," 

Natasha is gob smacked at her best friend's words, taking them in as Sunny speaks them, gesturing lightly with her hands. She still holds the carton of cigarillos, the smell embedding itself in her nose, right where she wants it. It tangles inside of her lungs and it makes her feel warm, almost like Bobby did. 

"He looked so damn good this morning, Natasha," Sunny giggle like a school girl, "Just like I remember him, but so much more of a man. When did he put on all that muscle? Because, Oh my God," 

The women sit in Sunny's words, their own image of Robert Floyd swirling around in their heads. They both have smiles on their faces, not that either would admit it. Natasha is plotting a way to get them trapped in the same room, so they would have to face each other and this goddamn stupid situation head on. Sunny can't help but think of the way Bob looked in his cowboy hat, all grown up and still as sexy as ever. She wants to feel his body weight on top of her again, to feel his callused hands graze over her skin. Goosebumps erupt on Sunny's skin, even under the warmth of the sun. 

"Now can I say something I probably shouldn't say?" Natasha's voice is smaller, but there is a daring part of her that makes the words come out anyway. Sunny hums, her brain still on the image of Bobby's defined thighs in his well worn jeans. 

"You two need to talk, hell, if you ask me, you two need to get all of the sexual tension out of my house while you're at it," Giggles erupt, "But seriously, you really need to talk to Bob, because I have a feeling that I know exactly how he feels about you,"

Sunny pushes herself up onto her elbow, looking her best friend directly in the eye, "How do you know? Did he say something?" 

The shake of Natasha's head does nothing to quell the need to know that burns within Sunny, the small smirk on Nat's face only fueling the fire. 

"He didn't have to, the photo of you on his nightstand said enough," 

[thehistoriangirl]

The Tides Have Veiled [Five]

With this chapter, the first arc of the story is completed! :D So beware if this starts in 1 and ends like in 8/9 jkfjhdkjfjkf

I'm also playing around with a slightly different formatting for my fics, but it isn't like very obvious right?

Viktor x Fem!Reader----Gothic AU/Spooky Sea-----3K----SFW

> M A S T E R L I S T &lt; ← Previous // Next →

Synopsis: Piltover the Old has an old lighthouse that looms over an abandoned port. From the house in the wailing cliff’s edge, the lighthouse owner watches that the beacon is being lighten up each time darkness arrives, so that monsters wouldn't dare to crawl inland, or so legends say. Both building are haunted, maybe even the man himself, by both past and present ghosts. Surprisingly, the keeper’s work is beyond turning on the beacon every night— but the rest is on you to discover.

Chapter Summary: Even when there's seemingly nothing left to lose, you find yourself fearing still. But all new beginning start with a slight flick of dismay.

Tags: Strangers to Lovers| Haunted House| Ghosts (?)| Arranged Marriage| Slow Burn| Forced Proximity| Mystery | Spooky (?) imaginery|

Taglist: @local-mr-frog

The only sound echoing in the middle of the dining room was the clinking of the silverware against the dishes, and the occasional glass settled against the wooden surface of the table.

Your hair was still wet from the boiling bath Viktor coerced you to step inside as soon as your legs felt steady enough to climb toward the house, occasional drips falling from your shoulders toward the worn-out sweater that had been better days; the black wool loose from the knitted geometric pattern around the wrists, softened on the elbows.

You could almost picture it stretched in Viktor’s lean arms as he reclined against the desk, all those books you dusted off scattered over the surface, keen to his scanning gaze.

“I hope the meal is of your liking,” Viktor said, tearing you up from your sidetracked mind. “Not many people like fish.”

You were playing with the fork, hovering it against the mashed potatoes he had thrown in with whatever remnants of food he had in the pantry. "Not liking fish when your family is constituted by fishermen it's like sentencing yourself to starve," you replied despite the way talking about them make your heart sink into an unknown abyss within your chest that howled just like the cliff.

Viktor clutched his spoon, eyes filled with worry that not even the bright lamp hung above your heads could conceal.

“Thank you for the meal,” you said, trying to change the topic, for you didn’t wish his pity. “You didn’t have to. It’s truly delicious.” Even if your stomach couldn’t contain that much food right now, each spoonful and bite weighting as if you'd been fed lead.

He observed you, eyebrows slightly raised when you forced the mashed potatoes down—your worrying brain telling you that you hadn’t tasted anything ever since early morning, that it would be rude not to eat what he served you.

“You don’t have to finish everything,” Viktor muttered noncommittally. “Forcing yourself would only make you sick.”

