#so i struggle through backgrounds.. for her
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kiwibirbkat · 2 days ago
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I rly hate the lack of Tori content
Like, I understand why most of the content is about Charlie and heartstopper because! There's more content there, and they have a TV show, and an ongoing plot, and like, Charlie is the main character, and he goes through a lot, so naturally he's going to be the main focus! But like...
Tori has a whole book about her. Not just her own book, but the first book. She's the first character in the Osmanverse. Every other character technically stemmed from her.
In that book, it is almost entirely about her depression, and her struggle, and her downward spiral, and-
Like. Charlie obviously has a lot of struggle. Obviously. But so does Tori, and I wish some people would get that? Like, I get some people haven't read Solitaire. But, like, even in the TV show you can see her struggling in the background and I wish some people would just acknowledge that.
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miwiromantics · 2 days ago
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Let’s talk about this.
Why both will and el are so connected is because they both have the same storyline. They both have the same end purpose: acceptance.
!!warning: long post ahead!!
Will’s storyline: acceptance of love.
Unlike what most milevens believe, the duffers aren’t planning to end Will’s story with him accepting that he is gay because he HAS already accepted it. He accepted the fact that he was gay and in love with Mike, hence, the painting.
The painting, from the start, was a way of Will confessing his feelings (etc. you’re the heart) but it was never going to be said out loud. He had just planned to give it to Mike during the airport scene and it was supposed to be over.
But instead, he used it as a way to build up Mike’s confidence in himself and also lead up to say ‘I love you’ to El. He used El as a shadow over his own feelings to help Mike.
Will accepts that he likes men and is attracted to Mike. What he doesn’t accept is that he is going to fall in love. We see this in season 3 when he’s talking with Joyce.
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This was a scene directly after a canon couple’s scene. Both Jonathan and Nancy are in fact in love with each other and when Joyce says the words ‘you won’t think it’s gross when you fall in love’ it indicates she meant when Will is in a relationship, not when Will is some one-sided love triangle.
So when Will says he isn’t going to fall in love, he is saying this because he knows he’s feelings in a relationship are not going to be reciprocated. He isn’t saying it because he hasn’t fallen in love with someone, he’s saying that it’s impossible for those feelings to be mutual.
Also to remind you, there was no need to put this scene in the first place if it was not hinting at something. It could’ve just been Jonathan and Nancy getting away and Joyce wiping lipstick off his face, indicating that she knew Nance was there anyway.
Throughout season 3, we can clearly notice that Will is struggling with something not related to the mind flayer. He’s struggling with his childhood, his friends and change. And the most important change is his feelings towards a certain friend.
Because of these feelings we get the rain scene. This was Will struggling to accept that he was different (gay) and in love with Mike. This was season 3’s struggle. But in season 4, through the painting, we see it’s been resolved.
He has accepted this but knows he isn’t going to be in love. He knows he’s feelings aren’t going to be reciprocated. So he does the next best thing other than confessing, and help mileven build up their already broken relationship.
Even more so, the scene with Jonathan and Will in the pizza place was acceptance enough for Will to come out. Both Will and Jonathan knew what they were talking about, the subtexts were very obvious. This was the acceptance of Will being gay and in love with Mike.
Now anybody with a right mind would see that this is clearly building up to something more important. A gay boy who thinks he’s feelings are not going to be accepted using he’s only way of confessing as a tool for a problematic ‘straight’ couple.
We must give the duffers credit as we know they aren’t just going to ignore Will’s feelings next season or slap him with some background character as a way of resolving this. There has to be more.
El's storyline: acceptance of independence.
Throughout her whole life, El has always been told what to do. Whether it has been for positive or negative means, she's never made a decision in her entire life leading up to season 2.
Let's be clear that before this girl knew the word 'friend', 'family' and 'love' meant, she had already gotten into a relationship. That before she ever knew what she liked and disliked, she was already in a relationship with the supposed boy of her dreams.
Anyways, independence is something so rooted in El’s storyline. It’s something repeated throughout the seasons. We see it in season 2 when she goes out on her own to find her mother and sister. It is important to note that Mike was not a part of this journey. Mike was not the sole focus or someone El thought she needed at that time.
Even in season 3, we are given the fact that El has never made a decision for herself. The strongest decision we ever see that season was her breaking up with Mike and even that has been disregarded by milevens, saying that Max influenced her or that she ‘didn’t know what she was doing’ or that ‘she’s just a teenager’.
Let’s be clear that anybody in a relationship is given the option to break up and leave the relationship if they want to. Max did not ‘influence’ her, she merely gave her the option. The option that is rightfully hers. By saying that it wasn’t really her decision or that she didn’t know what she was thinking, it’s like saying she doesn’t have an option.
She has the right to leave a relationship if she wants to.
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The words ‘not hopper, not mike, you’ is so important to a character like El. A character that has been locked up and dependent throughout her life, finally given a choice to decide for herself is powerful.
Season 3 is important in El’s arc to independence because unlike what Milevens say, she doesn’t require Mike to be there for her to feel complete. The reason that El went to find Mike in season 2 was because they need each other is debunked in season 3. It shows that even when Mike is within her reach, she doesn’t go find him.
Now in season 4, we see a very big shift in her attitude from the previous seasons. She’s pretending to have a normal life when she clearly isn’t. She’s lying and hiding behind a fake persona to make her seem happy. She is still grieving from hopper while trying to put everything behind her and live a ‘normal’ life.
She, like many milevens, is building a reality where her and Mike are the supposed perfect couple. A reality where they are truly in love. She lies to Mike and herself throughout the rink-o-mania scene. And this all unfortunately breaks when Angela (that bitch) comes into the picture.
She throws El’s persona into the fire and absolutely humiliates her in front of the one person she didn’t want to be humiliated in front of. And this is where we see their relationship break (even more).
We see the first crack when El says that Mike doesn’t understand how she feels. To be honest, she’s right. Mike didn’t know how it felt to move to a whole new side of the country without her father and to be subjected to brutal bullying. But disregarding his feelings towards bullying is also something she does.
Now the curtains are open and everything is shown. We then get a scene of El basically pleading Mike to tell her he loves her. But instead of admitting it, Mike gaslights her and tells her their problems are caused by other people.
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Mike says he says he loves her but if this was really the most important couple in the show I’m sure the duffers would’ve included the supposed scenes where Mike and El say they love each other TO EACH OTHER. And when she brings out proof, he calls her ridiculous.
Even in the van scene, he says that he’s scared that El won’t need him anymore. He wants to feel like a hero to her, someone that can protect her when in reality, she is way past it. She wants him to love her but he wants her to need him. He wants her to be dependent on him.
Through the beginning of season 4, we see her define herself in the way Mike sees her. While giving him a false narrative of her life, she pretends she lives in them. Plastering a fake smile just so that Mike would think she’s enjoying herself in Lenora and lying about parties to make herself seem cool.
You can see how defeated she looks when she realises that Mike might not love her at all.
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She, like so many more milevens, want Mike to be the perfect lover, the person who is with her through all her problems and a shoulder to cry on. But he isn’t that person and she knows it.
But after she leaves Mike, we can truly see what her goals are. There isn’t a scene throughout her journey where she thinks of Mike and you can see her gain more confidence in herself, once again proving that she doesn’t need him to feel complete.
She does better without him.
Her arc was never about romance. Her arc was about finding who she truly is. It was about her finding a place in this world where she doesn’t have to be the hero or villain in the story. It was about her growing alongside the people she loves and the family she built.
We see that she realises that she is her own superhero, that she can solve her own problems and that she doesn’t need a shoulder to cry on. She can take on a challenge headfirst without letting anyone define who she is.
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She doesn’t need Mike telling her that he loves her to realise that she is loved or that she can live a normal and happy life just like how she doesn’t need to forgive brenner to know that she is a good person. She is her own person.
And before anybody comes at me, yes. A woman can be in a relationship and still be independent. But once it come to a point of lying about and to yourself and defining who you are through another person’s feelings, it is not healthy.
She has taken on challenges before Mike, during Mike and will continue to do so after Mike (and all this happened without Mike). She doesn’t need him.
Both Will and El need support and love through their journey. It only comes down to what type of love they need that’s important. El does not need romantic love to thrive while that’s the only love Will is lacking.
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Anyways we also clearly see that in the end El is on her own journey and that Mike and Will are a team alongside all the other endgame couples.
So byler endgame and El independent arc era.
(My writing is a bit sloppy here and there so if there are any questions regarding it pls ask. Also again, sorry for long post)
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nervouswhizkid · 10 hours ago
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i. am so mad. i'm mad at season 4 and at every one of you that interacted with my last post abt vld season 3. i know u were all sitting there giggling at me as i walked into s4 knowing full well it was going to destroy me. no WARNING??? i don't even want to sit down and write about it, i'm gonna start crying all over again
i hate that keith left the team. i have to actually practice breathing techniques right now because it's making me so mad omg. i know i said last time that voltron without lance was unthinkable, but i didn't mean that keith should leave. THAT IS NOT WHAT I WANTED!!!! that also means that there was less keith (and klance) content this season, which i take personally. they did that to hurt me specifically. and on top of that, the team was being so mean about keith's wavering priorities. i feel like when anything goes wrong, with lance and keith specifically, everyone is so mean to them??? god forbid they make a mistake or have personal struggles, DAMN
i feel like this screencap says it all.
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guys how about let's talk to each other instead of being passive aggressive and icing people out (i do want to point out though that lance seems more sad/disappointed here than anything. my little klance heart is breaking 😭) AND THIS SCENE??
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the moment i realized keith was about to walk in my stomach dropped. they all look so angry and here comes Mister Puppy Eyes McGee. i actually can't take it that's my son everyone leave him alone!!! 🤺🤺🤺🤺 i know they had a big group hug after but that's not good enough for me, they should have tied keith up or handcuffed him to the ship, or something. WHY ARE WE LETTING HIM GO WITH THE BLADE OHMYGODDDD
look at this, like??
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the camera setup is what gets me. you have keith smiling with all of his friends in the background and then it swaps to a dark, yawning hallway with the most heartbreaking frown on his face. that doesn't look like someone sure of their decisions to me. this boy is in pain!! i'm also just confused about shiro being able to pilot the black lion. maybe confused isn't the right word, but i'm not sure how to describe it. i'm not convinced?? black already denied him, so why now? i kinda feel like it would've been better had he not tried to reconnect with her at the end of last season, because there was no suspense for me this time. the moment he decided to go try again i was like "oh it's gonna work this time isn't it" i get that it's likely black could sense keith's internal struggles and feel him pulling away and maybe that's why she gave shiro a second chance, but shiro becoming the black paladin again gave keith the excuse to leave, because why do they need him now? they have a black paladin, and it's not him. but to me, it should have been. he went through all of that growth last season, and for what?? just to abandon them when things get rocky?? ugh, i hate this!!
i can't even talk about episode 2 without crying, so just know that i'm sitting here with tears streaming down my face as i write this. i was really excited to finally get some closure on the whole pidge-missing-family mystery, considering that's been a subplot since the beginning of the show. as much as this episode broke my heart, i really did love it. they executed it so well. the scene where pidge lands on that planet with the graves? and they're running and pleading for it to not be true, all the flashbacks of cherished memories and images of matt? dropping to her knees in front of his grave in disbelief??
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now that's fucking cinema. you best believe i was bawling my eyes out the whole time. i have a little sister and our relationship is very similar to pidge and matt's, so this was just excruciating. i'm very glad he wasn't actually dead, but part of me almost wishes he was? that sounds SO dark, i hope you guys get what i mean. they just put the audience through the absolute wringer and then they're like "oh, actually he's still alive LOL gotcha!" and that makes me really happy for pidge, but man, what a plot twist that would have been. they've been searching for their brother all this time, so you expect some kind of payoff for dedicating so much time to that storyline, but what if he was just dead?? and there was nothing she could do?? wow this is painful to talk about why did i start watching this show if there's a fic where someone explores that possibility then pls share, for some reason i want to torture myself again, i just love how they did this episode. it's very trope-y, but sometimes you just have to lean into it and enjoy, and this was one of those times
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the classic fighting-each-other-unknowingly and middle-of-the-fight-identity-reveal? i'll eat it up every time!!
real talk though why is matt so attractive 😏
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soo, zarkon is back. fantastic. do he and haggar just not care about each other?? they haven't mentioned the fact that they're married at all and haggar basically still acts like his loyal follower. i'd entertain the thought that maybe it's been so long that it just doesn't really matter to them anymore, but haggar sounded like she actually cared when she realized they were husband and wife last season. but now it's like nothing happened?? i don't expect them to act all lovey-dovey, but there wasn't even a single line of acknowledgment. and i still cannot understand what lotor's plans are. what is his agenda? he wasn’t bothered at all by zarkon reclaiming the throne, and even went to the trouble to make them think he cared. he got that comet and made a couple of ships, but i still don't know what he plans to do with them. also– i can't believe he killed narti!! i know, i was literally just talking about how she specifically frustrated me, but i was so not expecting their death. i get why he did it, but now the rest of his group doesn't trust him.
i'd say that the one bright spot in this season was episode four. that episode was just so silly and gave me so much secondhand-embarrassment i actually had to look away at times LMAO is this where we got the whole Loverboy Lance and Lone Wolf Keith thing from?? i thought that was purely fandom-made, i was not expecting to hear that in an actual episode. talk about whiplash. and we got this ICONIC scene:
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he did that wayyy too naturally. lance, buddy, got anything to share?
i really would have loved to see keith with the team during that episode. i can just imagine how he would've reacted to having to do all of that stuff. god, that would've been hysterical!! the images of the parasite in coran's brain made me gag though, was that really necessary🧍‍♀️
i don't have a ton to say about the final episodes. i mean, it was two episodes of them fighting on naxzela. it was definitely a bit of an avengers endgame feeling with all people they helped in previous seasons showing up to fight, so that was cool! i'm curious as to what purpose naxzela served to the galra empire though. were they always planning to use it as a bomb? and couldn't they still do that technically? they only broke the witches connection with it, so all they'd have to do is get another ship out there and she could do it again. what do you even do with a planet like that?? just destroy it?? i also just want to point out that lance said they should get out of there immediately, and nobody listened!! and then five seconds later they were like "oh no, we need to get out of here!" justice for lance i stg ohmygod and LOTOR is on their side now?!?!?! i actually can't wait to see how this plays out!! total transparency, i love atla and i could absolutely see this being a zuko redemption arc situation. it's clear his parents don't like him at all (are they actually heartless or something??) so why not join the other side!! I'M HERE FOR IT
i have to be honest, this definitely wasn't my favorite season. we're getting into the later seasons and i've heard plenty about how the writing goes a little left-field (though i'm not sure when that happens. most people seem to agree season 8 is shit, but i've heard complaints about s6-7 as well) so we'll just have to see! i'm sticking it out as best i can🚶‍♀️‍➡️ onto season 5!
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xylionet · 1 day ago
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They can probably all see a bit of themselves in Omega, even if they don't quite understand it. She's like the version of themselves that could have been, if not for Kamino and being raised as child soldiers.
I think part of the reason Hunter focuses on Omega is that she's the one thing he can actually do something about. Can't do anything about Crosshair, can't do anything about the Empire, doesn't feel like he can do anything about Cid and is probably hoping that just following her orders will eventually yield a good result, even though it never does.
But Omega looks at him with those big brown eyes like he hung the stars and only wants stuff he can actually give. She is a source of positive feedback and affection and frankly probably the only thing keeping him sane (see S3, where he kinda went off the deep end the second she's gone).
Realistically, Hunter has always kinda had the Dad/Ori'vod/Big Bro vibes, he was just used to applying them to three chaos gremlins around his own age and with a common military background. Cut's child rearing advice was just a bit of a tweak to his existing process to be a bit more Very Smol Baby focused.
However, Cut's running away advice was much, much scarier. Basically "stop doing the only stuff you know how to do". Cut himself had Suu to support him through that transition. Hunter and the boys don't. They would if they stayed together but I also think at that point in S1 he kind of thought they'd be able to retrieve Crosshair and things might go back to "normal" relatively soon.
If you've read any stories written by kids who were raised super isolated from the outside world and how they struggled to adapt - they're like that. But I don't think they know they're like that.
They've had so many experiences, but not the ones they need now. They're in a position where they don't know they don't know and nobody is telling them. They're very smart, but they just have so little exposure to those different to themselves.
If we compare S1 Hunter to Old Hunter from the end of S3, the difference is palpable. Not just because he's older but because support was provided.
I can absolutely see Shep and Phee getting all the local parents and grandparents and aunties and uncles who can give good advice together, cracking out some BBQ and beers, and lubricating the boys until they talk about their issues. So they can finally get them some damn help.
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Anyway, I'm really glad you enjoyed it. It feels like the most coherent thing I've managed to write in a while, and as you can see, it still gives me feels. It was kinda spawned from reading too many "why didn't Hunter try harder to rescue Crosshair?" posts.
They are so messed up is why. They're broke and homeless is why. They are this close to living in a cardboard box under a bridge and they don't even know. They can barely rescue themselves, let alone Crosshair.
Clone Force 99 was in trouble
We don’t really talk about just how bad a situation CF99 was in post-Aftermath.
So we have a group of guys who have been raised as soldiers and have functioned in a military their entire lives. They have been fed, clothed and supplied by a military their entire lives. Zero experience with anything else. And then they have to run away from everything they know with nothing but a ship, whatever is on that ship, whatever they are wearing and +1 child.
We then see that they really have no clue how to function outside the military. They have a fairly limited understanding of the value of a dollar. They do not know how to get a job, despite having valuable skills. There’s no indication they are living anywhere but on their fairly small ship.
Most importantly, they are unable to identify that they are being financially manipulated by Cid. Tech occasionally mentions that she’s unreliable and shorting them pay, but none of them seem to understand that she is systematically taking advantage of them. Cid is effectively a loan shark, intentionally locking them in with arbitrary debt and using their financial naivety to keep them working for her.
Echo is the only one to point out that they could just leave, but they don’t. Rex even comes along and offers them a way out. Hunter isn’t wrong to say they want something different, but he’s struggling to achieve that and doesn’t really know what the options are.  It kind of feels like he misses the big picture of what is being offered.
Rex is in a much better position because he is a bit more worldly but also has support from Ahsoka and other contacts outside the military. People who can help him with all of the things that CF99 is struggling with. He also has a goal and a sense of community with other clones that CF99 lacks.
It does feel like CF99 takes comfort in having a chain of command and being in a position where someone is taking care of supplying them, even though it’s actually digging them a deeper hole. It isn’t until mid-Season 2 when Phee comes along and introduces them to a community that they start learning how to cope outside of those structures.
