#so the knuckles series sure was something

[kinetic-chaos]

Iblis is so back guys

Inspired by one of the memes on this post!

[misterbaritone]

Despite being a comic book, Kengan Ashura(and Omega too I guess) has more motion blur than I’ve ever seen in any other medium.

[daisieduckie]

im just gonna kubrick stare at the knuckles series until they confirm like, genuinely cool stuff that doesnt make me go “well knuckles will be awesome bc hes knuckles but this part SUCKS”

[whytheylosttheirminds]

Don't Call Me Kid - Chapter 4

(Rafe Cameron x Reader, series, 6.6k words)

series summary: You'd had a crush on Rafe Cameron since you were six years old, but he friend zoned you at every turn. Once shy and insecure, you found new confidence and self-love after high school. When your high school friends go on a reunion beach trip, Rafe finally sees what he lost, but he isn't going to give you up without a fight.

tropes: unrequited crush, glow up, she fell first/he fell harder

series content: some angst, eventual fluff, slow burn, tomfoolery and shenanigans, drinking, fem!reader has occasional insecurity and body image issues

additional chapter cw: suggestive language/acts, mature readers only please

⇢ series masterlist

Rafe lifted his fist to knock on your door.

But before he could bring his knuckles to the wood, he froze, suddenly panicked that he had no idea what he was going to say when you appeared behind it. He stepped back, crinkling the package of the candy in his hands.

“Hey, so,” he whispered, practicing to himself. “I’m sorry if that was weird. Not weird. Sorry if that was uncomfortable? I don’t know why I’m saying sorry. Hey, so, Kelce is a dick, right? Maybe I should say sorry. Fuck��”

As he paced back and forth, the floor creaked below him. He was too preoccupied with trying to find the right words to notice he was making noise. He didn’t get a chance to finish his little script, though, because you opened the door.

He froze mid-sentence, eyes wide as he looked at you, realizing you clearly heard him talking to himself. Fuck, that’s embarassing. Before he could spiral about how much you had heard, he noticed the way your nose was red at the end, eyes glossy, and cheeks stained with black smudges. You had been really crying.

“Are you okay?” He asked quietly, struck with the urge to reach out and wipe the water from your face.

“What do you want, Rafe?” You sniffled.

“I wanted to…I was…” Rafe was lost, any words he had planned completely left him at the gut wrenching sight of your tears.

He shuffled on his feet a little as you watched him with an unforgiving glare. He had to come up with something.

He extended the candy to you, “...bringing you this.”

“Thanks but that beer made me sick, I’m not really in a snacky mood,” you snipped.

He felt like a kitten coming to his owner with a present, only to be scolded for bringing a dead bird into the house.

“Right,” he tried to recover. “I just thought maybe you’d want to keep them up here so no one takes them.”

You sighed heavily as you quickly took the candy from him, no lingering graze of your hands like you’d done so many times before the night had taken this turn for the worse.

“Okay,” he exhales. “I didn’t come up here to give you the candy.”

“What did you come up here for then?” You huffed.

“I wanted to make sure you were okay,” he admitted.

You turned from him, exasperated, and set the candy on the vanity across the room. He was tempted to follow you through the door frame, but he had the keen sense that he shouldn't push it, so he froze, feet inches from the threshold but not going over.

“And why wouldn’t I be okay?” You questioned, your back turned to him as you pulled a set of pajamas out of the top drawer, he swallowed any hope of seeing you change into them, knowing it was a delusional thought.

“Because of what Kelce said,” He brought his thumbnail up to his eyebrow, scratching a non-existent itch, desperate for something to do with his hands.

You turned quickly on your heel to face him, hands on your hips. The sudden shift in your features, from indifference to indignance, made him take a step back.

“What, did he say something?” You pressed.

“About how you, y’know used to-” 

“Rafe, I’m fine,” you cut him off, rubbing the backs of your hands across your cheeks to get some of the smeared makeup off.

Even though you always knew deep in your gut that he knew how you used to feel about him, the thought of him actually saying it out loud as you stood in front of him with tear stained cheeks was unbearable to you.

“But you’re crying,” he uttered, eyebrows bunched in concern. “I don’t want you to be alone, crying in your room all night.”

You stepped closer to him, and his heart leapt. Maybe you would invite him in, let him hold you until you felt better. But then, as quickly as it had risen, his heart fell again. You placed your hand on the door handle and glared at him.

“It wouldn’t be the first time.”

With a definitive click, you closed the door in his face.

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The patter of thick rain drops against your window is what finally roused you from your long sleep. You’d fallen asleep crying into your pillow, an old hobby you hadn’t practiced in years. The light coming through the window was dim, making you assume it was early morning, but when you checked your phone your eyes went wide at the time: 12:04pm.

You swung your legs over the bed with a groan, rising to look out the window. The sky was dark and angry, high waves foaming and crashing in the distance, a storm raging. The rain was so heavy the window was straining to keep it out.

When you opened your bedroom door, you nearly stepped on the tray of food that was sitting outside it. You leaned down and picked up the tray of scrambled eggs, toast and orange juice, smiling at the little note in your sister’s handwriting: “I’m so glad you’re here, we’re downstairs when you’re ready.” She signed it with a little heart.

After eating the breakfast in your bed, you steeled yourself to finally make your appearance downstairs. You were grateful that everyone had let you sleep in, but wondered if the delay in coming downstairs would only remind them of the dramatic way your night ended.

You placed your dishes in the kitchen sink, looking out at the backyard you’d fled so abruptly the night before. It was quite a different scene than the one you’d left, the pouring rain filling the porch with puddles, chairs strewn about from the heavy wind. You let last night play through your mind like a movie; Carter revealing your most scandalous moment during never have I ever, Tom’s big arms on either side of you as he flirted, Rafe’s hands in yours as you celebrated your beer pong dominance, Kelce’s words bringing all your fun to a screeching halt.

“No! Don’t shoot!” 

Yells from the large den adjacent to the kitchen pulled you from your thoughts. You padded quickly into the room to find the source of the commotion.

“That guy was on our team!” Kelce yelled again, ripping a video game controller from Maddie’s hands.

Maddie just laughed at his frustration, “well I didn’t like him so I killed him.”

“That’s not how the game works, Mads,” Kelce scolded.

“Well that’s how I play,” she shrugged, leaning back on the couch.

Several people were piled onto the oversized sectional sofa. Carter was sitting up on the cushion with her legs criss-crossed, Topper on the floor in front of her while she put little braids in his hair. Tom and Kelce sat on the other side of Maddie, eyes locked on the small TV screen as their fingers rapidly tapped on the controller buttons, deeply invested in the game.

In the far corner sat Rafe, reading something on his phone with a concerned look on his face.

“Love the hair, Topper,” you said from behind the couch. 

Everyone’s eyes shot to you, except for Rafe, who stayed caught up in whatever was on his screen. You found his indifference to your arrival annoying, but also intriguing, wondering what had captured his attention so fully.

“You’re up!” Carter exclaimed, accidentally pulling Topper’s hair as she turned to you, making him wince.

“I’ve been up for a while, just needed some quiet time,” you smiled at her. “Thank you for breakfast.”

“Actually, that was all Kelce,” she informed you with a knowing smirk.

“Oh really?” You said, raising your eyebrows at Kelce.

He paused the video game and stood from the couch.

“Wait!” Kelce said. “I have one more thing!”

He ran out of the room and you looked back at Carter with a smirk.

“You better not let him off the hook too easily,” Carter encouraged you.

“Don’t worry, I plan to mess with him a little,” you smiled at her conspiratorially. “Everyone just act cool.”

They all nodded at you, shifting when Kelce re-entered the room. Their attempted acting skills were adorably terrible, pretending to ignore you and Kelce, suddenly very invested in their own hands and the stains on the couch. All but Rafe, who seemed genuinely disinterested in the whole thing, eyes still glued to his phone.

Kelce approached you with his hands behind his back, looking bashful. He revealed his present with a proud flair.

It was a bouquet of wilting flowers, and a couple of weeds, he had clearly pulled from the front yard. You smiled at the sad, but sweet, present.

“I picked them this morning,” he said proudly.

You didn’t take them from him just yet, tightening your lips to hide your smile so he’d think you were still mad at him.

“I’m sorry for being a dick,” he said. “I shouldn’t have said that thing about-”

“It’s okay Kelce,” you cut him off before he could elaborate further. “What you said…you were right.”

These words finally pulled Rafe from his phone, head snapping towards you in surprise. The rest of the group struggled to maintain their little charade of indifference, the air in the room shifting as they all silently met eyes, wondering where you were going with this.

“I did stay at those parties for a boy,” you admitted to Kelce.

Carter coughed to disguise a laugh, figuring out your game before anyone else.

“You did?” Kelce asked. 

You stepped closer to him, placing your hand on his arm. His eyes widened and he swallowed heavily.

“For you Kelce,” you whispered. “It’s always been you.”

Topper, Maddie, and Tom seemed to finally catch up with your plan as they tried to stifle their own laughter. Kelce had exactly the dumbstruck reaction you were hoping for, looking alarmed, stammering for words like an idiot.

“Me? You liked me?” He croaked, almost too stunned to speak.

You couldn’t hold it back any longer, his face looked so pathetically shocked you had to laugh. As soon as you cracked a smile, the group took it as a sign they could laugh now too, breaking into a round of giggles at Kelce’s expense. Even Rafe was smirking, looking back to his phone, but not before letting out a soft chuckle.

Kelce looked around helplessly, catching on painfully slowly.

“C’mon man,” he said when it finally dawned on him that you were kidding. “You really had me going there, I'm not gonna lie.”

You took the flowers from him finally, patting his cheek reassuringly.

“I can’t stay mad at you, Kelcey,” you reassured him.

“You forgive me then?” He asked hopefully.

“As long as you promise never to play beer pong again,” you countered, handing him back the flowers. “And you go put these back outside, there’s bugs in them.”

He took the bouquet from you with a dutiful nod and made his way to the front door.

“You gonna forgive Sabrina, too?” Carter questioned.

“No,” you scoffed, settling on the couch next to her. “She can rot.”

“You’re fun,” Maddie giggled. “Who knew you were so fun?”

I did, Rafe thought.

“I did,” Carter said.

The wind kicked up outside the tall windows, a loud clap of thunder causing you to jump in your seat.

“Y’all think I’m gonna be able to work on my tan today?” Tom quipped, an attempt to ease your nerves.

“I don’t think you need it,” you flirted with him, admiring the dimples in his cheeks as he smiled back at you.

Rafe shifted uncomfortably in his seat, finally putting his phone down and sticking it in his pocket.

“What are we gonna do today, though?” Maddie asked.

“I think you’re looking at it,” Topper spread his arms to gesture to the room.

“Good thing you’re so good at this game,” Kelce teased her, re-entering the room and jumping over the couch, making Carter bounce and lose her grip on the braid she had been carefully sowing into Topper’s hair.

“Dammit, Kelce!” She scolded. “We’ve been stuck inside for half a day and I’m already annoyed with you.”

“We could go see a movie,” you suggested hopefully, the idea of a calm afternoon in a dark theater with a big bucket of popcorn exciting you.

“No can do,” Topper explained. “The road is closed because of the flooding, we’re stuck here for the day. Jack and Sabrina went out for breakfast and they can’t even get back into the neighborhood.”

“Oh, okay” you frowned, bummed that your plan was foiled, but not that Sabrina had struck such bad luck.

Rafe didn’t miss the way your lips curved down with disappointment. 

After leaving your room last night, he’d stayed awake for hours, staring at the unfinished basement ceiling trying desperately to think of a way to get back in your good graces. The finality with which you’d shut your door on him made his stomach churn, wondering if he’d finally messed things up with you for good. But it was only your third day here, and he was a gamer; he didn’t quit and he didn’t lose. He decided he would take any opening he could get, and this seemed like a good place to start.

“We could watch a movie here,” he recommended. “We’ll make some popcorn and have our own theater.”

You looked at him for the first time since last night, surprised he was speaking to you, and even more surprised he was being so positive and helpful.

“Can we do it right now? I hate this game,” Maddie complained.

“I’d be down,” Tom agreed.

“Oh, uh,” Rafe sat up, catching Topper’s eye. “I have that thing I gotta do.”

Topper nodded knowingly, “yeah, we should wait until it gets dark anyway,” he agreed, giving Rafe an out.

You were dying to know what they were referring to, what possible responsibility could be tying Rafe down when he’d be stuck in a vacation home all day, but you feigned disinterest. 

It was decided, you’d all meet back here at dusk for your movie night. You had the perfect excuse to finally get some alone time, assuring Carter you were fine before going back to your room, slipping under the cool covers with a smile and pulling out the book you still hadn’t had time to start.

It was such a pleasant afternoon until the plot of your book started to feel a little too familiar for your comfort.  A love triangle between the shy, bookworm protagonist, a sweet, unassuming brunette, and a complicated, brooding blond. You finally shut the book about a hundred pages in, when the blond character, who was continuously breaking the protagonist’s heart, stood her up for a date. You sighed and threw the book back into your suitcase, adding it to your DNF list on Goodreads.

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Carter was sitting on the counter, swinging her legs happily as Topper stood at the stove and added spices to the soup he was making. You stood at the bottom of the stairs for a minute, watching them as long as you could before they noticed your presence. It was a rare moment of calm between them, no arguments or teasing. Topper blew on a spoonful of his soup before lifting it to Carter’s lips. She smiled at him affectionately as he thumbed the corner of her mouth, catching the little drop of soup that had spilled off the spoon.

Your heart warmed at your sister’s smile. She was not a relationship girl, or so she always swore. But you knew her feelings for Topper went far beyond a penchant for messing with him. You were struck with sadness that she would be leaving so soon, studying abroad in the UK to get her masters. Maybe you should’ve spent the afternoon with her, instead of a book you hated.

The door to the basement creaked open, and Rafe stepped out, looking grumpy as he unknowingly interrupted the sweet moment in the kitchen. 

Carter leaned away from Topper when she noticed Rafe, and finally saw you. You spotted the way Topper’s face fell a little as she pulled away.

“Needs salt,” she teased him.

“Yes chef,” he smiled back, though there was a hint of resentment in his tone.

Carter hopped down off the counter and walked over to you, wrapping her arm around you like you hadn’t seen each other in years. You squeezed her affectionately, hoping she could feel the love you had for her in your touch.

She pulled away, eyeing Rafe. He had bags under his eyes and he looked worn out.

“Where have you been all day?” Carter asked him.

“Just had to take care of a few things,” he ran his hands through his hair, which it appeared he had been doing a lot based on the way it was sticking up at different angles. 

As he brought his hands back to his side, you caught a quick glimpse of the pen ink that was smeared on his fingers, only adding to the mystery of what “things” he was taking care of.

You were going to teasingly ask him if he was down there writing the great American novel, but before you could, the large french doors that lead to the den swung open dramatically, Tom standing behind them with a big grin on his face.

“All ready!” He announced it to the group.

“What’s ready?” You asked, an amused smirk at his theatrics.

“Come see for yourself,” he winked at you.

You followed him curiously into the den, the rest of the group trailing behind. Your jaw dropped when you took it all in. He had transformed the big den, setting up a large projector and screen, stringing little fairy lights from the ceiling and filling the side tables with popcorn, candy, and a variety of snacks. The room even smelled good, Tom having lit some candles, and with the rain still coming down outside, the cozy vibes were off the charts.

“You did all this?” You gushed.

“Well you seemed bummed that we couldn’t go to the theater,” Tom remarked. “So I brought the theater to you!”

Thinking that might just be the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to you, you gave Tom a big, grateful smile. Rafe muttered words under his breath that you couldn’t quite make out but sounded something like “you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“Woah, where’d you find the projector?” Kelce asked.

“They said it was in the attic,” Tom pointed out. “On the Airbnb listing.”

You didn’t understand why, but something about Tom being the only one to actually read the whole listing and pay attention to the details was attractive. You suddenly wished there weren’t five other people in the room with you and him.

“The only thing I haven’t done is pick the movie,” Tom admitted.

The group started chattering all at once, throwing out suggestions and arguing over each other’s taste in movies. After a few chaotic moments, Tom mentioned the name of a horror movie that had come out recently, and while the rest of the room chimed in with “ohhh yes” and “I’ve wanted to see that one,” your stomach dropped. You hated scary movies, you always had. Since you were a kid, you felt anything you watched or read very deeply, so when a movie was dark, it affected you emotionally.

Feeling helpless, your eyes inadvertently met Rafe’s. He immediately picked up on the way you were chewing your lip, afraid to protest to what everyone else clearly wanted. 

Shit that’s right, he thought, she hates scary movies. 

Plus, he knew you’d be teased for saying something, this group was fun but they weren’t known for their sensitivity. Your eyes dropped to the floor in acceptance, all of your excitement over the home theater fading as you settled in for an unpleasant evening. Rafe hated the way you were forced to resign to being unhappy for everyone else’s sake.

“Nah, I don’t fuck with horror movies,” he blurted out impulsively.

All eyes shot to him, most people laughing in assumption he was making a joke. When he didn’t laugh back, but clenched his jaw and stared them down, they fell silent.

“Bro, since when?” Topper asked hesitantly.

“Since forever,” Rafe doubled down.

“You scared, Cameron?” Kelce teased.

“So what if I am?” Rafe bit back, daring him to keep going.

“Hey man, that’s cool,” Tom assured him. “It’s not for everybody. We can just watch something else.”

It was like your heart was strung up with the fairy lights above you, Rafe and Tom grabbing either end of the cord and playing tug-of-war. Just when Tom did something so sweet you thought you might kiss him right here in front of everyone, Rafe jumped in to rescue you from ridicule, proving he remembered intimate details about you in the process, making your heart ache for him. Then Tom said something kind, and you were right back where you started. This wasn’t getting any easier.

Rafe could see the way your eyes flicked between him and Tom, he knew he needed to step it up even more. He rounded the couch and approached Tom’s laptop, which was plugged into the projector. He typed something into the streaming site that was pulled up and the projector whirred to life, the screen illuminating the room as the opening credits of a movie began.

It was your favorite movie of all time. Your heart swelled at the opening song that you’d know anywhere, this having been your comfort film since you were a kid. Rafe stared right at you as the rest of the group settled on the couch, no one wanting to argue with his choice. Your eyes went soft as you looked back at him, mouthing a silent thank you, just like you had done by the fire last night. You were astonished that he remembered how much you loved this movie.

“Perfect, I love this movie!” Tom exclaimed, pulling your gaze from Rafe.

Of course he does, you thought tenderly, your crush on Tom intensifying.

Of course he does, Rafe thought resentfully, his vexation with Tom boiling his blood.

As everyone took their seats, you hung back for a moment, taking in the whole scene and trying to clear your head. By the time your feet caught up with your brain, there was only one spot left on the big couch.

Carter and Topper settled in on the chaise, shamelessly cuddling up almost immediately. Kelce and Maddie sat next to them, sharing a bowl of popcorn. Then it was Tom, an empty spot, and Rafe. You considered sitting on the floor.

Standing between them, both boys looked up at you expectantly, shifting away from each other to make more space for you, both hopeful you’d sit a little closer to them than the other. You thought of the protagonist from the book you were reading, wishing you could take her out for a drink. 

Finally, you took your seat, crossing your legs and placing your hands in your lap. You turned and looked at Carter, who was smiling back at you sympathetically. She looked like she was about to get up from the comfort of Topper’s arms, but you didn’t want to interrupt their time together, so you waved her off and settled back on the couch to prove you were fine.

The movie began, roaring through the speakers Tom had set up, and you were quickly distracted by the familiar sights and sounds of your favorite film.

Rafe’s eyes flicked over to you every so often, melting at the cute way you were mouthing the lines along with the actors, laughing at funny scenes even though you’d seen them a million times. He was trying to respect your space, but eventually he needed to stretch out his long legs, spreading them so his knee was almost knocking into yours. He wouldn’t touch you though, no matter how much he wanted to. It seemed maybe he had almost secured your forgiveness and he wasn’t about to push his luck.

Tom wasn’t in such a difficult position though, his arm fearlessly brushing against yours as he reached for a bowl of popcorn and offered you some.

“Thank you,” you said sweetly.

“Do you like this movie?” He whispered, leaning in a bit too close for Rafe’s comfort.

“It’s my all-time favorite,” you told him.

“I’m glad we picked it then.”

We? Rafe seethed. This whole movie night was his idea in the first place, and once again, here was Casanova sweeping in and stealing away your attention. 

Rafe thought he couldn’t hate him more, and then Tom put his arm around you.

Anything, he would’ve given anything, done anything, to hear you tell Tom to fuck off. But you didn’t. You blushed and shifted a bit, nestling into Tom’s side and tucking your legs under you. 

Your feet, covered in pink fuzzy socks, were just inches from Rafe’s leg, tormenting him. They nudged him every so often when you laughed at the film or leaned in to whisper something to Tom. He got excited for just a moment the first time you touched him, but his heart cracked when it dawned on him that while you were touching him by accident, you were touching Tom on purpose.

Even though he was tempted to storm out, your obvious rejection of him nearly unbearable, he forced himself to play it cool and stay through to the end credits. 

The screen faded to black, and everyone stirred and stretched. You sat up from Tom’s side and looked over to your sister, surprised she hadn’t pulled out her phone and texted you something cheeky about him during the movie, but quickly realized it was because she had fallen asleep. Her hair was messy in her face as little snores escaped her lips. The only person looking at her with more affection than you was Topper, who scooped her up in his arms with ease and a peck on the cheek, and carried her to bed.

“Okay, so that was the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever seen,” Maddie said as she and Kelce followed them out of the room.

Rafe sighed as he saw the mess that had been left behind, kneeling down to sweep up the popcorn Kelce had spilled on the floor. He felt the small window of hope that he’d somehow reconnect with you today close as you exited the room.

Feeling just as tired as Carter looked and eager to crawl into bed, you made your way toward the stairs. Tom caught up with you before you took the first step, saying your name softly to get your attention.

“I had a really good time with you tonight,” he said when you turned.

“Me too,” you told him, blushing bashfully. “Though I don’t think anyone had quite as good a time as Carter.”

“You’re probably right.” He had gotten closer, leaning towards you as he said it, close enough that you could feel his breath on your skin, “the night’s not over yet, though.”

Heat swept across your cheeks and down your back as your whole body blushed. You had really enjoyed your time on the couch snuggled up next to him, but you were a notoriously slow mover when it came to new guys. You thought you might kiss him goodbye at the end of the week, maybe get his number, but that was as far as your imagination had wandered. You’d hooked up with guys at school, and you were certainly more confident with every year that passed, but you had accepted about yourself that you would always be a little slower than other girls, and that was okay with you.

“It’s not?” You asked, hating the shaky nervousness in your voice.

“Maybe I could carry you up to your room, too,” he propositioned.

With that suggestion, he leaned in to kiss you. Your whole body went numb and a nervous hum escaped your throat. You flinched slightly right before his lips met yours, signaling him to pause.

“Sorry,” you mumbled as he pulled back.

“Is something wrong?” He asked, brows furrowed.

“It’s just, a little fast,” you explained. “I’m really enjoying getting to know you, though. I tend to move slow.”

“We don’t have to do anything,” he continued. “Maybe I could just crash in your room? I’m sharing with Kelce and he snores.”

“The couch is pretty comfortable, you could sleep there,” you stepped away from him a bit, voice firmer. 

“Ah, but that’s not as fun,” he flirted again, not letting up. 

“It’s not gonna happen tonight,” you told him definitively. “We can definitely hang out tomorrow, though.”

He eyed you for a second, and your skin crawled with the feeling you were being studied.

“Sure,” he muttered, the softness you usually saw in his eyes was nowhere to be found. “Night.”

As he shuffled up the stairs without another glance to you, you saw that Rafe had been standing in the doorway of the den, for how long you weren’t sure. His hands were full of dirty dishes as he eyed you anxiously.

“All good?” He questioned.

You wanted to put up a front, make a joke to wipe the protective, caring look off of Rafe’s face, but your spirit was a bit shaken, and if you were being honest, you were just glad not to be alone. 

Instead of answering, you reached out, took some of the dishes from his hands and walked them to the kitchen sink. Your wordlessness was an indication that you didn’t want to talk about it any further, so he didn’t push.

Rafe washed and you dried, completely silent as you did the dishes together. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, though, just an understanding between you that nothing more needed to be said tonight. You were immensely grateful to have something to do with your hands, a task to focus on as you recovered from the upsetting interaction you’d had with Tom.

Once Rafe handed you the last bowl, he bid you goodnight quietly and descended the stairs to his room. You dried the bowl and reached it toward the high cabinet it belonged in, but nearly dropped when you heard a loud “fuck!” come from the basement.

You set the dish down carefully before hurrying down the stairs towards the sound of Rafe’s distress.

“What’s wrong?” You asked breathlessly as you descended the creaking steps.