One would think that you were used to forcing things into your life already. From following people that clearly didn't care about you; a life aboard a swaying, tiny fisher boat despite your aversion to deep water; an adult life bound as a perfect housewife to another human in exchange for money without the chance of second-guesses.

You looked at him, thinking the way he pictured you now. As a broken, unstable person that was about to jump off the cliff. If Viktor was rehearsing the gentlest way of firing you, your mind couldn’t blame him for it.

Because your aunt was right, you were too unlovable to find a shelter that would be willing to guard you.

“I think you should go sleep now,” Viktor said, settling the napkin from his legs back to the table. “It’s getting late.”

Your jaw tightened, and a strange dread settled in your heart when you thought about how in the upcoming morning, you would have to say goodbye to the old lighthouse.

The chair scraped the wooden floor with a horrible shriek, and you cringed for being so petty after all the kindness Viktor had shown you.

"Ah, yes. Of course." You nodded, forcing a smile. "Where can I borrow my raincoat?" you muttered, walking toward the living room without daring to see him when you felt his gaze burning at your back.

“I mean here,” Viktor said. “You shouldn’t go outside alone at this hour.”

Because you may truly jump this time, your brain told you. That was it, then. Your entire recollection of encounters with him will be reduced to that fatal misleading call from the hollow echo of the waves scrapping the rocks of the maritime abyss.

“And what about the lighthouse?” You bit the inside of your cheek. “It’s my job to keep watch.”

Viktor stood up, his cane thumping against the floor when he took a couple of steps closer to you. You blinked, looking from the corner of your eye at how his hand raised awkwardly only to fall back to the back of his chair before hovering in the air. “You’d been maintaining the power system, so I’d say the lighthouse can stay alone for one night.” He left the crinkled napkin atop his full glass of coffee with milk. “Allow me to lead the way.”

You returned to the familiar second floor, passing further down his office toward the end of the hallway that was flanked with closed doors and wide windows covered in dusty curtains Viktor had to change soon. From the drapes, golden light flooded in flicking pools against the red wood of the floors, the windows vibrating with the howl of the foghorn.

"I'm afraid I have no spare rooms presentable enough for a guest," Viktor said, opening the door of his bedroom at the far end of the hallway. "But I hope you can be comfortable enough here."

“Oh, no, no!” You looked at him, cheeks flushed from embarrassment. “I can’t take your room. Please, I would rest somewhere else.”

He observed your state with a slight smile, barely curving one side of his lips. “Take no mind. I have urgent work to do tonight anyway. You will be using it better than I can tonight.”

You squinted your eyes at him. “Is that a coaxing lie?” you had to ask, because how he could have already work piled up when he had just returned from Piltover?

Viktor shrugged. “There’s always something to do,” he answered with an amused smile. Barely an answer at all. “I will be in my studio.” Viktor gestured to the second door to the left, at the start of the hallway. “In case you need something.”

The bedroom was just how you left it, except for the towel hastily thrown in the bed—Viktor had been in a hurry to find where you had been, it seemed. You peeked at his figure as he hurriedly took the towel to put it under his arm. Crumpled bedsheets and the tossed duvet half-laid in the ground, the open curtain showing the ghostly tower of the lighthouse, white and red against the grey of the endless sky, the gargantuan eye watching over ink-black waves, and mossy cliffs.

“Thank you, Viktor.”

He didn't stay long to extend the awkwardness of both your presences inside a single room. Muttering an "It's nothing," Viktor walked away with you watching his reflection from the misted window, his white shirt contrasting against the darkness outside while you seemed to be absorbed by it.

Viktor closed the door with a soft click, and until then you allowed yourself to sit at the edge of the fluffy bed, your hands passing over the worn-out fabric of the bedsheets.

You didn’t wish to pry, but your eyes were drawn to the organic chaos inside the room. This room had been locked when you were cleaning the rest of the house, so papers were scattered over the desk, tucked in the bookshelves. All filled with Viktor’s cursive and tilted calligraphy—written with the inferior velocity of the hands while the brain concocted thoughts much faster.

The door of the closet was left ajar, your feet muffled against a carpet when you went to close it, not without smelling the essence of Viktor’s clothes as the air blew toward you when you swing the door closed.

At that moment, the entrance door creaked open, Viktor's face looking inside.

You jumped backward, almost tripping over a coffer filled with sweaters and shirts.

He had the decency to look embarrassed. “Eh, I’m… I’m sorry.” He extended a glass of water toward you. “I forgot to bring this the first time.”