Crosshair is kind of in the opposite situation. He’s still getting supplied by the military but he’s also getting love bombed by the fascists with his fancy new title and all the fun explosives and stuff. He thinks he’s being valued for being special, rather than being used as a convenient tool. He feels like they could just have all this great stuff too, if only they come join the Empire, when in reality he is also in a lot of danger.
It’s rather ironic that Crosshair and Hunter are both able to see each other’s situations for what they are, but not their own.
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lizardbrainlabs · 6 months ago
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never drawing a skyline again 👍👍
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st4rstudent · 5 months ago
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Winn Dos because I don't draw them enough
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borscht-and-beets · 2 years ago
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Okay so I’ve talked about needing new mlp ocs for a while now because the previous ones I’ve had were heavily integrated into a world made predominantly of my ex’s ocs and I felt bad for using them so meet cracked pot and rose petals! Two rival shopkeepers who may or may not be a LITTLE bit enemies to lovers with each other, as a treat ;)
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romantically-yours · 6 months ago
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I desire romantically doing makeup with somebody
#thoughts#oni talks#Oni yearns#like the intimacy of holding their face to readjust and getting close and also the closeness of like making each other over#but also like the mutual service aspect of doing a fun thing for each other where you just take care of each other and also like the pride#like look at my partner and how beautiful they are and also look at how pretty I am that was her work!!#and also like the shared creativity of it like there’s fucking endless options yall can make each other look like anything!#also maybe it’s in part the struggle for me coz I can’t fucking see doing my makeup coz glasses and like the vulnerability of that trust!#In knowing no matter what they do it will be beautiful and also back to the creativity thing#imagine the fucking prompts! like making each other over based on the colors you associate with them or the things they love about you#and sharing that together and like seeing yourself reflected as they see themselves reflected and just!! seeing yourself through their eyes#and also the reverse in the intimacy of showing your partner all the stuff you love and notice about them#and it’s also so like versatile y’all can have stuff on the background yall can just do this as the lead up to like most dates#also the intimacy of taking each others makeup off at the end of the day too! and the looking forward to the next day and like#also the concept of learning the stuff your partner enjoys and being able to look forward to doing that for them!!#also I’m just a sucker for like couple aesthetics! and also maybe I watched too many lesbians couple channels but idk I always wanted to do#those like cute lil challenges that people do with their partner it just seems so fun#also if anyone remembers those images back in the day of like the one where the girl was just on top of the other one doing her makeup or#the one with the girl in her lap! and also I’m a sucker for like photography and just being able to save those moments and highlight them#also you don’t have to just do like face or anything like that date idea a while back where ppl would paint a picture on their partner!!#I’m also a sucker for art prompts and like the concept of the mutual muse where you inspire each other and create together and just aahhh#also you can like sneak kisses and hand holding and stuff during! or have like a comfort show in the back#like there’s OPTIONS! and it just feels so cute! I don’t see makeup ones as much but I have seen like doing your gfs hair and that’s also#just so top tier to me idk. I love designing shit and mutual designing just feels like it would be so much fun#like those craft dates I love but this is like more physical#date ideas#coz like you could just make a whole show of it like you could have a theme night where you watch shows related and just have fun together#idk man I’ve just been in hardcore sapphic yearning mode recently idk why 😭🫠
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likeumeanit9497 · 6 months ago
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like a pornstar | c.s. |
chris sturniolo x fem!reader
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summary: when y/n, chris' best friend, confesses that she has never finished during sex, he decides to change that
warnings: smut; oral (fem receiving); unprotected p in v; dirty talk; established friendship; squirting; 18+
notes: back again with a friends with benefits smut (shh im manifesting). i hope the chris girlies enjoy, and matt girlies don't worry my next one shot is for u ;) love y'all <33333
ᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕ
“Hey! You’re gonna eat all the popcorn! Give me some.” I exclaimed before snatching the half eaten bag of popcorn from Chris’ grasp. He tried to say something in a rebuttal, but all he got through his mouthful of popcorn was garbled words and a slight spray of kernels. “Oh god, you’re foul.” I said jokingly before wrapping my leg around his to lighten my words. “Just hush, I can’t hear the show.”
Chris and I had been best friends since elementary school, and had always had a bond like no other. When he had moved out to California a few years ago, I had really struggled with the loss of seeing him practically everyday. But since then, I had been able to come out and visit him multiple times, and it was so exciting to have him show me the new life that him and his brothers had built for themselves on the other side of the country.
In the past, each time I had visited him in Los Angeles the weather had been amazing, so I had forced Chris to explore all over the city with me. However, this visit had been nothing but rain, so him and I had done little more than what we were doing right now: curling up under the covers with some snacks and a couple joints, binge watching all of our favourite shows from high school. We were currently re-watching Euphoria — one of my all time favourite shows — as a light trickle of rain acted as background noise.
As we worked through our snacks, the scene where Maddy and Nate’s relationship dynamic is described played. I popped a handful of popcorn in my mouth, relishing in the nostalgic feeling that the show brought me, as the scene continued on to describe how Maddy watched porn to study how she should look and sound during sex. As the character arched her back on her bed, her eyes plastered to a device playing porn, I let out a small chuckle.
“What?” Chris turned to me with a confused smile. “Nothing. It’s nothing.” I replied, shaking my head and shoving more popcorn into my mouth to stifle my ridiculous laughter. “Brooo, tell me.” He whined, grabbing my shoulder and shaking it jokingly. I rolled my eyes at his dramatics. “Oh my god, fine! I was just laughing because I used to do that.” I finally responded, and Chris turned to me and raised a quizzical eyebrow. “Wait, what?” He brought a fistful of candy to his mouth. “I used to study porn too, not to get off on it or anything, just to like know what I was supposed to do.” I admitted, feeling my cheeks grow warm as Chris just stared blankly at me.
Finally, Chris blinked a few times, pulling himself out of his blank stare to resume eating snacks. “I don’t understand that honestly,” He began, reaching his hand into the popcorn bag between my legs, “I feel like when you’re in the moment all of those sounds and movements and stuff come naturally, don’t they?” I shrugged before responding. “Not for me, to be honest. I’ve never really had any sort of sexual interaction that made me feel good enough to act and sound like a porn star.” I chuckled, keeping the conversation lighthearted. This wasn’t the first time Chris and I had talked about our sexual experiences, so I felt comfortable being honest with him.
But when I fixed my gaze back onto him, I was met with a confused expression. “So does that mean you’ve never…” He dragged out his sentence, seemingly too afraid to complete it, so I saved him the trouble and answered his unfinished question with a solemn shake of my head. At this, his eyebrows shot up in what seemed to be total shock, complete with a dropped jaw. “You’re not serious, Y/n.” He said simply, and I once again shrugged my shoulders. “I mean it’s pretty common for girls to not be able to finish during sex, you know that.” I replied, to which he titled his head to the side and looked off into the distance.
“I guess so, but I’ve personally never ran into that problem before.” He replied, a cheeky smile taking over his face, and I rolled my eyes. “Oh Jesus, well too bad not all men are the Christopher Sturniolo.” I joked, unintentionally stroking his ego before refocusing my gaze on the show. The room was silent for a brief moment, both of us back to watching the show, before Chris spoke up again. “I just think that’s really fucked up. Sex should make both people involved feel good.” I wrapped my leg tighter around his. “Well aren’t you a crowd pleaser.” I joked. Turning to once again face him, I was expecting to be met with his classic grin. But instead, his face was serious; his mouth was set in a straight line and his blue eyes had darkened.
His expression was one I rarely saw, but it made my stomach tighten subconsciously. My throat suddenly felt extremely dry, and I couldn’t speak. My breath hitched when Chris brought a hand under the covers and placed it gently on my bare thigh, rubbing small circles into the skin. And my head began to spin when he shifted his body so that he was completely facing me. “You know, I bet I could make you sound like a porn star.” His poker face was finally replaced with a smirk, this one much more sinister than the one that I usually saw cross his face. He used his hand on my thigh to guide my legs open before brushing a finger just barely against my clothed heat; causing me to gasp. He leaned closer to my frame, already quivering in anticipation, and nibbled gently at my earlobe before whispering.
“Let me make you feel good, Y/n.”
He kept his mouth right there against my ear as he waited for a response, and I could feel his rapid breaths against my skin. My brain was in shambles, and I couldn’t make sense of what was happening. Chris and I had been best friends for so long, but not once had things turned sexual. This was completely uncharted territory for me, and I couldn’t imagine it ending well. But, his hand that was resting in between my trembling thighs and his whispered proposition had already caused my panties to grow damp, so I threw all of my sensibility away by grabbing his jaw, drawing his face to mine, and crashing my lips onto his.
Immediately, Chris worked his lips against mine. They moved in sync as his tongue slipped into my mouth with ease; dancing around my own and filling me with more desire. He brought his other hand under the covers to grab onto my other thigh, where he squeezed harshly before using his grip to pull me up on top of him. Still attacking my mouth with his, he rubbed his hands up and down my body as I straddled him, taking care to focus his attention on my more sensitive parts.
He broke the kiss briefly to pull my oversized t-shirt over my head, before taking a moment to admire my bare chest in his direct line of sight. Without hesitation, he attached his mouth to one of my tits, nibbling and swirling his tongue around my sensitive nipples; causing my body to break out in goosebumps from the sensation. After he took his time on the first, he moved his mouth onto the second, and the new contact caused me to subconsciously grind my pelvis against his thigh; eliciting a moan from me. My erotic sound caused his eyes to shoot open, looking up at my face, before he detached his mouth from my tit to speak. “Real moan?” He asked, his lips swollen, and I nodded my head before grinding my hips against him once more. “F-feels good.” I mumbled, and at that he readjusted himself so that he was sitting up against the headboard; giving me more stability.
“Then keep doing that. Wanna see you feeling good.” He replied, shifting my body so that my core could press right up against the highest point of his thigh. I didn’t hesitate long before resuming my movements, this time moving at a much faster pace; losing myself to the sheer pleasure that the friction of his pants granted me. Chris’ mouth reattached to my nipples, but his eyes never left mine as he took in all of my contorted facial expressions and soft moans. He allowed his lips to travel along my chest up to my neck, where he suckled gently before muttering. “I don’t want you to fake anything, baby, just want you to tell me when it feels good and when it doesn’t. Okay?” I nodded my head frantically, squinting my eyes from the overwhelming pleasure I was feeling.
I looked down to where my body was writhing against him, and even through my shorts and panties I had left a dark patch from my arousal against his grey sweats. Rolling my eyes to the back of my head in bliss, I had never before grown that wet during sex before. I felt my legs begin to weaken around his thigh, and an overwhelming feeling begin to bubble up inside of me. I knew it was my orgasm approaching, but I was hit with a sudden wave of nervousness that was preventing me from reaching it.
“C-Chris, I can’t,” I panted out, and his eyes were immediately on mine. “You can’t what?” He replied, gripping my ass with both hands and helping me grind myself against him. “C-can’t finish.” I replied honestly, feeling my eyes well up with frustrated tears. I had never felt this good in bed with someone before, and still, I couldn’t get myself to cum. “Hey hey, it’s okay,” Chris used his grip on me to stop my movements completely, “It’s an overwhelming feeling, it’s sometimes hard to give in to it.” He brought a hand up to my cheek and stroked it affectionately. “Lie down here.” He patted the space in the bed where I had previously been, and I obliged, resting my head against the pillow.
Once I settled myself, Chris crawled on top of me, resting his weight on one arm. He began kissing me again, this time much slower than the first, and once my heart rate began to slow I took it upon myself to deepen the kiss; pulling his bottom lip gently with my teeth. This elicited a deep moan from Chris, and I felt him grind his clothed member against my core before dragging his mouth down my jaw and neck; leaving harsh kisses in its trail. I watched through droopy eyelids as Chris’ body traveled down my own, and my breathing increased once again when he reached the waistband of my shorts. He toyed with the band for a moment, slipping two fingers under the material before looking back up at me.
“I just want you to relax, lay there, and tell me when you feel good. Can you do that Y/n?” His voice was soft, but it was the unmistakable undertone of gruff arousal laced through it that caused my stomach to flip. I nodded quickly, bringing a hand to his forehead and brushing a few stray hairs back. “Okay.” I replied, causing him to smirk before slowly pulling my shorts and thong down my legs. Once my clothing was completely discarded, Chris encouraged my knees to bend and spread my legs open; exposing my dripping heat completely. “Hmm, so pretty Y/n.” He said lowly, taking in the glistening folds just centimetres from his face.
I watched as he dropped soft kisses along my outer folds before using his hands to spread me open slightly. His mouth inched closer and closer to my aching core, and when he finally connected to it I released a shaky moan. Immediately, he used his tongue to expertly manipulate my clit, causing me to see stars almost instantly. It was clear by his movements that he knew what he was doing, and I had to grip onto his messy curls in order to keep myself in place as he continued. “Is that good baby?” He asked against my bundle of nerves, moving one of his hands from my folds down to my entrance, teasing it in circles as he waited for a response.
“S-so good Chrissy.” I managed to get out before he reattached his lips, this time slowly plunging a digit into me as he continued; causing my hips to buck. “Shh, stay still honey.” He mumbled, still working his tongue and fingers in sync against my heat. The combination of his tongue against my clit and his finger plunging up into my g-spot was staggering, and I was once again feeling the undeniable signs of an upcoming orgasm. Every inch of my skin felt like it was being set on fire, and the pressure in my lower stomach was so intense, it felt like I was going to pee.
I had reached orgasms on my own before, but none had ever had a build up as intense as the one I was currently feeling with Chris. I felt like I could explode, but still, I was struggling to let go once again. “C-Chris, I d-don’t think I — I don’t think I c-can do it.” I cried out, gripping onto his hair like my life depended on it. At this, Chris added a second finger and increased his speed. “Yes you can baby, I know you can. Just breathe and let your body do what it knows to do.” I squeezed my eyes shut from the pressure, and did as he said and released shaky breaths. His movements had the same level of intensity as before, but there was an unspoken level of desperation to them now; clear indication that he wanted to get me there.
Even though it seemed impossible, the pressure inside of me kept getting stronger and stronger. My legs were shaking on either side of his head, and my breaths came out as guttural moans. I felt my body detach from my brain, and I knew I had lost all control over what was going to happen. Just then, the strongest orgasm I had ever felt completely engulfed me, and I could do nothing but cry out in pleasure. My back arched off of the bed, overwhelmed by the extreme sensation. Feverish, strings of erotic notes fell from my mouth, and they could barely be heard over the ringing in my ears.
Mouth agape, I watched in awe as the pressure in my stomach was finally relieved by a rush of fluid shooting from my core. At this, Chris murmured “Oh fuck.” before detaching his lips from my clit and swiftly rubbing it; spraying my fluid all over his face and exposed tongue. My orgasm rippled through me like a tsunami, and left me in a figurative and literal puddle once it died down. Once he drank up all my juices, Chris planted a soft kiss against my clit before dragging his body up mine.
Once he was face to face with me, he gave me a deep kiss. “How was that?” He whispered with a grin on his wet face. Still catching my breath, all I could do was nod. He played with my hair for a moment, tranquility clear on his face, before he suddenly shifted his weight and began climbing off of me. “W-wait.” I said, grabbing hold of his waistband and stopping his movements. He looked down at me with a confused expression, and I wordlessly moved my hand to his crotch, where I was met with what seemed like a painfully hard member. “You’re not gonna fuck me?” I asked, batting my eyelashes innocently as I watched his taken aback expression.
In the blink of an eye, his face darkened once again and he returned to his position above me. “You want me to?” He asked, his face buried in my neck where he peppered it with soft kisses. “Mhmm.” I hummed, using my hand to palm him through his sweats. At that, Chris didn’t hesitate to pull his pants down, leaving his cock exposed. I gasped at its size that had been somewhat disguised when it was still concealed in his sweats, but began pumping my hand up and down as he shuddered in pleasure.
Attaching his lips back onto mine, Chris grabbed onto his shaft and lined it up with my opening. He slid it up and down my folds a few times to collect whatever was left of my previous orgasm, before slowly sliding into me. I gasped at the feeling of my walls stretching around his impressive girth, and we both moaned in unison once he bottomed out. He stayed still for a moment, allowing me to adjust to him, before he began slamming his hips into me.
With his forehead resting against mine, he watched me as I contorted my face into expressions of pleasure, relishing in the feeling of being filled by him. His gruff breathing and occasional deep moans were like music to my ears, and I dug my nails into his bare shoulders to keep him close. “Fuck, your pussy feels so good around me. Not gonna last long.” He groaned, using one of his arms to wrap my leg around his waist. The new angle allowed him to go deeper, and I felt his member slam into my g-spot repeatedly; causing my stomach to fill with that familiar sensation. “Oh god Chris, you’re s-so big.” My voice was coming out squeaky as he continued to pound into me, and he released a harsh moan in response.
I lost myself in the waves of pleasure as they hit me, growing closer to my second orgasm with each of his powerful thrusts. Chris’ gaze on me was so full of lust — clenched jaw, droopy eyes, lower lip trapped in between his teeth — I would have collapsed from its magnitude if I wasn’t already lying down. His motion suddenly shifted from one that was hard and fast to one that was deep and slow, and I couldn’t help but release sharp gasps on each thrusts.
I could tell that I was close to my second orgasm, but he was closer. His breathing was growing more and more rapid, his pace was sloppier, and beads of sweat were dripping down his forehead. As if he was reading my mind, he moaned out. “I-I’m close, want you to cum with me.” My eyes rolled to the back of my head, his words already getting me closer to my high, but I knew I needed to get there faster.
Reaching between us, I found my clit and began rubbing it vigorously. Chris’ eyes followed my hand, and when he realized what I was doing he smirked proudly. “Atta girl.” My action seemed to give him a bit more energy, as his movements began picking up the pace once again; and I found myself on the edge of another orgasm. “Ah fuck, Chris, gonna cum again.” I cried out through my gasps for air just before my second orgasm hit me like a freight train. I felt my walls contract around his swollen member, and that was enough for him to reach his high as well.
Gripping tightly onto my shoulder, Chris plunged his twitching cock in and out of me; driving both of us through our orgasms. I gasped when I felt his fluid shoot deep into me, and savoured the verbal confirmation of his pleasure in my ear. Our moans flew from our mouths in harmony, and it was only once his body stilled above me that I removed my hand from my clit.
We stayed in that position for what could have been hours, catching our breath and falling into the lethargic temperament that always came after sex. Finally, Chris lifted his weight off of me and slid his softening dick out from my core, offering me an apprehensive smile. He stood up and walked into his washroom, coming back over to the bed with a towel to help clean up the mess in between my legs before doing the same to his member. Once I no longer felt like a bowl of jello, I sat up on the bed beside him.