Rafe stepped back to show you the cause of his outcry. Sometime in the evening a leak had sprung from the edge of the basement ceiling, running down the wall and right onto his bed. The rain had stopped about an hour ago, and though it didn’t appear the water was flowing in anymore, the damage was done.

“Fuck,” you echoed him.

Rafe moved his luggage and backpack to the stairs to get them off the ground, and pulled the bed away from the wall.

“I’ll just sleep with my head on the other end of the bed,” he sighed.

“Rafe, you can’t sleep down here,” you countered. “I found some extra blankets and pillows in my closet, I’ll get them for you and you can crash on the couch.”

He nodded in agreement, “thanks.”

Rafe followed you up to your room, stopping at the threshold of your door, just like he had last night. You smiled to yourself at the respectfulness of the action. Though it proved to be unsustainable when you slid open your closet door and tried to get the blanket and pillow stored on the top shelf, unable to reach it even when you jumped.

“Can you help me?” You sighed, indirectly inviting him in. 

Rafe smirked as he approached, barely having to stretch to reach the bedding. Your throat bobbed as you watched him, his frame so long and lean it towered over you. 

“Thanks for these,” he looked down at you, holding the pillow and blanket to his chest with crossed arms.

“Least I could do,” you smiled. “After you saved me again.”

Rafe furrowed his brows quizzically.

“You hate horror movies, huh?” You quirked your eyebrows.

“Oh,” he mumbled, realization sweeping across his face. “No. But you do.”

“And you just really wanted to watch that particular movie instead?”

“No. But you did.”

The room suddenly felt too hot, as you bantered, your voices dropped lower, and so did Rafe’s eyes, landing on your lips. 

Not sure you could stand this close to him much longer without making a decision you might regret, you stepped away and over to your vanity. You unclasped your necklace and started removing your rings, preparing to begin your nighttime routine. You caught Rafe’s eyes in the mirror as he watched you take your hair out of its ponytail, letting it fall around your face in a soft curtain.

Rafe cleared his throat and looked down, digging his foot into your rug. You swore you caught a blush kiss the apples of his cheeks.

 “Well what are you doin’ right now? Wanna hang out?” He croaked.

You smiled at his desperate attempt to keep the conversation going. It was reminiscent of the way you used to search your mind for more questions to ask to keep him on the phone, or pretend you needed to run errands so he’d be in your car longer. Now, here he was, looking at you with big, hopeful eyes, completely desperate. The power shift was electrifying, a newfound dominance rushed through you. You had him right where you wanted, and you couldn’t help but milk it. 

“I’m feeling pretty tired.” You turned to him and faked a yawn, stretching your arms up, the bottom of your t-shirt rising to reveal just a sliver of skin, his eyes catching it immediately. “I think I’m just gonna get ready for bed now.”

He stood across the dimly lit room, every muscle in his body fighting against his attempt to stay in place. You held back a smug smile when you saw he was actually making tight fists to keep from reaching his hands toward you.

This would be all he would ever get, he thought. Just these little moments when his eyes caught slivers of your perfect skin. The tops of your sun kissed shoulders in your swimsuit. The brief hint of a dimple on your lower back when you bent to get a beer from the cooler. The curve of your hips in the tight jeans you wore today.

If this was all he’d get, that would be okay. He’d collect the memories of these moments like rare coins, only to be pulled out on special occasions. If these teases of what it might be like to be with you for real were all you’d ever give him, he’d make do. 

And just as he made himself that promise, you reached down and pulled at the hem of your shirt, lifting it over your head in one motion, tossing it to the floor. 

You were wearing a black bra with a little white bow right where the cups met between your breasts, and he could see the top of your black lace panties barely peeking out of the waistband of your jeans. 

Rafe’s face flushed and his shoulders tensed as he looked you up and down, eyes wide with surprise at how bold you were being. His large body cast a long shadow on the wall, but something about the desperation on his face made him seem so small, so vulnerable. The rush of power felt unbelievable and you wondered how far you could push him before he snapped.

Without breaking the heated eye contact between you, you slowly unbuttoned your jeans and dipped your thumbs under the waistband, pulling them down and over your feet.

“Wh-What are you doing?” Rafe finally choked out, unable to stay silent any longer.

“I’m getting ready for bed,” you shrugged innocently. “And you’re getting ready to leave.”

Your words were pushing him out, but your actions were freezing him in place. He had no idea what you really wanted from him, but he knew exactly what he wanted from you.

Before he could ask if you really wanted him to leave, you pulled back the covers of your bed and climbed in. Once under the sheets, the white linen covering you up to your shoulders, you shuffled a bit, making the blanket rustle with your movement. His brows furrowed in confusion, unsure what you were doing now. Then, your hand reached back out from under the covers and dropped your bra to the floor. More shuffling, and your panties followed, now only the plush duvet and silky sheets stood between Rafe and your completely bare body. Rafe cleared his throat as he felt himself straining against his board shorts.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, the blankets sliding slightly, stopping right before exposing your chest to him. He swallowed hard.

You looked at him, your face unassuming, like this was the most normal thing in the world. The way you were looking at him, he knew he would do anything you told him to, even if that meant you really were asking him to leave. He prayed to whatever god made the perfect creature in front of him that you’d ask him to stay. But you didn’t.

“Hit the lights on your way out?” You said, before laying back and letting your hair fan out over the pillows. You closed your eyes and moaned softly as you sunk into the plush bed.

He bit his lip as he watched you get comfortable, his heart pounding so hard he was sure you could hear it.

“Rafe?” you whispered, eyes still closed.

“Y-yeah?” He stammered.

“Goodnight,” you smiled, putting an end to any hope he had for an invitation to join you in the California King.

He sighed in defeat, “goodnight.”

With that, he walked toward the door, giving himself one last look at you, angelic and at peace in your pre-sleep. He hit the light switch and pulled the door closed softly behind him.

Rafe leaned against the door, one hand over his chest to feel his spiked heart rate, and one still clutching the door handle, unable to fully let go of it, of you. He felt lightheaded, the realization of how badly he wanted you washing over him, leaving him breathless. Why had he been such a dumbass in high school? He thought ruefully of that day senior year. If he had done just one thing differently, maybe he would be in bed next to you right now.

The thought of pulling your soft body into his, holding you under those cool sheets, nuzzling his head into your hair and inhaling the scent of you until you both fall into blissful sleep…he couldn’t remember ever wanting anything as bad as that. His want, his need, for you was too much to bear. 

He couldn’t bring himself to walk downstairs, and as much as he was dying to, he couldn't bring himself to go back into the room and risk your true rejection. As he toiled over his lack of choices, he sank to the floor, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. He knew it was pathetic, sitting outside your door like a stray cat. He told himself he’d sit here for just five more minutes, enough time to collect his dignity.

He fell asleep on the floor thinking about the way your hair smells.

(chapter 5: part one)

a/n: thank you thank you thank you thank you for the support on this story! thank you to this anon for the move night idea which really helped solve some plot issues I was having I appreciate you!! in the original draft of this chapter, Tom suggested they watch Hellraiser 2022...is that too meta?

please note, the taglist for this series is currently closed. For updates, follow @whytheylosttheirminds-works and turn on notifs 💕

[taeyongdoyoung]

hide and seek

summary: your best friend chan finds you've been fantasizing about him and decides to turn those ideas into reality... pairing: chan x reader genre: smut, best friends to ??? warnings: *cracks knuckles* cnc/primal play, wolf/bunny roleplay, mention of safewords, traffic lights system (yellow used), hide and seek, mentions of pee, chasing scenario, blowjob mouthfucking, hair-grabbing, degradation, leg cramping, knees hurting, kinda realistic, unprotected sex, missionary but he holds reader down, pet names, daddy kink (like once), breeding kink, creampie, aftercare, discussion of future scenario 👀 author's note: this will be the first part in a series, i haven't decided yet how many parts, maybe three? stay tuned if you're interested 🤍 part two & part three word count: 2.5k

Chan simply asks you if he can use your laptop while you’re having a shower since his battery died and he really needs to check something work-related real quick. After doing so, he can’t help but notice the recently opened pages. He doesn’t mean to pry, really. But it’s right there. And a quick look into his best friend’s mind couldn’t hurt…could it?

He is immediately captivated by this story you’ve apparently written and keep hidden in the drafts of your blog. It’s so…sexy and unlike anything you’ve ever talked to him about.

“Dumb little bunny, thinking you can get away from me,” the big bad wolf growls in the bunny’s ear.

The bunny whimpers helplessly, trying to escape the wolf’s strong grasp but to no avail.

The wolf takes the bunny from behind mercilessly, biting her neck and using her to please his needs...

What comes at the end of the story is what shocks him the most.

“Chris, please…”

Huh? Which Chris? Chris Evans? Or maybe Hemsworth? As far as he remembers, you have always been more of a Sebastian Stan and Tom Hiddleston kinda girl but…people change, he supposes.

Until it hit him. His name is also Chris! And people do compare him to a wolf…But no, it couldn’t be…There is no way his best friend is writing stories fantasizing about him.

Unless…

He can’t imagine going on with his life without knowing the answer. So, Chan waits impatiently until you are done with your shower.

“Everything good with your work thing?” you ask him calmly once you return to your room.

“Yeah, all is good. But I found something way more interesting on your laptop,” Chan blurts out meaningfully.

The expression on your face is enough of an answer. You look completely mortified, like a true bunny that is waiting to be devoured.

“I forgot to clear my history, didn’t I?” you murmur even though you already know what Chan has seen.

“That story wasn’t about Chris Evans, was it?” Chan wants to know though he suspects what the truth is.

You immediately drop to your knees in front of him, which takes him by surprise. Gripping his hand tightly, you look so cute and pitiful. He wants to ruin you. Wait, when did those feelings show up?

“I know it was wrong, Channie, believe me. But I just couldn’t help myself, okay? Nothing else helps me get off but this fantasy. I promise I won’t do it again, please don’t end our friendship! You mean the world to me, I’m so so sorry!”

“End our friendship?” he is completely stunned by your train of thought. “Why would I? I mean, you never meant for me to see it, so I think it’s okay to have certain…fantasies. But now that I did see it, I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“We don’t have to talk about it, if it makes you uncomfortable,” you suggest.

“You’re right, we don’t have to talk about it. But how about I make those scenarios come to life?”

“Huh? You want to what now?” you can’t believe what you’re hearing.

“It can’t be satisfying, dealing with all these frustrations by yourself.”

“It really isn’t…” you confess.

“Then, let me take care of you. That’s what friends are for, right?” Chan chuckles.

“Let me get this straight, you wanna re-enact my freaky fantasies while still staying friends?”

“Um, sure, why not?”

You would be a fool to agree. This could mess up everything. But you would be an even bigger fool to reject his tempting offer.

“I’m in.”

“Great! Then, should we discuss boundaries and safewords and stuff?”

“No boundaries, no safewords, you can do whatever you like to me, I don’t care.”

“This isn’t right. What if I want to use a safeword?”

Oh. That thought never crossed your mind but perhaps it should have.

“How about this…if I want a scene to end, I’ll say red. I know you said you don’t need one, but just in case, feel free to use it. If we want to just pause for a bit, then yellow. Green is good to go. Am I clear?”

“Yes, sir. I mean, Chan. I mean, uhhh…do you want me call you something specific?”

“Whatever you like, babygirl,” he reassures you and pats your cheek. “Do you want to give this a try rightaway? Unless you’ve got other plans…”

“No way, let’s do this!” you practically jump at the opportunity.

“Alright. I’ll give you one minute to hide anywhere in this house. After that, I can do whatever I like to you.”

His words make you so thrilled that your heart threatens to escape from your chest because it’s beating louder than ever.

“If you find me,” you tease.

“Oh, I will,” Chan swears. “Now, run.”

You sprint out of your room and down the stairs, as he starts the countdown.

“Sixty…fifty-nine…”

Where should you hide? The living room doesn’t have any good hiding spots and neither does the kitchen. Under the table is too obvious. Your room would have been a good option but Chan is currently there, so it’s out of the question. The bathroom is right next to it, so once again, not a great idea. Then, it hits you. The basement! You don’t remember ever showing it to Chan so it will take him more time to think of it. You go through the door and run down another set of stairs leading to the basement. You see the perfect spot. A vintage wooden chest that just happens to be empty and is big enough to fit you if you squeeze in.

Okay, maybe not comfortable but you can survive in there for a couple of minutes. Once you’ve tucked yourself inside and closed the lid, you are suddenly hoping that Chan finds you quickly. Whatever he does to you can’t be worse than this tiny space. You didn’t know you had claustrophobia but in this very moment, you do. You can’t hear him from down here so you imagine he is looking through the other rooms first. After what feels like eternity, you finally hear steps. You are grateful that you recently peed before getting in the shower because the current situation would have undoubtedly made you wet your pants. As the steps approach, you begin to worry. What if it isn’t Chan? What if you’d forgotten to lock the door and now a complete stranger comes in to take advantage of you? No, these thoughts are irrational and make you want to use the bathroom. Ugh.

“I’ll give you ten seconds to come out and I’ll go easy on you.”

Chan’s voice both comforts you and freaks you out even more. You’re not coming out, alright. This spot was great! He can do whatever he wants to you.

“Three…two…one,” Chan finishes counting and opens the chest’s lid.

You look up at him, eyes blinking to adjust to the light. He pulls you out of it roughly.

“Last chance. Run.”

But then, you realize you were squeezed into that tiny space for so long that your leg had cramped up. You can’t possibly run right now.

“Um, sorry but yellow,” you feel like an idiot. You had said you don’t need a safeword and yet…

“What’s wrong?” Chan’s threatening gaze immediately softens and he rubs your elbow gently.

“I didn’t think I’d get a leg cramp in this freaking box,” you admit, ashamed of yourself as you shake your legs in an attempt to relax muscles.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Chan coos at you and helps you massage your leg. “Wanna call it a day?”

“Hell nah. Just, no more running, please.”

“Sure, that’s fine by me.”

“Sorry for ruining the mood.”

Chan shakes his head.

“You could never.”

“Okay, I think I’m good now,” you assure him.

“Scene?”

“Scene.”

“Did you really think you can escape me? Dumb little bunny…” Chan tsks at you and you feel your knees giving out. You need him so bad it’s not even funny anymore.

“Please, don’t hurt me, Mr. Wolf,” you plead with him even though every cell in your being would be glad to be on the receiving end of his anger.

“Oh, but where’s the fun in that? You should’ve locked your door to keep me out.”

If you tell him that you want him inside would it be too out of character for a scared bunny?

“I’ll do anything,” you promise crying. “I won’t tell a soul.”

“You’ll do anything regardless,” Chan smirks devilishly and grabs your hair harshly, pushing you to your knees. With his free hand, he unbuttons and unzips his jeans, wasting no time in pulling his cock out of his confines and stuffing your mouth full.

Fuck, your knees already hurt, probably because of that stupid chest but you choose to ignore the discomfort for now because this feeling of being dominated like that is too good to let go of.

“That’s it, take it like the useless cumslut you are,” Chan speaks degradingly but you’ve never been wetter before.

You wish you could say you are doing your best to give him a blowjob but the truth is you are not doing much, his hips thrusting forward aggressively, his hands gripping your hair. Your mouth is nothing but a cumdump for him. Your eyes are watering, vision is blurred. Your throat hurts too but it is nothing compared to the burning feeling in your knee. It is in that moment you realize that you didn’t discuss a signal for a situation where you can’t speak. You rack your brain for an alternative and remember that some subs opt for pinching their dom’s skin in an attempt to communicate discomfort. You really don’t want this to end but…

As you are overthinking this, you realize Chan’s already released his seed inside of your mouth and you are left with no choice but to swallow it up like the greedy cumwhore you are. Only for him, though.

His cock softens in his mouth but he doesn’t immediately pull out and only then, do you remember what you’ve been about to do.

You pinch his thigh lightly, looking up with moist, pleading eyes.

“What is it, darling?” Chan needs to know, taking a step back.

“Help me stand, please,” your voice is hoarse.

“Did I hurt you?” he asks as he grips your hands and leads you to sit for a while on the stupid chest responsible for your current pain. Okay, maybe, you brought this upon yourself but whatever.

“No, you were perfect, it’s just that my knees hurt. Fucking dumb wooden thing,” you grunt in frustration, punching it with your tiny fist.

Chan chuckles and strokes your hair comfortingly in complete contrast to how he was pulling it mere seconds ago. Then, he pulls you into his arms for a sweet hug.

“Sorry…I’m killing the mood again, aren’t I?” you pout.

“Not at all. Remember you’re in charge of whatever happens between us. You wanna pause, we pause. You wanna stop, we stop. I would hate myself if this doesn’t feel as good for you as it does for me.

“You feel good?”

“Are you kidding? Do you think I’d offer just anyone to fulfil their fantasies hidden in their drafts?” Chan laughs fondly.

“I’m glad you think so,” you smile at him gratefully. “I’m better now so if you’re still on board, we can continue.”

“I’m on board but let me come up with a new plan. I was thinking of fucking you doggy style but now that’s out of the question with your knee situation.”

Hearing him speak out loud what he was planning to do to you sends shivers down your spine. Damn it, maybe you should have just hidden under the table.

“How do you feel about missionary?” Chan inquires.

“Wouldn’t it be too intimate for the kind of scenario we’re doing?” you are doubtful.

“Not if I hold you down,” Chan murmurs smugly.

“Oh. Well, then…like I said, you can do whatever you like.”

“Action?”

“Action,” you confirm.

Chan wastes no time in pulling you up from your sitting position and pushing you down on the cold floor. He’s holding your wrists with one hand and undressing you with the other. Scratch that. He’s tearing your dress apart. It was never one of your faves.

“W-what are you d-doing?” you mewl at him.

“Shut the fuck up,” Chan commands.

He doesn’t bother with stretching you out because he sees you’re already soaking wet for him. Instead, he forces his thick cock inside of your tiny pussy.

Only this time, your screams are real and you’re not at all pretending.

“T-too b-big, it h-hurts,” you cry out.

“You can take it, bunny,” Chan says confidently.

You know that you can put an end to this with one simple word but damn, does it feel incredible to be stuffed full by your best friend’s large manhood.

“Shh,” he whispers in your ear. “This’ll feel so much better if you relax f’me.”

You’re trying, really. But it’s too much you feel like he’ll split you in half. Okay, maybe not a bad way to go but still.

“D-daddy, it h-hurts so m-much,” you slur mindlessly.

Wait, what did you just say?

“Daddy, huh? Easy, babybun, your wolf dad’s gonna take good care of you, I promise,” Chan’s words send you into overdrive and you come around his cock, your thighs are shaking and you’re arching your back. You can’t think anymore, you just need to be with him stuck in this moment forever. Soon enough, he releases his cum inside of your pussy.

You want to beg him to stay there for a while but you are too weak to speak.

Instead, Chan uses his fingers to push back the cum inside of your tiny pussy.

“Gotta make it stick. Will my bunny have my wolf puppies, huh?”

Oh? So, he’s that kind of guy. Well, you can’t say you mind...Besides, you’ve talked about this before and you’re on the pill so whatever he says is just for the sake of the scenario. Right?

“Was this okay?” Chan intends to find out and judging by his soft tone that is just begging to be praised you can tell that the scene is over.

“You did amazing, Chris,” you sigh wistfully and kiss his cheek.

“Better than your fantasies?”

“You have no idea.”

“So…when can we do something like this again?”

“Gee, let me have some water, at least,” you joke but your best friend (?) takes it literally and scoops you up in his arms, heading towards the stairs.

“Wait, where are we going?”

“To get you water, of course. And have a bath. And then to bed.”

Fuck. Maybe staying friends will be more complicated than you initially thought.

Once you’ve both been hydrated, washed up and dried out, you are cuddled in your bed, sharing snacks.

“Do you want to try something more extreme next week?” Chan asks casually. As if what you just did wasn’t already pretty intense.

“Um, sure? What exactly did you have in mind?”

“Kind of an outside setting. It will take some planning to make sure there aren’t other people but…it just came to mind while we were in the basement.”

“Tell me more about it,” you blink curioisly and put your hand on top of his.”

“So…how do you feel about being chased in a forest?”

To be continued…

[katsu28]

"Squeezing their hand reassuringly and holding their hand throughout an intense social situation" for Lando if you are still taking requests! I love your writing sm!!❤️❤️

thank you so much!!!

lando norris x reader, 1.5k. request something from here!

“I have good news and bad news. Which one do you want first?” 

You tilt your head at Lando as he slides back into his seat across from you, curious. He looks uncharacteristically serious. “What, did your card get declined or something?” 

“That’s—uh, excuse me? No.” Lando scoffs, scrunching his nose at you at the same time as he flips you off playfully. “My card did not decline, thank you very much. I’ll say it again, good news or bad news first?” 

“Good news first, always,” You insist firmly. 

Lando sighs, propping his elbows up on the table. “Good news, you got a free meal on me again. Bad news, there's a whole crowd of cameras and fans outside the restaurant right now and no way out the back.” 

“Oh.” 

Even just thinking about having to push through the whole gaggle of paparazzi outside has an uneasy feeling settling in the pit of your stomach. You know you should be used to it by now, seeing as you’ve been with Lando for a while and known him even longer, but it’s not something you go through on a regular basis. You’ve tried your very best to avoid it, really. 

Without him, nobody notices you. You can blend in with others and not have to worry about whether or not your life is being looked at through a microscope. 

With him, you feel thrust into the spotlight. Even though you know they’re not here for you, they’re here for him, it doesn’t seem like anyone cares so long as they get a picture of Lando. Of course, not all of the fans are like that, but in your experience, things can get out of hand very quickly. 

“I’m sorry, love. I know how much you hate crowds.” 

“Um, yeah, it’s alright. I can handle it.” Your voice sounds breathy, even to you, and Lando takes notice, his brow creasing in concern. 

“You sure? I can leave now and you can wait here til it all dies down. I promise I’ll circle back for you,” He offers, tilting his head. He reaches across the table to take your hand, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. Half of you wants to play it safe and take him up on the offer. It would be easier on yourself to take that route. 

At the same time, you don’t want to hide anymore. The greater part of you feels like it's about time you mustered up the courage to embrace the very thing that makes you nervous. Lando has to do it everyday, surely you can handle it once. 

“No. We’ll leave together,” You decide, firmer this time. He smiles and stands from his seat, ever a gentleman as he helps you up from your own seat. Your previous confidence takes a rather large blow when you get to the waiting area of the restaurant and actually see just how large the crowd outside is. You stop suddenly.

“I’ve got you,” He says softly. “I won’t let go of you.” 

“Promise?” 

Lando holds out his pinky towards you in a silent promise, a pre race tradition you’ve adopted to help him settle his nerves before a race. You study his completely sincere expression for a few moments before letting out a sharp exhale through your nose, hooking your pinky around his. Both of you bring your linked hands up to your mouth, kissing the side of your fists to seal the promise. 

A silly gesture from way back in his karting days, but the significance it holds now is set in stone. 

“Okay. Okay, fuck, let’s get this over with!” His fingers slide into yours now, squeezing your hand reassuringly just for good measure. 

It feels like a full body assault on all your senses coming from all sides the moment you step outside. Flashing cameras, screaming fans, being jostled around even as Lando pushes through the crowd first to try to clear the way for you. You make the mistake of looking out into the crowd instead of keeping your head down like him, and instantly you’re blinded by a series of photos being snapped inches in front of your face. 

You can’t see a thing anymore, vision swimming with white spots no matter how much you blink to try to get rid of them. You stumble on the uneven cobblestones, and Lando’s grip on your hand tightens, his other arm slipping around your waist to steady you before you trip again. 

“I’ve got you, don’t worry,” He says into your ear, holding you close. He’s the only thing keeping you from panicking, your anchor in the ocean of people as he forges on towards the car waiting at the edge of the sidewalk. “Here, step up. Yeah, that’s it, grab there. Watch your head.” 

You scramble into the backseat of the car as quickly as you can so Lando can climb in after you. The door slams shut, and all that remains is silence. No more clamoring, no more screaming, just the rumble of the car under you and the telltale lurch that you’ve started to move. 

Collapsing back against the headrest, you laugh, high pitched and disbelieving. 

“Are you alright?” Lando’s voice sounds strained, tinged with concern, and his hand squeezes yours again. “All in one piece? All your limbs still attached?”

“Ha ha. Very funny. I’m okay, I just can’t really see anything right now,” You sigh. Your vision is still fuzzy, even in the darkness of the car. If you focus hard enough, you can kind of make out faint outlines of your surroundings, but you know it’ll be a bit until you’ll be seeing things clearly again. Lando makes a worried sound, and you're sure if you could see him his head would be cocked to the side, brows pinched in the middle. “Just the flashing cameras, probably. Now I know why you wear sunglasses everywhere you go.” 

He laughs then, giggles at you like you've said something absolutely hilarious. “I told you why I always have them on me! Did you think I was joking?” 

“No, I just always thought you were being a douchebag.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“Only douchebags wear glasses indoors, Lando. And blind people, but you're not blind.” 