Your nails scratched his fingers when you took the cold glass with a shaking hand. “Uh, thank you. Thank you, Viktor. You didn’t have to,” you said with a smile. “I could go for one myself.”

He opened the door enough for his body to slip inside, closing the door behind his back without getting you out of his golden gaze. For some reason, your heart started beating faster.

“Viktor?”

He rummaged through the pockets of his jacket, getting out your pink and orange shell. "I almost forgot to give you this. You left it in the lighthouse."

The shell was warm from his body proximity, soft and bright against your skin when he put it in your palm. 

The ghost of a smile appeared. "I suppose it doesn't bring much luck to me, huh?" you commented. "Or perhaps it did until I forgot to carry it with me today."

Viktor didn’t say anything, instead placing an elegant hand over your shoulder, long fingers barely squeezing through your sweater. “Perhaps, if I carry it around enough, things will get better,” you added in a whisper.

He chuckled. "We shall see." Viktor stepped away, eyeing the door. "Miss, I would like to ask you to please refrain to get out of the room later tonight," he said suddenly, making you want to seek his gaze. Finding nothing more but a fleeting look from the corner of his eyes. 

“Why?” It wasn’t like you would like to creep around his property when he wasn’t looking.

Viktor stood on the threshold of the bedroom, only looking back at you when he was about to close the door. "Do you remember what I told you when we met?"

You blinked, and he sighed.

“I’m not trying to scare you now,” Viktor said, his tone serious. You could imagine it reverberating in a fancy lecture inside Piltover’s university. “But you should consider my words tonight, at least.”

How all stories might have something of truth wrapped between them.

He left after that.

*~*~*~*

The foghorn startled you awake, in one of those flicking instances when slumber grew thin enough for sounds to filter from reality through the dreamlands. The cliff's screams vibrate in your window. Calling you back.

You sat in the dark room, the headrest solid against your shaky limbs, hands barely swiping away the beads of sweat clinging to your forehead.

When your fingers took the glass off the nightstand, your mind had already accepted that something was off. It was too light, and when you tilted it between your lips, there was no water left.

Viktor's words clung to you like a heavy coat when you slipped out of bed, thinking that rather than go to the kitchen, you could fill the water with a tap in the sink outside the bathroom. Or better, you could ask Viktor to accompany you all the way to the kitchen.

It didn't matter if you felt childish, voice trembling while asking. It was better than the heavy weight of expectation settled in your stomach when you opened the door, the orange light of the bulb above your head mixing with the one drawn with the oil lamps turned off all along the hallway.

You closed your eyes, a sigh relaxing your muscles when all the air was out of your body.

The wood was calm and silent tonight, forgotten the tantrum of early in the day. You thought the house had been amused by the sight of the conundrum, the most interesting thing that had happened in the vicinity in how long.

You stopped at the start of the hallway, where the stairs were sunk in a dim light from the landing below, the oil lamp flicking as if a window had been left open.

Viktor wasn’t in his studio. Or maybe he was, but asleep already. The door closed and the space beneath the wood and the floor tinted in black. You bit your lips anxiously, gripping the glass in a forceful grip.

You swallowed; tongue so dry it made you want to cough for the salty aftertaste clinging to it.

Tap water was it—nothing you weren't used to doing back with your grandparents.

Without thinking, you turned back toward your room, the corner of your eye still and covered in darkness. After a couple of steps, you heard a door closing downstairs, the same cry of rusty metal hinges protesting.

You looked back at the stairs, hoping to see Viktor appear after a night of hard study.

But then, doubt settled in your stomach, gluing your cold feet to the ground. What if he gets upset to see you disobeying the rules of his house? You were already being a nuance with how many things he had been doing for you, from feeding you to saving your life—

Stop, you begged your mind. Stop.

But your mind didn’t. My aunt is right. I’m a nuance. I understand why they wanted to exchange me away.

The light in the first oil lamp started flicking, the supply dying from being kept on all night. From bright yellow to sicken orange to, finally, red blinks.

Your nails got buried in your palm, steps go backward without turning your back to the stairs. The bathroom door was at an arm's distance, doorknob cold when you turned it in your palm, slipping inside so quickly you felt a cold breeze against your cheek.

The bathroom was divided into three parts, the first one with a sink, a mirror, and a cabinet filled with amber glass bottles with shampoo and lotions. You filled your glass there, waiting with your ear against the wood to hear any sound coming from the stairs.