“Well?” He asked, his tone playful as he wiggled his eyebrows awaiting my response. I rolled my eyes before grabbing my top and throwing it over my head. “Would you believe me if I said I faked all of that?” I asked, unable to keep the smile that was toying with the corners of my mouth at bay. He blew air out of his mouth and looked up at the ceiling. “Absolutely not.” He replied, and I laughed. “I hate to gas you up like this, but that really was amazing.” I finally said honestly, resting my head on his bare shoulder.
He chuckled before grabbing my hand and stroking it gently. “Glad to be of service.” He replied, removing his hand from mine and instead wrapping his arm around me completely. “You turned into my little porn star there for a minute.” He followed it up by making high pitched moan sounds, mocking me and breaking the wave of silence that had followed his last comment. I laughed, lifting my head off of his shoulder and coming face-to-face with his goofy smile. “You ever use that against me in the future and I will bite your head off.” I replied, shoving his shoulder gently. “I won’t, swear. But you can use me again in the future if you wish. Y’know, in case you ever want to cum like that again.”
My jaw dropped at his filthy words, but I couldn’t help but feel heat flood to my core once again. Smirking, I raised one quizzical eyebrow. “One more?” I asked, and watched as his face was overtaken by a smirk that mirrored my own. “Lay down and put your legs on my shoulders.”
ᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕ
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not-neverland06 · 3 months ago
Note
Hey! Your writing is amazing! I’ve been checking daily for new fics lmao
I was wondering if your requests were open would you be able to write some angst with a happy ending w/ Peanut?
Perhaps a Shy!Reader who has flirty banter with Logan. They’re on a mission and Logan has to make a quick decision on who to save — Reader or Jean and he saves Jean without thinking. Reader ends up surviving with a few injuries but her and Logan’s relationship starts to deteriorate. Logan’s not good with verbal apologies so he does acts of service — bringing reader food/drinks etc. reader is stubborn and Logan starts to get frustrated. He eventually proves himself to reader.
I’m sorry if this is confusing!! I’m not creative enough to write it myself and you’re really really skilled. Love your work x
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a/n: I read this request and then read them together and my brain imploded because I loved it so much, no smut in this one Summary: Logan saves Jean on a mission and it's the wake-up call you desperately needed to understand that you will never be her. You can't stand to look at him anymore and he doesn't understand why you've stopped talking to him.
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“What’re you thinking of doing after this?”
You shrug, leaning back on the uncomfortable bench seats and looking over at Logan. “Not sure, got any plans?”
Logan smirks and you immediately know whatever he’s about to say is going to send you spiraling. “Yeah, whatever you’re doing, sweetheart.”
Oh. My. God!
You know you’ve got it bad when something as simple as that has you swooning. It’s so easy to fall into this routine with him, to pretend you’re more suave than you actually are. Despite your usual tendency to fade into the background, you find it nearly impossible to do with him. 
Where someone else might let you stay quiet and go ignored, he seeks you out. He makes you feel seen and heard. Some days you don’t know if you appreciate it or despise it. You laugh a little, trying to hide just how affected by him you are. “Sounds good, Lo.”
He smiles and leans back on the seat, his arm coming around the back to rest lightly over your shoulders. You can tell from the look on Storm’s face that she’s trying not to laugh at you. You can’t blame her, you’re sure your eyes have tripled in size and you look absolutely stunned. 
Flirting isn’t out of the usual for you and him. Lately, though, he’s upped the game. Touching you more than usual, spending more one-on-one time together. You can feel it all building up to something. You’re shy, not stupid, you know when a guy’s going to ask you out. 
But it feels like he’s dragging it out longer than necessary like he’s enjoying teasing you a little too much.  “Alright,” Scott stands up and moves towards the back of the jet. “We’re almost there, get ready.”
You, very reluctantly, pull away from Logan and get to your feet. He walks past you, briefly squeezing your hand before joining Scott by the ramp. You grin, flexing your hand by your side and trying to memorize the feeling. 
The ramp lowers to the ground and Scott and Logan lead the way out. You’re expecting this to be simple. Stake out the area, find some information about the people running the warehouse, and figure out what exactly it is that they’ve been doing. 
The air is bursting with moisture. It’s suffocating, how humid it is, how it makes the material of your suit cling to your skin. You know the rest of the team can feel it. That it’s irritating them just as much. 
None of you want to be out here in the peak of summer, trying to be stealthy in these ridiculous costumes. Your thighs squeak every time they rub together. It’s beyond embarrassing. You know that that’s what has you all distracted. 
You’re struggling through ankle-deep mud and sweating buckets. So none of you are paying any particular attention to the area around you. Technically, you shouldn’t have to, you’re still about a mile out from where you need to be. 
You duck, hands coming up to cover your ears as Charles’ voice screams through your mind. It’s a trap!
Even with the warning, there’s no time to prepare. The ground around you explodes, grass and dirt flying through the air. Logan grabs your arm, he shoves himself in front of you and takes the brunt of the bullets. Splatters of blood hits your cheeks and he runs you both behind a tree for cover. 
The other three have all found their own cover and they’re struggling to figure out where the shots are coming from. You spot something in the underbrush and scream, “Behind you!”
It’s more of a warning to duck than it is to move. You throw your hands up, shoving the man away from them and sending him flying into the trunk of a tree. You swear you can hear the snap of his spine as it hits the bark. 
You look to Jean and nod towards the small clearing of trees. “Don’t,” Logan warns. But you’re already slipping out of his grip and solidifying the air in front of you. It provides enough of a cover, absorbing the bullets, and giving you all time to figure out a plan of attack. 
Jean moves beside you, eyes narrowing on the perimeter of your cover. “There are too many of them, more than I can count.” 
“How did they know we were coming?” Scott snaps, keeping an eye on the area behind you. 
Your arms struggle under the weight of your power. The more bullets they shoot into your cover, the harder it is to keep up. You’re forced to absorb their energy, push it out tenfold to try and keep the blockage solidified. 
“Guys,” you snap, “we need a plan. I can’t hold it much longer.” You grit your teeth, taking a step forward to try and push against the strain. It does nothing but make your bones ache. Logan shoots you a concerned glance, coming up behind you like he wants to take the weight off your shoulders. But there’s nothing he can do. 
There’s movement behind you, a boot snapping a twig in two. You can’t risk looking back but you can hear the worry in Jean’s voice. “Ten of them-”
You can tell by the sounds of their movement that the others don’t give her much of a chance to finish. Ororo, Scott, and Logan all shoot forward to deal with the threat. Ten isn’t much to worry about. But that doesn’t change the fact that the men in front of you haven’t let up and you’re about to weep from the weight of keeping the wall up. 
Jean stays beside you, brows furrowed in concern. She places her hand on your shoulder and closes her eyes. A second later you feel something like a cool blanket laid over you. The tension in your arms and core eases just enough for you to stop clenching your jaw so hard. Some of the strain eases away and you know she’s sharing it with you. 
But just as quickly as the relief was given, it’s yanked away. Jean jumps back with a gasp, “Flux, we need to move!”
“I can’t,” you shout, fighting to be heard over the sound of bloodshed and gunshots going off in front of and behind you. The others are steadily moving through the people surrounding you, but their numbers are still overwhelming. “It’ll all come crashing down,” you tell her. 
She glances towards the bullets, finally spotting the way they’re slowly, but steadily, moving through the thickened air. The second you let go you’ll be riddled with holes. “Shit,” she hisses. “Look, we can’t stay here much longer-”
She’s cut off by a loud bang. You’re so disoriented by the noise your hands drop to your sides. At the same moment, you hear wood splintering and cracking beside you. What has to be the largest tree in the forest creaks before it begins its descent down towards you both. 
You don’t what happened, or what they used, but it doesn’t matter. The wall in front of you is fading. You have seconds to get out of the way of the bullets and the tree, you’re not sure either of you is going to make it. 
“Jean!” There’s a flash of brown hair and Jean’s being tackled to the ground, safely out of the way of the tree and bullets. You feel something stinging against your shoulder and know the first bullet’s made its way through. 
You also see the tree is almost over top of you. You’ve always been a fight response in flight or fight scenarios. But when there’s nothing to fight, when you have nothing to go up against, you freeze. It’s horrible, you know it, but there’s nothing you can do about it. 
Even as you’re desperately screaming at yourself to just fucking move, all you can do is watch as the tree topples down on top of you. “Flux, duck!” The words trigger something in your brain just soon enough to drop to the ground. 
Scott releases a red beam, blasting through the tree and knocking it off course. You don’t even register the smell of burning flesh as you lay in the mud. Your blood is rushing so fast in your veins, there’s so much adrenaline pumping through you, you can’t focus on anything except the sound of your heartbeat. 
You let out a breath of relief, slowly lifting yourself up to your knees. You don’t hear any more fighting and you figure whoever they hadn’t taken down before, the beam took care of the rest. 
You look down, checking yourself for any bullet holes or serious damage but you can’t find anything. Something warm trickles down your shoulder, it drips across your arm and down your hand. 
You look at the blood curiously, it seems to steady a flow from the simple bullet graze you’d had earlier. “Oh my god,” Jean whispers your name and you turn around with a concerned look. 
You want to ask her what’s wrong but your eyes are trained on the way Logan’s arms are bracketing her. He’s practically on top of her, only now getting up to check on you. You get it, it was a stressful situation, he acted fast. 
But that doesn’t make it any easier to swallow the lump in your throat. It doesn’t ease the burn of betrayal. He saved her, not you. He chose her even though she doesn’t want him. The anger you’re feeling only makes it harder to be aware of your surroundings. 
It’s not until Scott kneels behind you a presses a gentle hand against your back that you lurch forward with a loud cry. The pain slams down on you all at once. The wind blowing gently against your back feels like someone’s dug razor blades in your skin and ripped. 
Feet rush towards you, someone kneeling beside you and grabbing your shoulders. Logan forces you up and makes you look at him before his gaze turns to your back. “What the fuck did you do?” He practically growls, lunging towards Scott. 
He grabs him by the collar and shoves him into the dirt. Ororo and Jean leap forward, trying unsuccessfully to rip him off. You try and keep your eyes open, try and stay focused. The pain is too much, you don’t want to be awake for this anymore. Every nerve on your back feels like it’s being forcefully exposed and plucked at. 
Your brain forces a shutdown and you slump into the mud, the world going black. 
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When you wake up, you’re on your stomach. You’re a little dazed, not fully remembering how you got here. You try and sit up but there’s a steady grip around your wrists stopping you. “Don’t move,” Jean warns from somewhere behind you. 
You try and look for her but you can’t move much. Your head feels like it weighs a hundred pounds, stuck to the pillow beneath you. “What happened? Why can’t I move?”
Her shoes appear in front of you and then she’s kneeling down, a slightly worried look on her face. “We needed to make sure you didn’t roll over in your sleep.” Her brows crinkle and she frowns, “You don’t remember?” You shake your head minutely. She sighs, lifting her hand to your face and pressing her chilled fingers to your temple. 
The images rush towards you. You see it all from her eyes. The way Logan had grabbed her and thrown her to the ground, checking over her and not once looking at you. How Scott had tried to stop the tree from breaking your spine. His beam had just barely grazed your back as you had ducked. But it was enough for there to be serious damage. 
Through her view, you can see the way your skin had bubbled up and blistered. How horribly damaged it was. You have limited healing abilities, but it was enough to stop the nerves from being permanently damaged. 
She lets you go and you groan, the pain slowly registering in your brain. It’s dulled and you don’t know if they’ve given you drugs or if your abilities are still working to help you. “How’s Scott?” 
She chuckles and shakes her head while she undoes the restraints around your wrist. “He feels awful. He keeps coming by to check on you.”
The thought of him sitting beside you while you were strapped down to the bed makes you feel a little bad. It wasn’t his fault, he’d helped you. It was more than Logan had done for you. 
You frown, hating yourself for being bitter. If he hadn’t helped, Jean might not be here next to you. He had saved your friend. The thought didn’t bring much comfort, though. “I’m not mad at him.”
Jean eases you onto your knees and slowly helps you sit up. It causes minimal pain, but it’s still uncomfortable enough to grit your teeth and dig your nails into your palms. “I know, but he’ll probably be coming down here a lot to check on you.”
You almost ask her if anyone else has visited. If Logan had, but you don’t think her answer would make you feel any better. “He did,” she tells you and you click your tongue in irritation. 
“Out of my head,” you warn. She releases you with a small grin. “I don’t care,” you tell her, trying to appear nonchalant. 
She tilts her head, eyes narrowing on you. “Yes, you do. And I don’t need telepathy to know.” She walks towards your IV bag, fiddling around with something on the line. “He was here whenever he could be, practically lived beside you.”
“Don’t care,” you tell her again, but there’s less conviction this time. 
Jean frowns and you hate how guilty she looks. It’s not her fault he’s desperately in love with her and not you. You can’t force someone to love you or choose you. And you don’t want to. You want someone to love you for who you are, not because they couldn’t have their first choice. 
“Don’t,” you say lowly. “Don’t apologize, it’s not your fault.”
She doesn’t get a chance to say anything before the door bursts open, both Logan and Scott sliding into your room. Scott lets out a relieved breath when he sees you. He breathes out your name and approaches with a guilty smile, “You’re awake.”
“Charles told us,” Logan informs. You offer him a brief glance before diverting your attention to Scott. 
Petty, you’re aware. But you don’t want to see Logan right now. You’d put so much effort and time into your friendship with him. It doesn’t even matter if he doesn’t feel the same way about you. You two are best friends, and he didn’t even try to help you when you needed him the most. 
So, you smile at Scott. You forgive him and you tell him you're fine. You chat with him and Jean while Logan just stares at you from the other side of your bed. You can’t make yourself face him. You don’t want to look at him, it makes you sick to your stomach.
Eventually, Scott’s guilt is slightly assuaged and he and Jean leave for the night. Logan is a heavy presence beside you, one you no longer can ignore. You shift around, pretending to fluff your pillows until he grabs your hand. 
“What’re you doing?”
You look at his hand and then at him. Whatever look is on your face is enough for him to release you and back off. “Getting comfortable,” you spit out, more venom in your voice than necessary. Something clicks for him, you can see it as it happens. 
He backs up and narrows his eyes down at you. “Right.” He frowns and sucks on his teeth, nodding his head silently. “I’ll come back when you’re feeling a little better.” You don’t miss the hidden dig underneath it all, the way he’s calling out you’re unusual behavior. 
“I think that’d be best.”
He scoffs and shakes his head, slamming the door behind him as he leaves. You jump at the noise and it makes you hiss as a twinge of pain shoots down your spine. You feel slightly guilty about the whole interaction. Then, you remember the way he’d been cradling Jean and you feel slightly vindicated. 
You’re sure he doesn’t even give a shit. He’s probably pouting in his room, wishing Jean was in bed beside him. 
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What the fuck?
It’s all that’s been playing through Logan’s head since he returned from your room in the medbay. He’s waited days for you to wake up, so he can finally take a breath and let go of the anxiety that’s been plaguing him. 
He’d thought that he’d lost you in that forest. When he’d gone for Jean, he’d assumed you’d just be able to use your powers to knock the tree out of your path. Or make it melt around you. 
Honestly, he can’t put a finger on what exactly he was thinking. But he knew that you could protect yourself and that would be your priority. So he’d moved without really thinking and grabbed the person who would be collateral damage if your powers went haywire. 
And then you hadn’t saved yourself and all he could smell was your burning flesh. The smell has been stuck in his nose since you were brought back to the mansion. He can’t escape it. Everywhere he goes, he sees you burning and hears your screams. 
He’d thought that you were dead and there was a moment where he genuinely was so lost he could do nothing but watch as the others swarmed you. He couldn’t move, couldn’t help you. He could only stare at your still body and pray to anybody who could hear him that you weren’t dead. 
He didn’t know what he would do if he lost you before he ever got a chance to love you. 
He’d, irritatingly, imagined all the different ways he would finally tell you how he felt when you woke up. He’d prepared himself for every possible reaction, except this one. He hadn’t expected you to reject him before he ever got the chance to confess. 
Anger stews within him as he paces through his room. He knows that it’s unfair to be upset with you. You’d gone through something horrific and there had been doubts about your recovery. Of course, you’d act off. 
Except, you only seemed to be directing that at him. Had you been just as dismissive to Scott, the person who actually hurt you, he would have looked past it. He’s tempted to go back down and see you again, maybe try and make you see some sense. 
Instead, he decides to give you both some time to calm down. He doesn’t want to do anything he might regret while he’s pissed off. He’ll see you tomorrow and, hopefully, you’ll be back to normal. 
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You’d thought Logan might have gotten the hint with how you behaved earlier. That was not the case. He’s back today and you can smell the breakfast food he’s brought you. The smell is wafting deliciously from an inconspicuous brown bag. 
But you know it’s from the restaurant that’s twenty minutes out of his way. You’re not petty enough that you can’t appreciate the forty-minute round trip he’d taken for you, but you still aren’t excited to see him. 
“Hey, sweetheart,” he smiles at you despite your clearly hostile energy. He tugs the chair towards your bed, ripping open the bag and pulling out enough food for the both of you. 
You think it should be considered a form of manipulation to call you that while you’re pissed at him. He has such a clear effect on you. You know he’s aware of it. He knows that when he calls you something sweet like that it makes your heart race and stomach flip. 
You turn your gaze towards your blanket. You pretend the thread pattern is the most interesting thing in the world so you don’t have to look at him. You’re sick of giving your all to men who couldn’t care less about you. 
You’re tired of being the second, third, fourth choice. You want someone to choose you first for once. And you genuinely thought Logan would be the man to do that. But he’d chosen Jean. You should have known. 
“Alright,” he huffs, crossing his arms and glaring at you. You’re pissed off that he’s acting like he’s the one who was hurt. “What the hell is your problem? You’ve never been this mad at me before.”
It’s his tone of voice that really grates on you. He genuinely does not understand what he’s done wrong. He doesn’t even comprehend the possibility that you might be mad he left you to die. Have you really become such a doormat?
Yes, you’re shy and generally reserved with the people you meet. But he is so different. You two met and it was an instant connection that you thought was reciprocated. You hadn't realized that you'd become so complacent in the relationship he thought he could get away with something like this with no repercussions. 
“You left me to die,” you snap at him, voice taking a pitch it never has before. You’ve never truly gotten angry at him. Pissed off sometimes when he teased you a little too much. But you’d never plainly shown anger at him. “You fucking left me behind and expect me to, what,” you scoff and shove the food back towards him. 
“You think some shitty breakfast is going to fix this?” His face contorts. It screws up into something like hurt and you worry you might have been too harsh. He doesn’t know how you feel about him. He doesn’t know that this would hurt you so bad. 
But, it doesn’t matter. You’re still his friend. You should have at least warranted a little concern. 
Just as quickly as it appeared, the hurt is washed away by his own anger. “I thought you could take care of yourself. Isn’t that what you’re always bitching at us about?”
If you weren’t so upset you might find it funny how quickly the two of you turned on each other. Clearly, there was something repressed between the two of you. Some brewing resentment that neither of you had ever acknowledged. The words are coming quickly now, without thought.