“You might be after this,” He snickers. You shove him with a huff. Well, your smack hits something firm and he yelps, so you assume it’s him. “Ow, jesus—fine, I’m sorry. That was rude of me. I shouldn't be making fun of blind people.” 

“You shouldn’t be making fun of me! Why didn’t you bring them today?” 

“I did!” He insists. “I just…left them right here on the seat. Whoopsies.”

“Whoopsies.” 

The car returns you to Lando’s building, and thankfully by then your vision has returned so you can make your way up to his floor on your own. Lando’s gone quiet on the elevator ride up, which is a bit uncharacteristic of him. After a good meal like the one you’ve just had, usually he’s talking about how he wants to dive into bed and sleep for ten years. This time, he just stares at the changing numbers above the door silently. 

He wanders to the couch as soon as you get into the apartment, whereas you make your way over to the kitchen to grab some water. You grab a glass from the cabinet, not turning around as you ask, “Water, Lan?” 

“Do you ever regret it?” Lando sounds small, unsure. You freeze, wait for him to keep going, but he doesn’t. Confused, you turn around with the glass still in hand to see him not even looking at you, instead focusing hard on picking at a loose thread at the edge of his sleeve. 

He fiddles when he’s upset, something you’d learned quite early on in just being around him. He’s actually quite easy to read, really. Or maybe it’s just because you love him so much you’ve become attuned to his body language, what he does when he’s sad, mad, and everything in between. 

You give an acknowledging noise for him to elaborate, and he drops the thread, finally looking up at you. “Being with me.” 

“Now why would you ever think that?” You’re the concerned one now, rushing over to sit beside him on the cushions. 

He shrugs, letting his shoulders drop heavily. “I dunno, just…everything that comes with me, it’s a lot to deal with, y’know? Sometimes I wonder if you wish my life wasn't so…public all the time.” 

You take Lando’s face in your hands firmly, tilting his chin up so he's looking directly at you. “I will gladly take you and everything you come with. No matter what it is. I never want you to doubt that, my love.”

“I don’t,” He says softly, a flicker of a smile gracing his face. “How did I ever get so lucky with you?” 

“I think it was the knobby knees and giant head that really made young me go, yeah, I want that one. I think the sentiment still stands too.” 

Lando's smile disppears. Now he pouts, crossing his arms over his chest. "You're mean. You're mean and I hate you."

"That was for making fun of me earlier!"

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[cute-sucker]

domestic life (w/rafe)

about: this series is gonna be super, short and cute! just a bunch of compilation of your life with rafe + super super domestic fluff <3 send requests if you would like !

the days were sweltering hot, and you could barely take it, feeling so overstimulated you felt like you could cry.

all it would take would be a slight comment for your eyes to start watering, so you knew it was a good decision to carefully walk down to rafe's truck. good thing your boyfriend was always willing to turn on the ac as much as you wanted.

the minute you jumped into the car, rafe leaned in closer to give you a kiss with puckered lips, an easy grin on his face, "there's my pretty girl," he murmured fixing your seat before grazing your face with his fingers.

you grimaced looking away pushing a hand to move him away, pink skirt fluttering as you redid your lipgloss. rafe looked at you with a raised eyebrow, gruffly muttering something under his breath after your rejection.

"i'm all gross, rafe. can't deal with it," you groaned, rubbing your hands in your hair to make it look better, "shit, this heat is really getting to me."

"c'mere, what the hell does it matter?" he groaned ignoring your meek protests before grabbing your face to give you a proper kiss, "i've seen you worse," then he gave you a suggestive smile as you smiled shyly, rubbing your face on his shoulder as he muttered in approval.  

"that wasn't so hard, was it?"

you hide your smile now, humming softly. giving him a slight look you adjust the toggle of the air conditioning, feeling the chilly breeze cool you. rafe looked at you bewildered as you turned it up the whole way, a cheeky smile on your face. you knew he couldn't stop you. you knew he didn't have it in him.  

"y'know i turned it on before you came in? spent five minutes fermenting in this fuckin' cold"

now you rolled your eyes, fixing your necklace to make sure it was on display. sometimes that was how you won arguments, you just flashed your little necklace that had a 'r,' on it, and you swore rafe's eyes went glossy before he coughed to stop himself to kissing you. it worked every single time, but this time he was scowling, shaking his head as he continued to drive.

you nudged him gently with your manicured finger, "rafe? rafe...rafe?" you whispered in his ear, before he let out a small groan slowly pulling over the car.

"what is it?"

you bit your lip, fidgeting before you looked up.

"spit it out."

you sighed, "i can't deal with the weather rafe. it makes me feel super ichy, and disgusting. i need this. i really do." now you're practically whispering, looking up at him with wide doe eyes. you watch him close his eyes, gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turn white.

finally he let out a soft sigh, as he ran a hand through his hair as if it made sense to him. sometimes he talked to you about his sensory issues as well, in that soft offhanded way, telling you how it irritated him the way that the tv was loud enough to make his head burn, or the way the tags on his t-shirts had to cut off properly, and now you wished that he would understand.

you shivered now, like a frail leaf on an autumn day, hoping that you wouldn't be met with his cruel words, hoping that he'll understand and somehow, somehow he places a warm hand on your waist, a gentle frown on his face.

and in true rafe fashion, he gives you a small pat on your head, pulling the car back into drive, and he's practically cooing now but there's a sweet edge to his words as if he's pulling you apart like cotton candy.

"yea', jesus, i should have known better," and then he tosses a cd into your lap, and you know he's trying to apologise through his actions as he gives you a soft kiss the on the forehead

"c'mon put on one of those cheesy songs."

[dreamwritesimagines]

Sunshine [8] - Scorching

AN: My loves, thank you so so much for your wonderful support and lovely comments and HCs! ❤️ You’re amazing! ❤️

I hope you like this as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think, thank you! 🥰

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female!Reader

Summary: The morning after can be peaceful.

Word Count: 4244

CW: Explicit language, mentions of sex, drinking, adult themes MDNI

Series Masterlist

There was a reason why you kept telling everyone you couldn’t do casual. You had tried it numerous times, and every single time you ended up getting attached but this?

With Logan?

This was a whole different level.

When the alarm pulled you out of the deep haze of sleep, it took you a couple of seconds to be able to even lift your arm to grab your phone. Your whole body felt sore in the most pleasant way as you pulled back from the warmth and rolled to your side to check the time on the screen before hitting snooze, and while you were more than ready to fall back to sleep, the urge disappeared immediately the moment you heard Logan’s groan.

It was almost insane how you were still hungry for him. The dawn was breaking by the time you had fallen asleep -to be honest, you were quite sure you had passed out- but as soon as you turned around and your eyes fell on him, the spark of the familiar fire of desire shot through you, making your lips curl into a smile. He ran a hand over his eyes as if trying to get rid of any trace of sleep before he lowered his hand to smirk at you.

“Morning,” you said softly and he pulled you closer to himself and cupped your cheek to brush his lips against yours, coaxing a sigh out of you.

“Hi sweetheart.”

You could feel your heart skipping a beat at his morning voice and you rested your chin on his chest, fiddling with the dog tags hanging from the chain around his neck as he brushed his knuckles against your cheekbone.

“Feeling okay?”

“More than okay,” you said and thought for a moment. “I’ll have to ask if Jamie knows someone who can teach me how to walk again but zero regrets.”

A chuckle vibrated deep in his chest and you beamed at him, turning the tags in your hand. He ran his fingertips up and down your spine, awakening goosebumps on your skin and you pecked him on the lips but the moment you pulled away, he pulled you back so that he could kiss you again. He rolled over so that he could get on top of you, making you let out a happy squeal before the loud alarm of your phone went off again and you hit snooze once more.

“Call in sick,” Logan murmured and you tried to focus, scratching at the nape of his neck softly but before you could say anything, his phone started vibrating somewhere on the floor-you were guessing in his jean pockets. He dropped his head to the croak of your neck, making you giggle.

“Aren’t you gonna get that?”

“Nope.”

“But it could be important.”

You could almost feel his smirk. “I swear to you, nothing is more important than this.”

“Someone could be dying!”

“They should find a doctor then.”

“Logan!” you exclaimed, pushing at his broad shoulders and he lifted his head with a sigh, then grabbed his phone off the floor with a sigh. You toyed with the tags swinging above your face as he looked down at you with a fond light in his eyes before dipping his head to give you a small kiss on the lips, then answered the phone.

“What do you want?”

Your jaw dropped as you squeezed at his hand beside your head.

“Be nice!”

He shook his head slightly, his brows pulling into a frown.

“Find someone else,” he told the person on the other line and rolled his eyes. “I’m not at the mansion right now Scott, I can’t go up to the roof—” he stopped talking as Scott said something you couldn’t hear, making his frown deepen. “How the fuck do you know where I am?”

You tilted your head to the left while he heaved a furious sigh, then gritted his teeth.

“Just wait there,” he snapped and hung up, a growl rumbling in his chest before he cleared his throat and put the phone down.

“I’m really sorry princess,” he said softly, turning to you. “I…I’m going to kill Scott, but I gotta go.”

The change in his tone almost gave you a whiplash. You knew he was annoyed, if not angry at Scott, but there was no trace of that snappy tone he used with him when he spoke to you; instead his voice was gentle, and held none of that sharp edge it held just a moment ago. You could feel a smile curling your lips and you nodded your head.

“No problem,” you said. “Is everything okay?”

“He brought the jet here.”

You blinked a couple of times. “Sorry?”

“Yeah, waiting on the roof right now.”

“This roof?”

“This roof,” he said. “I have no idea how he knew where I was.”

You grabbed his phone and waved it at him. “This maybe?”

A look of realization dawned on his face.

“Right,” he muttered before kissing you on the lips and you giggled, cupping his cheek before pulling back to look up at him.

“Your friends are waiting,” you told him and he heaved a sigh, then pecked you again and got off of you to grab his clothes. You let your eyes roam his naked body hungrily while he put his clothes on but as soon as you rolled over to his side, you felt the significant dip that made you frown before the memory hit you.

You—

Oh.

You had in fact broken the bed last night.

You pulled yourself to the edge of the bed to hang down halfway, trying to see under the bed and you reached down to feel underneath the frame where it had broken but Logan stopped you.

“Don’t, it’ll cut you,” he said and reached down before you felt the unmistakable sound of metal bending into its place.

“Oops,” you said with a giggle and he smirked at you, crouching down to get to your level while you rested your chin on your hand, still on the edge of the bed.

“It should be good for now,” he said. “I’ll fix it when I get back, okay sweetheart?”

You nodded your head, beaming up at him.

“When will you be back?” you asked, your voice soft and he stole a kiss from your lips, his fingers caressing your hair.

“Scott seems to think it’ll take the whole weekend and if we’re not back on Monday, I’ll leave him there and come back.”

“You would never.”

“I might,” he muttered, making you let out a small laugh.

“But seriously, it’s fine,” you insisted. “I’m going to be with Theo whole weekend, it’s not as if we’d be able to see each other until Monday.”

He paused as if he hadn’t considered that before nodding his head.

“Right,” he said. “Of course.”

“See you on Monday then,” you said with a smile and he pecked you on the lips, then pressed a kiss on the top of your bed and straightened his back.

“Be careful, please?”

“Always am,” you said. “And you too.”

He shot you a smirk before walking out of the room and you heard the front door open before it closed again and you heaved a sigh, then rolled onto your back and smiled to yourself. You pressed your fingertips on your lips, then attempted to sit up but your eyes widened as all your muscles protested, and you took a deep breath.

“Moving slow today,” you muttered to yourself. “So worth it.”

                                        *

You’d always liked weekends but ever since Theo had started attending the school for the gifted, weekends was becoming your favorite time of the week. You missed Theo so terribly from Monday to Friday, so every weekend you tried to make sure he was happy to be home. You would take him on picnics, to movies, to wherever he wanted to see and always made sure to cook and bake his favorites so that when he went back to school, he knew he still had a home to go back to whenever he wanted.

So, your weekend with Theo had gone well. You took him to a new exhibition in one of his favorite museums and had a documentary night at home with his favorite snacks, as it was your tradition before he started school.

He was also beyond happy to have Cheeto and Popcorn. He had hugged you and told you that you were the best mom ever, and you would be lying if you said it didn’t make the tears rush to your eyes.

When Monday arrived and you dropped him off to school, you had texted Logan but apparently he still wasn’t back. You could almost hear him grumbling about it even if it was on text, and you would be lying if you said you weren’t a bit disappointed, but you knew you had to go to work anyway so the best-case scenario you would be seeing him in the evening even if he were back.

But apparently, Theo had forgotten his book home so after work, you had to drop by home and drive to his school to drop it off.

“So,” Julie’s voice reached you from the speaker of the phone as you kept your eyes on the road. “Is Mr. Break Your Bed gonna be there?”

“I don’t think so,” you said with a small grin. “I texted him but he hasn’t seen it yet. And either way, he probably won’t be back by the midnight, so…”

“Maybe a midnight visit then?”

“I mean I don’t want to be pushy but…” you trailed off. “I hope so. Can you have withdrawals when it comes to sex? Because I’m pretty sure I’m having withdrawals.”

“It’s barely Monday evening,” she said. “You’re not having withdrawals, you’re just horny.”

“Julie, that night changed me,” you said. “I’m a changed woman now.”

“I’m happy for you but how about we slow down for a moment?”

“I think at some point my soul left my body.”

“I don’t think so.”

“It was floating in space or something.”

“No it wasn’t.”

“I saw myself in an alternate universe and she was also with Logan.”

“That’s not what happened.”

“Julie—”

 “I’m really proud of you for having orgasms but at the risk of sounding like Jamie,” she cut you off. “You need to take a deep breath and calm down for a moment. I don’t care how good he is in bed, let’s keep in mind that he’s still just a guy.”

“I am calm.”

“You’re not calm,” she said. “We’re on family account so I know you listened to Crazy in Love - Fifty Shades of Grey remix on loop all night last night.”

“I was making a trailer for me and Logan in my head.”

“Which doesn’t fall under the category of being calm.”

You took a deep breath, lazily turning the steering wheel.

“You know how much I support you getting laid,” Julie said. “But let’s not put the guy up on a pedestal just because he’s great in bed. Please?”

“I’m not doing that,” you said, your voice coming out way too petulant. “It’s just…you know, I’m happy.”

“And that makes me happy,” she assured you. “I promise you. But I don’t want you to get hurt, so let’s go slow with this whole thing with Logan.”

You nodded your head.

“Yeah I know,” you said as you pulled over, looking up at the mansion. “Gotta go, I’ll call you?”

“Okay!”

“Love you!”

“Love you too sunshine,” she said and hung up, and you grabbed your phone off the holder before stepping out of the car. You knew Logan wasn’t there, but you still felt your heart skipping a happy beat and made your way into the mansion.

Considering it was late in the evening, Theo and the most of the younger students had to have gone to bed, and you didn’t want to wake him up from his sleep just to give him his book. Some of the older students were around so you stopped the closest guy and smiled at him.

“Um, hi.”

His eyes widened as he looked at you, then he looked up at the ceiling as if forcing himself to drag his gaze away.

“Hi miss—ma’am,” he said and you tilted your head.

“Uh, are you okay?”

“Yes ma’am,” he stammered. “I just have been told not to even look at…how—how may I help you?”

“I was wondering where Professor X is,” you said even though you were confused about why he refused to look at you. “I’ll give him Theo’s book, I’m his mom.”

“I know,” he said. “I can give it to him tomorrow if you’d like.”

“Oh that’d be wonderful, thank you!” you said as he took the book from you and you frowned.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Caleb!” someone called out and he turned his head, then nodded.

“I’d better go,” he said. “Uh, see you around—or not! Not see you around, I’ll just…” he waved his hand vaguely before walking away from you in a hurry, and you leaned on your hip.

“Well that was weird,” you muttered to yourself and turned around to make your way through the hallway but as soon as you turned the corner, someone pulled you by the arm, making you let out a squeal before you saw who it was, your heartbeat getting faster in a second.

Logan.

He had to have just stepped out of the shower judging by his wet hair. His hazel eyes was shining with that fond light they always held whenever he looked at you, making your chest feel all warm as a smile curled his lips.

“Hi princess.”

“Hi!” you chirped, smiling wide at him, painfully aware of the heart eyes you were giving him. “You’re back!”

He hummed, dipping his head to pull you into a kiss and you heaved a pleasant sigh, wrapping your arms around his neck when his arm sneaked around your waist to press your body to his.

“I didn’t know you were back,” you said when you pulled back to look up at him and he stroked your cheekbone.

“Arrived like half an hour ago,” he said. “I heard your voice when I stepped out of the shower. What are you doing here?”

“Theo forgot his book,” you said. “I texted you actually, but…”

“My phone died,” he mumbled apologetically and you let out a laugh.

“Why do I get the feeling you and technology don’t get along well?”

The corners of his lips twitched. “Maybe.”

“How was the mission?”

“It was good,” he said. “Missed you though.”

Happiness bloomed in your chest, making you beam at him. “Did you?”

He hummed and stole another kiss from you, entwining his fingers with yours before stepping back and tugging at your hand.

“Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

He shot you a playful smile, making your stomach do a happy flip.

“Well, like I said, I missed you,” he said, pulling you to himself to peck you on the lips again. “And my room is closer than your place.”

                                                   *

Okay.

Well—

Perhaps you weren’t exactly going slow.

Perhaps sex with Logan was making you plan your future cabin in the woods but as long as you kept it to yourself, you figured it was fine.

You had no idea what time you had fallen asleep but when you woke up to your stomach growling, it was still midnight. You looked up at Logan’s sleeping figure before smiling to yourself, and very carefully moved in the bed but as soon as you turned around, Logan threw an arm over your waist to pull you back to him.

“Where are you going?” he muttered into your hair, his voice still sleepy and you let out a giggle, squeezing at his arm.

“Burning energy leads to hunger, strange as it sounds,” you said. “Aren’t you hungry?”

You could hear his smirk; “Nah, I ate.”

A fire spread over your face as you pulled the pillow from under your head to smack it on his arm, making him chuckle.

“Want me to get you something?” he asked and you thought for a moment, then shook your head.

“I don’t know what I want, so I’ll check the kitchen,” you said as you sat up in the bed and grabbed your dress but tilted your head when you saw the broken zipper. You raised your brows and held it up, throwing a look at him over your shoulder and he held up his hands.

“Sorry about that.”

You tilted your head. “You don’t sound very sorry.”

“That’s because I’m not.”

You scrunched up your nose at him, narrowing your eyes.

“I’m so stealing your clothes tomorrow before going to my place,” you told him and grabbed his shirt to put it on, then got up from the bed despite your muscles protesting every single movement. He got up as well and got into his jeans then followed you out of the room.

It was clear that everyone was asleep, the hallway completely dark and empty, and you smiled when Logan threw an arm over your shoulder, pulling you closer. Entwining your fingers with his, you let him lead you to the kitchen downstairs and as soon as you took a step to the fridge, he slapped your butt, making you whirl around with a gasp.

“People are sleeping!” you whispered, pointing a finger at him while trying your hardest not to laugh, then opened the fridge door to see what was inside. You hummed, then took out some bread, butter and cheese and held them up.

“You want some grilled cheese sandwich?”

“Sure,” he said with a soft smile on his face and you nodded, then kicked the fridge door close to make your way to the counter.

“At the risk of sounding arrogant,” you said. “I make a killer grilled cheese sandwich.”

“Yeah?” he asked, coming up behind you to wrap his arms around your waist, dipping his head to bury his nose to the crook of your neck. A giggle escaped from your lips as you fidgeted in his arms.

“Logan!”

“You smell so good.”

“I highly doubt that,” you retorted, cutting the cheese. “We’ve been um…busy for hours.”

You could feel his smirk against your skin; “Busy?”

“Stop,” you chided him lightheartedly, your cheeks burning a little as you held up a piece of cheese over your shoulder for him to bite it. You popped the rest into your mouth, then looked around.

“Where’s the pan?”

“It’s—” Logan started, but raised his head to look behind him, making you frown.

“What?”

“You don’t want Theo to know yet, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

“He’s awake, coming here,” he muttered, stepping back from you and you frowned but before you could ask anything, you heard the familiar footsteps.

Uh oh.

Any observer would’ve been able to tell what was happening, considering Logan was only in his jeans, and you were in his flannel but Theo was still little and you hadn’t brought anyone home before so you knew he wouldn’t be able to understand. Either way, you fixed your hair hurriedly and threw your shoulders back when Theo appeared at the entrance, rubbing his eyes behind his glasses with his fist, then he lowered his hand to pull his brows together.

“Mommy?”

“Bean!” you said breathlessly and smiled at him. “Hi. Why are you awake?”

Theo blinked a couple of times as if trying to focus, then fixed his glasses, his lips pulled into a pout.

“What are you doing here?”

You exchanged glances with Logan who was leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, then you turned to Theo.

“I brought your book and the car broke down so I decided to spend the night here,” you lied. “You were already asleep when I got here. What are you doing up?”

“I was thirsty,” he said through his pout and Logan filled a glass of water to give it to you so that you could give it to Theo. “Hi Mr. Logan.”

“Hi bub.”

Theo downed the water and gave the glass back to you, then hugged your legs with a small whine. You smiled to yourself and lifted him up for him to wrap his arms and legs around you like a little koala, and leaned his head to your chest with a yawn.

“Want me to carry him to bed?” Logan asked and Theo frowned, then shook his head, holding onto you tighter.

“We get a bit cranky when we’re sleepy,” you whispered to Logan and pressed a kiss on top of Theo’s hair. “It’s fine, right bean?”

Theo nodded quietly.

“His room is—”

“Down the hallway, I know,” you told Logan with a smile. “Be right back.”

You walked out of the kitchen with Theo in your arms, humming an old song that used to put Theo to sleep when he was a baby. He mumbled something in his sleep and you reached the half open door of his room, then pushed it to step in.

Theo having a room to himself wasn’t something you had thought about when you enrolled him but when you came to pick him up at the end of his first week, Professor X had informed you that it was a precaution, after all Theo still didn’t know how to control his very destructive powers so it was both for his safety and the other students’. You could see his books on the table and his animal drawings on the walls, as well as him in a superhero suit. You repressed a smile, then gently put him down on his bed and pulled the covers over him.

“Mommy?”

“Yes my love?” you whispered, stroking over his hair before taking his glasses off to put them on his bedside table. Theo yawned.

“I had a dream about Cheeto and Popcorn.”

“Really?”

“Mm hm,” he said drowsily. “They’re friends right? Best friends?”

You smiled to yourself.

“They are,” you said. “And they love you.”

 Theo hugged his pillow tighter, already half asleep. “Love you mommy.”

“Love you too bean,” you said, pressing a kiss on his forehead before pulling back to see whether he could hear you but he was deep asleep already. You smiled to yourself and heaved a sigh, then made your way back to the kitchen where Logan was already turning the sandwich in the pan on the stove.

“Hottest chef I’ve ever seen,” you joked as you jumped to sit on the counter and he gave you a smile.

“I doubt making grilled sandwich counts as being a chef.”

“It totally does,” you told him and he put it on a plate, then put it in your lap.

“Here.”

“Yay!” you said and took a bite, then closed your eyes. “Ugh, I love bread.”

Logan chuckled, making you open your eyes as you chewed on your bite, then swallowed it.

“You’re great with him, you know?” Logan asked and you pulled your brows together in confusion before the realization dawned on you.

“With Theo?” you asked and let out a small laugh. “Well, comes with the territory.”

“Not at all,” Logan said. “Not every parent is like that.”

A bright smile lit up your face.

“Thank you,” you said. “For saying that. It means more than you know. Half of the time I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“Doesn’t look like it,” Logan said. “He’s the happiest kid I’ve ever seen.”

“Yeah?” you asked, your smile widening and he nodded.

“Mm hm.”

“Good,” you said. “I mean his happiness is the most important thing for me. Everything else comes secondary to that, even myself which is…not something I thought was possible before.”

That soft light was shining in his eyes again and you took a deep breath, then scrunched up your nose.

“Sorry,” you said as you put down the sandwich in the plate. “This is the part where people get scared.”

He hummed, leaning his hands on either side of you, caging you in, making your heart skip a happy beat and a mischievous smirk curled his lips.

“Do I strike you as a man who gets scared?” he asked and a small giggle climbed up your throat.

“No,” you admitted. “But…”

“But?”

“But I’d get it if you did.”

He shook his head, his hazel gaze locked in yours.

“Not gonna happen.”

You could feel the warmth spreading from your chest to your whole body and you leaned in to press a feathery kiss on his lips.

“Good,” you managed to say. “I happen to like having you around, and your cooking skills aren’t so bad.”

“Oh is that right?”

“Could use some more practice but I figure two hundred years is a bit early to learn and—Logan!” you squealed as he took the plate to put it beside you on the counter, then pulled you to himself, making you slide on the counter, a laugh escaping from you before you covered your mouth.

“People are sleeping!” you reminded him again and he shrugged his shoulders, that irresistible smile curling his lips again.