When nothing happened and you felt your eyes weighting from sleep, you opened the door, welcoming the orange light of the lamps that would guide you back to the ajar door of the bedroom.

The stains caught your attention the first second you exited the bathroom. Coming from the stairs down the hallway, stopping in front of the bedroom. The brown outline of muddy feet.

Your heart sank, ironically picking up speed. The glass slipped from your grasp, water absorbing the mud marks closer to you, almost erasing them away.

"Viktor?" you said, knowing that it was impossible. It was impossible to gather mud like this so near the sea, here where everything was endless sand and broken shells.

Nobody answered. You didn't see messy chestnut hair coming from the office door, nor golden eyes squinted in sleepiness and confusion at the sound of broken glass.

A silly thought danced in your head. I should’ve brought the shell.

You returned to the bathroom, finding a cold, uncomfortable bed in the bathtub. The mosaic filtered its freezing temperature through your back, but you weren't shivering because of it.

You had to be seeing things. It was still a dream. You had sleepwalked, painting all sorts of fantasies into the real world. And yet you didn't move, you didn't look away from the tiny window until the grey and black of the sky faded into blue, where the light of the beacon died alongside the foghorn.

Until then, you slipped out of the bathroom with a sore back, peeking out the hallway that still had the oil lamps turned on.

Only that this time, the muddy prints were gone, leaving only the shards of your broken glass behind that prickled your skin when you picked them, walking toward Viktor's bedroom, empty and silent. The glass had opened light cuts on your fingerpads, as if to assure you that it hadn’t been a dream.

*~*~*~*

“Bad night?” Viktor said when you entered the living room. His voice made you jump, hands grabbing the stairs rail with so much force your fingers felt numb.

The coffee table in front of him was dirty with breadcrumbs, and two plates were left on top of each other in front of his untouched toast.

You quirked an eyebrow, wanting any excuse you could hold onto to forget that last night even happened. You didn’t have to return to this damn house at night anyway.

“Did you have visitors?” Who would come so early in the day? Were they still here? You removed awkwardly on your place, feeling your face hot if said visits get to catch you here with him, alone. It wouldn’t do good to his reputation if they were friends who came from the city.

Viktor reclined against the couch. "Your family is very insistent," he said nonchalantly, taking a sip of his beverage. You wanted to recoil into yourself, to become a speckle of dust and fly away unnoticed. "It's alright. After all, it was me who told your aunt I wanted her blessing," he commented, and you couldn't stop a smile from growing.

"Oh, Viktor. I'm so sorry," you started, making your way to pick up the dishes they had left behind. "I've abused your hospitality too much for my liking." You tilted your head. "I—I'll pay you. Please. I don't like to feel as if… as if I owe you something." To him and everyone.

He reclined his chin against his elbow, propelled between the cushions. The living room was slightly dark from the curtains covering the windows near the hearth despite being drawn already.

"Miss," Viktor breathed, his soft voice stopping you midway toward the kitchen, dishes, and cups balanced in your arms. "Please sit."

He’s going to fire me. He had enough of me. And could you blame him?

You sat there, your back stiffening as you felt tears of frustration prickle in your cheeks. The only noise flowing through the room was the distant roar of waves.

Viktor started stirring his coffee cup, movements so forceful the black liquid started pouring over the porcelain rim. His eyes kept you from squirming nervously, shining like twin suns in a clear sky.

“I ask you to please listen to all I have to say before answering—before you even decide to go away, even.”

What? How could you even fantasize to go away from this place that was everything left for you?

With growing fear, your nod was barely perceptible. But he was watching you so closely that he caught the gentle sway of your hair.

Your mind was sent overdrive, filled with a turbulent whirlpool of ideas. He's going to fire me. He knows I snuck out of the room last night. He's the one behind the footprints. He—

In the end, nothing could have ever prepared you for what came out his mouth right after calling your name in such a strange tone, you could try all your life to decipher, only to come out fruitless.

 “I want you to marry me.”

[clavissionary-position]

You Bring A Rooster Into Gilbert's Bedroom

Gilbert x Reader, 800+ words

C R A C K

(I saw there was a thing omkookie wrote recently about Gilbert and raccoons, and while I haven't really read it, I wanted to acknowledge it! The idea itself sort of inspired this.)

+ + + +

The Rooster had a remarkably cushy life back in Rhodolite. It is unknown how it traveled all the way to Obsidian, or how you were able to recognize it so clearly, so immediately, as it clucked past your window.