“Fuck you, Logan,” you snap back at him. “You didn’t give a shit whether I lived or died. You only cared about your precious Jean.” You spit out her name with so much venom it stings as it leaves your tongue. 
He laughs, getting out of his chair. He shakes his head and glares at you. His anger is always a physical thing. You know he’s pacing so he doesn’t do something worse, like destroy the entirety of the room. 
“That’s what this is, you’re jealous? Don’t blame your fucking incompetence on me.” You hate the way he’s speaking to you. Like you’re a little girl who's incapable of understanding even the most basic of concepts. He has such a patronizing look on his face, you want nothing more than to wipe it off. 
The tables beside you tremble, the vases of flowers rattling against the wood. “I’m your friend, Logan. You could at least pretend like you cared about me.”
He leans against the end of the bed, tilting himself forward until he’s aggressively imposing your space. You shrink back against the pillows, narrowing your eyes in disdain. “Don’t fucking pull that shit with me. I knew that your priority would be to save yourself and I acted accordingly. This wasn’t some goddamn ploy to get into Jean’s pants. Grow the fuck up, Flux!”
You flinch back at the volume of his voice. Unwillingly, tears pool in the corners of your eyes. It’s an involuntary response. Sometimes you just get so enraged that you have no other way to get rid of it than to cry. It’s infuriating to see the moment someone stops taking you seriously and starts to think you’re nothing more than a crybaby. 
Logan’s face pales and he winces, backing away from you. “I didn’t-”
“Enough,” you stop him, voice thick with unshed tears. He never calls you by your X-men name, it’s an unspoken agreement between the two of you. That’s a formality reserved for the other members. To each other, you’re nothing more than two people who care deeply for one another. 
Or, you had been. Before this one moment had blown your life and your back up. 
“I appreciate how much faith you have in my abilities, but the fact that your first instinct wasn’t even to protect me says a lot.” You take in a deep breath and shake your head. “Thanks for the breakfast, but can you please just leave?”
He looks like he doesn’t want to. You know he doesn’t want to leave. You two never fight like this. Even if there wasn’t a lot said, it’s still not normal for you. Maybe that should have been your first hint that things weren’t what you thought. 
It’s healthy to fight, to a certain extent. Sometimes it's needed. You two never have before and you know it’s just been brewing for a while, waiting to blow up. “I-”
“Get out,” you shout, and the tables beside you finally crumble under the weight of your emotions. They drip to the ground in an inorganic form of liquid wood. “Shit,” you hiss, glancing over at them. You wave your hand and they return to their normal state, but it doesn’t matter. You shouldn’t have lost control at all. 
The door slams and you look up to find the room empty. You sink back against your bed and run your hands over your face. You ignore the way the skin of your back screams in protest. 
You embrace the pain, the fiery shocks running up your nerves as the bandages chafe against the wounds. You focus on that instead of how things have ended with Logan. You always had such high hopes that he might be the one you finally man up and confess to. 
You should have known you were wrong. You should have known that it would never have ended with him picking you over her. 
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You’re permitted to leave the medbay the next day. You don’t see or hear from Logan for the following week. You can’t confirm if he’s purposefully avoiding you or not but you have to believe he is. You both live in the same hall. You don’t know how it’s possible to have gone this long without even catching a slight glimpse of him. 
You force yourself to suffocate the part of you that misses him. You picture the side of yourself that longs for his presence and imagine shoving a pillow over her face. You don’t want to ache and cry over someone who doesn’t give two shits about you. 
You keep reminding yourself over and over again that when things got rough he showed you his true colors. But it’s more difficult than you imagined to just completely disregard so much history with him. 
Besides, you hadn’t realized just how little you interacted with the others until Logan was out of your daily life. It’s so difficult for you to bond with people that when you’d connected with Logan you’d latched onto him. 
It’s a little pathetic, honestly. Being grown and eating lunch alone because you only had one friend. You wonder if your feelings for him were genuine or born from a desperation not to be alone. You don’t let yourself linger on the question for long. 
It’s as your training with the students that you finally see him again. 
“Has he made much progress yet?”
Jean shakes her head and purses her lips. She watches as Billy, one of the newer students, struggles with the logs in front of him. He was a firestarter, a very inexperienced one who had only ever set his curtains on fire. 
His powers were more focused on the mental aspect of things rather than the physical. Which is why you and Jean were in charge of helping him. He couldn’t start anything on his own, he only really seemed to be able to activate the ability when he was emotionally stimulated. 
That meant whenever he was mad or sad, or anything in between, everyone in a fifty-foot radius was in danger. He was a risk to the other students and you were both trying to be gentle with him. But you’d been working with him for so long and there was so little progress. It felt like he wasn’t trying sometimes. 
He’d asked Rogue out a week ago and when she’d said no, her hair had caught on fire. You know he could have been hurt and lashed out without thought or malice behind it. But you’d seen the look in his eye. 
You’re fifty percent sure he knows exactly what he’s doing. This little act he puts on is just to get himself out of trouble. You hadn’t brought the issue to Charles yet because you’re trying to give him the benefit of the doubt. 
“Billy,” you call out. His head whips up and he sends you a vicious glare. You can’t help the sneer on your lips. “Just take a deep breath and try again. There’s nothing wrong with struggling, we all did.”
You put on your normal teacher voice, calm and collected. Assuring. But the little shit in front of you isn’t buying it for a second. He gives you a sarcastic little grin, “Right. Sorry, I forgot you’re a fuck-up just like me.”
“Billy!” Jean snaps, taking a step forward to reprimand him. She doesn’t get far before there’s a fireball shooting out of his palms and hurtling towards the both of you. 
There’s no chance to react before something slams into your side and is tossing you to the ground. Your head nearly snaps against the grass but there’s a hand underneath your skull softening the blow. 
You smell something smoking and look up to see a large scorch mark right where you’d just been. Jean’s standing over it, palm outstretched as she keeps the fire subdued. She gives you a worried look, “Are you okay?”
Surprisingly, yes. You glance up to see Logan hovering over you. He backs off when he notices you’re okay, getting to his knees and offering you a hand. Wordlessly, you slip your palm into his and let him help you into a sitting position. 
“You alright,” his hand hovers over your shoulder like he wants to pull you closer. But he resists, backing off and waiting for your answer. You nod your head, still a little dazed from the failed assassination attempt. 
He narrows his eyes, searching your face for any sign of head trauma. When he’s properly assured you’re okay he jumps to his feet. “Billy!” His voice booms across the courtyard and it’s the first time you’ve ever seen that little asshole scared. 
He’s barely on his feet before Logan is stalking towards him, jerking him forward by the scruff of his neck and dragging him towards the mansion. “We need to have a little talk,” the tone of his voice has you a little scared and you’re not even the one he’s mad at. 
Jean walks towards you and helps you to your feet. “Is your back okay?”
“Yeah,” you nod and brush your clothes off. You have to physically shake the shock of what happened off. “Yeah, I’m fine. I can’t believe he did that.”
Jean scoffs and glares towards Billy’s back. Your eyes widen in shock when you see the large scorch mark across his arm. “Jean! He got you, are you okay?”
She glances down at her shirt and frowns. “Yeah, practically a sunburn.” She gives you a reassuring smile, “I’ll be fine.”
As shitty as this sounds, you’re not concerned for her. You can only focus on the fact that she was in just as much danger as you and Logan had tackled you to the ground. You glance back towards the mansion, more fucking confused than ever. 
You’re not sure what compels you to follow Logan, but you’re running after him before Jean can stop you. He’s barely got a minute headstart on you, you’re not sure why you can’t find him. You’d gone through every inch of the first floor. 
You don’t know where he would have dragged Billy, but it’s nowhere you can find. After about ten minutes of looking for him, you give up on the hope that you’re ever going to figure out what’s happening inside his brain. 
You let out a defeated sigh, running a hand over your face and trying to shake off the funk of the day. You can’t believe that little shit tried to roast you. You’re not comfortable with the fact that he’s just roaming around inside the mansion somewhere. 
You turn out of the living room and nearly slam into someone. His hands shoot out, grabbing your shoulders and gently stopping you. “Logan,” you give him a strained smile. “I was looking for you.” You glance over his shoulder and frown. “Where’s Billy?”
Logan sighs, his hands linger on your arms for a moment before he takes a step back. “Wheels got to him before I could do anything.”
You laugh a little, the noise involuntary. “What were you planning on doing with the sixteen-year-old?”
He doesn’t find the question amusing if his expression is anything to go by. “He was really trying to hurt you.”
His words sober you up slightly and you drop the flippant attitude. “Yeah, I wanted to,” god, it feels like you could choke on the words. Just last week you were screaming at him for not helping you. Now, you could barely thank him because he had. 
“You’re always my priority.” He tells you before you can struggle any longer. Your head shoots up and you stare at him with confusion. He groans, the noise tired and resigned. “Saving Jean was a mistake. I mean it, kid, I just thought you could handle yourself.”
You open your mouth but he stops you before you can argue. “I know, that’s not the point. I should have saved you, no matter what I thought you could or couldn't handle.”
“No,” you stop him and shake your head. “No, Logan, I shouldn’t. I,” your mouth opens and he stares at you expectantly. What you were going to say gets stuck in your throat. This is a horrible idea. 
“I liked you in a way you didn’t like me and it was unfair of me to push my expectations onto you.” You wanted it to sound better, and more intelligent. Instead, it came out in one rushed breath and you’re not sure he even understood half of what you said. 
His brows furrow in confusion for a moment before a smile breaks out on his face. You’re not sure if it’s a good or bad thing that he’s smiling. You can’t tell if he’s mocking you or about to profess his undying love. 
You don’t have to wonder for long. He moves closer towards you, leaning forward until you’re practically sharing the same breaths. Unconsciously, you’re drawn into him, hands braced gently on his chest as you chase after him. 
“What are you doing?” Your whispered words brush against his lips and he gives you a small smile. His hands travel up your waist. He tugs you closer, his other hand looping around your neck and craning you up. 
“I’m gonna choose you every fucking time, kid.” His lips brush across your own and it’s like a switch is flipped in you both. Your arms twine around his neck, pulling him down until you’re practically melting into him. 
It’s everything you’ve ever wanted and so different at the same time. You always thought your first kiss would be after some cheesy first date. He would have taken you out to dinner. Something would have inevitably gone wrong, you spilled something on your dress or the waiter brought the wrong order. 
You would both worry that it was a sign that nothing would work out between you. And then, at the end of the night, he’d tug you into his arms and kiss you like you were the most precious thing he’d ever held. 
That would be nice, but this is better. He’s not holding you like you’re something fragile or something too precious for this world. He’s kissing you like you’re the very air he needs to survive. He’s greedy with his affections and demanding with his wants. 
You’re being consumed and devoured. And you never want to stop. This is all you’ve ever wanted with him, from him. 
Sadly, you do have to breathe. You’re the one that forces the stop, you’re sure he would have happily suffocated if it meant he could keep touching you like this. You pull back, the air coming in short pants between your parted lips. 
You can already feel them swelling, the slight irritation on your cheeks from his stubble. You don’t mind, you quite like the feeling. He speaks before you can, a pleased smile on his face. “Forgive me yet?”
You chuckle, a little impressed by how cheeky he is, still slightly pissed off. “Why don’t you do that again and I’ll think about it?”
He rolls his eyes but you can see the smile fighting against his firm glare. “You’re really gonna make me work for it, huh?”
You smile and nod, leaning into him again. “You’re never gonna hear the end of it,” you whisper before dipping down and kissing him again. You can’t believe you ever doubted just how much he cares for you. 
He didn’t choose Jean over you. He’s just a dumbass. 
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a/n: I had to resist putting in a “pick me, choose me, love me” line in there bc that would have just been too much lol
end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.
General Taglist: @evasmlp
Logan Taglist:  @nonamevenus @smexy-bucky-waifu @wh1sp @peony-always @corvusmorte  
@mrs-ephemeral  @wolviesgirl ♡ 
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zillychu · 5 months ago
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designs for a zine piece! enjoy some background story my illustration never needed under the read more (fair warning I did NOT edit this at all):
newbie mage apprentices Sam and Tucker who became friends bc they're kinda… the ones at the bottom of their class and struggle the most, for different reasons. they become besties over time and practice together!
except one night, something goes terribly wrong. they spent the last few nights preparing for a project, a bigger spell that needs an intricate circle with precise measurements to work. but when they try to activate it, well… 
oops. they summoned a demon.
which is, for one, extremely illegal. only certified demonologists are allowed to summon demons because they're so dangerous. anything less than a perfect binding circle and thoroughly researched info on the demon, including their true name, is even remotely safe.
but, weirdly enough… the demon seems just as surprised as they are. as Sam and Tuck frantically try to figure out how to dispel the demon, they realize–oh god, did their circle actually sufficiently bind the demon? it can't leave. they watch the demon tentatively poke it's claws into the air around the boundary, and watch it fizzle, retreating back with a strained hiss.
okay. okay, they can do this. without death looming over their heads, they can figure out how to send the demon back. it's cool, it's fine. except while they leaf through their books, they notice the demon watching them. it looks kind of… curious. timid. interested in what they're doing. it catches them noticing his staring, and it. apologizes? it seems flustered?
weird, okay. they keep looking, and the demon starts talking. at first, little comments to itself. mumbles that soon get just loud enough to hear. little “ooh, is that a telescope?" and “is that what fire looks like up here?" and “that must be for making charcoal…”
Sam is the one brave enough to be like "are all demons as chatty as you??” and the demon gets flustered again, apologizing. says he's just never been topside before, he's only read about humans in tomes. oh wow is that the moon outside? it really IS blue up here! is it always blue? what are you doing up? I thought humans slept at night?
Sam and Tuck can't help getting pulled in with the demon's genuine curiosity. they're wary though, since they know demons can be clever, conniving. there's a number of ways a demon can get the upper hand on a summoner who has them bound. if he gets their full names, gets them to smudge and break the circle… there could also be ways they aren't aware of. so they consider their words carefully, but engage in some chatter while they research.
it's almost morning by the time they find a way to send the demon back–but as they prepare the spell, the demon says WAIT WAIT and they stop, uncertain. the demon starts stammering out how this is weird but like… he really had fun tonight. he doesn't get to just hang out much, especially with anyone his age.
Tuck is like “how do you know our ages??" and the demon points out "oh, you said something about Paulie’s 18th birthday party, so I thought…” and they're both like oh shit we didn't even notice we did that?
“Paulina" Sam corrects in her dumbfounded stupor. 
“Right, Paulina!" the demon snaps his fingers, but quickly loses his confidence when Sam and Tuck continue to stare at him like they're not sure what's going on. he coughs and fidgets and says “um, well, I was just wondering, I guess… if you wanted to summon me another time, I wouldn't mind. you see those circles there? yeah, that's what summoned me. the candles helped too I think. oh, it doesn't need all those runes though, probably don't want to redraw all those.”
Sam and Tuck are practically gawking, but… for some reason, this demon looks so sincere. so much like them, awkward and lonely and genuinely curious.
it's a bad idea. a terrible one, even. the demon probably noticed they're newbies and not demonologists. it could be hoping they make an error in their circle, or mess up a candle, or reveal their names on accident. 
But, well. They're stupid. they're also eager for anything to help them in school, and too empathetic for their own good. they send the demon off with a yeah, no. they then think about it for a week, and end up summoning the demon against their better judgment.
the demon is shocked and so happy, they can't help but be a little endeared. they lay down some ground rules, take care to be as safe as possible… and soon, this demon that introduces himself as “Phantom" becomes a nightly visitor. they talk about their worlds, find out they share a lot of common interests, and help each other in their studies. which, hello, demons also study? bro are you serious??
they play games, laugh till their ribs hurt, and open up to each other on a far deeper level than anyone expected. over time, Phantom becomes a true friend.
Sam and Tuck quietly begin to lament the fact Phantom is stuck in that damn circle. they want to take him places, let him see the human world he seems so interested in. they want to paint his stupid claws and noogie him between his dumb horns and hug him.
but it's an astronomical risk. it's legal for a demonologist with a proper permit, but it's still considered a grave taboo to grant access to a demon outside a circle. there's just too much at risk. demons can be dangerous enough to lay waste to entire towns, take multiple teams of military-rank mages to take down.
they wouldn't risk it… if they hadn't snuck into the library’s restricted section and copy a page from a demonologist book that gives them good framework for a contract. they make some edits to it though, giving Phantom at least a little wiggle room to protect himself if need be. and allow him use of transformation magic so he can hide somehow. but they spend weeks making sure they have airtight wording to ensure Phantom can't cause anyone or anything any substantial harm. 
when they finally bring the contract to Phantom, he's stunned. he cries. nothing needs to be said, they all know the gravity of their proposal. even if they ask for proof of Phantom's trust in turn, first. they ask for his full name, so they can bind him. just temporarily. but in that moment, they'll have full control over him. they could instead tell Phantom to serve them, force him to obey their every order. even if it's just for a moment, giving them his full name with the proper circle and incantation, is putting his life in their hands. 
Phantom, with tears still in his eyes, smiles warmly and nods. with only a breath to steel himself, he gives them his full name. Daniel James Fenton.
magic sparks in the circle, and Sam and Tuck finish the incantation. ethereal chains sprout up to wrap around Phantom's arms and legs, which makes him jump–but the unwavering trust in his eyes makes the two humans choke up.
they release the binding. all that's left is to break the containment barrier in the circle, so Phantom can walk free.
“Uh, about that…” Phantom laughs sheepishly… then proceeds to step outside of the circle, merely wincing when the barrier zaps around him.
Sam and Tucker gawk. Phantom scratches his neck. “Y-yeah, so… your barrier circle was already broken that first night. It's, uh… right over there. You missed a spot.”
abject horror overcomes them because this entire time Phantom's been visiting, he could have broken out? EASILY?? THEY WOULD HAVE BEEN DEAD.
Tucker falls to his knees, but soon starts to laugh. it's kind of hysterical at first but slowly, he and Sam are genuinely laughing. they're so STUPID, and Phantom is the most un-demonlike demon they've ever HEARD of. Phantom is still flustered, stammering out apologies because he wasn't trying to deceive them or anything! he just didn't want to scare them! without a proper containment circle they technically couldn't send him back either, so he just… went back using his own magic each time they “dispelled" him. 