“Well,” he muttered, leaning down to kiss you again as you wrapped your arms around his neck with a pleasant sigh. “Guess you’re gonna have to be quiet, sweetheart.”

9 - Tranquility

[sungbeam]

𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐰 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧

nonidol!choi san x gn!reader (no prns mentioned)

turns out your upstairs neighbor has a cat who adores climbing through your window — oh, and said neighbor is also fine as hell.

3.7k words, neighbors au (2 lovers), fluff, maybe like two swear words, drinking, lots of mentions of food

a/n: low-key just read this like ur watching the highlight reel of a romcom lol but @jaehunnyy for u 💖 i hope u like it :'))

It all started about seven months ago when a gorgeous Thai cat waltzed into your apartment via the open window. It was a late July afternoon, stiflingly hot and sticky, meaning you had your window opened and the mobile fan set up to blow cool air into the apartment.

You were, for once, not at work. Because the art museum you worked at downtown was currently undergoing reconstruction, you were stuck in your apartment trying (failing) to sell prints off your low-traffic Etsy shop while also trying (failing) to make popsicles.

“Why is this so complicated?” You grumbled aloud as you sat on top of your kitchen counter with your knees pulled beneath your chin. You scrolled down the recipe again on your laptop screen, nose wrinkled at the amount of convoluted steps listed. “Too fancy,” you decided, slamming your laptop lid closed.

Immediately, you hissed, lifting the lid to make sure you hadn't cracked the screen from closing it too hard. Thankfully, there were no cracks visible and you breathed out a sigh of relief. You could not afford a broken—

“Holy shit!” You nearly fell off the back of the island counter at the sight of a light gray cat with black tipped ears, paws, and tail seated on the floor before you.

The cat meowed an innocent greeting.

You pressed your hand to your hammering heart and shifted to get a grip on your position atop the counter. “How—? Where…?” Your eyes drifted to the open window.

Oh. Well, that would explain it.

You glanced back at the cat, who peered up at you once more. “Meow.”

Carefully, you climbed down from the counter as to not scare the creature with any sudden movements. “Hey, baby. Where did you come from, hm?” You cooed, extending your hand out as an offer to be sniffed.

The cat unfurled its tail out from around its body and crept toward your hand. With an experimental sniff, you were deemed safe, and the cat rubbed the side of its face affectionately against the back of your knuckles.

Your chest nearly exploded from the cute interaction. You lowered yourself to your knees, gently taking a peek at the silver charm attached around the collar. There you found the engraving of a star in the metal circle.

“I'm guessing this has something to do with your name?” You hummed, reaching up to scratch the feline behind the ears and head. At least you had an inkling that this little one belonged to someone. You just didn't know how to find out who they were.

“I guess you can hang out with me,” you sighed and stood up with your hands on your hips. You didn't mind the company, after all, and maybe this could be a point of inspiration.

About three hours later, the summer sun still hung relatively high in the sky and you were trying to figure out what to feed the cat when there came a sudden knock at your front door. Really, the “sudden knock” was a series of rushed, panicked DUDUDUDU sounds. You nearly jumped out of your skin for the second time in one afternoon, and even the cat seemed to leap.

Well, the cat only looked mildly annoyed that her nap was interrupted, but she seemed content to give a languid stretch and join you in seeing who was so alarmed at your door.

When you peered out the peephole, your eyes shot open.

There was a pretty man at your door.

You glanced down at the cat who looked back up at you. You mouthed to her, pointing at the door, ‘Do you know this guy?’

As expected, she did not answer. Lovely.

You weren't exactly in appropriate garb to see people. You had thrown on something cool enough to not make you melt like one of the popsicles you weren't able to make earlier, and enough to cover any necessary areas. You were sure your hair looked about as luxurious as a barn, and there wasn't a lick of cosmetics on your face.

It was fine, you told yourself. You probably weren't even going to see this guy ever again.

You opened the door. “Hello? Can I help you?” You asked through the chain linking the door shut.

The man flashed you a flustered, dimpled smile at you. His dark hair was damp, like he just came out of a shower, and he had on a muscle tee that was definitely doing its job, and a pair of basketball shorts. “Hi! So sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if you've seen a Thai cat wandering around here about yea high—?”

“Meow.” The cat at your feet shoved her way between the gap you made with the door and out into the hallway.

Your eyes widened another smidge, until the man outside released a gasp of relief and bent down to scoop the feline up into his arms. You unlatched your door and opened it fully now, the man holding the cat to his face as if he was communicating with her telepathically.

“That's the cat, I'm guessing?” You mused.

He tucked her back into his arm and his smile became sheepish. “Yes, I am so sorry about her. I came back home from work and she wasn't in the apartment, but thank you for dealing with her for however long she was here.”

You waved off his concern with your hand, sending him a kind smile. “Don’t worry about it, really. She's adorable. What's her name, by the way?”

“Oh, this is Byeol,” he cooed, lifting Byeol's paw up to wave at you.

Swoon. Your smile widened as you waved back at them both. “Well, it was nice to meet you, both Byeol and…?”

“San,” he answered. God, he was gorgeous. That smile… “And you are?”

“Yn.” You shook each other's hands in the dim hallway light.

“Nice to meet you, too, Yn.” He lit up, pointing up to the ceiling. “Hey, I'm pretty sure I'm your upstairs neighbor!”

You opened the door to your apartment wider so you could show him your open window. “Well, that would definitely explain how she got down onto my fire escape,” you chuckled.

He whistled lowly. “Man, cats are scary sometimes. I'll definitely try to keep an eye on whenever she's near my window now.” He ran the back of his knuckles down Byeol's spine. “I don't wanna take up any more of your time, but thanks again.”

“No worries! Have a nice night.”

“You too!”

San began walking back toward the stairs at the end of the hallway, and you were about to close the door when you thought you heard him chastising his cat in hushed tones. You laughed to yourself as you locked up your front door. You wouldn't mind if Byeol came traipsing down your fire escape again.

And she would. About three times a week when San had a later shift at the boxing gym he worked at (yes, a boxing gym… good lord). Byeol oftentimes expected you to have your window open, and if you didn't already have it open, she would sit out on the fire escape until you did.

Two months into the fire escape escapades, you gave up and left the window open just enough for her to squeeze through while you returned to work.

San would always come down to your apartment to retrieve her, and at some point, decided to swing by your apartment on his way up instead just to make sure she wasn't already here.

By month four when the days were shorter and the nights dragged longer and colder, you couldn't exactly keep the window open, lest you wanted to freeze your ass off in the safety of your apartment. Byeol would hop down the fire escape in the evenings when you were back so you could let her in, only for her owner to come barreling down the stairs, dimpled cheeks flushed and exasperated.

“I swear she likes you more than me,” he guffawed from where he stood out in the hallway as he always did. He shook his head as he watched the Thai feline waltz around his legs once, then circle back into your apartment. He arched a brow at her. “Look at her strutting. She knows exactly what she's doing.”

You swore there was a dash of red gracing his cheekbones now.

You bit your lip through a smile. “Well, you're welcome to come in. I was just about to eat dinner and I don't really think I can finish this roast chicken alone.”

“Ah, I don't really wanna impose,” he drawled, scratching the back of his neck and peering at you from beneath those lengthy lashes of his. He knew what he was doing—he had to know what he was doing. If Byeol could strut, then so could Choi San.

He promised to take you up on your offer as long as you let him run upstairs to grab a bottle of wine to contribute.

The last thing you expected to happen was to hear a knock on your window less than ten minutes later. You nearly jumped out of your skin at the sound, folding over in laughter when you saw him waving to you on the other side with cold-bitten cheeks and a red-tipped nose. He clutched a bottle of red in one hand and gestured furiously to the window latch. “It's fucking freezing!”

“Okay, okay,” you grinned, walking over to let him inside. “Just so you know,” you said as Byeol welcomed her owner into your apartment, “usually it's just cats who come in this way.”

“Well, you might have to get used to a cat and a human coming in now,” he teased. San presented you the wine bottle with a flourish. “Milady, your beverage.”

“Why, thank you, good sir,” you jested and accepted the offering. “Make yourself at home!”

What you didn't expect was for such a statement to be taken so literally, and yet, you had no complaints.

Three months further along—making it seven in total since that first hot July day Byeol came in through the open window—you and San (and Byeol) were cooped up in your apartment as usual. It was a Friday night with dinner on the table, a TV show playing in the background, and a pair of wine glasses for the pair of you. Over the past few months, sharing a dinner together had become a weekly event wherein San would come in via window, and the two of you would have the evening together.

Sometimes it was just dinner, sometimes it was dinner and a movie, and sometimes it was even dinner, a movie, and drunk Pictionary. But every Friday night was yours and San's night.

Plus, he turned out to be a much better cook, so you definitely couldn't argue when he somehow wrestled his entire Le Creuset pot down the fire escape to feed you the most divine lobster mac 'n’ cheese you had ever tasted. (As if you'd ever had lobster mac 'n’ cheese before…)

“I feel like it would just be more convenient if I came up to your apartment instead,” you said with enthusiasm, your free arm flailing around as you melted dark chocolate on a double boiler upon the stove top. While San had the right side of the stove for his chicken and gnocchi soup, you had the left to prepare tonight's mousse for dessert. If San made dinner, you figured you could at least learn a thing or two about a dessert course.

He chuckled, “I mean, I'm not opposed if you ever get tired of hosting. I'm kind of a creature of habit though, which is why I don't mind coming down every week, but it's up to you, sweets.”

Oh, right. And the nickname. You couldn't even pinpoint when that started, but again, you weren't complaining.

“I don't mind hosting either,” you told him, “it's just that it's either you leave your super expensive cookware here or I go upstairs. I don't think Le Creuset has fire escape insurance.”

“You're not wrong about that.” You felt his hand gently brush against your waist as he slipped past you to get to the spice cabinet on your left. “Behind you,” he murmured by your ear before grabbing the jar of Himalayan salt (also his) and returning to his station behind his pot.

You couldn't deny the pitter-patter of your heart around him either. Things were coming to a point that you didn't know how to label. But perhaps that was the beauty of everything slipping into place. You carried on, “I think I've seen your apartment once, and that was when Byeol wouldn't stop meowing until I followed you guys.” You laughed to yourself at the memory. That had been an interesting night.

“If it's any consolation, your apartment has much more life in it than mine.”

“That's a lie,” you said pointedly. “Yours is just more meticulous.”

He snorted. “Meticulous. Might as well be as barren as a clinic.”

You passed him a glance. “I offered to paint your walls…”

San beamed back at you, dimples creating divots in the apples of his cheeks. “And I never said no! But—I do think that it should be something the both of us do together.”

Your brows creased as you took the chocolate off the stove to fold into the other mixture you'd set aside. “You wanna paint with me?”

“Yeah,” he said, almost bashfully. “I think it'd be a fun bonding and learning experience. And it would be cool to see you in your element, besides when you're drunk.”

The latter comment had you turning away to laugh. “Fair enough.”

When dinner was ready to be dined, and the mousse was freezing in the fridge, you and San sat at the kitchen island with your matching bowls of hot soup and glasses of lemon water for the night. Neither of you had remembered to buy wine for the week (surprisingly), but one week without alcohol wouldn't hurt.

The two of you clinked your glasses together, toasting to another week survived.

You took a sip, then spooned the soup into your mouth, wiggling around on your stool in a little happy dance as the flavors did their own dance on your tongue.

San smiled around his own bite. He swallowed, then said, “You know, I always know I did well when you do that.”

“Do what?”

“That cute little dance,” he chuckled. “I’m glad it tastes good, is what I'm saying, sweets.”

Your skin warmed, and you managed to convince yourself it was the soup or the heater or something and not the beautiful man beside you. “Then get used to the happy jig, because everything you cook tastes divine. You should be a chef, San.”

“I could've,” he shrugged, “but I kind of like this little life.” He gestured to you with his spoon, a twinkle in his eyes. “Don't you?”

For a moment, you let the smile slowly unfurl onto your lips. You lifted your own spoon in agreement. “You're right. It's a lovely, little life.”

Now that you were in agreement, you fell into a comfortable silence as you both enjoyed your dinner in one another's presence. Byeol was hunched over her own bowl of food just by the foot of your stool, against the adjacent side of the island. You'd gone out and bought her a pair of food and water bowls, as well as her preferred food. San had been touched by the gesture, and Byeol most definitely appreciated it.

San wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Oh, by the way, next week.”

You hummed. “What about it?”

“Are you doing anything?”

You perked up, eyebrows lifting to your hairline. “Why do you ask?” It was usually unsaid by now that Friday nights were set aside for the two of you to share an evening, which was why you were confused by his question.

And then he explained, “It's Valentine's Day, so I just wanted to make sure I didn't interrupt or assume anything.” He'd said it so casually and easily that you nearly missed the slight nervousness in his voice, or the minor intonation of hope. “I mean,” he fumbled, “if you do have something planned, then it's no worries, really. There are plenty of other weeks—”

You shook your head, finishing off your water after having scraped your bowl clean. “I'm not doing anything,” you said. “Well, besides what we usually do.” You chuckled to yourself, “To be honest, Valentine's Day completely slipped my mind this year.”

And if you were truly being honest with yourself, every Friday felt like Valent—no. You shouldn't think like that. It would only make things worse about how you felt for him now. Plus, these past few months with San felt far too casual, too domestic, to be like Valentine's Day. Was Valentine's Day not for grand gestures and romance? This wasn't grand… though, you could probably argue about the romantic part…

“No, I feel the same way,” he nodded. “My friend Wooyoung just asked today if I was up to go to a single's party, which was why I suddenly remembered.”

Ah. “Oh, are you planning on going?” Wine sounded pretty good right about now.

He grimaced. “Probably not. I—I was kind of hoping you wanted to still do dinner next week—but, like, it doesn't have to mean anything besides how it usually is. If that's what you're comfortable with.”

It doesn't have to mean anything besides how it usually is. What if you wanted it to mean more than how it usually was? There was nothing inherently wrong with how it usually was, but you couldn't deny that a part of you yearned for more. That part of you imagined what it was like if San didn't have to come see you via fire escape, and he was always in the same space as you.

There was a pause as you wrestled with your own conscience about how or if you were going to admit it to him.

He pressed his lips together. “I've made you uncomfortable.”

“No, you haven't made me uncomfortable,” you assured him swiftly. “I just…” You sighed, pressing a hand to your forehead then returning it to your lap. “Of course, I would love to have dinner with you next week, but I’d like it to mean something else—if you are comfortable with that.”

You watched as that beautiful smile you'd come to grow more fond of blossom onto his face. “I'd be more than comfortable with that—I’d be really happy with that, actually.”

“Good,” you said softly, unable to bite your own smile away. “Then dinner next week, it is.”

There was something fundamentally different about this next Friday night compared to the others. Specifically, the context by which you and San went into the Friday evening of Valentine's Day was completely different. The apartment was aglow with the same warmth as it usually boasted, but there was a bouquet of blood red roses in a glass vase on the kitchen counter beside a bottle of red wine.

San was at the stove, finishing off the last bit for dinner before it needed to simmer for a good thirty minutes. You were in the living room portion of your apartment, flipping through the vinyl records to play before you pulled one out and set it up. As you moved the needle onto the record, you placed the empty cover back into its slot and turned toward the kitchen.

You froze in your spot, skin warming at the sight of San leaning over the island counter with an adoring look in his eyes as he watched you. “What?” You laughed, subconsciously adjusting the sleeve of your blouse.

“Nothing,” he smiled. “You're just—you’re gorgeous.”

You were sure if your face didn't give it away, there must have at least been hearts floating around your head. “You cannot just say that,” you chided weakly as you walked over to where he was, your expression growing shy.

His smile widened and he rounded the counter to stand in front of you, your back pressed against the edge of the counter. “I can, too,” he teased. He stepped back once and held his arms out, fingers flicking toward him to beckon you forward. “C'mere. Can you dance?”

“Some.” Your eyebrows arched upward as you stepped forward and took his hands in yours. “Dancing and romancing, Choi San? What magic do you hope to enchant me with tonight?” You joked, moving your left hand to his shoulder.

“Perhaps magic that will leave your window open for me on nights other than Fridays,” he said sheepishly as the two of you began to sway to the music waltzing out from the record player. “Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your fire escape—”

You let out a laugh, ducking your head toward your chests. He did the same, an embarrassed grin coming onto his face as his nose nudged against yours.

“That was god awful,” he winced in apology.

“It was,” you agreed teasingly, “but I'll let it slide because you're cute.”

He shot you a bright smile. “Oh? So I'm cute? I guess that makes two of us.”

You weren't really sure at what point you realized you had fallen for this man. It was sometime between the Himalayan salt lectures and the dancing like an old married couple in your kitchen, maybe. You thought about the day he showed up at your door panicking about a missing cat, and to a future where you might have found yourself in his living room painting murals on his walls. Or perhaps… not his living room, but both of yours.

As you danced with your chests pressed together, hearts beating rapidly in sync, you gazed into those beautiful, dark brown irises of his and sank further and further into those feelings. They were gradually making themselves a home in your chest.

“What're you thinking about, sweets?” He murmured as you tucked your head against his shoulder and the arm he had around your waist rubbed the small of your back.

The smell of his cologne made you inhale deeply. You could get used to this—his smell, the feel of his body under your fingertips, his presence intertwined with yours taking up space in the best possible way. “I'm thinking that Byeol is a good matchmaker.”

His chuckle rumbled through him and softly into your ear. “You're definitely right about that.”

a/n: pls remember to reblog and comment if u enjoyed!

atz m.list

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[yeyinde]

ghoapxreader in the baby trapping series IM BEGGING 🧎‍♀️

i think i've exhausted the whole "tampering with contraceptives" thing to death by now so i would probably do something different with them. like a surrogate situation or something, but awful lmao

maybe down on her luck reader is in desperate need of cash, and these two men swoop in to save you from this horrible pit you've fallen into.

you need money. they need a baby.

simple, right?

except the simplicity falls apart when they blatantly tell you they want a natural insemination—as in, a threesome.

multiple, the pretty Scot tells you. after all, it has tae take, hen.

(and this is the part where you should have run. the moment when you'd be screaming at the television at the hapless protagonist as they walk mindlessly into danger despite the warning signs hanging overhead. but like the oblivious hero, you're too blinded by pretty, gleaming white to realise that the thing you're marveling over is a maw. cracked open wide and full of jagged, deadly teeth rearing up to sink inside of you.

but the problem with making shady deals when you're desperate is that no one really bothers to read the fine print, do they? and by the time you see past their crooked charm, you're waving your child off as they skip up the stairs to school, standing like a prisoner between them as they lean down and ask if you're ready for another—)

but that comes later.

what comes first is message on Craiglist.

one that you spend less time considering it than you should have. desperation, you find, clouds your judgement. blots out common sense. makes you susceptible to manipulation. and oh, how susceptible you are. despite priding yourself on your common sense and keen self-awareness, the overarching issues hanging over your head like an idling guillotine seem to erase that instructive need for self-preservation.

so, when the message itself pops up, you're already primed for making bad choices. ones out of malformed desperation. the barrage of texts from your landlord demanding rent, the ones sent to your family in moments of dire need asking for fruitless aid that will never come in time if the read receipts mean anything at all. the package from HR apologising for the inconvenience, but this was, regrettably, the only feasible option for the company at present, and too bad you didn't sign up for that union, huh? student loans. credit cards.

the measureable calamity of your life manifests itself in the shape of a black cloud hanging onto your aching shoulder, wrapping long, inkstained fingers around your jugular as it hisses the insurmountable figure needed to climb out of this pit in your ear.

sleepless, of course, hasn't helped.

and in that bog you can't swim through, their offer sounds far more appealing than it should.

let's meet up somewhere, comes the next message at half past three in the morning as you talk yourself in (and out) of this mess. talk about things more.

what else are you supposed to do?

job hunting sites mock you with their generic emails, thanking you for applying, and saying they'll reach out within a few business days for an interview if you're a good fit. ones sent off weeks ago. hundreds of them to no avail. it's almost like you're being plagued. blacklisted from the city.

even the fast food chain down the street refused your application when you sent it in, and the help wanted sign has been taped on the drive-thru window since you were sixteen.

it all pushes you closer and closer to making stupid choices, like replying with a simple (nervous, shaky, bile-tinged) sure to the message they sent. i'm down—

(—and drowning)

but you're smart enough to know better, so you act like it, too.

ping your location to your friends. tell them where you're going. clutch your keys so tightly in your fist that your knuckles just out through thin skin. layers upon layers of safety measures glimpsed through the various articles about how to stay alive.

but all the tremulous air is siphoned from your lungs when you see them for the first time.

something magnetic thrums through your chest. copper sutures running lines from their skin to yours until touching just seems like the most natural thing in the world. and you suppose it is when the pretty Scot folds you into a tight hug, cinching you close to his chest as if he's known you his whole life instead of just several seconds.

he's a thing of beauty. chiselled from marble, almost; David made human when he runs his tanned hand through the tumble of uneven hair along his crown. eyes the same varicoloured palette of a boscage in autumn framed in the setting sun's golden halo.

there's a distinct ruggedness about his beauty, too. one that reminds of you a lion's mane. the sleek fur of a stallion. pretty in a wild way. and as his eyes list towards you again and again, like he can't quite manage his fill of staring at you, taking you in, you think about that wildness again. the hunger in his eyes so similiar to the desperation of a predator fattening up for the encroaching chill of winter. it makes you shiver, but you can't look away

(because you know what's waiting for you when you do)

and when you finally pluck up the courage to glance at the shape devouring the light with his intimidating bulk, you come to quick realisation that if Johnny is the personification of an autumn evening, then the man standing next to him is the tried and true testament that bad things happen after dark.

he's a strange figure, one who veers almost comically into the uncanny valley with his hood pulled over the plain, black ballcap hanging low over his brow. a balaclava covering every inch of his face with the exception of a small, ovaled hole for his eyes. remnants of something ashy smear into the corners, running up the crooked bend of his nose.

he doesn't look like a real man—not with those liquid, haunting eyes—but at the same time, there's something preternaturally human about him. a stereotypical sense of masculinity—just one warped around the edges.

with his worn jeans pulled tight over thick, bulging thighs, and the silver zipper of his hoodie resting at the base of his throat, you could easily think he was just another man in the crowd, but it's off. a glitch. a skip.

like mistaking a coat rack for a man in the dead of night.

eerie.

dangerous.

if the man beside him is playfully carnivorous, a basking lion rolling onto his belly at the zoo, separated by thick glass, then he (Simon, Johnny supplies readily when the silence lingers; Simon Riley), Simon, is what it feels like to be followed home at night.

but—

there's something about fear and desire that are almost inseparable when broken down into a physiological response.

and when he steps up behind you, close enough that you can feel the heat of his body soaking into the drying sweat on your back, you liken the way your heart climbs up your throat to same as it would seeing a dorsal fin cutting above the waves in open water.

desire, you think, and then catching the white-hot burn of the stare, you add, in a thin whisper: fear.

when they sit you down, and begin to spin a story about how they just want a baby—no strings attached—you stay seated in the chair even as an itch in the back of your head starts, nails scraping at your skull.

their reluctance toward traditional methods makes sense when they explain that with their lifestyle, it's impossible—or the Scottish man does; the other one with a marbled skin of thick, ugly scars on his hands just stares, pinning you down with the weight of his gaze—and this arrangement is the only way they'll get the baby they've been hoping for.

and even though the scratching in your head sounds suspiciously like why you and run, you eat the food they bought for you in the fancy restaurant where appetisers start at $30, and a glass of water is priced at $6. volcanic spring water, the waiter explains as he pours it from a marbled glass pitcher.

you haven't eaten a real meal that wasn't microwavable or cup noodles in weeks.

maybe that's why you find yourself thinking why not instead of no.

they're attractive men. it's not the worst situation you could have found yourself in, even if the idea of parenthood—however brief it's supposed to be—has bile clawing up the back of your throat, and the bones housing your trembling heart feeling laden, heavy like iron, and starts to cinch your chest shut each day, squeezing tighter, and tighter, and—

they drop off the first the installment to you the moment your doctor starts to talk about boerhaave syndrome, as if they know the doubts that plague your head when they leave your apartment and the silence starts to mock you.

and that leads you here.

guilt for their situation. desperation over your own. an overarching need to please. it's all a dangerous cocktail that douses over rationality until you're nodding along, accepting their words as gospel until sleeping with them—multiple times—doesn't seem like such a bad thing.

until it happens. until you have Johnny and Simon actively working to knock you up. a marathon of intense sex with the single-minded goal of putting their baby in you.