Thinking you would figure out a way to send it back, you run out onto your balcony and pick the lady up, dusting the top of her head off. Then you turn on your heel and launch yourself back in through the open window, rolling into a crouch and entering your room.

That you share with Gilbert. And Gilbert rolls over in his sleep and smacks his lips. The sunlight coming in through the curtains cuts a sharp line over his features.

You set The Rooster up with a cushy perch atop one of the bed posts.

"I'll get you some food. Please don't wake Gil."

The Rooster nods and begins roosting on the egg-shaped thingy on top of the bed post. She'll make it hatch, somehow.

You leave the room.

Gilbert wakes up. "You have the goods?"

The Rooster clucks once in the affirmative.

Gilbert holds out his open palm.

The Rooster shimmies its neck as it regurgitates something before depositing it onto Gilbert's hand.

Gilbert holds the object up to the light. "Just the one?"

The Rooster clucks.

"This was not our agreement."

The Rooster clucks.

"Who do you think I am? Getting you back into Rhodolite will be as simple as getting the Little Rabbit to do so for me."

The Rooster clucks twice.

"Chevalier has better things to do than be on chicken-watch."

The Rooster clucks.

"I have a thousand years of dirt on Clavis. He'll stay in his place."

The Rooster makes the shape of a pair of glasses with her wings.

"The Palace Devil is a concern, but I can easily set up a diversion for him to attend to on the day of your arrival."

The Rooster thinks this over. Then it gives a cluck.

Gilbert smiles. "I'm not normally one to give second chances, but I can't trust anyone else with this job. However, you will remember that a third chance from an Obsidian prince is fable."

The Rooster nods.

"Rest-assured that if you do this for me you will enjoy the highest quality of life and want for nothing. Your eggs and offspring will of course be cared for as well."

The Rooster clucks.

"Of course I eat omelettes. Food is food. I'm not going to stop just because one chicken does something for me."

The Rooster clucks defiantly.

Gilbert's smile deepens. "Good, good. I like that fighting spirit. I'll remember it the next time I trample an egg into a bowl."

"Gil? Who are you talking to?"

Gilbert points to The Rooster. "My friend here."

You laugh. "You're so random." You walk over to the bed post and hold up a bowl of make-do chicken feed. "Did you sleep well?"

Gilbert sits up. "You were moving around too much. Perhaps I need to give you something before you sleep?"

"From that bizarro doctor of yours? No thank you. I value my taste-buds." You slide back into the bed and plop your head onto Gilbert's lap.

"So you don't care about how well I sleep?" Gilbert begins running his hand through your hair. "You're so unkind to me, Little Rabbit."

"And you slip too many suspicious things into my drinks."

Gilbert laughs. "I didn't know you preferred to lead a life of suffering. But then again, you are with me."

You wrap your hand around the one Gilbert has on your head. "That I am." Something feels off to you. "Wait, what's..." You bring your hand to your ear. You weren't wearing earrings before but there's clearly something on your ear now. More than that, the shape feels eerily familiar. "I thought I lost these..."

"It doesn't look bad. I wish it were black though." Gilbert pinches your nose. "You'll have to do something for me if you want the other one back."

"You're holding my jewelry hostage now?"

"How is it anything of the sort if you're mine and all your belongings are mine?"

"Because you're mine, and I think that supersedes everything."

Gilbert goes quiet for a moment. Your words float in the quiet of the room as if the recipient is afraid to touch them.

The Rooster clucks.

Gilbert snaps at The Rooster. "Your commentary is unnecessary, thank you very much."

It's quite a sight. You decide to humor his silly make-believe. "And pray tell what did The Rooster say?"

Gilbert sighs. "That I've gone soft." He deflates back against the headboard. "Have I gone soft? I have, haven't I..."

"I don't think it's that." You sit up and cuddle into Gilbert's side. "You're like a boiled egg and-"

The Rooster clucks.

Gilbert laughs. "She doesn't appreciate that analogy."

[fire-but-ashes-too]

get to know my oc!

thank you so so so much @flock-from-the-void for the tag <3

im so excited to do this, finally all the unnecessary traits I gave her will be useddd so so happy

gently tagging: @leisoree @rmgrey-author @digital-chance @maewrites13 @briannaswords @tea-and-mercury @anonymousfoz and anyone else who'd like to join :)

this is my forever beloved (and one of my first ocs that managed to not get tossed away) Giada from Flowers and Homicide (before it was murderous roses)

As I step in the lab, a rotting smell fills my nostrils. I'm seriously tempted to drop this crazy interview and go back home, but then I think of my boss.