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once they've calmed down, Phantom morphs his body into a human form–which shock Sam and Tuck, because uh, only elite demons are capable of that. they were expecting an animal, or straight up going invisible. Phantom laughs it off, says he just, spent a lot of time practicing bc he's so interested in the human world (not a lie, but). he proceeds to adopt the nickname Danny, and they all have FUN WONDERFUL SHENANIGANS
(and sometime in the near future, when faced with something truly threatening he needs to protect them from, Danny reveals that. well. their contract also had some holes in it. and he's had access to his full demon power this whole time. whoopsie! it's a good thing he genuinely loves them and doesn't want to hurt anyone, or their asses would be SO dead lol)
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they're about as normal about his full demon form as you'd expect from me btw:
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rafecameronssl4t · 4 months ago
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Bringing another girl home || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader
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Summary: Rafe pranking his family by saying he’s bringing another girl home 🫢
Warnings: mentions of drugs, fluff? other than that nothing!!
Word count: 877
A/n: hehehe loved this. does anyone have any dad!rafe requests??? haven’t wrote one in a hot min
MASTERLIST
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divider by @h-aewo
“That’s so cruel, Rafe,” you say with a playful edge, delivering a light slap to his shoulder. He bursts into laughter, his wide grin never wavering. “It’ll be funny, you’ve got to admit,” he says, nudging you with a glint of mischief in his eye. You roll your eyes, trying to keep a straight face. “Fine, it would be pretty funny,” you concede, chuckling despite yourself.
Rafe’s plan to prank his family by claiming he’s bringing home a girl—who isn’t you, his girlfriend of four years—sounds completely bonkers. Yet, the thought of how Rafe’s family will react had you intrigued. You lean over to set your glass down, asking, “Are they all home?”
Rafe hums thoughtfully, scrolling through his contacts until he finds Rose’s number. You sit up, facing him as he tries to hide his grin, pressing the call button. After a few rings, Rose answers, “Hello?”
“Hey Rose, what’s up?” Rafe says with a casual tone. “Just got back from picking up Wheezie. Are you guys out on the water yet?” Rose asks. You exchange a nervous glance with Rafe, your bottom lip caught between your teeth.
“Yeah, yeah, we’re out here. Y/n’s just taking a nap right now,” Rafe replies smoothly, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. Rose’s tone shifts to one of concern. “She did seem tired today. Have you told her to take it easy with work? I know she’s been working hard for her boss—”
“Yeah, yeah, listen,” Rafe interrupts, “Could you do me a favor and take Y/n’s stuff out of my room?”You slap your hand over your mouth to stifle your laughter. “What?” Rose’s voice is tinged with confusion. “What do you mean—“
“Well, at least the stuff lying around and the pictures,” Rafe continues, muting himself briefly as he suppresses his laughter. Rose’s confusion turns to frustration. “Rafe, what are you talking about? Take Y/n’s things out of your room and get rid of the pictures—what’s going on?”
You hear rustling in the background and a faint voice that you recognize as Wheezie’s. “What happened?” Wheezie’s voice is concerned. “Your brother is acting very strange right now,” Rose responds, her voice growing more exasperated.
“Why on earth would I do that?” Rose’s tone is incredulous. “I’m bringing a girl over,” Rafe says nonchalantly, and you struggle to keep a straight face. There a brief pause on the other line.
“What girl? I hope this girl is Y/n, your girlfriend, Rafe!” Rose speaks up, her voice now angry. You hear Sarah’s voice join the conversation. “What is going on?”
“Your sisters are here. Tell them what you just told me to do,” Rose says, her frustration evident. You and Rafe exchange worried glances, realizing the prank is escalating.
“Uh, I want all of Y/n’s things out of my room and the pictures as well,” Rafe repeats. The silence on the other end is thick with disbelief. You quickly take Rafe’s phone and mute it, both of you breaking into laughter.
“What the hell, Rafe? Who is this girl? Do I know her? Why are you bringing her home? Are you out of your mind?” Sarah’s barrage of questions makes it hard for you to keep a straight face.
“This has to be a joke, right? Y/n’s right beside you, isn’t she?” Wheezie’s voice is tinged with suspicion.“She’s not, she’s asleep,” Rafe replies. You hear a flurry of voices in the background as Rose, Wheezie, and Sarah talk urgently.
Then Wheezie’s voice rises, “Dad! Come here and tell your son he’s an absolute idiot and loser for cheating on Y/n.” Your eyes widen at the mention of Ward. “What?” His voice is loud and filled with anger as he joins the call.
“Rafe, please tell me your sister is just joking and you’re not about to fuck up your life,” Ward’s stern voice cuts through. You grab the phone again, muting it. “This is going too far, Rafe,” you say, worry creeping into your voice. Rafe snatches the phone back, a mischievous grin on his face.
“What do you mean? It’s just getting started,” he says, unmuting the phone. “No, they’re not, Dad. I’m being serious. Can you guys just do this for me? She’ll be over for dinner too,” Rafe continues, as Rose gasps in the background.
“No way in hell am I letting—” Rose begins, but Ward cuts her off. “Son, you better think long and hard about this because you will not be welcomed home, alright? I don’t know what drugs you are on right now and I couldn’t give two shits about it, but you are not bringing another girl over here other than Y/n, you’re girlfriend, for heaven’s sake! Do you understand?” Ward’s voice is stern and unwavering.
You and Rafe are taken aback slightly by the intensity of the reactions on the other end of the line. Realising the prank might have gone too far, you quickly grab the phone.
“Uh—” you cut Rafe off, your voice steadying as you say, “Guys, he’s just kidding! I’m right here beside him!” The relief is palpable as you hear them all collectively sigh on the other end.
After a few more minutes of the Camerons giving you both a hard time about how the joke was way out of line, you finally hang up the phone. Rafe pulls you close, guiding you to lean against his chest. His arms envelop you in a warm, reassuring hug.
“My family just loves you, don’t they?” he says with a smirk, his voice full of playful sarcasm. You look up at him, laughing softly, feeling the warmth of his embrace and the love from his family. Even with all the chaos, you can’t help but feel good knowing they care so much about you.
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envy-of-the-apple · 2 months ago
Text
Family Man Part 2
Yandere!Gojo Satoru x reader
Part One
Word Count: 8.9k
thx to a very lovely commissioner!!!
Synopsis : Two months after Satoshi’s death, you and your daughter struggle to move on. You’re so lucky that Gojo is there to pick up the pieces.
(Yandere, smut, oral sex both m/f receiving, lactation kink, implied depression, masochistic gojo, ooc gojo, never rlly fixed that, reader has dark skin, xenophobia(NOT by gojo))
Sometimes, you're in bed, and feel like he's right beside you. 
For a moment, the last two months disappear. You feel whole again. Sometimes, it’s enough to make you turn around, words on your tongue, already ready to smile and greet him with a kiss. 
He isn't there. Nothing's behind you. 
And you feel empty all over again. 
It's better somedays. The emptiness. It's like a looming visage of gloom. Farther away one day, in your bed the next. Lately, it's growing bigger and bigger. A dark cloud on your shoulder, resting heavier and heavier on your back. 
Grief. Mourning. Loss. 
When you open the door, the mailman smiles cheerily at you. 
"Morning!" He chirps. "Lovely weather we're having today."
You nod, silent as he begins to dig through his bag. He's younger than you, you note. By a decade, at the very least. Barely in his twenties. When you were his age, you were still back home, in the village. When you were his age, Japan was just a faraway country, hardly worth your notice. 
He hands you your dues. You take them with a respectful thank you. And then you wait for the inevitable. 
On cue, his smile fades. Something pitying fills his gaze. You force yourself to stare right back at him. Insecurity bites at you, and you know he's staring at your dull face. The circles underneath your eyes. 
In the background, Reina babbles. He's forced to take his eyes off of you momentarily. 
"I heard about your husband." He starts, still staring inside your home. Your hands tighten into fists. "I'm sorry for your loss." 
He bows. So do you. 
"Thank you." You tell him, rehearsed, just like you practiced millions and millions of times. "I...appreciate it." 
He smiles, as if he think he did something, made your life a little easier. You let him bathe in his graciousness, before you shut the door. Away from the sunlight, away from fabricated sympathies. You finally feel like you can breathe again. 
It's been like this ever since Satoshi died. 
Car wreck. Some drunk had driven too close to the curb. Satoshi had been walking home. He'd missed the bus, he does that often. It's a usual quirk of his, you'd often found it adorably clumsy. Being late was harmless. He wasn't supposed to die for it. It'd been an instant kill, for the both of them. No other witnesses. The scene was cleaned up by the time you got there. The officers kept you in dread for four hours. In that time, you could almost convince yourself that it wasn't him. The reason why he wasn't answering your calls was because his phone had died. He was lost on the other side of town. He was anywhere else, doing anything else. 
You were brought to identify the body. Your eyes couldn’t deny what you saw.
You think a part of yourself died with your husband, too. You drift through life like a ghost. Mindless, numb. Colors have all bled into grayish blues. You don’t really feel much of anything anymore.
Reina squeals. You blink back to reality.
She’d dropped her toy. You pick it up. It was a purple stuffed rabbit. Satoshi had gotten it for her the day she was born. She doesn’t even sleep without it.
These days, Reina is the only thing that makes you get up in the morning, even when you don’t want to. She’s the only thing you push yourself for.
You don’t know where you’d be without her.
She’s giggles when you hand it back. She doesn’t even know. How can you even begin to tell your infant that her father is no longer coming home? Someone so new at life should not experience death this soon. It’s a sin. Someone has cursed her. It’s the only explanation you could give.
You kiss her on the top of her head. Her baby hairs are still growing. They resemble yours. Every part of her was you. When you look at her, you don’t see Satoshi.
You used to tease him about it; now, you wish there was just a tiny bit of him on her face.
Or maybe it was a good thing? Did you even want to see the man you loved, mourned for, and hated to think about in your daughter’s eyes? Would it break you even further?
You don’t have to think about questions like those. You have more important things to worry about. When you rifle through the mail, your heart sinks.
Warnings, bills, everything that Satoshi used to handle. Even when your world stopped, the rest of the planet didn’t: ever turning, ever malevolent.
You place the bills down. Reina babbles something.
You bend down to pick her up, she screams in delight when you place her on your lap, peppering her face with kisses.
And maybe your world hadn’t stopped, not just yet.
“There are stains on your blouse.”
You glance down before shrugging.
“Reina dropped her food.” You shrug. “I didn’t have time to clean it up.”
Kiyo doesn’t look very happy about your excuse. She doesn’t say anything about it, preferring to glare at you in silent disapproval as she always does. Usually, you’d have Satoshi acting as a barrier between you and your mother-in-law. For obvious reasons, that wasn’t feasible at the moment.
Reina was being entertained by your father-in-law. Satoshi had inherited Isamu’s bald spot as well as his gentleness. Reina kicked her feet as Isamu muttered soft words, as though they were communicating, even though Reina hadn’t even said her first words yet.
Another milestone Satoshi would miss.
“We made adjustments to the will,” Kiyo announces. “Everything will be passed onto Reina when she comes of age.”
You nod, not very interested in politics and lands. Satoshi came from a traditional family. Japanese nobility, though he wasn’t fond of talking about his background. You were always fine with it. You never married him for the money, despite what your mother-in-law thinks.
On cue, Kiyo snaps her fingers. You blink in her direction.
She frowns, but you’ve never seen her smile in your presence.
“I would appreciate if you could pay attention when discussing my grandchild’s future.” She more or less hisses.
“I am,” you give. “Trust me, no one else is more invested in my daughter’s future than me.”
It makes her even more mad, but you’re too drained to play ‘submissive daughter-in-law’ with her. From the moment Satoshi introduced you as his fiance’, Kiyo had hated you. Nothing you did could make her like you. Not even when you learned the language perfectly, immersed yourself in Japanese culture.
She never said it out loud, but you knew what she thought of you. She wanted someone different for her son: someone with pale skin, straight hair, and Japanese heritage.
You wonder if she blames you for his death.
“You haven't gone to visit him,” She says, after she breaks her death stare, “you should.”
A part of you wants to say no, but you’re in her home, and you know she doesn’t take it lightly when guests (not family, you were not family) reject her. So you do as she suggested. You rise, glancing at Reina before ultimately stepping out of Satoshi’s childhood home.
He was just as you had left him. His gravestone stood tall and proud. Even next to all the other graves, his was the tallest. It must be Kiyo’s doing. No matter the gripes she had about you, her child would always reach for the skies.
His incense had to be switched. You did so, throwing out the burnt sticks and replacing them with new ones. You watched the smoke flicker away from his altar. A lone picture of him, a shy smile. It was from back when he was younger. His hair was still there. An office job hadn’t dulled his eyes.
You wanted to keep the ashes. Just a tiny piece of him, tucked by your own altar you had. Kiyo had refused, wanting the entire body to be cremated and kept in one piece. Too broken, you hadn’t pushed. Now, all you were left with his clothes and the fading scent on the pillows. You regret not fighting more that day.
You don’t cry. Not today. A part of you is proud. It feels like it’s much too early to feel so numb to this grave. It’s too early for this to feel normal.
You touch the cold stone. It’s smooth underneath your fingertips.
Your in-laws are right inside the house. You still feel lonely.
“You shouldn’t have left.” You told the tomb. “You shouldn’t have abandoned me like this.”
When you curse Satoshi’s grave, you could have sworn you felt a tiny tingle by your neck.
On Thursdays, you take Reina shopping.
She’s a hit with the local farmers market. The shopkeepers coo at her giggles and beautiful eyes as you haggle prices for vegetables and grains. It’s nice to get back on routine. Even with everything going on.
The bills were still on the counter when you left. More and more were coming in. You feel like you were being buried alive.
Reina kicks her feet. When you look at her, her chubby cheeks are stretched in the wide smile. You smile back, and then you pepper her face with kisses. These days, you’ve opted out of the bus, trying to save some money. It’ll just be until you find a job. Then, you can take as many Air-conditioned rides as you want.
There’s a honk. You ignore it. A car rolls to a stop beside the sidewalk. You take a peek, and then you stop and stare.
“Mr. Gojo?” You ask.
“Hey! Long time!” The man waves cheerily.
You give a timid smile, waving. Reina, your polar opposite, screams in delight. She frantically leans out of your arms as though she could get to Gojo by sheer will. You quickly rearrange your hands to balance her.
“What’re you doing out there?” He frowns. “Especially in this heat?”
“Ah.” Subconsciously, you wipe the sweat off your neck. “We were heading home from the market.”
He brightens. “Wanna hop in? It’s way too hot to walk that far.”
You smile, about to politely decline but then you remember infants shouldn’t be in this weather for too long.
Gojo’s car is luxurious, but the biggest relief is the cool air blowing over your heated skin. Reina is ecstatic to be next to Gojo. She babbles something, reaching out her tiny arms. Gojo takes her immediately.
“And how’s the prettiest girl in the world doing, today?” He grins, lifting her above his head. She coos.
You’re not really sure how Gojo walked into your life. You met him once before. That day when Satoshi had a mental breakdown and practically ran away from home. Gojo was so ansty back then, and it made sense why he and your husband got along so well.
He was the one who brought home Satoshi’s essentials from work—his computer, his notes—and then he started delivering Satoshi’s work mail. Then, sometimes, he’d stop by for lunch. And then he started bringing toys for Reina. Two months passed, and you know him now.
Not well. But you know Gojo enough to slip into the passenger seat, watching how he handles Reina.
“Okay, Car ride!” He tells her. She claps her hands as he gently hands her back to you.
“Thank you again, Mr. Gojo.” You tell him. “Really, this means a lot.”
He waves you off, starting the car. “Don’t worry about it, Seriously. Got nothin’ better to do anyway. Also, I told you already, call me Satoru.”
You smile, shifting away. You don’t know why Gojo is insistent on helping a widow. He was the friend of your late husband (though, strangely, Satoshi never spoke of the man before or after the quick introductions). Maybe it’s guilt. But unlike the rest of the people who knew, Gojo never once looked at you like that as though you were in pieces in front of him. It was nice, finally having someone like that. Someone who doesn’t see you as the widow of a dead man.
He was a nice young man. You shouldn’t be so quick to assume everyone has an underlying motive.
Maybe some people were just as they are. Nice.
“Grocery shopping?” He mentions to your bag. It creases under your grip.
You nod. “Dinner. You’re welcome to join, but I’m not making anything special.”
“I’d never pass up a meal from you, ma’am,” Gojo says, happily.
You like to keep to yourself, but he was driving you home. It was the least you could do to pay back his hospitality, as well as the other things he had done for you. Honestly, your bucket for Gojo’s hospitality wasn't yet empty.
When the car rolls to a stop, Gojo hops out, opening the door before you can touch it. You thank him, Reina huddled safely in your arms and fast asleep. Gojo grins, not before grabbing your groceries and leading the way.
Your house is sparser than it had been just months ago. Less decoration. Less silly memoirs. No pictures. You dumped them all, stored them in a tiny box before locking them all in the attic. You couldn’t bring yourself to throw it away.
Gojo waltzes into your home like he owns it. You don’t mind. He’s young, still in his twenties, at his prime. These days, you can feel things start to break down within you. Your shoulder hurts when you sleep on it the wrong way. You have to be more careful about picking up things from off the ground. You can’t tell whether this has to do with the remnants of pregnancy or your age, but you’re envious of Gojo’s youthful strength either way.
He places the bags on the counter. By then, Reina’s awake. She blearily blinks at you. You were hoping she’d stay asleep for a little while longer.
“I can watch her!” Gojo pipes up, extending his hands. Reina’s overjoyed to be handed over. It’s nice to have your hands full with something else other than baby
You listen to them giggle while you get started on dinner. It’s your usual dance. Potatoes. The sounds of boiling water. You want to make something simple, but Gojo is here, and you don’t want to disappoint your guest. By the time you’re back out, it’s nearly an hour, and the food has yet to be served.
They don’t seem to mind. Gojo had taken Reina onto the floor. You don’t complain. It’s where she usually played anyway. He was driving one of her wooden cars on the carpet, running it across the floor, as Reina clapped to her heart’s content. You could only watch, heart strangely numb.
He’s good with her.
Like Satoshi was.
You clear your throat. Gojo looks up.
“Food’s ready.” You tell him with a stiff smile. “Why don’t you wash up? I’ll take care of her.”
“Be good, okay?” He pats Reina’s head before standing up. You take her into your arms.
She’s tired from playing. Reina settles in the crib rather nicely. It’s relieving. When she’s asleep, you can’t bring yourself to leave. You watch her. Her chest rises and falls. She snores. It’s the most adoring noise you’ve ever heard.
When you head back to the kitchen, Gojo’s already back. He grins, clearly eager.
“You cooked a lot.” He comments when you two finally settle down. “Not that I’m complaining!”
“I hope it’s to your liking,” you say as always.
And it is. Gojo never hides from giving his compliments. He’s so genuine and sincere, and it makes you a bit bashful.
“Mrs. Sawai, this stuff right here is sometimes the highlight of my day,” he says. You shake your head.
“It’s true! You have talent. You should open up a restaurant or something! Wait no, don’t do that...you’d be booked for years, and I’ll never eat your cooking again.” That makes you laugh. He seems pleased for some reason.