Johnny drooling all over you as he ruts between your thighs, mindlessly driving himself into a frenzy as he slurres out his desires in an incomprehensible mess of English and Gaelic and animalistic grunts. barely pulling out in time before Simon is pressing your knee down to the mattress, cooing mockingly at the mess his boy made of you. cruelly taking bets as he slides into your sore, aching cunt about who will take first. his or Johnny's? and who do you want, birdie? who's baby do you want first?

fingers always shoving inside to cap the overflow when they exhaust themselves in a liquid-limbed stupor, barely conscious as you tapped out some three, four rounds ago. unable to keep your eyes open any longer as they both came to the same conclusion that cumming inside of you at the same time was the quickest way to knock you up together. ain't he a romantic, birdie?

and it's probably for the best that you passed out before it happened, drooling on Simon's scarred shoulder as he gripped the cheeks of your ass, pulling you wide open as Johnny shuffled forward between his spread legs, eyes riveted to the spot where Simon's cock split you open. the ache you felt the next morning, coming to on a broad chest with fingers stuffed inside of you—shush, shush, just keeping you nice an' plugged, sweetheart—was almost unbearable.

you expected them to clear out after getting what they want, but they stay. tend to you carefully like you're made of fine china.

or—Johnny does. bundles you up in his arms before setting off towards the bath, finally letting you wash the sticky, flaking grime from your skin, some awful mixture of drying cum, spit, and sweat, groaning in your ear as he pulls you to his damp, hairy chest about how sweet you are for them. how they're going to take care of you.

Simon caters to other things. packs your bags as Johnny scrubs thick fingers over your shoulders, pausing to grasp a sore, tender breast in his palm, hefting the weight up as he feverishly mutters about how hot it'll be to watch you feed their baby. an' maybe you'll let him have a little taste, too—

and when you finally emerge from the bath, sorer between the thighs than you were when you woke up, another mess pooling in the gusset of the panties he pulled up your legs, Simon's waiting, eyes riveted to your belly. staring at it with so much hunger, a cold sweat breaks out along the nape of your neck.

in the grand scheme of things, the threesome is the easy part. the hard part comes when they turn the arrangement into a prison, locking the shackles around your wrists when the pregnancy test comes back positive a few weeks later.

they're only doing what's best for their baby, they say, when they move you out of your apartment and into theirs. the cut lease was the only way to do it, Johnny says, shrugging. why make you pay for something you aren't using anymore?

and maybe if your head was thickened with a fog, you'd have questioned the phrasing, but as it stands, pregnancy, even as early as this one, adles you. leaves you a syrupy mess of emotions that they take turns exploiting. aren't you so lonely all by yourself, hen? don' ye want a family?

aren't they good enough for you?

it's less subliminal messaging and more overt coersion. what are you going to do after this? where will you go with your lease cut? and when the funds run dry? what then?

gonna find another couple to knock you up? Simon hisses, mangled hands mauling your belly, pinching and squeezing the flesh as if he could feel the fragile box their happiness is housed inside. should jus' stay with us if that's the case, birdie.

but it's all so sweet, in its own way—

(—sweet like a parasite nesting inside of it's host.

but at least you'll never be lonely.)

they stand by the fact that they're looking out for you. that they care. that they can't do much else but idle and watch your body evolve into something new (an' magnificent, Johnny breathes, kissing this unfamiliar shape you call home) and it grates at them because they're not used to feeling so useless, so can't you just let them do this for you? take care of you in all the ways they see fit? like cutting your lease and giving you a better place to stay. handing in your resignation from that shitty nine to five that wore you down to the bone. culling out the annoyances in your life—the friends and family—who kick up needless fits over your wellbeing, and just stress you out more than you need to be.

they're not good enough for you, is what Simon says when you ask why he blocked them from your phone, Johnny hovering by the doorway with his arms folded over his chest. barring the exits, you'll realise later. but what comes first is fear, is anger, is—

happiness. maybe. or some broken, fragile facsimile of it. a subpar humuliculus masquerading around as if it was realised flesh and bone.

"oh," you say, and think you should be touched by his care, his concern, and so you are. shape this emotion from the sludge that pools at the bottom of your chest, running fingers through the muck to find pieces of gold. and then: "thank you, Simon."

it's sweet. or it could have been if it didn't spiral out of your control when they systematically dismantle your entire life until all you're left with is loose sediment slipping through your fingers. the foundation itself soften clay they shape into the image they've been after with the whole time: you.

(or more specifically, a momma for their baby.)

and when they ask you, at the end of this thin, fraying tether, if you want to be with them—an equal, a mother—and be a mother again for them, there's nothing else you could say except yes.

nothing because they made it so.

[punkshort]

Swept Away | Chapter 5: Riptide

Pairing: sugardaddy!Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: On the last day aboard the yacht, you get to spend some alone time with Joel, and things heat up.

Chapter Warnings: language, slow burn, sugar daddy/baby vibes, food and alcohol consumption, implied drug use, jealousy, angst, flirting, sexual tension, thigh/bulge riding, dry humping

WC: 8.1K

A/N: happy birthday @itsafullmoon 😘

Series Masterlist

Joel's fingers shyly found your knee underneath the table and you held back a smile. Instead, you focused on your breakfast, one that pleased him to see you were actually consuming, while he sipped his coffee.

It was another warm day, the heat already climbing and it was barely nine in the morning. As you looked around the rest of the table, you noticed most of the guests looked just about as hungover as you felt, yet they still insisted on indulging in more mimosas and Bloody Marys.

You chose to stick with water and coffee.

There were some quiet conversations being held around you, but mostly you shut it all out in favor of gazing out over the crystal blue ocean. Joel's thumb brushed over your knuckles and when you breathed in deep, you could smell the salt in the air. It made you feel completely at ease, the drama and your argument from the day before the furthest thing from your mind.

Well, maybe not the furthest. You still side eyed Tammy when you both sat down to join everyone that morning, but you decided to let it go. Joel's admission that he hadn't been with her in a year gave you some peace, and you weren't going to allow her to get under your skin. Instead, you were determined to enjoy the last day out at sea because, according to Glenn, the yacht was planning to dock back on your island rather early the following morning.

"We're supposed to stop in a few hours so we can do some water sports. You ever been on a jet ski? Or they got these aqua toys that'll take you under the water so you can see the fish. You wanna do any of that?" His voice sounded slightly nervous as he rambled, something you found incredibly endearing.

"Both sound fun. Whatever you want to do," you told him with a small smile. He was trying very hard, you could tell. You weren't sure if it was guilt that was driving him, or if it was the way you woke up accidentally wrapped in each other's arms, but either way, you enjoyed this side of him.

Just the thought of that morning made your cheeks burn and you had to look back down at your plate. You had a feeling he might have been thinking about it too because he shifted his weight in his seat and released your knee, draping his arm behind your chair instead while he pretended to listen to something Zachary was saying with the tips of his ears turning red.

That morning, your face had been pressed up against his chest, his arms wrapped around your shoulders, facing one another. Before you even opened your eyes, you could smell him. That distinct scent of hair products, expensive cologne and soap, faded by that point, but still lingering on his skin. One of his legs was slotted between yours. A dangerous place, to be sure. All he really needed to do was roll you both over and his hips would have pressed enticingly against your center.

When your gaze flickered up, expecting to find him fast asleep, you were surprised when you locked eyes. It appeared that he had been awake for a while. Sleep no longer clouded his eyes. So if the way you woke up together was an accident, why didn't he pull away? Why did he continue to stare down at you without withdrawing his limbs from yours? Why did his eyes scan your face and linger on your lips?

And why didn't he kiss you?

"Say, when are you two lovebirds getting married? Set a date yet?" Glenn's voice boomed from the head of the table with a wide smile. His linen shirt unbuttoned halfway down, revealing a mass of grey curls scattered all across his chest.

Joel's grip on the back of your chair tightened and he looked at you affectionately.

"We haven't picked a date yet, but I've always loved springtime," you replied dreamily.

"Then springtime, it is," Joel murmured, then leaned forward to press a kiss against your temple.

"We had a spring wedding," Tammy piped up from across the table. She curled into Scott's side, pulling his arm around her shoulders and you spotted Zoe stifling a laugh next to her. "May 21st. I was so nervous it was going to rain, the forecast called for it all week but when we woke up that morning the sun was shining and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. I told Scott at the time it felt like fate. Right? Remember, honey?"

He smiled and curled his fingers around her arm, his eyes flickering back and forth as if he were scanning his memories, desperately trying to remember.

"Of course I do," he said, kissing her forehead.

"Maybe we should get married here. On the beach," you announced, narrowing your eyes in Tammy's direction. "Then we wouldn't have to worry about rain."

Joel chuckled next to you, his thumb brushing gently over your back. "Whatever you say, baby."

"Now you're gettin' it, Joel," laughed Jack, Lynne's husband.

"Oh, no. You should get married at home. Nobody likes to travel for a wedding," Tammy challenged, and you bristled.

"I don't think anyone would mind traveling to Fiji," Harry interjected, and suddenly it seemed like the entire table was involved, previously private clusters of conversation long forgotten in favor of discussing your fake wedding plans.

"Yes, well," Tammy said, fixing a few invisible flyaways, "even so. Guests prefer to stay near their home. Won't you be afraid of alienating people on your special day if you choose a destination wedding?" she asked, tilting her head to the side questioningly.

You probably shouldn't have let it bother you. After all, your entire relationship was a farce, but you couldn't help yourself.

"It doesn't matter to me," you replied airily with a shrug. "The only one I want there is Joel."

When you looked up at him, you could see the playful glint in his eye. He knew what you were doing. He knew Tammy was bothering you and knew goddamn well why.

And he fucking liked it.

His lips curled up into a smile and he inched a little closer, wrapping his arm around you a little tighter, and you felt a shiver run through your body when his lips met yours once again.

You decided to blame it on the leftover tension from that morning, but you flicked your tongue against his lips, looking to deepen the kiss. Joel only hesitated for a second before parting his lips and slowly sliding his tongue into your mouth. It took everything in you not to moan into the kiss, knowing full well how inappropriate it already was, so after allowing yourself just another moment to enjoy it, you breathlessly pulled away. He smirked at you, his eyes dark and filled with desire, a look you no doubt mirrored back.

"What do you think, Joel?" Tammy asked, clearly trying to crack the tension brewing between the two of you. "Don't you have family you'd want there?"

Family.

Why did she say it like that?

Joel's expression changed instantly. Something flickered across his face and his lips twitched nervously when he dropped his gaze to the table.

Then it clicked.

She knew something about him. Something she was taunting him with in front of the whole table.

You desperately wanted to know what she was insinuating, but your bigger issue was not knowing anything about his damn family whatsoever because as he foolishly told you on the plane, it won't come up.

So you had to think fast.

"Anyone who loves us will make the effort to be there. Right, baby?" you purred, stretching an arm to circle around the back of his neck. He dragged his eyes up to meet yours and you gave him a subtle nod.

That's right, look at me.

"Yeah," he agreed, and you could see his resolve coming back the longer you clung around him.

"Oh, you two are just so cute," Zoe gushed. Your eyes briefly shifted to hers over Joel's shoulder and she shot you a wink.

"Maybe you should get married while you're already here," Glenn suggested. "Do another ceremony when you get home. Problem solved."

Your blood ran cold and for the first time, your mind went blank. You had no idea what to say. You looked at Joel, trying to silently convey your panic without being obvious, but he seemed perfectly at ease when he tilted his head to look at Glenn with a sly smile.

"Nah, I'll wait til my new hotel is built on that nice spot of land you got 'n we'll get married there, instead."

The table doubled over at his comment, some of the men jokingly calling him ruthless and Glenn complimenting how quick Joel was with his face all pink from laughter. You noticed with a jolt of satisfaction that Tammy was the only one at the table not laughing.

When the table finally let the topic of your wedding go, everyone falling back into their own personal conversations once again, Joel leaned into you and whispered in your ear, "good job."

You grinned and tried not to preen too much at his approval. "You, too," you said back. He scanned your face, his shoulders relaxed and the tension gone from his eyes and you swallowed thickly with a flutter in your chest. You really liked this side of him. The side that wasn't glued to his phone or laptop, the side that smiled and grazed his fingers along your back or arm for no reason.

The side that held you close while he slept.

Just then, Brooks flung the door open from the cabin and stepped out onto the deck with an apologetic look to his father. Glancing around the table, you realized then he was the only person missing from breakfast.

"Sorry," he mumbled before pulling up a seat next to Mary. "Had too much fun last night."

You tried not to stare but you couldn't stop yourself from noticing his obvious disheveled state. His clothes were wrinkled as if he slept in them, hair sticking out at all angles, and his eyes looked bloodshot and glassy.

"Sheesh, guess I wasn't the only one who drank too much," you muttered to Joel. He looked over his shoulder at Brooks, their eyes momentarily locking, before turning back to you.

"Think it's more than just booze," Joel told you softly. Your eyes widened when you remembered how fidgety Brooks seemed at Glenn's cocktail party and the pieces began to fall together.

Scott clapped his hands together after he tossed back the rest of his Bloody Mary. "What's the plan today, gang?"

Glenn checked his watch while Brooks hunched over his plate, his focus solely on his food.

"We'll find a spot around lunchtime and drop anchor. Try to find somewhere quiet so we can really open up those jet skis. Then we got a beautiful dinner at sunset. Mary wrote the menu, can't wait to see what you have planned, sweetheart," he said, lovingly curling his arm around her shoulders and giving her a kiss. She flushed and grinned, the cute display of affection making you smile.

The table began to murmur, some people standing and stretching as they discussed what they wanted to do with their last few precious hours at sea.

"Sounds like we got some time to kill," Joel said as he watched people branch off towards different sections of the boat. You spotted Scott and Jack already sidling up to Glenn while Tammy linked arms with Lynne and strolled towards the open part of the deck to sunbathe.

"You should probably spend it with Glenn," you told him, jutting your chin in his direction. When you looked back at Joel, you caught something not unlike disappointment flicker across his face before he caught himself.

"Yeah, you're right," he replied, "you sure you'll be okay? Don't wanna leave you all alone."

You smiled, touched that he was showing some concern. It was a very different Joel than just a day ago, but you had to keep reminding yourself while his delivery left something to be desired, his message was correct: you were there because you had a job to do, and so was he.

"Yeah. Go get that land so we can have our dream wedding," you joked. He chuckled but when he stood, you noticed his cheeks dusting with pink.

"Yes, ma'am," he said, then reached forward and pinched your chin in exactly the same way he did when you were shopping for clothes on your first day there. "Stay outta trouble for me, will you?"

You giggled and nodded after he dropped his hand from your face. And when he tossed you a flirtatious wink over his shoulder as he was walking away, you felt your face warm and your stomach flip excitedly.

It was too late. You were already in trouble.

"Jesus, I shouldn't have drank," Zoe said nervously while you both watched the crew unload the water toys. "One lap around the yacht on a jet ski and I'll be throwing up my lunch."

"Just aim for the big, wide ocean and not Zach," you joked. Fortunately, you had stuck to your word and hadn't had a drop of alcohol all day, but you still felt your stomach drop when you watched Trevor and Brooks fly past on their jet skis, their bodies bouncing violently with each wave.

Zach called out Zoe's name, his round stomach hanging over the band of his black swim trunks, and she groaned before forcing a fake smile and flirty wave.

"Fucking kill me," she muttered before abandoning your observation post. You leaned over the railing, grinning to yourself as Zoe was getting fit for a life jacket with the fear of god in her eyes when Joel sidled up next to you.

"You wanna take a spin on one of those?" he asked, bumping gently against your shoulder with his own. His skin looked bronzed from all the sun and his eyes sparkled as he gazed down at you.

"Uh, if you want to," you replied, biting your lip nervously when you watched Zoe and Zach take off at full throttle, the look on her face telling you everything you needed to know about the experience.

Joel noticed your hesitation and looked around.

"How 'bout we check out the inflatable stuff?" he offered. You frowned and swiveled your head back and forth. "On the other side of the boat. There's a few different ones, I think. Bit more low-key," he said, giving you an adorable shrug when you looked at him with relief.

"That sounds great," you said, then he tilted his head to the side before pushing off the rail, indicating you should follow him.

Joel was right. The crew had been inflating a couple cabanas, a trampoline and a jungle gym for you to use. Glenn and Mary were already waiting for one of the cabanas, joking with you both about how they felt like chickens for not giving the other toys a try.

The cabanas were spaced apart, the trampoline and jungle gym between them and so far you were lucky; the other guests seemed far more excited about the water toys on the other side of the boat, so you were afforded some privacy together for the first time all weekend.

"'M sorry you've been on your own so much," Joel apologized once you both got comfortable on your cabana. "But I'm makin' good progress, I can feel it. Zachary ain't got a chance in hell," he chuckled.

He sat up and gripped his linen button down shirt at the hem, pulling it over his head and tossing it to the side with a grunt. You couldn't look away when his lips puckered around a bottle of water, tipping his head back and closing his eyes as he drank. A small noise got stuck in the back of your throat when he finished and a few drops fell from the bottle and trailed slowly down his sun-kissed chest.

"Ain't polite to stare, sweetheart," he said lowly without even looking your way. Your cheeks flared and you fumbled with your sunglasses, but he just chuckled and laid back down.

"Oh! Speaking of Zachary, I have something to tell you," you said, suddenly realizing after your argument the day before, you never told him what you found out.

He rolled his head to the side and squinted up at you. "Oh, yeah?"

You glanced around before leaning in and whispering, "Zoe is a sugar baby."

His eyes went wide and he scrambled to sit up.

"How'd you find that out?"

"She told me yesterday," you shrugged. Joel swallowed tightly, his mind racing.

"Did you..." he trailed off, not wanting to finish his question and insult you, but needing to know the answer.

"No! Of course not!" you exclaimed. "I wouldn't say a word, I promise."

He nodded, visibly relaxing before averting his gaze. "I just didn't... I know you were pissed yesterday, but you should know it'll void the contract if you say somethin'."

"I know," you said softly, "but regardless of the money, I still wouldn't do that to you, Joel."

Something flickered across his face, something quick that you couldn't read before he looked away and slid his sunglasses on, effectively building his wall back up.

"Oh, and another thing," you added, "she thinks he's in a bad place financially. Says if he doesn't get the bid, he might go bankrupt and have to sell his hotels."

His eyebrows raised above the top of his sunglasses and hummed under his breath, looking thoroughly impressed.

"Goddamn, look at you. Feels like I got my own little spy or somethin'," he said, making you giggle. "Might need to hire you to work for me full time when this is all over."

"Oh, yeah? Doing what?" It was impossible to keep the playfulness from your voice. As much as you tried to deny it, you really enjoyed being on the receiving end of his praise.

"Oh, I'll think of somethin'," he replied, winking at you over the tops of his sunglasses, then smirking when he watched you get all flustered.

You settled back in your seat with a sigh, watching as the other guests zoomed by on their jet skis or dove under the water with the sub aqua toys.

Joel had your number before the plane even landed in Fiji. Even though it was taking you a little longer, you were slowly starting to figure him out. One thing was for sure: his good moods were really good, but his bad moods were really bad. He was obviously a man who had grown accustomed to getting his way, a man who had high expectations for the people who worked for him and had zero tolerance for mistakes.

He was a confusing man, made even more confusing by his behavior towards you. One day he was flirting with you, touching you, kissing you, but the next day he was icy and cold and hyper focused on work.

You turned your head in his direction, watching quietly as he basked in the sun with his eyes closed, skin prickling with sweat. Were you reading too much into those little glances and touches? Was it all part of the act? Or did he feel something more? It was clear you were attracted to him. He called you out on it more than once.

So why wouldn't he fucking do something about it?

"Do you wanna go on the trampoline with me?" you asked. He cracked an eyelid and peered at you.

"I think that stuff's made for kids."

You shrugged and flung off your cover up. You caught the way his eyes raked down your body before pretending to look out at something behind you, and you grinned.

"They wouldn't have set it up if adults can't use them."

"I ain't sayin' adults can't use 'em, I'm sayin' it's childish."

You feigned offense before adjusting your bikini and dipping your toe in the water. It was crystal clear and far too inviting to resist sliding in for a quick dip. The warmth of the water engulfing your entire body sent a thrill right through you. When you bobbed back up to the surface, you brushed the hair away from your face with a sharp gasp. Turning around, you saw Joel had laid back down, his eyes closed once again and facing away from you.

"Are you sure?" you called out to him as you began to swim backwards towards the other inflatables.

"Yep," he replied without opening his eyes. A devious smile tugged at your lips and before you could talk yourself out of it, you leaned back and kicked your feet wildly, splashing water all over him.

"Hey!" he shouted angrily, but you were already swimming away as fast as you could. Once you got to the trampoline, you pulled yourself up and swiveled around to see if Joel was truly pissed or if he had just laid back down, but unfortunately from your angle, you couldn't see the front of the cabana.

With a shrug, you stood up and took a few hesitant steps onto the trampoline. It was pretty large, in an octagon shape but no walls, so if you so chose, you could bounce right into the ocean. You took a couple small jumps, barely getting any air so you could get an idea of how strong it was before bending your knees and jumping as high as you could go. You laughed when you landed with your legs tucked under you, relaxing your muscles so you could bounce this way and that until you lost momentum and rolled onto your back.

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes, enjoying the sway of the ocean underneath you. In the distance, you could hear voices from the others on the water sports, mostly squeals of excitement and barking laughs, but otherwise you were completely at peace.

Before you even had a chance to process it, the trampoline dipped and you were suddenly drenched with water. You shrieked and snapped your eyes open, heart slamming in your chest from shock just to find Joel standing above you smirking with an empty plastic drink bucket in his hand.

You swung your leg out, kicking his legs out from under him. The bucket went flying when he collapsed next to you with a loud, deep laugh you weren't sure you had heard from him before. The sound brought a huge smile to your face only to gasp and yelp when he leapt onto all fours and shook his head like a dog, showering you with the water soaking his hair.

You raised your arms in defense, desperately trying to protect yourself.

"Stop!" you half yelled, half giggled from underneath your hands. Finally, the water stopped raining down on you and you slowly dropped your hands from your face.

Joel was smiling down at you victoriously, his arms bracketing you in on either side of your head. The sun shined brightly behind him, making his wet hair and tanned skin practically fucking sparkle.

"No fair," you whispered.

"Never said I play fair."

You swallowed when you saw his eyes darken, his gaze lazily sliding down your face, your neck, your chest, brazenly taking in every bit of you he could see. He swung his leg over your waist, pinning you down into the trampoline when he sat back on your thighs so he could take the weight off one of his arms. To your surprise, he cupped your jaw and dragged the pad of his thumb over your cheek, carefully and tenderly wiping away the droplets of water from your face while you struggled to remember to breathe beneath him. And just when you thought you couldn't take anymore, he spoke again.

"Did I make you all wet, baby?"

Fuck. You squeezed your eyes shut, the low tone in his voice making it very clear he knew he was tormenting you, making you squirm and bite your lip while you fought to keep a clear head.

"'S'matter? Dish it out but can't take it?" he tsked, his fingers gliding down to trace your lower lip. Your eyes flashed open, your lips tingling under his touch and breath coming in shallow pants. You locked eyes with him and opened your mouth so you could wrap your lips around the tip of his thumb. It sent a surge of satisfaction through you when you saw his eyes go wide and his jaw fall slack. The corners of your mouth twisted up into a smile around his finger, your tongue flicking suggestively against the tip. All the smugness from a moment before vanished from his face, and the only thing that remained was surprise and undeniable lust.

Joel said your name warningly, his eyes glued to the way your mouth was wrapped around his thumb. He could have easily pulled his hand away, but he didn't. He let you swirl your tongue around him, gazing up at him through your wet lashes, your arms lying limp next to your head, painting the perfect picture of obedience and that was when you felt it: a small twitch against your thigh, one he tried to hide by shifting his weight but it was too late. A look of triumph flared in your eye when you released his finger with a grin.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to make it hard on you."

He chuckled and shook his head. "Funny."

You stared at one another for a heavy moment, Joel still pinning you onto the trampoline. You waited for him to do something, say something... anything to acknowledge the elephant in the room before you lost your mind. And for one brief moment, you thought he just might. His lips parted, his expression softened and you held your breath, waiting for it. Then suddenly it was like a door slammed shut. He rolled off you in an instant, leaving you feeling cold despite the tropical, humid heat.

"I'm gonna get somethin' to drink. Want anythin'?"

You shook your head in a daze, the sharp turn of events sending you reeling.

"No."

Then you heard a splash and listened while he swam back to the cabana, leaving you with a devastating ache between your legs and more confused than you thought possible.

Despite Joel leaving you wanting more, you still couldn't wipe the smile from your face the entire afternoon. And it seemed like he couldn't, either. Something felt like it changed in him that day. He appeared more relaxed and happier than you had seen him the entire week you'd been on the island.

It was the reason you were distracted on your way back to your room. You told Joel you were going to take a quick shower and change before dinner right before he got roped into a game of poker with Glenn and a few others, but not before giving you a quick peck on the lips. After he hurried to catch up with the others, you glanced around and found no one was there to witness your little kiss. It wasn't for show.

Your mind was swirling with images of Joel, replaying everything with a stupid smile on your face when you turned the corner of the quiet hallway.

"Oh!" you cried out when you collided with something, or rather someone, firm and strong walking from the opposite direction.