And so I keep on walking through hell, knowing that the previously cited boss's rage would be even worse.

There's some guy cleaning a syringe near what I presume is a corpse (don't vomit, don't vomit, dont' vomit) and so I approach him and ask him if he knows where a girl named Giada could be.

After a couple seconds, he sends me off in direction of a room with glass panels, through them I catch sight of a dark, curly mass of hair and knock on the door.

"Hello, are you by any chance Giada?" the foreign name is still new on my tongue, I hope I didn't pronounce it wrong.

"Yes, that's me! What can I help you with?" she answers smiling brightly at me.

"I'm from Tumblr-News," I explain "I was hoping you'd have time for a couple of questions..."

"Oh! Sure! I'm on my break right now, so we have a good 20 minutes for talking"

Are you named after anyone?

Huh, interesting question. No, I wasn't named after a person, but an object. A gemstone. See, my family's half Italian and Giada, in Italian, means jade, also my grandmother's favourite stone.

I think she said something about a ring and a proposal.... doesn't matter though.

When was the last time you cried?

Ha haa... Is this really necessary? Yeah? Ok..Yesterday. I just'd just gotten my period and ice cream fell on my shirt. Don't judge, it makes me really emotional.

The period. Not the ice-cream.

Do you have kids?

Do I really look that old? Damn. And no, I don't have kids and don't plan on them.

Do you use sarcasm?

I believe sarcasm should be a love language. Yes I do, anytime I can, I love it, it's half of my personality.

What's the first thing you notice about people?

Well, I'm a med student, so probably the overall appereance, if they're sleeping enough, if they're eating enough, stuff like that.

Also if they look like a murderer. Or like a person who killed someone.

Guilty, in general.

What's your eye colour?

They're jade, like my name. Just kidding, I'd love to have green eyes but I don't have them.

She leans closer to me and opens her eyes more than I thought was humanly possible.

I don't know if you can see through the glasses, but there is a bit of mud green in the brown, so technically my eyes are a bit green.

Mostly brown though.

Scary movies or happy endings?

I'm literally standing in a lab full of cadavers. What do you think?

Any special talents?

Oh oh I know this! I can lick my nose! Want to see?

she brings her tongue to her nose and makes a muffled scream while pointing to it.

I also have an apparently worrying knowledge about poisons and death, but I'm studying forensic, can you blame me?

Where were you born?

In an hospital? Duh. It was in San Francisco if you care to know.

What are your hobbies?

I've already said poisons but I'll say it again, they are super interesting, did you know we exist just because some ancient monkeys got high? many times, and those chemicals extended their brain cells and so they got smarter. It's amazing!

I also love magic, I've thought about joining a cult or something, but those people are mad. Worse than me. I've been to a session, and they were all dressed up strange, candles everywhere, there was the star on the ground, you know that star in the circle? That one.

But I firmly believe in faeries, coincidences do not exist, it's them meddling with our lives. You can't change my mind.

Do you have any pets?

I've always wanted a lizard or something like that, maybe a snake even if I'm low-key scared of them. They're absolutely stunning, but what if one bites me? They are super venomous.

But when I was little I had a goldfish, his name was Alastair, it was my favourite character from a book, can't remember which. It died after month.

It's buried in my parents' backyard. Poor little thing.

Any sport that you play/played?

I think you can tell that I'm not the sportiest person ever, but I was on the track team.

I absolutely sucked, but I was in it.

Oh and in winter I always went skiing with my family so also that.

How tall are you?

I'm 5.3 and I hate it. At least I can wear heels. But I usually don't cause they hurt my feet, apart from a pair of boots, those are my salvation. Sometimes I even wear them here, not today tho.. sorry I'm blabbering.

What's your favourite subject?

Oh, it's the first year I'm taking it but it's super interesting, it's called anesteti- anast- anesthesiology... Yeah anesthesiology. Hate the name love the subject. I think I like it because most anesthetics are also poisons.

But yeah, right now it's my favourite subject.

And finally, what's your dream job?

Coroner. Or working in the forensic squad.

Right now I'm in an internship, but if it goes well they might keep me around even next year.

"And that's it, thank you so much or answering, I'll leave you to... whatever you'll be doing" I smile uncomfortably and hug her quickly.

"Just in time, by break's over so I better get working"

She sets down her cup and shrugs on a white lab coat, quickly waves at me and just like that she's gone.

I walk as fast as I can, anxious to get rid of this disgusting smell.