“Thank you,” you say, “I appreciate that.”
“How was your week? Your students?” You prod.
“Good. They’re all good!” He chirps back. “I was out of town for the week, so returning to my precious students was the best.” He sighs. “Sometimes, I wish I could just pack them all in my suitcase and take ‘em with me. They’re the cutest things.”
He said he taught at a religious school, which you found strange because Gojo didn’t really strike you as religious. Nevertheless, he seemed very passionate about teaching. It was rather endearing.
Did Satoshi ever have that kind of passion for his job?
“Reina reminds me of them. The youth.” Gojo adds. “Endless potential. The kids are all like...seeds, right? They just need the proper care to bloom.”
“That’s a nice way of looking at things,” you say.
When dinner’s over, you gather the utensils and bowls. Gojo offers to help, but you don't bite, insisting that he rests. It gives you time to decompress. As much as you like Gojo, he’s a bit severe. You can’t be around him for too long, he’s too bright. His companionship is much like a furnace. Warm, but too much, and you burn.
When you return, you expect him to put his shoes back on, waiting by the door.
Instead, Gojo is perched on the counter—his hands card through your mail.
You stare. He doesn’t seem particularly surprised at being caught. He doesn’t startle; he barely spares you a glance, perusing over your bills like they were his. You know you should say something. Anger. It should bubble up instead of the shame. You open your mouth—
“How much?” He suddenly asks.
You fumble. “What?”
He waves the envelopes. “How much is it?”
You say nothing. He shrugs, as if that’s an answer itself.
Gojo reaches into his pocket and pulls out a checkbook. You move when he plucks a stray pen from the counter.
“What are you doing?” You ask, incredibly lost.
“I’m not real good with money.” He sheepishly admits before tearing off the slip and handing it to you. “But this should be enough, right?”
You stare at the amount. You’ve never held this much money before.
“I can’t accept this.” You instantly say. Instinct.
You go to hand this back. He puts a hand on his chin.
“Tell you what.” He tells you. “If I gotta take this back, I’m just gonna head to the bank, cash it in myself, and throw all the money into the river.” He grins at your horrified expression. “And it’ll all be in Yuan, so even if someone fishes it out, no one’s gonna be able to use it. One way or another, that money’s getting outta’ my bank.”
His voice softens, akin to butter. It melts into your ears.
“This isn’t out of obligation or anything. I’m giving this to you because I want to help my friend. That’s it.”
Gojo has never looked at you in pity, not like the others. He’s always looked at you like...well, you could never understand his expression. You stare at him. His sunglasses have tilted over, showcasing those gorgeous blue eyes.
Why? Why are you doing this? You want to ask him. It’s killing you inside. Is it pity for the wife of a dead friend? Why was he doing this to you?
You think of Reina. Happy giggling, Reina, with your eyes and your hair.
“It’s not like I don't have any to spare. I’m, like, loaded,” Gojo continues with his usual snark, and you think of the fancy black car parked in front of your tiny house. “And if that isn’t enough for you, just think of it as me paying you back after all those times I’ve eaten your food.”
You lower your gaze when you take the check.
“I’ll pay you back—”
“—I won’t accept it.” He grins, and you have to smile at his tenacity.
“Thank you. No, really.” You keep the check close to your chest. “Thank you, Mr.Gojo.”
He angles his sunglasses down. He looks expectant. Just this once.
“Thank you, Satoru.”
“No problem!” He pops his frames back into place.
You see him off. When he’s behind the wheel, he gives an excited wave. You shyly wave back.
And then you feel a touch right on your back. When you turn, there’s nothing but air.
Sometimes, you dream of home.
Your real home. The village is far, far away from Japan. Where you lived with your parents and siblings and aunts and uncles and cousins and grandparents. On sweltering summer nights, you and the other children would sleep on the terrace underneath the stars. There were dirt paths, and rolling hills but the sky was clear every night.
In the village, tradition was everything. You used to hate it. Every day was the same. An endless cycle. You used to dance back then, your family had pushed you into it. As a child, you thought it was stupid.
Maybe that’s what pulled you towards the city—bustling roads, people everywhere. Your college was a town in and of itself. You met so many new people every day.
Satoshi was one of them.
When you brought them to your family, everyone was in awe. He was a foreigner. He was well-off, too; he came from a traditional Japanese family.
It was your Nani who pulled you aside as your family gushed about him.
“Are you sure about this one?” She had asked.
You nodded. Back then, you were young and in love. He was everything you could have dreamed of. New, exciting.
She doesn’t smile.
“Be careful.”
You remembered her words, even after you ran off with Satoshi to Japan. You remembered her words even after Satoshi assured you he wanted you to stay home and he’d work. You remembered her words when Reina was born. You remembered her words when you and Satoshi’s lives were perfect and happy.
And then you woke up.
Your village was gone. Instead of waking up in a pile of your siblings, you were alone on a giant bed.
It’s dark in your home. Satoshi hated having the lights off.
You looked to the crib. Reina was still asleep. During nights like these, you often bring her to sleep with you. It still isn’t enough, sometimes.
You’re a terrible mother. Why isn’t your own daughter enough for you?
Careful not to wake her, you slip out of bed, walking into the closet. You reach up, feeling your way on one of the shelves.
The photo album is dusty. You cough a bit when you open the book.
There’s you. Younger, stupider, garbed in your traditional dance dress. You always found that outfit so itchy. The photo was taken right after you’d placed first in one of your last competitions. Even in the photo, you had this look of disdain, holding that trophy like it was nothing but a heavy burden.
You still have that trophy a decade later.
You flip another page. Your parents. Your cousins. Your Aunts and Uncles. You stare at the photo of you holding your baby cousin. He was the same age as Reina when that picture was taken. That was ten years ago.
You can’t remember the last time you saw your family. Reina hadn’t met her grandparents, her own cousins. You never got the chance to. Satoshi was always so anxious about leaving Japan.
They’ve seen her, through video calls and photos. But that’s different than touching her, bonding with her.
You stare at the photo of you posing with the rest of your siblings and cousins. Strangely, you feel like you robbed something from Reina.
You miss home.
You cry until the album shuts itself closed, and the sun starts peeking through the windows.
“You good?” Satoru suddenly asks.
You blink, eyelashes fluttering as you stare at him. He’s on the floor again, watching Reina as she clacks a few wooden blocks together. It isn’t quiet. The babbling, too. She’d already knocked over the tower Satoru had built. He didn’t seem too upset by her destruction.
“Oh,” you say, “yes. Yes, I’m fine. Thank you.”
As discretely as you can, you rub at your eyes, hoping that would shoo the dark circles away. It doesn’t help.
“I...just haven’t been sleeping too well these days. That’s all.”
Reina says something, not too happy with the lack of attention. Satoru gives her another block. He’d given her a bunch of toys, this time. You weren’t sure where to even store half of them. If he kept this up, pretty soon Reina’s entire room will be filled with dolls mirrors, and blocks.
“What’s been going on?” He asks.
You’re not sure how to answer that. You aren’t sure what’s been going on yourself. All that you know is that it’s getting worse. You can’t sleep at night, most nights like there’s something pressing you down. Things are going missing. You feel like you’re being watched constantly over and over again.
It only goes away whenever Satoru’s around. Maybe that’s why you’re more tolerant of his space.
“It’s nothing,” you say, “I’ve just misplaced a few things. It’s been aggravating looking for them.”
“Hm.” He cocks his head, you can’t decipher his tone. “Really?”
“I’ll find them eventually.”
He’s silent for a few more moments and then—
“Maybe you’re haunted.”
You laugh. It’s mean and sardonic, but you haven’t laughed in a while, and you hide away when Satoru stares.
“A ghost?” You question. “Those don’t exist.”
In the village, superstition was everywhere. Guess that never changed, no matter what corner of the world you ran to.
“Not a ghost.” He corrects. “Maybe something else.”
You hum, unamused. Satoru turns to Reina with an all-too-wide smile on his face.
“It’ll be right behind you, and you won’t even know it.” He tells her. “Then, it’ll draw closer, and closer, and closer until....it gets ya—”
To further his point, his hands shoot out to lightly jostle her. Reina squeals, absolutely thrilled.
Then, Satoru turns to you.
“Or something like that.”
You aren’t impressed.
“Ghosts aren’t real.” You tell him.
“They certainly aren’t.” He agrees. “But other things are.”
Satoshi acted strangely two days before his death.
He was always anxious, but this was even worse than before. Constantly looking behind him, like they’d be something there. You know he wouldn’t sleep. He’d just lay there, shifting in panic.
You don’t prod until you find him in the bathroom in clear hysterics.
“I messed up,” he mumbles over and over again. “I messed up. I messed up.”
“Satoshi.” You beg, kneeling on the tile next to him. “What are you doing? What’s going on?”
“I messed up.” He tells you again. “I keep messing up.”
And then he sobs. He cries so loudly, you’re worried it might wake up Reina. You hug him. Hold him close to your chest, letting him cry himself out.
“I’m sorry.” He tells you. “I’m sorry. I love you. I love Reina. I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what?” You ask.
He looks at you then.
“For cheating.”
You remember every detail. The crinkle in his eyes. The beginning stages of wrinkles in his face. A picture entirely stamped into your memory.
“I forgive you.” You immediately say. “I—I forgive you. We—we can work through this.”
“We can’t.” He shakes his head. “I’m so sorry. You deserve better. She deserves better, too. I’m sorry.”
He doesn’t say anything when you prod. Who, how, when. Your husband cheated on you. You aren’t even allowed to grieve your dying marriage when you have to grieve your dead husband.
You meant what you said. You forgave him. You would have worked through it. Fixed it. Because your marriage with Satoshi was perfect.
Perfect.
Perfect.
It was a perfect marriage when he never stood up for you in front of his mother. It was a perfect marriage when all he did back from work was eat and sleep. It was a perfect marriage when he cheated on you.
Rose-tinted glasses. Maybe your relationship wasn’t the most perfect.
But it was fixable.
Reina’s crying in her crib. The thing on your chest is back.
You fumble through the dark, reaching for her. She’s crying even louder when you pick her up, even when you rock her in your arms.
“Please stop.” You beg. “Please stop crying.”
She doesn’t. The pressure gets bigger.
“Got any plans for the weekend?” Satoru’s asking when you’re finished putting away the groceries. He’d offered you a ride again. You wondered when you stopped being surprised at his frequent pop-ins.
“The same as always,” you respond.
You’re not used to the house being so quiet. Reina’s always doing something. For an infant, she’s rather loud.
But she isn’t here today. Kiyo wanted her Grandaughter for the night. You obliged, letting your Mother-in-law whisk Reina away. Was she even your mother-in-law anymore?
“So nothing?” Satoru prods, and you wonder why he’s so persistent on the answer. Maybe he wants to tease you.
The differences between you and him are staggering. He’s young, still in his twenties, he probably still goes out clubbing, drinking, whatever kids his age are into. You are...older, a mom, unsure if the tight skirts you wore 15 years ago would still fit you.
“If you don't got any plans, why don’t you hang out with me tonight?”
You stare at him.
“Don’t gimme that look. You act like I’m gonna rob you.” He complains. “Let yourself loose a bit. What do you even do for fun, these days?”
That stumped you. Apart from lounging around, sulking, job hunting, revolving around Reina, you haven’t done much. When’s the last time you talked to someone other than Satoru?
“There’s a bar that opened up. Not too far from here.” He muses. “Wanna go?”
You hesitate, “I—I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’m not good at handling alcohol—”
“Same! Total lightweight.” He gushes. “It’ll still be fun, though! What do you say?”
Why, you want to ask. Why is he so insistent on spending time with you. Asking about you. About Reina. What does he want from your broken family? Your mind can’t piece together the images—connect the dots.
“Okay,” you say instead.
Three hours later, you’re dressed in the most flattering clothing in the back of your closet. Satoru looks pristine as always, and you wonder if there’s ever a chance he could look any less put together. Under the dim lights, he’s almost glowing. You can’t stare at him for too long.
The conversation is light, not too purposeful. You wander from one topic to the next. He talks about his co-workers. His school. You’ve always wondered about this teaching job. He seemed to never want to shut up about his students, but whenever you try to pry about the details, he starts to drift away. The most you’ve gotten from him was rambling about how it was a private religious school before he sprung into something else.
“Did you have any pets?” He asks, “Growing up, I mean.”
You shrug. “There were a lot of stray dogs, in my hometown. We would feed them, but no. No pets.”
“You?” You prod.
He takes a moment, genuinely thinking.
“My family had a dog, not too long after I was born. After that, nothing.” You were surprised, he answered. The alcohol must make his lips a little looser.
“I think having a dog would be nice,” you muse, mostly to yourself, “maybe an older one. Less energy.”
“What pet do you think I should have?” He asks.
You stare at him. He’s grinning.
“A rock,” you respond, and when he laughs, you laugh a bit, too.
“I like it when you smile like that,” he says when his voice recovers. “You get all blushy.”
You frown, discretely checking your face in the glass.
“I don’t blush.” You say. “My skin’s too dark.”
He tips his sunglasses down, staring at you with those pretty blue eyes. You shift away. His gaze doesn’t let you get far.
“Not really,” he murmurs, tilting his head. “It’s subtle, but it’s still there. It’s a nice color.”
He’s teasing you. You know that. Still, you look away. He laughs again. It sounds like twinkling bells.
“How’s everything holdin’ up with the house?” He asks when you’re nursing your 3rd drink. “I know you had a couple of issues earlier.”
You shrug, lips loose, feeling warm. “I don’t think I have to worry about it. Not anymore.”
“Hm? Why’s that?”
“I’m thinking of going back home.”
He stops messing with his drink. You don’t notice, thoughts hazy.
“Back...to your country?” Satoru asks carefully.
You nod absentmindedly. “I only came here because of Satoshi. Now that he’s...I think it’s best for Reina if we go back.”
You want her to live with her maternal culture. You want her to meet your side of the family finally. Maybe, when she’s older, you can put her in your old dance garments. She’ll probably hate it, much like you did. She’ll be good at it, much like you were.
He’s silent, swirling his glass.
“Really?”
“Yes.” You feel defensive, even when you shouldn’t be. His tone was cool. Yours wasn’t. “It—it’s her home. She should see it.”
“Wasn’t she born here?” Satoru questioned. “Wouldn’t Japan be her home, then?”
You deflate.
“You’re right.” You admit. “Japan is her home, but it isn’t mine.”
You miss home. You miss the village. You’d do anything to go back to the good old times. You’d do anything to be away from this pain.
Japan was empty. Your in-laws barely tolerate you. No friends. No job. The only good memories you had were buried in a tomb, and even those rotted away by lies and deceit.
“I think you should stay,” Satoru says, voice soft.
“Why?” You ask. “I have nothing here.”
“You could.”
You look up. In the dim lights of the bar, he’s breathtaking. Everything you weren’t.
And that everything closes the distance between you and him.
It’s soft. Barely a kiss. His lips are soft; you can smell his shampoo. It lasts for a moment before you’re breaking it. You shy away, staring at the floor beneath you. Your shoes. You can hear your heart. Thump. Thump. Thump.
Satoru follows your mouth. This time, it’s bolder. You can feel his warmth, pressed against your frigid soul. He’s melting you down to bone. There’s a hand on your back, keeping you in place. Fireworks spark at the touch.
It’s been so long since you’ve felt someone like this. Not since...
And then you remember who you’re with, what you’re doing. The ring sits heavy on your finger.
You push away. Satoru falters, and you use that opportunity to stumble to your feet.
“I’m sorry,” You say, “I—I’m—”
You don’t know what to say, so you say nothing. Instead, you turn and flee out the bar. Into the cold frigid night.
You’re drunk. You can feel it in your fingertips, the way your vision gets the slightest bit dizzy when you move too fast. You cling against a random lightpost, checking your phone.
Your place wasn’t that far away. You could walk, right? But it would be safer to call a cab. Better yet, call Kiyo. Call your neighbor. Call anyone?
Oh, you just remembered that you have no one here.
Satoru finds you when you’re already crying. You can feel him on your shoulder before he even says anything.
“Hey,” he says, reaching for you, “c’mon. Let’s get out of the street—”
“Why?” You whirl onto him, so fast that even he’s surprised. “Why are you doing any of this? Reina, me, why do you care so much?”
You’re still crying, but you can feel your tears slow down the tiniest bit. You weren’t breathing. You don’t think he was either.
Satoru opens his mouth. Closes. Opens again. His smile is gone. You can see the imprint of your lipstick on his perfect pout.
“I love you.”
It feels like he just slapped you. A knife in your belly, tearing you apart. Nausea builds in your throat, threatening to spill all over the road. You can’t look at him anymore, it hurts too much. Betrayal. You’re betraying your husband. Your dead cheater husband. 
“Stop.” You beg him anyway, “Don’t say that. Never say that, I can’t think–”
“—Then don’t think.” He insists, sweet, saturated. “Don’t think about any of this.”
He kisses you again, and your mind blanks. You let him this time, and you feel yourself break over it.
This time, Satoru’s the one who breaks it, resting his forehead on yours. You still must look confused. He laughs adoringly.
“C’mon this can’t be too out of left field, right?” He asked. “I mean, I made it pretty obvious.”
He had. You were too preoccupied in your own misery to notice. Offers to drive you to the grocery store. Volunteering to take care of another man’s baby. Satoru has always been direct.
You avoid his gaze, but there’s no where to go.
“Satoru,” you hesitate. “I—I don’t feel that way.”
“I know.” He concedes, trailing his lips down your cheek. You don’t stop him.
“But you need this.” He kisses your neck. “I know you do. You’re so stressed all the time, hm? You need me. Use me. However, you want to.”
Use him. You’ve always used him. What difference would this make?
You still had a chance to stop this. There were so many reasons to stop. You were a recent widow. A single mother. He was so much younger than you—
You kiss him again to stop thinking.
You don’t know what time you stumble through your door.
Satoru hasn’t stopped touching you in the cab, walking up to your patio. If you were sober, you might have been a bit more hysterical about it, now you just wanted him never to stop.
He’s pushing you against the door, slamming it shut with your body weight. You can barely get the words out past his plush lips.
“Bedroom.” You insist.
He pulls away with a laugh. “’course, Babe.”
You’re not sure how to feel about that petname, but you don’t get a moment to complain. He’s effortlessly picking you up, and you settle on the cool comforters moments later.
Your dress is halfway up your thighs. He spares no time, reaching for the back and finding the zipper. It falls apart in his fingers. He peels the fabric off of you with a delighted sigh.
“Fuck, look at you,” he’s saying to the newly uncovered skin. “so so pretty.”
Not used to the attention, you shy away. He doesn’t let you, taking you by the chin so he can kiss you again.
He’s so different now. You feel like you’re seeing a side of him you aren’t supposed to. Long white lashes, pretty blue eyes that are drenched in want and lust. His breathing was elevated. He was excited.