"Hey, there," Brooks said, grabbing onto your shoulders to keep you steady. You took a step back, removing yourself from his hold, and gave him an apologetic smile.

"Sorry. Wasn't watching where I was going."

You moved to step around him when he blocked you with an extended arm and you looked up at him questioningly.

"Having a good time so far?"

"Uh huh," you replied, folding your arms in front of your chest when you noticed his gaze wandering down. "This yacht is amazing, we're having a great time."

Brooks smiled and propped his hand up so he could lean against the wall, fingers tapping rapidly against the wallpaper, effectively blocking your path.

"Glad to hear it. You're welcome to come for a ride whenever you're on the island next."

You smiled back and tried to create a little more distance, but the hallway was narrow enough as it was.

"That's so nice, thank you. I'll be sure to pass that along to Joel."

"Nah, we don't have to tell the old guy, huh? I was thinking it could just be the two of us," Brooks said, "that way's more fun, don't you think?"

You felt a shiver go down your spine at the hungry way he was looking at you and suddenly you realized, aside from the crew somewhere in the depths of the boat, you were the only ones indoors.

"Oh, I don't think that's a good idea," you said, hoping to keep the tremor from your voice. "Joel would be worried."

It didn't seem to matter how many times you reminded him you were with Joel, Brooks still persisted.

"Aw, I'm sure we could work something out," he replied, brushing his knuckles slowly over your bare arm. Your eyes dropped at the contact and the panic began to set in. You knew you should push him away. Hell, you should punch him in the throat and tell him to keep his hands off you, but all you could think of was Joel and how hard he was working to get that plot of land and what a great mood he had been in all day.

So instead, you took a step backwards and pulled your arms tighter across your chest.

"Why don't we talk about it with Joel at dinner?"

You were giving him your fakest smile at that point and he could tell. Slowly, his expression dropped along with the arm that was caging you in.

"Sure," he said, then finally began to slip past you to join the rest of the guests but paused and leaned in to whisper in your ear, "but I see right through you. Everybody's got a price."

By the time you had collected yourself and turned around, Brooks was gone.

"You're missin' an earring," Joel said with a frown the moment you emerged from the cabin, freshly showered but still shaken.

"What?" You lifted your hands to your ears and groaned before removing the one you did have and dropping it in your clutch. "Shit. Sorry. Must've forgot."

His eyes drifted over your face for a moment, concern etching his features. "Don't be sorry, sweetheart. Everythin' okay?"

"Yeah," you said immediately, ignoring the heated look Brooks was giving you behind Joel's back. "Everything's great. How was poker?"

You partially listened to him talk about his card game, joking about how he was lucky they weren't playing for any actual cash because he was fucking terrible at it, but you had a hard time moving past that interaction with Brooks just an hour prior.

He could tell your attention was elsewhere. You looked nervous and distracted but for the life of him, he couldn't figure out why. He replayed everything over and over since you slipped inside to freshen up. Sure, he knew he left you high and dry after that particularly intense moment on the trampoline, one he knew if he didn't stop, you would both have done something you would regret, but you seemed fine afterwards. The rest of the afternoon you were bubbly and sweet, your playfulness leaving a permanent smile across his face.

So what the hell happened between then and now?

Mary clapped her hands together, sending a wave of silence over the bustling table as everyone turned to give her their attention. Joel's hand found your leg, his instincts telling him you needed an anchor, even if he didn't know why, then twisted around to listen.

"Good evening," Mary began. "Once again, I'm so pleased you could all be here on this beautiful getaway with Glenn, myself, and our boys," she said, giving Trevor and Brooks a loving glance. "I had the pleasure of curating tonight's menu, the theme being Tropical Barbecue."

A ripple went through the table and a pleased smile pulled at Mary's lips. Your eyes flickered down to Joel's hand on your thigh and you slid your own on top, fingers curling around his. After a moment where you felt him still, his thumb came up to brush gently against your knuckles, making you smile at the comfort it brought.

Mary began to describe each course and her inspiration behind her choices, but you were finding it difficult to focus. Everybody's got a price. What did that mean? Did Brooks somehow find out you were hired by Joel to fabricate a relationship and sway his father into selling him the land?

No, that would be impossible... right?

Then Joel uttered your name softly and you snapped out of your trance.

"Huh?"

He fixed you with another concerned look.

"I asked what you wanted to drink."

"Oh," you said, shaking your head a bit, "I'll just stick with water, thanks."

He scanned your movements. Your eyes were darting around nervously, your foot was tapping incessantly on the floor and he hadn't seen you smile once since you washed up.

Joel leaned into your side, hand still firmly planted on your leg, and murmured, "You can drink, y'know. I ain't mad 'bout yesterday."

"Mhm, I know," you replied, tugging your lower lip between your teeth. Joel shifted his weight in his chair and gave a polite smile to the crew member who placed two plates in front of you. He watched you pick up a fork and pick at your first course and he swore he saw your hand tremble.

"Did I do somethin'?" he asked after leaning in again. "If it's 'bout earlier, we can talk -"

"What are you two lovebirds whispering about down there?" Brooks' booming voice called from his end of the table. You each turned to look at him, Joel with politeness, you with dread. When Brooks met your eye, you could see the veiled threat behind his otherwise friendly demeanor: don't you say a fucking word.

"Just talkin' 'bout what a great time we've had 'n how disappointed we are it's comin' to an end," Joel replied kindly. His hand left your leg to pick up his glass of scotch and you instinctively found yourself raising your arm, trying to bring him back to you, surprising yourself with your neediness.

Joel raised his glass for a toast to Glenn and Mary while you forced a shaky smile and raised your water. Zoe leaned into your other side when the volume rose around the table and whispered, "Are you pregnant?"

You sputtered around your glass and you looked at her all wild-eyed.

"No!"

She giggled and shrugged. "You've been drinking water all day and you look like you're about to hurl."

You laughed at the absurdity of it and you finally felt some of your nerves begin to ease. If only she knew how long it had been since the last time you had sex.

"No, I promise you I'm not."

"Not what?" Joel asked when he turned away from talking with Harry on his other side.

"Nothing," you replied sweetly. The tone of your voice made him smile and his hand found your leg again. Then, his brows knit together and he raised his other hand to swipe his thumb gently over the corner of your mouth. When he pulled it back to examine the spot of barbecue sauce he collected, your breath stuttered at the same time his paused. It seemed as though you both realized at the exact same time he was holding up the same thumb you had wrapped your lips around just hours before.

His eyes met yours and his lips parted. Slowly, he raised his thumb to his mouth and you watched with heavy lidded eyes as his soft looking lips spread open across his finger, taking an unnecessary moment to grunt in pleasure when the sweet and tangy sauce was lapped up by his tongue.

"Mmm, you taste good," he teased with a little smirk. His chest flooded with warmth when he saw that playful spark in your eye again. He didn't like it when you weren't yourself, he realized, but he really, really didn't like to see you cry. It only happened once, but he knew he didn't want to see it again. As much as he tried to fight it, he had grown too fond of your sweet nature already. He liked the way you stood in awe of the affluence surrounding you but also found a great deal of joy from a few pink seashells, so delicate and so beautiful.

Just like you.

He noticed the more attention he gave you, the happier you became, and he really shouldn't have liked that as much as he did. Seeing your wide smile and hearing your adorable laugh made him soften. But watching your eyes glaze over or your eyelids flutter from his touch, whether it be your arm or leg or back, did something else to him entirely. Something that made him have to remind himself more than once during dinner that this was all an act, that this wasn't real.

Once dinner finished up, you appeared back to your usual self once again. Your hand fused with his while everyone said their good nights, and they remained that way when you walked together towards your room, the air around you silent and thick.

You swallowed nervously as you picked up your pajamas from where you abandoned them earlier that morning.

Instantly, your cheeks warmed when you remembered how you both woke up, all tangled limbs and hesitant glances. You cleared your throat and kept your eyes cast down while you maneuvered around him to get to the bathroom. As you changed and washed up, you wondered what would happen that evening. Probably nothing, you decided, based on the way he abruptly stopped things that afternoon, but just in case you made sure to apply a little lip balm and spritzed a dash of perfume in your hair.

"All yours," you said shyly before sliding into bed. All yours, all yours, all yours. You listened to the water running in the bathroom while you flipped through the channels on the television before giving up and turning it off.

When he exited the bathroom, you locked eyes and gave him a small smile. He tossed his clothes into a pile next to his overnight bag before turning off the lights and slipping into bed next to you with a groan.

You both laid there for a few minutes, each of you staring up at the dark ceiling, your hearts beating too fast to really find any rest. Finally, you tilted your head to the side and peered at him through the darkness. You could just make out his side profile in the moonlight, his distinctive sharp nose and the little pout to his lips.

"I can't sleep," you whispered. He blinked and turned his face towards you.

"Why?"

Everybody's got a price.

Did I make you all wet, baby?

"I don't know," you lied.

He turned onto his side so he was facing you, then you did the same. You left your hand flat on the mattress between you, not touching, but wishing you were.

"Did you wanna talk 'bout... earlier?" he asked softly. You couldn't really make out his face but you heard it in his voice; he was uncertain.

For a moment, you almost said yes. Yes, please explain what the hell is going on between us. Until you realized you may not like the answer, then you whispered, "No."

You couldn't see it, but he was relieved.

"Okay," he replied. You inched your hand a little closer.

"Can I ask you something, Joel?"

He nodded, then remembered it was too dark to see. "Yeah."

You took a deep breath. "What did Tammy really mean this morning when she mentioned your family?"

He inhaled sharply and you immediately knew you weren't getting an answer. "Don't matter," he replied, then stretched out his arm to loop around your shoulders. "C'mere," he added, giving you a tug and pulling you into his chest.

You burrowed your face against him, arms wrapping around his middle, all thoughts of Tammy and Brooks erased from your mind. Instead, you focused on how warm he felt, how good he smelled, how strong his heart sounded against your ear, and before you knew it, you were fast asleep.

"Hey."

You heard his voice whispering in your ear, but you frowned and ignored it. It was barely light out, too early to wake up, and you were so warm and at peace curled up next to him, you didn't want it to end.

"Hey," he whispered again, this time a little louder. Still, you didn't respond. Then you heard him curse under his breath and shift his weight on the bed.

Finally, your curiosity was enough to make you open your eyes.

He rolled onto his back, his arm still trapped underneath you but the other was stretching down to grip his rock hard erection through the comforter. Your eyes widened when you saw the pained look in his face after he flexed his hand, as if he were trying to seek out some relief without actually jerking himself off. His eyes were screwed shut and his brows furrowed together while he focused on taking long, deep breaths. Then he squeezed himself again and a quiet noise slipped past his lips. The tendons in his neck strained with effort, his skin looked flushed and a little sweaty and the entire visual was enough for you to feel your pussy soften and throb.

He must have wanted you to move so he could get up and take care of himself in the bathroom, but fortunately your deep sleep paid off into what you saw as a golden opportunity.

Before you could overthink it, you slid your hand down his stomach towards his waistband, but right as your fingertips came in contact with the elastic, he stopped you.

"What're you doin'?" he asked gruffly, his hand wrapped tightly around your wrist.

"Giving you a hand," you replied, hoping you sounded sultry like you intended.

"'S not funny," he said, yanking your hand out from under the covers before he looked at you. His eyes were stern but his forehead dotting with sweat and his chest heaving underneath his white tshirt gave him away.

He wanted this.

"I'm not laughing," you said, trying to tug your hand from his grip, but he shook his head. You squirmed next to him under the covers, pressing your thighs together, feeling your arousal soak through your panties. "Please," you whispered, voice breaking on just the one syllable. He shook his head again but you felt his fingers begin to loosen around your wrist.

"Can't," was all he managed to grit out. You groaned and lunged forward, biting angrily at his jaw, then his lower lip.

"Why?" you practically begged, your mouth brushing over his beard, the sharp hairs poking your sensitive lips, leaving them feeling tingly when you pulled away and asked again, "Why, Joel?"

"Ain't part of the deal."

You scoffed and hooked both your legs around one of his, pulling it towards you, towards the heat radiating between your legs. You began to roll your hips, doing your best to torment him into breaking by rubbing yourself on his thigh.

"I don't care about the deal," you replied, narrowing your eyes as you continued to rock your hips against him. "I want you, Joel, fucking please," you whined, then gasped when he dropped your hand and in one swift movement, hauled you up so you were straddling his lap.

"You think you want me, but you don't. Not really," he told you, jaw tense and eyes so dark, you could barely see the sliver of dark chocolate brown you had grown so fond of.

"What does that mean?" you asked. His statement made your hips stall in a moment of clarity.

His eyes dropped to your chest, swallowing when he noticed your nipples poking through your loose fitting tank top.

"You don't know me, darlin'."

"Yes, I do," you cooed, bending forward seductively to play with his hair, but in reality you were just trying to give him a glimpse of your tits.

"No, you don't," he shot back, his eyes glued to your chest, his hands leaving bruises on your hips when he began to shift you back and forth, encouraging you to rub yourself over his clothed erection. "And I ain't gonna fuck you, baby, I'm sorry."

You fought back the sob that clawed its way up your throat. "You want me, too," you tried, tipping your head back and biting your lip when you felt his cock slide perfectly through your folds. He was thick, that much you could tell, and you moaned at the thought of him stretching you open. How delicious that sting would feel at first, the pain that would bleed into pleasure, your mingled breaths and the feel of your skin sticking together that first time.

"This is... fuck," he groaned, bucking his hips up to meet yours. "This is a business relationship, that's it." But his voice held no conviction whatsoever.

"Yeah?" you panted, tilting your chin down to look at him. He was fucking wrecked underneath you. His eyes were all wild, teeth clenching together so hard the muscle in his jaw twitched. You smirked and lunged forward to kiss him, your tongue sliding into his mouth with ease. He whined against your lips, his hands sliding up your back, pressing against your spine as he gave in, his jaw falling open wider, giving you more room to swirl your tongues together frantically while your hips ground down onto his lap, selfishly chasing your high.

"If you do this with all your business partners, I can see how you became so successful," you breathed when you pulled away.

His eyes fluttered closed and you watched his muscles relax, as if he were giving up the fight. You leaned forward and tenderly kissed the corner of his mouth, your thighs burning from the effort as you continued to rut yourself against him. You felt the tip of his cock catch on your clit and you squeaked as a shiver ran through you and your vision began to blur.

"Joel," you whimpered, pressing your nose against his throat.

"Just... just take what you need, sweetheart," he told you, wrapping his arms around your ribs. "I'm hangin' on by a thread here, just - take what you need."

You whined and pushed your face into his neck, too close to your orgasm to fight with him any longer.

"Come with me," you whispered. You could feel his body tremble underneath you at the request, but he replied, "No."

Tears stung your eyes and you weren't sure if it was the confusion surrounding his steadfast rejection or the intensity of your orgasm, but either way you gasped and two tears slid down your cheeks when you fell apart on top of him.

With a shocking amount of speed, Joel flipped you over so you were on your back. He hovered above you, watching your release wash over you, his hips still pressing against your center, still grinding and thrusting and rubbing as he memorized the look on your face when you came. And maybe it was just all too much: too much build up, too much tension, too much begging for his cock from your perfect fucking mouth because he suddenly tensed and groaned.

Your eyes snapped open in surprise when you felt the warmth spreading through his boxers and dampness leaking through the fabric, just barely touching your skin.

"Oh, fuck," he moaned as he continued to come, "fuck, fuck, fuck!"

He dropped his chin to his chest, mouth forming a circle and his eyes squeezing shut while his body pulsed and shook with an incredible amount of force.

"Oh, shit," he breathed, his eyes finally meeting yours.

You stared at one another, each of you panting for air with your hearts hammering wildly in your chests and heat flushing your faces. Slowly, when you began to come down, reality seeped in. As much as he tried to fight it, and as frustrated as you were with him, there was no denying it now:

A line was crossed, and there was no going back.

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[violentdelightsandviolentends]

hiii i luv ur work^^ can i request a fic where carmy get sucked off so good it makes his brain short-circuit a little? like he came home all tired and pent up n reader just "blow" it all away. wanna see this man get taken care of🥺 he's alway got so much on his mind i just wanna see him fucked till his brain is empty

Short Circuit.

Carmy doesn’t know how to shut his brain off. Luckily, you do.

pairing - roommate!carmen berzatto x female reader

warnings - smut. cursing.

word count - 1.8k

authors note - carmy’s a little bitch in this one!! mwahahaha!! to my love who requested - i’m sorry I ended up making him a bit pathetic here, but in my defence… he does give off the energy of a wet cat, so. this set in the roommates universe, but the fics have no particular order <3

if you enjoyed, please reblog!! reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which in turn creates more. <3

masterlist. inbox. series masterlist.

“Sit the fuck down.”

Carmy blinks at you like a deer caught in headlights, confused and struggling to process.

“W-what?”

“You heard me, Carmen. Sit the fuck down before I shove you there myself.”

You gesture at the couch only a few feet away, crossing your arms over your chest expectantly.

He exhales shakily before placing his mug of coffee on the kitchen counter, walking over to do as you ordered.

He’s never really been bossed around by you before. Sure, you scold him occasionally, warn him when he does something wrong, but never like this. He can’t tell if he likes it. He thinks that maybe he does.

He gets comfy on the couch, sitting back against the cushions and spreading his legs. His white t shirt stretches deliciously across his broad shoulders, tight and worn. His old flannel pyjama pants look so cosy, you itch to reach out and run your hand across them.

Carmy’s watching you curiously, waiting for your next move. He can’t predict what’s going to happen, which would usually make him nervous. But right now, he’s got electricity buzzing through his veins, crackling and charged.

You set your own mug down and saunter over in his direction, as if you have all the time in the world. You stop at the window and shut the blinds, smirking over your shoulder when he raises his eyebrows in a silent question.

“Don’t want to give the neighbours a show.”

Carmy’s breath hitches in his chest, panting with anticipation. You crack your knuckles and stretch your arms above your head, suppressing a laugh when you see his eyes glued to the skin you expose between your t shirt and pyjama pants.

You stand in front of where he’s sat, patient and waiting. You look so tall, looking down on him, so completely powerful. He’s suddenly very confused by his own feelings.

“I’m sick of you bitching and moaning,” you begin, dropping to your knees on the patterned rug. “So I’m gonna make you shut the fuck up.”

Carmy suddenly sits up straight, full attention captured.

“What?”

“God, do you ever listen, Carmen?”

He’s silenced by your rebuttal, so you continue.

“You’re stressed to the max, and you don’t know how to leave work at work. You bring it home, complain for hours, and then wonder why you can’t relax. You need to shut your brain off.”

Carmy swallows harshly, eyes never leaving yours.

“And how am I supposed to do that?”

“You’re not. I’m gonna do it for you.”

With that, you rise up onto your knees so you’re face to face with your roommate.

“You okay with this?” you whisper, searching his features for any signs of trepidation.

“More than okay,” he breathes, leaning in to you. “Kiss me first? Please?”

You don’t think anyone would be able to resist him in this moment, when he looks and asks so pretty.

“Whatever you want, babe.”

You press your lips to his gently, testing the waters. Carmy instantly pulls you in with his arms around your back, deepening the kiss. You slip your tongue into his mouth and take control, nipping at his bottom lip when he gets too cocky.

“I’m in charge,” you tell him lowly. “If you wanna stop, say stop. But otherwise, I’m gonna keep going until you can’t remember your own name.”

Carmen’s eyes roll back at the promise, head hitting the sofa behind him as he groans. You settle back down between his legs, pulling his pyjama pants off and throwing them aside.

You trail open mouthed kisses up his thighs, starting at his knee and ending at his hip. Occasionally you bite down, soothing the sting with your tongue as you go. When he starts to fidget, you fully sink your teeth into his muscle, sharp and warning. He flinches, and you smirk.

“Patience, Carmen.”

“Don’t wanna be fuckin’ patient,” he grumbles under his breath, petulant as ever.

You look up at him firmly, and he gets the message.

Running your fingers up and down his thigh, you sit and enjoy the way goosebumps rise across his skin. You’re on a power trip, buzzing with the adrenaline of having a man like Carmy at your mercy.

“Good things come to those who wait,” you tease, before dancing your fingertips across the material of his boxers. His hips buck up into your hand and you relent, pulling his underwear down and off in one quick move.

He hisses as the cool air of the room hits his heated skin, the combination of sensations overwhelming.

You kiss along his hipbones, tasting salt and the musk that’s so Carmy. Nudging your nose into the juncture of his thigh, you chuckle when he shudders.

“Please, babe.”

“What do you want, Carm?”

“Just- just do something, please. Anything.”

Maybe it’s the rare show of manners, or maybe it’s his pleading tone, but you finally take pity on him. Grasping him in your hand, you give your wrist an experimental twist, biting your lip when he groans.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, all breathy and strained. He sounds so pretty like this, all loose limbed and pliable. “Shit, babe. Yeah.”

You take your time learning what he likes. Twisting, pulling, applying a little pressure. Carmy is writhing in his seat, completely unable to keep still. You keep pushing his hips back down firmly, putting him in his place.

He has his eyes screwed shut, head thrown back into the couch cushions, gorgeous neck exposed. You take him by surprise by wrapping your lips around him, sucking gently. His hand flies to your head, grasping for grip, for any kind of anchor.

You double down on your efforts, twisting your wrist as you hollow your cheeks. You rake the nails of your other hand down his thigh, squeezing occasionally to let him know you’re still good.

You feel his muscles go tense, knuckles gripping the cushion underneath him. He’s right on the edge - you can sense it.

So, you stop.

You pull away completely, laughing when his eyes shoot open, brows furrowed together.

“W-what? What the fuck? Why’d you stop?”

“Because I can.”

Carmy doesn’t even have the energy to come up with a sarcastic response. Instead, he sinks further into the couch, looking down at you with those big blue eyes.

“Babe.”

“So whiny. Jesus, Carmen, have some self respect.”

On any other day, he wouldn’t take that lying down. He’d sass you twice as hard, smirking when you roll your eyes. But today, he doesn’t have it in him.

“Please.”

“Oh you sound so pretty when you beg.”

He blushes, heat blooming up his chest and across his cheeks. He reaches out and traces your lips with his thumb, a tender gesture among all of the filth currently occurring.

“Do it more.”

He blinks at you, wondering if he heard you correctly.

“What?”

“Listen for once in your life, Berzatto. I said, do it more. Beg. Beg for it, and I’ll make you come.”

Carmy thinks he might have died and gone to heaven. He’s never seen this side of you before - in all honesty, you didn’t know it existed. He’s discovering a lot about himself tonight, and as confusing as it is, he’s loving it.

“Please, honey. Please.”

You click your tongue disapprovingly, shaking your head.

“Nuh uh. I want you to beg so hard that I am dripping, Carmen. Make it count.”

“You’re getting off on this,” he chuckles in disbelief. “Fuck, that’s so hot.”

You mime tapping an imaginary watch on your wrist, signalling him to hurry up. In reality, you’d kneel here on the rug all night if he wanted, content to watch him all high strung and flushed.

“Okay, okay. Sweetheart, please. Fuck, I need it. Need it so bad. Need you so bad. Just- give me anything, something, please.”

His voice has gone all breathy, shaky and unsure. He sounds like he’s on the verge of tears, and the mental image of him crying because of you turns you on more than it should.

“Oh baby,” you coo. “Was that so hard? Hmm?”

He shakes his head, bitten lip between his teeth.

“Gonna give you what you need now, because you were so good. My pretty, pretty boy.”

It might be your tone, or it might be because you called him your boy, but Carmy melts. He’s nothing but a puddle, mewling and panting, no coherent thoughts left in his brain.

You get back to work, hollowing your cheeks and working whatever you can’t fit in your mouth with your soft hands. You swirl your tongue, pressing it to the underside of him when you pull back slightly for air.

You wonder, for a second, if you’ve broken your roommate. Nonsense is leaving his lips in constant streams, babbling under his breath like he’s lost his mind.

“Yeah baby, keep going please, please don’t stop.”

“Fuck you’re so good, s’good, so good.”

“Just wanna come, please honey, I’ll do anything. Anything you want.”

“Ohhh, yesyesyes, oh fuck, thank you baby, shit.”

You keep humming in response, and the vibrations are Carmy’s undoing. His hips jolt upwards as his back arches off the couch, fingers scrambling for purchase. He hits the back of your throat and you groan, letting him ride it out however he needs. He relaxes back into his original position, body completely spent.

You squeeze his thigh to get his attention, making sure he watches as you swallow everything he’s given to you. He groans, low and tired, shaking his head with a smile on his face. You rest your head on his leg, looking up at him.

“You good, Carm?”

He nods, trying to gather the energy to answer you properly.

“Yeah,” he says after a while. “I genuinely think I’ve never been better.”

You laugh, and the sound makes him grin, all slow and saccharine.

“I can’t move. Think you’ve ruined me.”

“That was the plan,” you wink, standing up and pulling his boxers back up his legs.

You grab a bottle of water from the kitchen, watching as he downs it all in one go. Sitting next to him on the couch, he pulls you into his side, slotting you there perfectly.

“Thank you,” he whispers into the evening dusk of the room. “Not just for making me come harder than I ever have in my life. But, you know… for everything.”

You chuckle, intertwining your fingers with his.

“Of course. You’d do the same for me.”

“Next time you have a bad day, I’m gonna throw you on the couch and eat you out until you cry.”

You groan, pinching his thigh in warning.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

@enigmaticloki @kaelabear @idontexist-anymore @jazminsjaz @kingsqueensandvagabonds

[hwajin]

!# — scented candles | bcn

genre: smut, fluff

pairing: chan x inexperienced!fem!reader

wc: 3.2k

warnings: oral (f receiving)

author's note: this is both a request and part of the inexperienced series ( @whatudowhennooneseesyou )!! hope you enjoy <3

Distant sounds of your long-nailed fingers tapping against the keyboard of your laptop sounded through Chan's small dorm room, your knuckles aching from the time you've spent behind the device. It smelt of honeyed vanilla, thanks to the scented candle you had gifted him to your one month anniversary — you fondly remember that Chan hadn't had a present for you back then because he'd never celebrated monthly anniversaries with pervious girlfriends, and how enamoured he had been by your small present. He didn't dare light the candle by himself — it only ever burnt when you visited him, when it was the two of you in his college dorm room, not him in lonesome.

It was long past sunset, the only light in the room the soft glow of the candle, the static hue of your laptop and the endless reds and blues and neons of the city outside the small window. You always preferred Chan's room to your own — his view was far prettier, overlooking the entire city you had both moved to for your studies, which was the reason you had met altogether. A city so small, so mundane. Yet it held your entire fate.

You weren't much noticing the sound of your typing, or the faint chords of a long repeating playlist somewhere in the back — you also weren't much noticing Chan shifting in bed next to you tirelessly, from left to right and back. He knew not to distract you in his studies — it was the very thing he had noticed first about you after all, the very first thing he fell in love with.

You had sat in the library, brows furrowed, thick glasses sitting low on your nose. He had almost tripped over his feet, had been clumsy right in front of the table you had sat at. When you had looked up at him, shifting up your glasses with a gentle movement of the finger, and had asked if he was fine, he had been done for. He had nodded, had shamelessly asked for your number. Chan had giggled over your confused face — as though asking for your contact was something entirely unfathomable. You had been confused, but had handed him your phone so he could save in his contact; ever since then you hadn't left each others' side.

Chan knew not to distract you in your studies, but you had sat behind your laptop ever since the sun had sat high on the sky — he ought to make you take a break by now, surely. Not only because he was bored out of his senses in the bed behind it, and not because staring at you from the side became tortureous. It had been hours, and he could only eye your barely covered body so much. It was hot, and he didn't blame you for your decision in clothing — a flimsy tank top, and old shorts you surely didn't choose purposefully, not to drive him crazy, simply to flee the hot weather. But every fibre of his body was fixated on you — on the way your thighs spilled over in the short pants, the way the plush flesh rested on the old dorm room chair. He was fixated on the way your chest curved in the tight top, the way the soft flesh of your arms moved with every of your move, whenever you typed yet another sentence into your Word document. The way your breasts moved whenever you did — the lack of a bra causing them to float like water, your nipples perking up beneath the fabric, subtle and everything but intentional, was all Chan needed to have his insides heat up, for a soft sheen of sweat to cover his palms and the skin of his forehead.

And he couldn't do anything but stare. He couldn't say he put in the same effort into his education as you did — he was hard-working and passionate, but in different aspects than you. He never much stayed in class longer than he needed to, didn't know any professor by name. There were days he'd skip classes altogether; though you influenced him far more than he did you, and guilt made him drag himself to college more times than not.

He could only stare, and let you work, because he knew like no one else the urge to finish assignments when it was long past either of your bed times. He could only stare — but he could also do something against the growing, urging fire in his chest. The one igniting with every further second he looked at you, kept his eyes on your figure. He ought to make you take a break, because it was far too late to be working, and because you would have long dragged him off the table as well, if he was the one behind it. He ought to; surely, for your wellbeing. Not because of the tightening in his chest, not because of the arousal coursing his body the further your glasses slid down your nose — not at all, he would never be so selfish.

Chan stood from the bed, stretching in the process — his legs were almost numb, having lay next to you for seeming hours on end, without much occupation. You had proposed throwing on a movie just so it would run, had asked if you should study in your own dorm room altogether, so Chan could do whatever he pleased to do. Though the man had shook his head; he had been, much to your bashful surprise, perfectly happy simply watching you study. He had laughed when you had grown shy over it, but had accepted it nonetheless.

Yet boredom had struck the man eventually; it was less boredom than it was infatuation, sudden and primal, though the outcome was all the same — he stood behind where you were sitting, peering over your shoulder to read the essay you were writing. Your fingers were working fast, your hair smelt of vanilla and honey, and Chan could feel the warmth your body emitted; he was a goner.

You hadn't paid him any notice, so when his hands draped softly over your shoulders you jumped, making the man scoff out in amusement.

"You definitely need a break if you didn't even notice me standing behind you, babe.", he chuckled, voice soft and undisturbing of the silence of the night. He started massaging your shoulders, the pads of his thumbs caressing the knots beneath your skin well enough you let out a quiet moan, which got the man hard, instantly. He had never heard this sound from you. He would do anything to hear it again.

You stretched out your tired arms, cracked your knuckles. You raked your head to catch a glimpse of your boyfriend standing behind you, messy hair and sleepy eyes, a soft smile plastered on his lips. You sighed. He looked so inviting, screaming of comfort and warmth, of relaxation — but your essay wasn't even half-finished, and the deadline for it came nearer day by day. Ever since you had started dating Chan there had been moments you wished for your perfectionism to vanish — it would allow you more time with your boyfriend, and wouldn't take so much a toll on your nerves, atop that.

You looked back at your laptop screen, the filled Word document staring back at you.

"I can't take a break yet, I planned to finish this chapter by today." You looked back again, adjusting your glasses, a playfully stern look in your eyes. You raised your pointer finger, scrunched your brows. "I'm running on a strict schedule here. Don't you dare distract me."

Your eyes were back on your screen, and while Chan was busy laughing at your joke, he understood that it wasn't truly one — you were already back to writing on your paper, ignoring him entirely again. His palms still lay flat on your skin, warm against him, soft. He squeezed at your shoulders, massaged where you've held most tension; you moaned out again, quiet and shy, and stretched out your neck; yet your eyes were glued to your laptop.

Chan lowered his head to your level, planting one kiss to your temple; he ought to take different manners into account, if a simple massage didn't work it.

You hummed when another kiss met your skin, on the bit behind your ear, and another on your ear. You giggled then, when his breath fanned over your neck before a feather-light kiss met it right after, tickling in its' touch. You felt Chan's hands on your shoulders still, easing the knots in your muscles, succeeding in relaxing you with only a few simple touches.

"Babe...", you breathed out, lulling your head to your side, to allow the man more space on your neck. His mouth was making a slow journey further down your neck, kissing every inch before moving on.

"...what are you doing..."

Your voice breathless, and he hadn't even done much; though it didn't take much with him, ever. It needed a touch, a kiss, and he made you feel like never before. You both had never been this intimate before; and though you shied away from it out of pure reflex, your body ached for it, after all.

“Just helping you relax.”, Chan mumbled into your neck, tickling you, and you couldn’t help but giggle. The vibrations of it coursed his veins, and your vanilla scent body-wash intoxicated his senses. You were all around him, taking him hostage with your scent, with your touch, with the sounds of your laughter. His lips disconnected from your skin, and he looked up at you, waiting for you to rake your neck, to reciprocate his gaze. When you did, he planted a quick kiss to the mould between your neck and shoulder, and you blinked slowly, basked in the feeling of his lips on your body.

“Can I?”

His hands lowered themselves on your body, and you knew your boyfriend wasn’t asking to continue the kissing and nibbling on your neck – you knew he was asking for more. Your brows furrowed, in worried anticipation and nervous excitement; but you nodded. You couldn’t not, if the heat between your legs grew with every passing second, when Chan’s mouth, warm and wet and plush tickled so sweetly against your skin; you wondered how much better he could yet make you feel, if you only let him. If you only opened up to him entirely.

The man smiled into the crook of your neck, and gave you another kiss. Long, taking his time; and with one swift motion, he positioned himself between your legs. You have almost not noticed it happening, and were shy now that he kneeled before you, not levelled yet with your sex, but so much closer to it than ever before; it got you wetter, it got you giddy.

Chan saw the look on your face, your worrying eyes, your tense shoulders; he also saw how your thighs rubbed together subtly, how your chest flushed red, how your breath staggered. Cute. He sat up on his heels, almost meeting your eye. He granted you a soft smile, and you eased up to him.

“You just need to relax, I’ll take care of you… will you let me?”

His hands lay by the side of your thighs, his eyes kind, holding your gaze with a hope and excitement so pure you huffed out a breath of relief, and nodded at him. A quiet, soft “Yeah.” left your lips and you palmed his cheek, making Chan tend to your touch; feeling him against your skin eased your nervosity, reminded you of his devotion.

And he started kissing your body. Slow, unhurriedly; he was taking his time. He lifted your shirt a little, so his thumb grazed over the skin of your waist while his lips planted feather-light kisses against the mound of your chest. You hitched a breath; all senses were focused on him. You felt the heat of his body against your own, his callused fingers on your curves, dancing atop them and drawing mindless shapes, his lips sucking and painting your skin in colours of soft blues and reds.

He kissed your stomach. He lifted your tank top with a sheepish grin, waiting for your approval — when you gave it his lips were on you, wet kisses on hot skin. Your fingers tangled in his hair. Your core was burning, and it felt far too early to throw your head back in pleasure, to moan out his name; you knew it was, you knew Chan yet hadn’t done anything out of the ordinary; but you did, nonetheless, couldn’t hold back the small whine which left your throat in anticipation. You felt Chan smile at that against you; somehow that got you wetter.

His fingers hooked into the waistband of your shorts. He stayed there for a moment, looking up at you again; he waited for your permission after every inch he travelled on your body, and you gave it. Chan discarded your pants with a swift motion, along with your underwear. You had never sat this bare before him, never saw his eyes so very dark, his pupils so very dilated; his demeanour so very carnal.

And you were burning. Your core was, burning and wet, and you wondered if you dripped onto the chair you sat on. You watched Chan kiss your thighs, you watched him spread your legs, you watched him dive into you, only to further nibble on your inner plush — he was taking his time, but your patience was running out. You enjoyed the feeling of his wet mouth on your skin, on parts so sensitive you weren’t aware yourself; but you sex needed him, it needed his touch.

“Babe...” Your voice whiny, high-pitched; you blushed at it, hadn’t expected to be capable of such sounds. And that’s how Chan eyed you, too, from beneath; his eyes widened, his ears painted a red so bright it shone, and a soft groan vibrated against your body. Were you having the same effect on him than it was the other way around? You almost doubted it, until you caught glimpse of Chan’s erection when he leaned back a bit.

“What is it?”

His voice almost concerned, and you stuttered suddenly; how were you to ask what you wanted? Were you too desperate, begging for him when it was only the first time you’ve been so close to intimacy? You looked at him, eyes wanting, pleading, though you couldn’t find the words. His gaze softened, his hands against your thighs, too.

“You can tell me what you want, don’t be scared.”, he whispered, and something in your abdomen tingled. You grew wetter.

“I want more.”

A whisper, too, and shy, embarrassed, almost; though not for long. Because Chan mumbled a breathy “Fuck.”, and dove into you. His hands spread open your legs, finger digging into your flesh, and you felt his breath against your pussy, suddenly; so sudden you whimpered out quietly, and the sound turned into a loud moan when you felt his tongue on your slit.

It was heaven, it was far better than what you had expected. It was far better, even, than what your own fingers did on sleepless, tireless nights. The feeling of his wet tongue against your wetter cunt made you arch into him, and you couldn’t be shy about it, not anymore. Not when his hands gripped onto your body, snuck around your thighs and holding you in place, or simply closer, or for no reason altogether.

You felt his tongue against your clit, circling there experimentally, staying there when your head threw back and a groan so throaty left you he pulled you closer by your legs.

And he wasn’t quiet, either. Every of his sound, breathy and quiet sighs, low and deep groans vibrated against you, sounded against your core and resonated in your entire body. You vibrated with him, trembled, shook, ached for more. Your fingers in his hair, your palm against his scalp made you push him into you further; it was an instinct, carnal and unexpected, and you grew the very second after. When you felt his tongue against your clit, suddenly, when you felt a throaty chuckle against you; you backed away again, against the chair.

And his eyes spoke more than words. When you looked at him again, curious, when you watched him lap up your wetness with a thick tongue against your entrance and up to your clit, his eyes told you that it was okay. That your pleasure was, that your instincts were; that he would comply for whatever you wanted, whatever you wished for.

Yet you only watched him, because it was a sight you couldn’t possibly miss. His eyes glassy, his mouth wet, covered in your essence. You could smell yourself now, too, and your eyes dared to roll into the back of your head. It was everything, and too much; and you almost dreaded the feeling of tightness in the pit of your stomach. The first feelings of release, the tingling and turning and twisting somewhere between your stomach and your core. You dreaded it, because you wanted to feel Chan longer. You wanted to watch him further, circling the tip of his tongue against you, moaning when he lapped at the wetness by your entrance, when he played there, when he prodded his tongue slowly in, not enough for you to feel anything, yet you felt it all. You wanted to watch him further but your body started to tremble, and your face contorted; when Chan noticed your tense body, the way your hands searched for something to hold on he was quick to react, offering a hand, keeping his pace against your pussy. You were sweet, you were wet, and warm, and everything he didn’t dare imagine, and if he didn’t catch himself in time, he’d be a goner, would mar his pants in sticky cum.

You noticed the hand Chan offered you, and you looked at him before connecting your fingers. You looked shy, embarrassed. He thought you never looked more beautiful.

“Don’t be scared babe. Cum for me. Let go.”

Whispers against you, a voice so soft and breathy you barely heard it, so mumbled into you that you swallowed them whole; but you complied his command, his plead; and you came. Hard, and wet, and loud. You wondered how thick the walls in his dorm were, but only for a second before the thought dissipated again, before your orgasm took over your mind, your body, everything you were. Your thighs shook against him, and you felt his tongue against your puffy clit, so sensitive yet so yearning. Your fingers dug into his hand, and your hips grinded a bit against his face; you didn’t care about it now, and Chan smiled softly into you, though you didn’t feel it.

“That’s it, good girl.”

Only a mumble too, and you would have almost missed his words against the high ringing in your ears; yet when you registered them, when you chewed and swallowed them your head lulled back into your neck, and you whined out his name in crystallized pleasure, raw and real. A pleasure so grand, so caring you’d forgotten about your paper, forgotten about your homework; a pleasure and closeness so great you fell asleep in Chan’s arms that night, content, chest heaving in exhaustion for yet a long time, and a warm, pleasant wetness between your legs.

@es-kay-zee @jeyelleohe @angelwonie @yvniek4ng @ppiri-bahng @bintificreads @svintsandghosts @llunapastell @sensitiveandhungry @minniesvenus @junebug032 @noellllslut @wolfennracha @unexceptional-h @like-a-diamondinthesky @katsukis1wife @binniesbang @astraystayyh

[zylev-blog]

Jazz is Special Agent Fenton of the FBI. She doesn’t go by Fenton when she’s out on a case though; she uses Nightingale. She does this because it keeps her identity secret.

Jazz is investigating a series of crimes. One of the other agents goes undercover to try and set them up in a sting operation. Things go south and now Jazz is going to Gotham to view the murder scene.

When she gets there, GCPD try to stop her at the crime scene barrier. She flashes her FBI jacket and her badge and is given access. She walks over to the police commissioner, a man named Gordon. Gordon obviously doesn’t recognize her, and neither does the vigilante with him—Batman.

“This is a closed crime scene, Miss…?” Gordon asks.

“Nightingale. FBI.” She shows Gordon her badge. “You and your men can clear out. This is our jurisdiction now.”

“We haven’t gotten approval to—“ Gordon stops, but was interrupted by an officer walking over to Gordon and whispering something in his ear. “Fine.” Gordon grumbled, and started telling his men to leave.

“You too, Spooky. I don’t need a vigilante’s help.” She waves off the man without another thought, but Batman doesn’t move. Instead, he completely ignores her and starts walking towards the crime scene. “Obviously, you didn’t hear me.” Jazz scowled. “If you don’t leave, I will remove you with force, Batman.”

Batman turns to look at her. “That isn’t how things work here, Agent Nightingale.”

“It is now.” She kept her expression neutral. “Clear out, or be removed. Your choice.”

Batman tried to look intimidating. Jazz refused to bow. The two stared each other down before Batman took another step towards the crime scene. She reacted instantly. Pulling out a taser, she placed it on his back before he could even react.

He reacted quickly, and sent three batarangs at her in rapid succession. His movements were a bit slower than normal after getting tased. She dodged two of the batarangs, and opted to catch the third in her hand. She flicked it away lazily and cracked her knuckles with a small smile. “I love it when they choose force.”

Batman didn’t react to her comment. He seemed to understand he wasn’t going to be able to get around her without a major fight. He let out an annoyed grunt and grappled away.

Three days later, they meet on the roof of an abandoned building. It seems like Batman was still on the case after all. Jazz was not happy about it. She felt that he was going to ruin the entire operation. She couldn’t trust someone to have her back if they didn’t show their face. She doesn’t let the annoyance show on her face as Batman joins her at the edge of the rooftop.

“I thought I told you to stay off my case, Batman.” She said quietly.

Batman gave a quiet grunt. If she had to put it to words, it would translate to a ‘I do what I want.’

She didn’t speak to him again, but she didn’t kick him out, either. The two didn’t speak a word as they sat for two hours, inspecting the warehouse across the street. It was nearly morning by the time Batman left. She did make sure he left, too—she watched him grapple down the street and heard the roar of the Batmobile pulling away before she breathed out a sigh of relief.

Watching the building was doing nothing. She was going to have to get closer. She was going to have to go undercover herself. The thought didn’t make her any happier, even with knowing what happened to the last agent that went undercover for this operation. She also knew that to keep her tracker on her at all times, she would need to shove it inside a place that nobody would look for it. And boy was that uncomfortable.

Two days after she met Batman did she meet Brucie Wayne for the first time. By now she had been undercover with the modeling agency for a day, and it was going well so far. She was playing her part perfectly, but it could take weeks for them to trust her enough to give her information that she needed to know.

She had been hired to be arm candy for a wealthy man in Gotham. It wasn’t Brucie, though she knew he had a few models on his arms as well. She had gotten through most of the night without incident before she ran into Brucie. Quite literally. Brucie’s champagne spilled down her dress, and she gave a mock scream of outrage.

Brucie tried to clean up her dress, but she swatted his hands away and went to the bathroom to clean up. She never noticed the tracker that Bruce put on the nape of her neck. When she came back out, she noticed her date looking for her. She rejoined him and the rest of the night went smoothly.

A month into the operation and she finally was getting some results. She had been moved from building to building more than once, but she finally got breadcrumbs for what she needed to take them down. It took her another three weeks after that to gather all of the evidence she needed.

At the final takedown, she was joined by none other than Batman. She had half-expected him to show up after she noticed the tracker on her neck six hours after it was placed. She didn’t know when she had even run into the Batman at a stuffy charity gala. She had debated crushing it, but she didn’t have backup and she figured his help was better than nothing. She still didn’t trust him, though. She made sure he knew that, too.

Bringing the tracker up to her lips, she whispered, “Don’t you know it’s rude to listen in on a lady, Batman?”

Together, she and Batman took down the traffickers. They had been using models and trafficking them all over the world to be used as sex slaves. She feels a certain satisfaction while watching everyone be escorted out in cuffs.

“Nice work.” Batman says, figure tall and dark.

She hums. “Thanks.” The silence stretches on for a few minutes before she adds in, “Thanks for having my back.”

“I thought you didn’t need a vigilante’s help?” Batman teased.

She didn’t look at him, but she could hear the teasing on his voice. She smirks and crosses her arms. “I don’t. But you’re harder to get rid of than a ghost in a net.”

Batman didn’t respond back to her, and it takes her a few moments to realize what she had said. She was of course, referencing her parents ghosthunting activities. But he didn’t even know her real name, so how would he even know what he was talking about?

“When do you leave?” Batman asked.

“After everything’s wrapped up. Why, you going to miss me?” She finally turned to look at him. She wished she could run facial recognition and figure out who was under that mask. The psychologist in her wanted to know just why a man would put on a bat mask and fight crime.

“I have a case that could use your input.” Batman deflected her question.

Was that a compliment from the Batman? His way of telling her that he trusted her opinion? Or was it an olive branch?

“Mine or the FBI’s?” She already knew the answer to his question, but she wanted him to say it.

Instead, he just grunted in annoyance. She rolled her eyes and pulled a card out of the pouch that she kept her FBI id at and handed it to him. “That’s my office phone number.” She tapped the card with her finger as he held it. “If you want my personal cell, you’ve got to earn it.”

He nodded and tucked the card into his utility belt. She could see the beginnings of a smile from Batman as he disappeared into the shadows and grappled away.

Surprisingly, it only took Batman a week to call her. She had gotten settled back into her office in DC, and had mostly forgotten about the encounter. She had to report Batman’s appearance in her report, but beyond that, she didn’t have to explain that he helped her take down the ring.

She made a flight back to Gotham the next day. Batman brought her into the Batcave and told her everything she needed to know about the case. She didn’t know where the Batcave was, as Batman had blindfolded her, but she was impressed with his initiative.

“Im not wearing that.” She glared at him with all of the venom she had—which was quite a lot.

“You can’t go out in your FBI jacket.” Batman deadpanned.

“Wasn’t planning on it. Do you think I’m a rookie?” She shook her head and gestured at the costume that the vigilante had made for her. “That doesn’t give you the right to—to—ugh! Im not your Batgirl, or Batwoman, or whatever! I came out as a consult. I don’t dress up in latex, and I don’t wear costumes!”

The costume itself was gorgeous, not that she’d ever tell Batman that. It was solid black, had a red bat on the front of it, and was fully equipped with a utility belt, knife holsters, and a taser. It had a full cowl like Batmans, along with the pointy ears on top.

“I don’t see the problem.” Batman’s voice had undertones of offense in it.

“Look.” She gestured at the costume. “Im honored, truly, that you want me to watch your back. But I’m not a vigilante. Nor will I ever be!”

She had watched what vigilantism had done to Danny, Sam, Tucker, and Valerie over the years. Sure, she’d gone out with them more than once. Without a mask. But there was something more complex about the costume sitting on the table in front of her.

“You said you were going to help.” Batman’s gruff voice got closer as he took a few steps towards her.

“And I did.” She gestured to the Batcomputer. “I already gave you my opinions of the case. I dedicated a weekend of PTO time to be here. But this is as far as my help goes.”

“What about the last operation? You owe me.”

“Owe you?!” She exclaimed, thumping her finger against his chest. “I told you to get lost. You still stuck around. You could’ve cost me the operation!”

“It worked.”

She groaned in frustration. She was close enough to him now that she could smell the faint smell of Kevlar and aftershave from him. She rubbed a hand down her face as she thought over what had happened last time she was in Gotham.

“What about all your other winged vigilantes? You had uh.. Nightwing, and Robin, right?”

“It’s only Nightwing.” Batman responded. “He’s unavailable.”

“I could’ve sworn you had a Robin, too.” She looked up at him and noticed the stiffness of his body.

“Robin has moved on.” Batman replied.

Hmm. Touchy subject. She wasn’t going to push. It wasn’t any of her buisness.

“You must be really desperate if you’re trying this hard to get me to go out in that.” She smirked.

“Things could go wrong.” Batman said with a quiet sigh.

“Don’t they always?” She tilted her head.

“Not always.” Batman mimicked her actions, clearly studying her. “What will it take?”

“If I put that mask on,” She gestured to the table behind her, “You take yours off.”

“No.”

“Fine. Deals off, then.” She pulled her phone out and immediately started looking for flights back to DC.

“Why?” He questioned.

“I can’t trust someone who won’t tell me who they are.” She shrugged.

Batman let out a quiet growl. As he took his cowl off, he scowled. “You would know, wouldn’t you, Miss Fenton?”

“Holy shit.” Her eyes got wide.

Bruce Wayne was the Batman.

[eyelessfaces]

just in case

poe dameron x reader

summary: while fiddling with bb–8's memory, you stumble onto an audio message– poe's prerecorded goodbyes.

based on @ivystoryweaver's headcanon on this post! thank you for allowing me to write something about it!

warnings: angst, mentions of death and war

tags: gn!reader, hurt/comfort, fluff, kissing, poe being an absolute sap

word count: 2.6k

masterlist | taglist | ao3

updates blog: @eyelessupdates

He can’t help the fond smile growing over his face at the sight of you, deeply focused on the repair project in front of you before his knuckles hit against the doorframe a couple times, catching your attention. 