It scares you.
“I...I haven’t done this in a while.” You admit when you pull back. You give him a glance, before resigning yourself to pull away the rest of the dress and dropping it to the floor. “So...Please be nice?”
You sound like a child, unsure and nervous. You hate that you can’t keep the tremor out of your voice.
“Yes, yes.” He’s nodding, staring at you like a drooling dog. “I’ll be so so nice, baby. The nicest. Just lemme’ touch you. Please, please, pretty please?”
You give a tiny nod, and he’s pouncing on you.
He’s insatiable, you don’t think he’d ever get enough. He’s pawing at your bra before it comes off completely beneath his touch. Your panties are gone too, and then you’re entirely bare beneath him.
He doesn't forget about himself, neither do you. Between his ravenous kisses, you manage to take off his jacket. Satoru helps you with his shirt, pulling it off him, showing his toned abs and pale skin. Not a single mark or blemish. He’s absolute perfection.
He must notice your hesitant fingers at his shoulders because he stops sucking on your neck with a distinct pop, still playing with your tits, leaning over to whisper in your ear.
“Touch me,” he says, “I want you to touch me.”
You feel awkward pulling your fingers down to his chest, his stomach. His skin is soft, warm. Your hands are frigid. He shivers when you graze over his abs. His skin is so pale, almost translucent. If you were to pinch him, bite him, the color would show oh so nicely.
When you pull away, he whines, nearly falling over.
“Don’t fucking tease me like that.” The way he says it is so needy. You laugh, gaining the courage to play with his hair.
He gets the control back eventually, pushing you back down so he can devour you properly.
His face is between your legs before you can comprehend it. He’s spreading you open so he can see your pussy. You’re already creaming for him. Your pussy juice is spread across your lips, making your skin glisten and shine. It’d be embarrassing if he wasn’t worse, drooling like a fucking dog before his mouth meets your cunt in a frenzied kiss.
He gives this high-pitched moan that sends a thrill up your spine the more he makes out with your clit, licking and sucking.
“Oh.” You sink against the pillows. “Satoru—Satoru-!—”
“Fuck yes—” his voice is muffled but he doesn’t stop. “You taste so good, baby. like—like fuckin’ heaven—”
You almost double over when his teeth graze your clit. Your hand reaches out immediately to grab and his hair and pull.
It does nothing. He just whines, and when he digs deeper into your pussy, you realize he likes it when you hurt him.
You pull harder and his finger presses its way into your wet hole and just the right angle to make you see stars.
“Fuck baby, ‘can barely fit my fingers.” It would sound like a complaint if he didn’t sound so far gone already. “How are we gonna fit my cock into this pussy, hm?”
He talks too much. When you shove his face deeper into your folds, it seems to shut him up and he’s back to worshipping your dripping cunt.
He’s too good. It’s all so good. You’re squeezing his head between your thighs, sure you’re suffocating him but he doesn’t seem to care. The noise is downright scandalous but you’re too far gone to give a shit about that.
It felt so good to stop thinking.
“Close.” You gasp when you hit that plateau. “I’m close. I’m—”
“Gonna cum?” he asks from underneath you, and it only seems to spur him on. “Gonna cum for me, pretty girl. Cum baby. Just let go. I gotcha’ just please please please—”
It hits and you arch your back, letting your orgasm rush past your body. It fizzes up your spine, right to your tits before you sag back to Earth. Satoru is more that happy to work you through your high before your thighs fall apart against him and he’s detaching himself from your clit with one last part kiss.
Satoru kisses you, famished. You can barely kiss back, following his lips with your own. You can taste yourself on his tongue. It’s a tangy sweetness, warmed from his spit.
“Was I nice?” Satoru asks.
You nod. He smiles.
He pulls back, sitting on his knees. You watch as he fiddles with his boxers, before pulling out his pulsing cock.
It’s not all that thick, but it’s the length that makes you shift, just the tiniest bit. He’s on the larger end. His cock looks puffy and dripping in a way that almost looks painful. He pumps himself a few times, and then you’re reaching out.
Satoru stops, watching as you rise from your earlier position, hand on his cock. Your hand is so much smaller than his, you can barely wrap your fingers around his base. He shivers at the touch, and by the time you’re fisting his cock he faltars, head falling into the crook of your neck.
“Too much?” You ask when he gasps.
“No.” He shakes his head. “No no. Keep going. Please don’t stop.”
That same whine again. Helpless and needy. When you squeeze him, he jolts.
And then you stop. You’re sure he’s about to complain but then you’re lowering yourself, keeping your eyes on him, and you give his cock a tentative lick.
You hadn’t done this in a while, and you weren’t all that sure if you could swallow all of him, but you try your best. You swirl your tongue around his tip, watching as he twitches. His cock jumps in your mouth and you have to hold his base to keep him still for you. He’s so sensitive. Every touch you give him seems to just make him even needier.
He rocks his cock into your mouth. You let him, watching as he babbles on and on.
“So so fucking good, baby.” He’s moaning, head flung back, like it’d be too much to keep looking at you. “Right—right there. Fuck fuck fuck.”
He cums fast, and it’s sudden. He’s barely holding his breath before he’s shuddering and he’s filling your entire mouth. There’s so much of it, you can’t possibly swallow it all. You mouth off his cock with a pop, pumping him until he starts twitching out of overstimulation.
Satoru is panting, still basking in that afterglow as you kiss him. He doesn’t seem too embarrassed about how quick he lasted. Then again, you don’t think he has the brainpower to feel anything right now other than pure lust. Pussydrunk, your brain gives.
You reach up, wiping away the tears collected in the corner of his eyes. A part of you wants to leave it there. He looks good like this. Pretty as an angel.
And then you look down and you see his cock has not gone down at all.
“Oh,” you murmur, “I see you’re healthy.”
“Mmh,” he says back, not exactly words but you’re not looking for a conversation right now.
Your pussy is throbbing. She wants more attention. You’re settling back into your original position as you watch Satoru rifle through his forgotten pants. He pulls out a familiar wrapper. You have to roll your eyes at his preparedness.
“You’re a bit too ready for this.” You note.
“Can you blame me?” He honestly asks. “I’ve been waiting for this for months.”
The casual admission makes you glance away. He laughs at your sudden shyness and you have to wonder how you didn’t see him before.
“Ready, baby?” He asks. This feels familiar, somehow.
He gives his cock two cursory pumps, and then he’s pushing himself into you.
It’s so much all at once. As wet as you were, his cock bullies his way into you with a fierce stretch. It’s enough to make you squeeze your eyes shut. Grin and bear it.
“Shit, you’re so fucking tight.” He curses. “How the hell did you fit a baby through here?” You can’t bring yourself to respond to his usual snark, so you claw at his back, raking your nails through his skin. He hisses and the pain seems to distract him into temporarily shutting up.
By the time, he sits his dick in your pussy, you’re close to breaking. You were right, he was way too big. Bigger than the one person you’ve always been with, so you’re not sure if you have a good gauge on size. Still, your brain short-circuits, and your eyes roll to the back of your head. Mind-numb.
He’s impatient this time, not giving you a chance to adjust before he’s clumsily pulling back out only to ram himself back in. You lurch, grabbing his shoulders to stabilize yourself from his sudden pace.
“Satoru—!” You gasp. “It’s—!”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He’s apologizing, but you’re not quite sure how much he actually means it. “I’ve—I’ve just waited so—ah—long and now you’re here and it’s so—”
If it’s even possible, he gets even faster, pushes his cock even deeper into your battered pussy. The squelching of your hole and his whines into your ear make it so much more erotic than it needs to be. You give into your desire, reaching over to sink your teeth into the soft flesh of his neck. The masochist in him purrs in delight.
You notice it first. That familiar soreness in your tits. When you glance down, your nipple is leaking that familiar milky fluid.
Satoru notices too. He stops, sinking his dick entirely into you. You’ve never felt fuller.
“Oh.” You feel heat creep up your neck. You hadn’t fed Reina today, this was bound to happen. “I—I’m sorry. I—I should’ve—”
You expect him to pull out of you awkwardly. Maybe even be disgusted.
Instead, he groans.
“I’m getting dessert now, too?”
“What?”
As your answer, he leans down and latches onto your tit.
He’s messy, smearing milk all over your skin and the other breast. After a while, he picks up his pace again, resuming his pussyfucking. You’re sure the angle must be painful, him bent over you like this, but he makes no complaint. And you could care less about his discomfort right about now.
He alternates between your breasts like he can’t decide which one tastes better. It shouldn’t feel this good, watching him suckle on your tits but you can feel yourself get even tighter. He can feel it, too.
Satoru’s rambling now. You can barely keep up with his incoherent mess.
“Fuck—fuck, you’re close, arentcha’?” he’s slurring his words, spitting them out one after another. “C’mon baby, you wanna cum? Cum, then? Milk my cock, pretty baby. Just like last time.” You should be paying more attention to his words. You don't.
Everything feels like deja vu. You should be paying attention to your own words too. You don’t.
“Mhn.” You moan. “Close. Sato, I’m close. Real real close—”
Your eyes widen. So does his.
You think you just ruined everything.
And then he starts jackhammering himself into you.
“Say it again.” He demands, driving his cock deep into your cunt.
You shake your head, despite your refusal you can’t help but— “Sato, oh God. Please Sato—Don’t—”
“Again, say it again.” His fingers descend to your clit, messily rubbing tiny circles. “Don’t stop saying my name until you’ve cum.”
You obey. Sato, Sato, Sato, Sa—and then you’re tipping over the edge. He fucks you through it, keeping you on that high until he’s shuddering too.
“Fuck baby, I missed you.” He’s whispering in your ear. “I missed you so much.”
You sigh when he kisses you, still coming down to Earth. The kiss his soft, just filled with want, instead of that carnal desire. He pulls away, and just when you’re debating to let him stay the night, he’s pulling out new rubber.
“Another one?” You ask, the dots not quite connecting yet.
“Oh, c’mon.” He grins down at you. “You didn’t think we’d go for just one round, did ya?”
You’re finally back in his arms.
Satoru dreamed of this day. He’s dreamt of this for months, ever since he had to leave you with that scumbag. Now that you’re sleeping peacefully in his arms again, everything is finally right in his world.
He shifts, wanting to bring you closer to his chest, but he winces. Fuck, you really did a number on him. He didn’t know you were into biting. And he can feel the pleasant sting of your nails on his back. He’d need to be careful with his RCT for a while. He wants these marks to last for as long as possible.
And when they fade, he’s sure he won’t have to convince you too much to make more for him.
“Give...them...back.”
Oh right. He’d almost forgotten about that other tiny problem he had.
He turns to the curse. “So, enjoy the show?”
Satoshi is unrecognizable. Malformed, demented. No more eyes, tall enough to reach the ceiling. To a being like Satoru, he was still nothing.
To a non-shaman and an infant, a grade 2 curse was quite the hassle. No wonder your so exhausted these days. Your husband was cursing you.
“Give them back.” The curse rasps. “Give them both back.”
Satoru’s silent, as if he’s really thinking about it.
“Nah, I’m good.” He grins. “This one’s mine now. And about Reina...what do you think suits me best: Dada or Daddy?”
The curse roars. It’s loud enough to shake the walls. Satoru tsks.
“Careful there. You might wake the missus.” He points out.
“Mine...” Satoshi insists. “They were....mine.”
“Were.” Satoru enunciates. “And now, they’re all mine! Sorry about the change in management. Don’t worry, though. I’ll take great care of both of ‘em.”
Always wanting to have the last word, Satoru reaches over and plucks your wedding ring off your limp finger.
“So, that’s where you got attached.” He muses at the metal. “Can’t believe you’re pathetic enough to curse your own wife. Is this 'cause you're still mad about the execution?" He asks, twirling the ring in his palm. "That happened months ago, man, get over it."
A snap of his fingers. Satoshi is gone. The room gets less stuffier. You relax in your sleep, and Satoru is caressing your arm, still studying the ring. It’s cheap. Plated gold with a less valuable metal as the base.
Pathetic. He tosses it carelessly.
A few months later, Satoru proposes with a proper engagement ring.
You say yes.
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confessedlyfannish · 1 year ago
Text
DP x DC Prompt #4
When they all convene at the cave, Alfred is silently wrapping Dick's knuckles. Damian hovers beside him. Tim and Barbara are hunched over the batcomputer, not even sparing Bruce a glance as he strides over.
"Report," Batman grunts. No one reacts.
"Report!"
"Hood pushed his panic button at 2:34 AM," Barbara says shortly, straightening.
The button had been a joke, mostly because Jason would never use it and everyone knew it.
"I patched into his comm at 2:35. This is what I heard initially." At her nod, Tim presses play. What occurs next is a garble. There is the sound of high winds, as if Hood is rushing through the air, even though the comms are designed to filter out any ambiance otherwise the Bats would never hear each other. Interspersed is a mixture of static punctuated by high, inhuman screeches of metal and something else unknown.
"This goes on," Barbara says after thirty long seconds, switching it off. "Red Hood failed to respond to any attempts at contact. I dispatched Nightwing to Hood's location at 2:36 AM. He was approximately two miles away." She pulls up a GPS map of their respective locations, their beacons blinking.
"At 2:41 AM, Red Hood's comm goes off, as does his GPS," Barbara says, swallowing softly as the red beacon indicating Jason disappears. "Nightwing arrives at 2:42 AM."
Dick doesn't say anything, head hanging low as he grips the metal table he sits on. Damian glances between the two of them, expression flat but fists clenched.
"Nightwing, report."
"..."
"Scene was empty, B," Tim speaks up. "No trace of Hood, no sign of a struggle. No cameras in the alley. We've been checking the ones nearby but so far there's no sign of anyone but Hood heading in that direction...and no one, Hood included, caught in the cams heading out, not within that time frame."
"So he's still in the area," Batman concludes. "The local buildings?"
"All the entrances have cameras, which showed no evidence of Hood nor any evidence of being tampered with," Barbara says. "Nightwing, Red Robin and Robin canvased within a half mile radius to check for any signs of disturbances in any of the windows or rooftops but found no evidence to support Hood being taken. A scan confirmed several serial offenders, but when interviewed and searched there was no sign of Hood. Several in the area reported an unusual quiet for Crime Alley."
Batman forces the next question out. "Did you check the dumpsters?"
"Yes," Nightwing grits out. "Empty."
Barbara clears her throat. "I have attempted to reconnect to Jason's GPS and comm as well as restart both remotely but there's no signal at all. The thing is, when there's a disruption like that it usually leaves some sort of sign" she pulls up the audio waves, pointing at the end where the spikes conform into a straight line that makes everyone deeply uncomfortable. Upon playing, the noise from before plays before going abruptly silent. "But there is no large spike, this is clean. It just ends. His GPS is much the same. It's not off, it's just gone."
"I know you don't like to hypothesize this early on, B, but we think this involves a meta," Tim says, rewinding the audio. "We've been running the audio from Jason's comm through different filters, playing with the levels and isolating what we can and, well, take a listen--"
The screeching drops to a sort of muffle and in the background, distantly, they can hear bits of Jason's voice.
"No, I'm not---"
"--don't need--"
"get AWAY from--"
a particularly desperate yell that makes Tim flinch, "I am NOT--!"
and almost a whimper that makes Batman's blood run cold, "please..."
And then, unfairly clear even through the faint garble, Jason says "I don't have a choice, do I."
And a minute later, quietly: "Ok."
The audio cuts off.
The defeat in Jason's last words is palpable, and fundamentally wrong. Jason has never sounded defeated a day in his life, and no one knows how to process Red Hood all but giving his hands over for the cuffs. Nightwing pushes himself off the table.
"I'm going back out there," he growls. No one tries to stop him as he stalks out the cave, not even Alfred.
"I will accompany Nightwing, make sure he does not punch any more walls." Damian says, nodding tightly.
"B?" Barbara asks.
"Keep working on it. See if you can identify what could be making those noises if Hood was standing still in an alley," Batman says, walking towards the zeta tube. "I'm going to make a few calls."
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lowkeyren · 5 months ago
Text
drunk words, sober thoughts!
in which — “taking your boss home after he gets drunk for the nth time this week” wasn’t in your job description; but as emotions run high, would you still choose to resist his advances?
pairing — aventurine x gn!reader
˚୨୧⋆。˚ ⋆  — wc: 2.1k, consumption of alcohol (aven is drunk), he’s so down bad for u its not even funny anymore, topaz + jade cameo ;) reblogs w comments are appreciated! please enjoy <3
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the persistent ringing of your phone jolts you awake, pulling you from the depths of sleep. groggily, you reach out, fingertips searching for the source of the disturbance amidst the darkness of the room.
with a grunt of frustration, you finally locate your phone on the bedside table. your eyes squint against the harsh glow of the screen, revealing topaz's name flashing insistently.
"hello..?" you answered, your voice thick with drowsiness. 
"hey friend, sorry to wake you." topaz said, quickly getting to the point, "aventurine's getting wasted at the tavern here. can you come get him?" 
you rub your eyes, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. "aren’t you at the tavern too? why can't you do it instead..." you don't mean to sound rude, but anyone's mood would sour if they were woken up in the middle of their slumber, right? 
(and please just give me one night of peace, you want to add on)
but working as aventurine's secretary means there's barely ever any peace; you are constantly living a chaotic life, exhausted by his endless and, even more annoyingly, unpredictable shenanigans. maybe you shouldn’t have taken the position, but the pay and the view of his infuriatingly handsome face makes it all worthwhile.
topaz sighs. "trust me, i tried. but his stubborn ass is refusing to leave, i can't get through to him no matter what." 
in the background, you hear your boss call out to you, “mmmh [name]... c'meeere” his words slurred from the effects of alcohol. it's clear he's drunk; way too drunk actually. is he that far gone? you aren’t even there. 
it wasn't the first time he’s gotten this drunk, in fact he’s been drinking every other day lately —much to your concern. "alright, i'll be there soon." you reply, fully aware that his drunken antics would inevitably lead to a splitting headache.
"thanks. he's in pretty bad shape." topaz adds just as another slurred whine of your name cuts through the background. “...ugh, and please come quick” she hangs up before you can respond. you sigh again, throwing off the covers, and quickly dressing yourself before making your way to the tavern.
it looks like your night’s just getting started, because this is just another reminder of how taxing it is to clean up after your endearingly troublesome boss. 
as you step through the entrance of the tavern, your eyes scan the crowded space until they land on aventurine. he’s slumped over the counter, his head resting on his folded arms, and an array of empty glasses scattered around him. you notice topaz isn't beside him, and just as you reach for your phone, a notification pops up from her. 