Your gaze meets Poe’s as he steps into your workshop, your expression of concentration quickly giving way to an easy smile when you see him, closely followed by BB–8. 

Poe greets you with a kiss, his hand lingering at your side when he pulls away. 

“What’s bringing you here, handsome?” you ask, shifting to put away the tool you still have in hand. “Hey Beebs,” you smile as you glance down at the droid that greets you back. 

Poe gazes down at his droid, his look shifting back at you. “Could you take a look at him whenever you got the time?” he asks, a small, defeated sigh escaping his mouth. 

“What’s up?” you question, crossing your arms and raising an eyebrow at him. It hadn’t been that long since you last checked up on the droid.

“I think there’s something up with his memory, he’s been acting a little forgetful lately” Poe explains; you can see the concern in his eyes, can hear the worry in his voice.

“Okay, I’ll see what I can do.” Poe nods, pinching his lips into a quiet smile as he looks down at the droid. “Hey, you don’t have to worry'' you reassure him, resting a hand over his arm. “It’s nothing too serious usually. Nothing I can’t fix.” He nods again, knowing he can trust you with this, knowing you're as good at this as he is at flying. 

“I’ll take care of him as soon as I’m done with that” you point back to the mess of scavenged parts resting over your workbench.

“Thank you sweetheart,” he says, cupping the back of your head and leaning in to leave a quick kiss on your forehead. “I’d stay with you and tell you about my day, but I have my last meeting of the day in about less than five minutes.” he shrugs, starting to walk backwards to exit the room.

“Sure, don’t worry.” you smile. “Come over when you’re done” 

As promised, the minute you’re done repairing the project you were working on, you lower your workbench to BB-8’s level, letting him roll onto the surface before you adjust it to your level so you can examine him. 

“Hey buddy. memory issues huh?” you coo, grabbing your tools, gathering everything you need to check up on him. He responds with upset beeps, his upper part sagging in defeat. 

“That's okay. Happens to the best of us,” you reassure him, setting to work on diagnosing the problem. “So since it seems to be a memory issue, I’m gonna have to look through your data” you explain, opening his access panels. 

It doesn’t take long for you to identify the issue: a few corrupted memory files. It’s a relief to see it's nothing severe, just a bit of corrupted data that needs to be cleaned and restructured. “Hah, found the problem,” you say, beginning the delicate process of correcting the corrupted files. “Looks like some of your memory files got a bit jumbled. Should be fine once we get that sorted out, there shouldn’t be any problem.” you explain. “You know, Poe always gets so worried about you.” you say, trying to keep the droid calm as your fingers work through the wires and circuits. BB–8 emits a series of grateful beeps, and you smile, focusing back on the task at hand. 

As you work on fixing him, BB–8 chirps curiously, his dome turning to watch you. You explain each step in simple terms, trying to distract him and make it the least stressful possible for him. “I’m working through your memory module. Some of these files are corrupted, so I’m cleaning them up and re-organizing everything. Just like tidying up a messy room.”

BB-8 responds with a relieved series of beeps, and you chuckle. “Yeah, I know it’s not fun for you to have me mess with your memory stuff, but I’ll have you be back to your old self in no time.” 

As you carefully rework BB–8’s memory files, you fumble slightly with a delicate wire, causing a brief short circuit – the droid jerks and beeps erratically before suddenly playing a vocal message. You reach to stop it, assuming it’s a manufactured error message you’ve triggered, but you freeze when you recognize Poe’s voice. “Hey baby,” Poe’s voice crackles through BB–8’s speakers, startling you. You frown, confused, ready to stop the audio message. “If you’re hearing this, it’s probably because something happened and I’m not around anymore.” Your heart properly skips a beat. “I’m sorry I’m leaving you like this,” he sighs softly. “Damn it’s weird talking like this when I’m still here,” he chuckles. You step back, driven by morbid curiosity, firmly intending to listen to the rest of it. 

“But you know, with everything that’s been happening lately and that’s gonna happen, you never know what’s next.” 

He sounds tired. You bite down onto your lip, a soft frown forming over your face and your gaze lost as the recording continues. “I could die in two weeks or in twenty years from the moment I’m recording this, so it’s pretty strange. I just… I love you so much. I wanted you to hear it from me one last time.” 

Your lips curl into a weak smile, tears welling up in your eyes. It’s stupid. He’s still here. It’s just a recording in case he dies.

But somehow, you can’t help it. Not with the prospect that you could listen to it again one day, in the context it was intended to be listened to.

“You’ve always been supportive of my bullshit, no matter what, and you were always there for me no matter how stupid I got, so it’s only fair I thank you one last time. I really hope we got to enjoy our time together” 

You pause the audio message, running your hand over your face, sighing deeply. You want to stop there and not listen to the entirety of it, on one hand because you aren't even supposed to hear it or know of its existence in the first place, and most of all because you’re not sure you can handle it – but your curiosity gets the best of you, and you let it go on.

“It’s stupid that I want to cry, because I’m still here” he chuckles. “You know, I’m recording this because I couldn’t sleep.” he declares. You can hear the soft strain in his voice, you can imagine him and his tired eyes, his hair slightly mussed from tossing and turning like he always does when he’s restless.

He sighs deeply before he speaks again. “I uh… Today’s mission went awful. I could have died and I didn’t even tell you” his voice drops with the weight of his words, he pauses for a second, and the knot inside your throat tightens.  

“You’re sleeping in the next room. You know, you looked so peaceful when I got out of bed that I didn't want to bother you by kissing your forehead, but I did it anyway because I remembered I might not be able to do it forever”

You can’t help it, it’s over for you. Tears roll down your cheeks on their own, the back of your hand suppressing your sniffles and the soft laugh you huff out at his way of always saying things that will get you.

BB-8’s upper part shifts, and he emits a soft, sympathetic whirr, trying to console you.

“I’ve left this message with BB-8 because I know he’s always with you if he’s not with me. Take care of him for me, will you? And take care of yourself. You’re stronger than you know, and you’ll get through this. I love you. So much. More than you know. Which is why I’m gonna cut the recording and get back to bed to hold you tight while I can” 

Your heart tightens inside your chest. You slowly shake your head, tears forced out of you when your eyes fall shut.

“Alright, okay, bye sweetheart. I love you.” 

The recording cuts, ending with a click, leaving you in a stunned silence. BB turns to you, beeping sadly, and you give him a weak smile before wiping the tears over your cheeks with the tips of your fingers. 

You huff out a heavy breath, one that you didn’t even realize was smothering your chest, and force yourself to finish taking care of BB–8 despite everything. 

You’re still sobbing when Poe comes in again. 

He finds you, full on tearing up, not even hiding it – which he finds strange, because you usually turn around and pretend to look for something to quickly dry your tears, and proceed to poorly try to deny you’ve been crying just to avoid worrying him. 

And the context he’s facing quickly leads him to assume something is wrong with BB-8, something you couldn’t manage to fix and now blame yourself for – BB–8 is quick to deny with appalled beeps, so Poe really doesn’t have any idea what he’s dealing with. 

When you pull him near and hug him tight, gripping his hair, longing to be as close to him as possible, he’s still as confused, but he’s swift to take action and hold you even tighter.

His embrace is warm, comforting, his touch delicate as his hand appeasingly rubs over your shoulder, and you progressively manage to calm down and quiet your sobs. “What’s going on babe” he quietly asks, trying to not pounce on you. His fingers carefully lift your chin up, taking care of clearing the tears from your face, his eyes searching yours intensely as he waits for your answer.

You sigh softly, your breath still ragged from sobbing. “I was working on Beebs and I found your…” you pause, realizing you’re not even sure what to call it. You're not even sure you want to say it out loud, to say it's a goodbye message. “I found your recording– I didn't mean to, it just–”

“Oh,” his face drops in saddened surprise, immediately understanding what you’re talking about. “Oh baby” he sighs, shaking his head as he pulls you back into his arms. You weren't supposed to know about this, even less hear it fully, not until he died, that is. “I didn’t want to scare or worry you. I’m sorry you had to hear that– it was just… a precaution.” he murmurs as you cling to him, the remnants of your tears dampening his shirt.

“I know,” you whisper, your voice weak and muffled against his chest. “I just– It was hard to hear. I don’t want to think about losing you”

“I don’t want to think about leaving you either,” he says softly, pulling back just enough to look at your face again. His thumb brushes away the last of your tears when you look at him, his gaze over you filled with a mix of sorrow and unwavering love that you manage to feel just by looking into his dark, warm eyes. “But I need you to know how much you mean to me, no matter what happens”

“Poe,” you scoff-whine. “I know. You’re pretty transparent about it already” you grin. 

When he’s not saying it explicitly, he always has a hand on you, always at least leaves a kiss over your cheek or forehead when he’s not full-on kissing you, and always makes sure to bring you back those jogan fruit cakes you like from Coruscant when he has to go there, and just the way he looks at you has you aware that he loves you, so he really doesn’t need to do that much, but he’s Poe Dameron, so it’s a prerogative.

“I happen to be a very romantic man” he jokes, smiling when he sees you chuckle and shake your head the way you do when he pulls stupid lines. “I just wanted you to hear it from me one last time sweetheart.”

“You and your dramatic flair” you tease lightly, gripping onto his jacket as you let out a soft groan. “You couldn’t just leave a normal message, could you?”

“You know, subtlety isn’t my strong suit” he grins, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “But seriously, I’m sorry you had to hear it like this. It was meant for dramatic times, not when I was about to ask you if you wanted to get dinner off base like now.”

You snort up a laugh, your arms wrapping around his neck. “You do owe me dinner after that.” 

“I know, right?” he scoffs, an amused smile over his face. “And it means I get to spend more of my alive time with you, so–” he teases, his fingers gently rubbing your back. “Stop that, it’s not funny” you frown, playfully hitting his chest with the back of your hand. “–Plenty of time to remind you that I love you” his hand squeezes yours gently.

You pull him closer, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that is both tender and intense, slow at first but deepening when the fear, the relief, the overwhelming love you feel for him step at the front of your mind. His hand moves from your hip to cup your face, his thumb caressing the skin of your cheeks rough from the tears.

When you break apart, your foreheads are still linked, his fingers gently tracing your face, your breaths mingling. “I’m joking about this, but I promise I’ll do my best for you to not have to listen to this recording again anytime soon.” 

“Mh, hope ‘anytime soon’ means a few decades at least”

“I promise. I love you too much to leave you like this. And I know I’ll look sexy when my hair turns gray” he adds with a playful smile.

You laugh, the sound breaking the lingering tension and bringing a sense of normalcy back. “Oh, definitely” you grin, raking your fingers through his curls. “Most handsome silver fox in the galaxy.” 

Poe smiles, kissing you again, softly. You can very clearly feel BB–8’s presence when you pull away, his needy beeps attesting of his need for attention.

“Yeah, alright buddy” you sigh, turning back to the droid to finish up his repair.

“So he’s okay?” Poe asks, approaching the workbench. 

“He’s all fine, good as new” you smile. “Hey, try running a diagnostic”

The droid runs his internal check, beeping happily once he’s done and everything seems to be alright.

“See?” you turn to Poe. “All good.” you grin at him, glad to have something concrete to smile about after that emotional rollercoaster you went through.  

“Thank you, really. I knew you’d fix him up” Poe declares, smiling as he watches BB roll off the workbench and onto the floor, navigating around your feet. “And I was serious about that dinner, by the way,” he says, watching you putting away your tools and tidying up your workbench. “We could both use a break.”

“Yeah,” you agree, scoffing. 

Poe’s hand finds yours as you turn the light off and leave the workshop, your fingers tangling as you walk through the corridors of the base, finding your way out. 

“Hey,” Poe calls, pulling you closer as you walk. You hum, looking at him, noticing the slight hint of worry in his eyes. “You really think I’d look hot with gray hair?”

You scoff, shaking your head. “Absolutely baby”

A content smile grows over his face, and he nods. “Cool.”

—

any and every comment/reblog is greatly appreciated!!

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@lockleysgrl @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @anightshift

@whatthefishh @dameronshandholder @campingwiththecharmings @mintgreen24 @spider-starry

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[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

THE DRIVE- L. HOWLETT

Pairing- Older! Logan x Mutant! Fem! Reader (Enemies to Lovers)

Word Count: 2.6k (an introduction to the series)

Summary: After being put on the goverments watchlist for being an "unsafe" mutant, Logan 'jumps' (tackles) to the rescue, taking you to the X-Mansion. However, you and Logan do not get along... at all.

Warnings: mentions of violence and guns, swearing, logan and y/n not getting along, crying, reader kinda thristing over logan (as one does)

**authors note/ things to note: this may not be lore accurate/ canon because i haven't watched the x-men movies since i was younger, so its roughly based off what i can kinda remember hehe. y/n has jean greys powers, and jean does not exist in this universe, this is nemies to lovers- but a slowww burn :)

"all this sympathy is just a knife, why I can't even grit my teeth and lie? ifeel all these feelings i can't control..."- sympathy is a knife, charli xcx

“I don’t like you.” you stated plainly, crossing your arms with a huff. This was the most blunt you had been with anyone, ever. But you couldn’t help it.

You had known Logan Howlett now for an hour, and it was an hour you would never get back.

“You’re not s’possed to like me kid. You’re supposed to listen to me, which you’re failing miserably at.” the older man growled, barely looking over at you from the driver's seat. His hands tightened on the steering wheel, knuckles turning white as he slammed down on the gas.

You were thankful in that moment seatbelts were invented.

You bet ten dollars Logan was around when they came up with the idea.

He was an asshole.

He was tasked with the mission to get you to safety- as you were a “rogue” quote on quote mutant as the public called your kind. It made your head spin, not only from Logan’s driving but the sheer weight of it all.

One morning you were pouring your orange juice, the next the national guard was surrounding your house, and a man who happened to have claws shoot out of his knuckles had dived and tackled you as the gunfire started.

Now you were here, in an old rusty truck- speeding down a back road through the woods with an old man who seemed to hate everything. On the run, on your way to the mutant academy- to start over, and to learn how to control your powers.

Or so you hoped.

Logan wasn’t making the trip there very pleasant though.

“I’m listening to you. And even if I wasn’t- do you blame me?! After what just happened I don’t know- maybe an hour ago?!” you rolled your eyes, glaring at him hard enough to leave laser beams through his skin.

“You’re a mutant. Get used to it.”

“Get used to it?!”

He shrugged. “That’s what I said, ain’t it bub? I was tasked to take care of you and get you to safety, so I’m doing that. Doesn’t mean you have to like me.”

You huffed, staring out the window at the trees that blurred together, dark leaves falling on the ground as you whipped by. “I don’t like you.”

“Yeah, I picked up on that kid.”

“I’m not a kid, you know.”

He snorted, running a hand through his tousled hair. “Sure.” It was silent in the car for a few minutes, minus the crackly radio, the station starting to cut out as you ventured deeper into the woods.

You leaned forward, turning it off. Silence.

“So… are you actually two hundred?” you asked meekly, darting your eyes over to stare at him. Even if he was a dick, he was handsome as hell. You couldn’t even deny that.

“Don’t you know it’s rude to ask someone their age?” he mocked.

“Sorry, I forgot elders were sensitive to that kind of thing. Let me know if you need help getting your walker from the back.” you snapped back, as he showed teeth at you- growling.

Good. Piss him off as much as you could, so when you got to the academy he would leave you alone.

He muttered something under his breath, something about how kids these days have no respect (despite you very much not being a child), and you tuned out.

With a sigh, you leaned your head against the window, the events of today taking a toll on your body. You looked up at the clouds rolling by, until they faded away to black.

------------------------------------------------------

Strong arms carried you, and you curled into the warmth they provided, hands clinging to a rock hard chest. You yawned, savouring the rocking motion, until it stopped.

Your eyes fluttered open, blinking quickly as you adjusted to the dimming light. It was dark out, stars replacing the clouds from earlier- and two dark orbs stared at you intensely.

You squeaked, stumbling down to your feet, backing away from Logan quickly.

“Good morning.” he smirked at your sudden reaction, your frown lines deeply etched in your forehead compared to how they were a few seconds previous.

“What are you doing?!”

“Walking you to our room.”

Your eyes nearly popped out of your head.

“Our room?! And I can walk by myself, thank you very much.” He snorted, jangling the keys in his pocket. “Really? I didn’t know you could sleep walk.”

“Don’t be a dick.”

“Can’t. Already tried.” he said, unlocking the door with a click. 106 was scrawled across the wooden door, and the strong smell of lemon cleaning supplies nearly suffocated you as he stepped inside.

He must have stopped at a motel somewhere along the route- in the middle of nowhere. It was older, not as old as him- but aged. It must have been quiet, you assumed- because Logan didn’t seem like the type of guy to willingly choose to be around people, especially not when on the run.

As shitty as the situation was, you were thankful for a place to sleep, and for a proper bed. The car seatbelt and window was not very comfortable, your neck aching from it rolling down during your nap.

You stepped inside, noting the very obvious couples room, a large bed in the middle of the room, with no pull out couch. You gulped.

“I’ll take the floor.” you stated, as he closed and locked the door behind you. Unease lingered in your stomach.

Please god, do not make me sleep with the Wolverine. I do not have the strength, nor patience today.

“Don’t be stupid girl.” And that was that. He shrugged off his jacket, tossing it on a little table, flickering on a little side lamp.

You were stunned into silence. You tried so hard not to look.

So. Damn. Hard.

But his muscles were on display, so much so they might as well be their own art exhibit.

His white tank top clinged to his tan skin tightly, and you watched his muscles flex, dog tags jangling on his chest as he snagged a pillow from the bed and tossed it on the floor.

You quickly looked away before he caught you staring, and taunted you for it.

“I’m going to shower.”

No reply. You bit your lip, turning around quietly and tugged your skirt down as you walked in the bathroom and shut the door.

No amount of scrubbing of the shit hotel loofa could get the grime of the day off your skin- soap foaming as quickly as it sputtered down the drain. You tried to stay in the shower as long as you could- dreading the awkwardness that the night would entail- but soon the water turned ice cold.

Shivering, you rinsed off your hair, cranking the taps until water dripped faintly. Wiping the mirror, you stared at yourself in the reflection.

A long scratch darted up your neck, little ones dotting across your arm. You wished you had Logan’s healing abilities. They were ugly, harsh and jagged- standing out like a sore thumb.

You hoped your pjs covered it, you thought, as you wrapped a thin towel across your body, acting as a corset the way it caused your breasts to pop.

Then it hit you. You didn’t have pjs. You didn’t have anything but the clothes on your back (bathroom floor).

Fuck. Could this get any worse?

Not only did you have to sleep in the same room as Logan, you had to ask him for clothes?! Taking a deep breath, you opened the door a sliver, its loud creak echoing throughout the entire room.

“Uh… Logan?”

“Mhgm.”

You poked your head out, eyes darting to survey the space- seeing your bed untouched, long legs poking out from the other end on the floor.

“I- uh.. kinda forgot pjs.”

Nothing, and then a loud laugh emerged from him, his body shaking from the sheer sound of it. “Course you did kid. Here.” he tossed a black t-shirt your way, and it landed on the carpet with a plop.

It would be massive on you, you could already tell- but it was something. Usually you had to go on a few dates and sleep with a guy a few times before you got to this stage. Not an option this time.

You quickly stepped out and grabbed it before he could look up at your (barely) covered body, shrugging it on in the bathroom.

It smelt like him, like whisky and smoke, cider and fresh cut grass. It was comforting, in this moment of chaos. You breathed in the fabric, resting your head against the wall.

Your lip wobbled, hot, salty tears slipping down your cheeks as you gasped for air.

It hurt. Everything hurts.

You were exhausted, hungry and more anxious and overwhelmed than anything. The shock had started to fade, your hands had started to shake and you couldn’t help but break down.

You didn’t care if Logan heard you. The tears continued to fall, body heaving as sobs tore through your body. How was life so unfair? So cruel? Things had changed so fast- and you hadn’t asked for your abilities. You didn’t even know how to control them yet.

But that was what made you dangerous to the government. You thought, growing even more angry with yourself. But how was it your fault?

It made you sick. You just wanted to go home, lay in your own bed and eat your own food, to see your friends and go to work. You never thought those words would leave your lips- but it was true. It was routine, and it was normal.

You felt normal, when you were filing paperwork, talking on the phone to clients. As boring as it could be at times, it was steady.

And now?

You were bouncing around like a ping-pong ball. A coin had been flipped, your fate plastered on either side- and you had lost the draw. Taking a shaky breath, you attempted to regain your composure before facing the judgemental beast outside.

Your eyes were puffy, cheeks sticky and warm with drying tears. Wiping your face, you found the courage to slink back into the main room, flicking off the side lamp Logan had left on. If he had to shower, he could find his way in the dark.

You were sure he could see in the dark- all wolves could- couldn’t they?

Slouching into bed, you gripped the thin sheets tightly- cocooning yourself to try and stay warm. The air was on full blast, despite it being chill outside- and you assumed you had Logan to thank for that.

Great. I’m going to get hypothermia before I even get to the fucking school.

“Do you have to have the air on full blast?” you asked, looking over the side of the bed, watching as Logan crankly peered an eye open.

“Yes.”

“Well could you I don’t know, survey the scene and see it’s cold outside already?”

He huffed.

“I’m warm. I’m always warm.”

“Well that’s not my problem. Be considerate wolf.” you rolled your eyes, hugging the sheets tighter to your body.

“Deal with it kid. It’s staying on- if you don’t like it, sleep outside.”

Well that made you sit up.

“You’re such a dick.”

“Yeah getting a motel room and letting you have the bed- real dick move eh?”

You huffed, gritting your teeth together. This man was pushing your buttons more than they had ever been pushed before. You hated how much he got under your skin. It was like you had your own set of claws, that only he could set off.

“Well I shouldn’t even be in this situation.”

“Yeah we all think that. Shut up and sleep.” he growled, rolling over to face away from the bed.

“You could at least have some respect.”

That was all you asked for, anyways. You had shown him it even when you were in deaths way, thankful for him for saving you. He didn’t show an ounce of it back.

“I’m not giving you any sympathy, if that’s what your asking.”

It felt like a knife had stabbed you in the back, twisting your insides. You whipped up again, throwing a pillow at his face.

“I’m not asking for your fucking sympathy you old piece of shit!” you yelled, earning nothing but silence in return.

He was over you.

Fine. You could do the exact same thing- but better.

Turning your back to him (a dangerous thing to do, you thought), you squeezed your eyes shut and listened to the hum of the air conditioning unit.

Not long after, the weight of the day pulled you back under the waves of sleep again.

--------------------------------------------------

“Wake up kid.” a gruff voice called out to you, a firm hand shaking you. You awoke with a start, blinking until the room came into focus.

Two beaded eyes stared at you narrowly from above you, rolling as you mumbled. It was still dark out, as no light showed through the thin curtains.

The clock read 5:00 and you sighed.

“Breakfast on the table. Get dressed and we’re leaving.”

“Good morning to you too.” you grumbled, rubbing sleep out of your eye. A very stale looking muffin sat on the table, next to Logan’s black coffee.

“Why are you feeding me?” you asked, walking over to take a dry bite. You were famished. Eating anything completely slipped your mind.

“Because Charles would kill me if I didn’t. I said I’d look after you. You can’t starve.”

“Jeez I thought that was the plan all along.”

It tasted like sand in your mouth as you took a bite. You were grateful for it, nonetheless. “I never said I wanted you to starve.” he grumbled to himself, taking a long sip from his mug.

“It was heavily implied.” you spat, turning over the mini coffee bar, finding a kettle and a bag of earl grey. You waited for the water to come to a boil, the kettle screaming at you while you poured it.

You were ready for this day to be over and it hadn’t even begun yet. You had a feeling you would have to get used to it- or else it would eat you alive.

Just like how Logan looked right now- like he’d tear your limbs from you and chew them. You wouldn’t put it past him.

“When you finish that we’re leaving. You got five minutes.” he said, grabbing the truck keys from the table. “Five minutes? I haven’t even had a chance to wake up yet!”

“Too bad. We gotta go kid.” He slammed the door hard behind him, rattling the frame as he unlocked the vehicle.

“Don’t let the door hit you on the way out, asshole.” you mumbled under your breath, chugging down the rest of your tea as fast as you could. If you were back home you would have the morning to lounge around in a bathrobe, sipping your tea slowly with a book and some fresh fruit.

The odd time you would use your powers to move the toast to the toaster, or to move your slippers to your feet. But that was no longer the case.

The tea tasted bitter as you chugged it, burning your throat. You shrugged on yesterday's clothes, running into the bathroom to splash cold water on your face.

The front door swung open and before Logan could protest- you bolted out the room. “I’m out, I’m out. Jesus.” Scrambling to the front seat, you watched as Logan glared over his shoulder, slamming the door.

It was going to be an extremely long drive.