"jade called, i have to go." fantastic, now you're stuck playing babysitter to your incredibly drunk boss all on your own. isn’t this just adding insult to injury..? you put your phone down, and make your way over to the counter, mentally bracing yourself for what’s to come. 
aventurine, whose cheeks are flushing from too many glasses of ale, immediately perks up when he catches sight of you. his posture shifts slightly, a clumsy attempt to straighten up. despite his dishevelled appearance and obvious inebriation, a sloppy grin spreads across his face; his usually sharp eyes now hazy, but his gaze remains unwavering.
“sir, it's time to go home. you’ve had enough for tonight.” you say firmly, your expression deadpan, the exhaustion in your system weighing heavily on you. “sweetheart... *hic* i missed youuuu," he slurs, words drawn out and muddled, the alcohol coating his tongue with each syllable. 
aventurine’s bleary eyes struggling to focus as they fix themselves on you, it’s evident he has it much worse tonight.  “mmh sweetheart, have i ever told you just how gorgeous you are?" his words linger in the air; though your expression remains indifferent, you can feel a subtle heat rising up your neck.
you hate how he has this effect on you, it shouldn't stir such feelings, especially given his role as your boss. though no matter the amount of times he effortlessly (re: shamelessly) slips endearments into your conversations, you can still sense the warmth bubbling up inside you —much to your dismay.
“yes sir, for the fourth time this week. and don’t try to distract me—” before you can finish, aventurine stumbles forward and envelops you in a tight embrace, the overpowering smell of alcohol engulfing your senses. his lips inches away from your ear, the proximity borders on suffocating in its allure; he rests his chin on your shoulder, his breath hot against your neck, stirring a rush of conflicting emotions within you.
you hadn’t had anything to drink tonight, so why are you feeling hazy, your head swirling with jumbled-up thoughts, and your body unexpectedly warming up? you fight to maintain your composure as aventurine holds you close, his grip unyielding.
“ahem… sir please release me immediately. ” you manage to say, your voice trembling slightly, cringing at your own words as it didn’t come out as stern as you had hoped.
aventurine seems to hesitate for a moment, his grip loosening ever so slightly, but he doesn't let go completely. “no… no sir, i’m not your sir” he mumbles, his words muffled against your shoulder.
two weeks ago, you would've redirected his attention firmly, steering clear of any personal entanglements that could complicate your working relationship. two weeks ago, you would’ve dismissed any hint of intimacy, and suppressed the flicker of attraction beneath layers of practicality and duty. 
now, however, your resolve falters as you stand enveloped in his embrace. the logical arguments that once guided your actions seem distant and irrelevant compared to the raw, magnetic pull of his presence.
in the face of his vulnerability, your defenses too crumble, leaving you grappling with conflicting impulses and unspoken desires —so you decide to indulge just this once.
“aventurine. there, happy?” you can feel his heart racing against yours, a syncopated rhythm that mirrors the tangle of emotions swirling within you. the line between professionalism and lovers has always been blurred between you. but now as his arms encircle you and his warmth seeps into your skin, it seems near impossible to define.
perhaps, all along, it was his intention for that line to fade away, to be erased completely.
he doesn’t respond with words, but instead holds you tighter, as if seeking solace in your presence. his name escapes your lips in a soft murmur, “kakavasha…?” the sound of your voice rings in his ear, lingering in the air like a whispered prayer.
he seems to delight in the way you utter his name, evident by how he savours each syllable like a rare delicacy.  you take his silence as your cue to continue, clearing your throat, “unfortunately the chauffeur is unable to make it at this hour, so i will—”
he cuts you off by releasing you from his grasp, yet keeps you ensconced in his arms, ensuring you face him directly. in the dim light, you finally get to see his flawless features up close for the first time tonight.
“i love you.” his words hang in the air, leaving you momentarily speechless. 
he stares into your eyes, a whirlwind of emotions surge within you. caught off guard, you let out a chuckle, unsure if his words are genuine or if he’s merely attempting to charm his way out of a situation again. 
“i bet you tell everyone that.” you shoot him an unimpressed look.
he pauses for a moment, his hands finding a comfortable place on your back before pulling you closer to him.  “i do.” he nods in confirmation, his gaze steady on yours. 
“i tell everyone that i love you.”
your heart skips a beat, actually no, you think you stopped breathing the moment those words left his mouth. does he know how much he tugs at your heartstrings? though you can’t help but wonder if he'll regret everything when he sobers up tomorrow. 
“aventurine, you’re drunk.” you say softly as you divert your gaze. "yes, and you’re everything i’ve ever wanted." he moves his free hand up to gently cup your cheek, eagerly waiting for the moment the room stops spinning so he can focus on your face again.
the world around you collapses the instant your eyes meet him again, it feels like he's baring his soul to you, grounding you with his touch, his presence. you gently place your hand over his that rests on your cheek, your voice barely above a whisper. "let's get you home first, and we can talk about this when you're sober."
“alright sweetheart, whatever you say...” he drawls out with a tipsy cadence, punctuated by his tightening hold on your back. you huff out in feign annoyance before grabbing his hand and dragging him out the tavern.
you navigate through the night with a very drunk aventurine leaning heavily against your side, his arm draped around your shoulder for support. “ugh you’re impossible when you’re drunk…” you chide with a playful roll of your eyes, half-supporting, and half-dragging him along. “please be reminded to give me a raise when this is over.”
aventurine’s occasional laughter punctuates through the quiet night, drawing the attention of a few late-night pedestrians who smile knowingly at the scene. and you swear you caught a glimpse of silver-white hair as you pass by an alley, maybe the lack of sleep is really taking a toll on you.
“you’re lucky you have a pretty face to make up for all this mess you’re dragging me through.” you remark subconsciously, only to be interrupted by him abruptly stopping in his tracks. he looks at you with a sheepish grin, cheeks still flushed.
“…you think i'm pretty?” 
you jab at him, maybe you should give him a few more while you have the chance. after all, he probably won't remember any of this tomorrow, right?
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okay maybe aventurine wasn’t lying when he said he tells everyone that he loves you. (and apparently “everyone” includes his coworkers too)
the constant dinging of your phone makes you seriously consider launching it out the nearest window. you open the group chat and stare incredulously at the avalanche of texts flooding your screen.
[topaz sent an attachment]
seems like you weren’t hallucinating last night, topaz really was there —and she managed to snap a picture of you and aventurine.
“topaz?? i thought you had an emergency with jade”
“nah lol, jade was in on it”
“hope you had a great night dear, and make sure to let us know what happened~”
“you guys are menaces i swear!!!!”
before you can gather your thoughts, a pair of familiar arms wrap around your waist from behind, pulling you gently against his solid chest. you tense up, part of you wanting to melt into his hold; and despite your better judgement, you instinctively lean into him.
"so, what's the deal with you getting plastered every night?" you tease, momentarily forgetting about the texts as you turn your focus to aventurine.
“what else other than drowning out my sorrows over you, sweetheart.” he quips, sneaking a quick peck on your cheek, which you dodge just in time. 
“seriously? all those drinks were because you thought i wasn't into you?"
“hmm, yeah pretty much so.” he admits, truly his shamelessness knows no bounds.
“then i guess it’s about time you learn how to handle your losses.” you jest, nudging him as he raises an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eye. “there’s no need. i'll still tell you that i love you tomorrow, the day after, and every day after that until you finally let yourself believe it." 
aventurine will wait for the day you accept him, more than just your boss; he will wait for the day you whisper those three words, not just into his ear, but into the very depths of his heart. he will be there, patiently, until the day your soul finally speaks the truth that his heart has always known.
˚୨୧⋆。˚ ⋆ 
masterlist
©lowkeyren 2024. please do not plagiarize, translate, repost on other platforms, or feed my works into ai.
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choerypetal · 5 months ago
Text
Hide and Seek / Homelander
(pt 2. of Meet and Greet)
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summary ; In part two of the meet and greet, Homelander's obsession reaches new heights, leaving him unsatisfied at his core and willing to do anything to make you his.
!! read part one first! ; !!
ps; english isn't my first language so i apologize for any grammar mistakes, xo' (as it will be eventually corrected if needed)
tag list; @private-eye-on-you ; @lins-shenanigans ; @horrorxgorewhore @siredtom ; @certain-tragedies ; @hotchners-wifey ; @naelis-open-sea
enjoy xo'
Homelander's comment, 'You look lovely in the costume,' lingered in your mind for a week. You couldn't escape his presence. His silhouette, his maddeningly perfect face seemed to follow you everywhere—from your usual coffee shop to the special limited editions of The Vought, and even as you continued watching the show for longer periods of time. From Deep's special cupcakes to the coffee most loved by Homelander, his influence was everywhere, not just keeping the city alive but himself as well.
Although you didn't realize it, Homelander had become just as obsessed with you as he was with seeing his own face on the cup you were holding. From a distance, he watched your every move—the way your plump lips touched the cup, how you drank your coffee, and even how you covered his image with your hand. Despite finding your behavior an offense, he knew he’d eventually have to tease about it. The sadistic man that he was, wasn’t afraid to even acknowledge it. Especially during their weekly Seven meetings. 
"So, I suggest we review some new recruits," Ashley said, her nervousness palpable. She wanted to please not only the public but, most importantly, Homelander. This was no easy task given recent events and the current situation. Homelander's obvious boredom showed his lack of interest, and Deep, poor thing, was just as disinterested, staring blankly at the screen and agreeing with whatever Homelander mumbled. However, Deep was secretly relieved not to have any of John’s powers. Especially right now. Because, at that exact moment, it was your face, and your face alone, that occupied his thoughts. Murmuring your name under his breath, he was fortunate not to get caught up in the moment. That of course, when a single cough from Ashley’s mouth was enough to slip his mind elsewhere. 
"You know, Ashley, just pick whoever you think will fit for now. Sign their papers. My brain is going to fucking explode from this hell hole," he said, standing up without even glancing at her. Not even Ashley's whiny complaints about the complications it might cause could stop him. He paused, considering for a moment that she might convince him. "Don't come to me for the next 24 hours," he snapped, his piercing blue eyes conveying a clear threat. When wasn't he a threat, anyway? "Or I'll personally fuck up every single one of you." That was enough to make her quickly nod in response. Poor thing, she only wanted to make him proud. A satisfied grin played on his lips, mirrored by Ashley's, though hers was a little more nervous. His, however, was genuine. 
You, on the other hand, had been fortunate enough not to see Homelander's face for a while. From the bookstore you frequented to the coffee shop, his presence seemed to pervade your life. Your mother didn’t help either, as she insisted on framing a picture of you with him in the living room—a gesture Homelander found endearing. On some nights, he would see you through the window, dressed in your pajamas, reading whatever caught your interest, with that picture always in the background. Unlike Homelander, it haunted your dreams.  
Deep down, Homelander struggled to resist the urge to invade your personal space, not wanting to frighten you. However, when he saw your forced smile at the meet and greet, he was reminded that a smile meant nothing to him. To him and you alone. It was your scent that drove him wild. At first, he considered going undercover, posing as one of your father’s coworkers, but he realized it would be futile. Why cover his own shame, when he could let his ego take it over?
So, he waited until sunrise. When he could finally entered your room, imagining you in your shortest pajamas, which hugged your curves so perfectly, he had to bite his bottom lip to control himself. Just by the thought of his fingers sinking into your flesh as you leaned toward him for more...
"Goodbye, Mom!" Your voice echoed in Homelander's mind as he realized he'd been lurking around your house since last night. He had been trying to dismiss, the missed call records provided by Ashley, however, unable to ignore them. Fortunately, he was hidden well enough that you didn’t notice him as you exited the house.
Your hair meticulously washed, your skin fresh with makeup, and that dress. Never in a thousand years, aside from his own enemies, did Homelander think he would become so obsessed with someone. He wanted to chuckle to himself at the irony, knowing he wasn’t being the most subtle superhero. When your gaze shifted toward his hiding spot, he quickly concealed himself behind a tree, exhaling in relief when you shrugged off the feeling of being watched. You then left for work, something Homelander knew all too well. This also meant he could meet your mother, who, after all, was his biggest fan. 
Fortunately, you managed to get through the day without a single client yelling at you. However, what you didn’t expect was an unexpected visit from the man himself. As you approached the door, you overheard some mumbling. Did your mother have a visitor today? 
And then it hit you.
Hearing the all-too-familiar voice say, "Oh, these look lovely," with a genuine smile, you froze in your tracks. Seeing your mother so happy, even more thrilled than a fangirl, like she’d seen god himself. She noticed you immediately. "My dear! Look who came to visit," she exclaimed, taking you into her arms for a hug. Before you could greet the guest, your eyes met his—Homelander, in your own home. 
"No need for theatrics, ma’am," he said with a casual chuckle, hushed by his own hand as he munched on the cookies your mother had made, casually wiping a droplet of milk with his thumb. Your mother giggled and said, "Mother is the name. We don’t have to get formal, right darling?" You blinked twice, hardly believing what you were hearing. Your mother was genuinely making Homelander feel comfortable, right inside your home. Given what you knew from your coworkers and the constant rumors, it was hard not to be creeped out by the thought that he might have done more than just a knock on the door that evening. Yet, you shrugged it off, thinking that perhaps playing the same game he did might be what he wanted after all. Like a cat and a mouse. 
There was a brief pause, then an idea sparked in your mother’s eyes as she looked at John one last time. "Why don’t you stay for dinner? Tonight is roasted chicken and mashed potatoes." How could he refuse? Spending more time with you was just the beginning of his obsession with protecting you and never letting you out of his sight. He smiled, his grin seemingly bigger than before, and nodded. "If Y/N doesn’t mind?" he said, his gaze shifting to you with a more serious expression. You gulped nervously, knowing you couldn’t just say no. "Yes—yes, of course," you stuttered. Oh, how adorable you looked.
“Then, make yourself at home dear.” 
Dinner was only just a few hours from now, with your father now back from work had asked for a personal photo with the Homelander, and a talk John appreciated more. Considering his own father exiling him completely, it was a breath of fresh air for him, especially when he’d be glancing a few times at you, doing whatever you had in mind before the dinner. “My daughter is going to be working for us,” your father would be saying proudly, Homelander could only nod listening actively. “She’d do a great addition I am certain.” his gaze now meeting yours immediately, when you gaze up from your book, he could notice a light shade of pink coming your cheeks. Cherishing it a little too much when your father’s voice then abrupt his mind, “She’s beautiful isn’t she?” he’d said a little too proud. 
She is indeed… Homelander thought to himself that same night. Just by how attentive he was with you. Even if it wasn’t  much of a conversation shared, the glances were enough to please him alone. Which during the dinner, he was not afraid to show. 
Dinner had passed rather quickly, you were glad it did. Considering you listening to whatever nonsense Homelander had to offer to keep your mother so relonctent toward him. Let alone, praise him as a her own god. Boosting an ego, to whom you couldn’t comprehend yourself, and that Homelander was sure to make it seem tonight. 
"Thank you so much for dinner, truly," Homelander said, wiping the corners of his mouth, his eyes never leaving you. Your mother’s gasp was enough to momentarily distract him, and he asked if everything was alright. She quickly assured him it was and invited him to stay until her cake was done baking. Naturally, John didn't decline the offer. "Y/N," your mother called your attention just as you were about to excuse yourself, "how about you give a little tour of the house? I'm sure Homelander would appreciate it." The formality of his name seemed daunting, but John quickly corrected her. "John it is. No need to be formal, now, do we?" A shiver crawled down your spine as your mother’s eyes gleamed with hope, her slender fingers clapping together. "Oh, well, of course! Now, Y/N, make yourself useful and make John feel at home." 
A sigh escaped your lips; there was no way to avoid this, was there? "Yes, of course. Where do you want to start?" Your eyes never left his, feeling yourself getting lost in them, becoming his little mouse to play with. "How about..." he began, his eyes wandering as if he couldn’t be bothered to think. "The bedroom," he finally said. You blinked twice, a third time to fully process his words. "What?" you replied, incredulous. He chuckled, amused by your reaction, and shrugged off the question as if he hadn’t meant it seriously. "Nah, kidding. Lead the way," he said. 
So you did. You felt his shadow hovering over you as you both walked through the house for a little tour. John was no longer hiding his presence, leaning in closer to you. You could feel his breath. By the time you reached your bedroom, the tour was complete, and your mother’s cake would be ready. However, John had something else in mind, and he wasn’t shy about showing it. “And this is the bedroom,” you said nonchalantly, hearing an obvious scoff from him. 
"Funny, isn’t it?" he said, this time his tone serious enough to make your muscles tense. His back was to you as his fingers touched the doorknob, ready to close the door. And he did, pausing momentarily. "Finally, we meet again." His remark made you tilt your head. Meet again? As far as you knew, he had been stalking you all along. But knowing who he was—Homelander, with his omniscience and twisted games—you had no say in the matter. Neither did you, especially after hearing his chuckle. 
“Now why so quiet?” the question was enough to make you unsease. You wanted to tell him, to oppose to him. But you couldn’t he was now yours to torment completely. When he leaned further, scoffing once more by your vulnerability. In that precise moment, Homelander knew he won. 
“Heard you were a good, fuck.” his voice so nonchanltly, a gasp leaving from your mouth as you were unable to speak more than standing right in front of him. How his eyes would wondered around your figure, approaching near to you, his fingers now leaning toward your waist. Gripping by its touch, hungry to fuck you there, in the bed. Raw. 
"Thank you?" you stammered, eager to please him. His grin broadened, fighting not to turn into a frown at your response. He was so satisfied that he gently caressed your cheek with his other finger. "You need me, not just to save you, but to satisfy you." Though your heart was broken, you were a toy Homelander cherished without fear. You were his perfect little toy, as he began to lick his bottom lip, his breath drawing closer, closing the gap between you. "Mine," he growled, his voice hoarse, undeniably hinting at his intentions. He was Homelander, able to do whatever he wanted. And that included you being his. "Got it, little mouse?"
Oh, how he longed to watch you squirm between his legs, begging for more, moaning his name. His persistence knew no bounds; he would do anything—from leaving bite marks to scratches, and even hickeys if necessary. But he couldn't just stand there without having a little fun, right?
"You see," he said, his voice dripping with teasing malice. Disgust welled up in your mouth, but you fought the urge to look away. He loved watching you squirm, the fear in your eyes fueling his twisted envy of every inch of you. "How about we play a little game tonight, hmm?" His thumb brushed gently over your chin, lifting your gaze to meet his.
"W-what game?" you managed to say, breaking your long silence. Even he was momentarily surprised, but your stutter made it worth it. "Hide and seek," he said, pausing for effect. "You hide, and I seek. If I find you, you're mine. Got that?"
You gave a quick nod, followed by a satisfied smile from him. "Good then, I'll start counting. One, two..." You hesitated for a moment, just as his grip shifted from your waist to your arm, preventing you from fleeing your own home. When your eyes met his, they were dark with passion, lust, and a desire to capture his little mouse until its very last breath. "Run..."
Little mouse.”
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